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Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 
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V 

https://archive.org/details/growingworldorprOOunse 


FROM  THE  LOWEST  TO  THE  HIGHEST  TYPE  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE. 


THE 


Growing  World 

OR, 

PROGRESS  OF  CIVILIZATION, 

AND  THE  WONDERS  OF 

JNf  ATURE,  ^Science,  J-^iterature  and  ytRT, 

INTERSPEKSED    WITH  A 

USEFUL  AND  ENTER T^^ininG  COLLECTION  OF  MISCELLANY 

BY  THE  BEST  AUTHORS  OF  OUR  DAY. 


ILL  U  S  T  RA  T  E  D. 


PHILADELPHIA,  CHICAGO  and  KANSAS  CITY: 

W.   M.   PATTERSON  &  CO. 

1887. 


iSntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1880,  by 
M.   PATTERSON  &  CO. 
m  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D. 


Manufactured  bv 
W.  M.  PATTERSON  &  GO'S 
PUBLISHING  HOUSE, 


PREFACE. 


'  Education  is  the  cheap  defence  of  nations, " 
was  the  wise  sentiment  once  uttered  by  that 
great  statesman,  Edmund  Burke.  We  have 
in  this  sentiment  one  of  the  noblest  truths 
discovered  by  modern  political  sages,  and  one, 
too,  that  demands  large  consideration  in  the 
canons  of  jurisprudence.  By  education,  we 
mean  the  cultivation  of  the  moral  faculties,  in 
a  degree  commensurate  with  the  improvement 
of  the  intellect,  and,  in  addition  thereto,  a 
corresponding  physical  culture.  The  perfec- 
tion of  these  three  combined  form  the  perfect 
man — the  image  of  God ;  and  where  either  is 
wanting,  or  exists  iu  an  inferior  degree,  the 
symmetry  of  the  whole  is  marred.  The  mere 
cultivation  of  the  intellect — the  arousing  of 
the  mental  faculties  to  vigorous  action,  while 
the  moral  sentiments  are  allowed  to  remain 
dormant  or  become  corrupt,  too  frequently 
proves  a  curse  to  the  individual  and  to  society, 
rather  than  a  blessing.  Every  ray  of  light  that 
illumines  the  understanding  should  also  shed 
its  influence  over  the  habitation  of  the  pas- 
sions; and  the  head  and  heart  should  be 
equally  warmed  by  the  glorious  luminary, 
Knowledge.  This  mighty  power,  which  is 
bearing  the  human  race  rapidly  onward 
toward  perfection,  has  many  agents  at  work; 
and  every  true  philanthrt)pist  feels  solicitous 
concerning  the  character  of  these  various 
ministers  to  human  improvement.  The 
TONGUE,  the  PEN,  and  the  press  should  all  be 
subservient  to  the  dictates  of  pure  morality  and 
sound  judgment;  and  whosoever  labors  for 
the  good  of  society — whosoever  longs  for  a 
happy  change  in  the  social  character  of  his 
race,  should  strive  earnestly  for  the  purifica- 
tion of  this  triad  of  forces. 


Ignorance  is  constantly  putting  torth  lais./ 
literature,  and  teaching  false  doctrines,  through 
which  the  young  mind  is  liable  to  be  tempted 
and  led  astray.  It  is  the  instigator  of  drunk- 
enness, debauchery,  and  shame.  It  is  the 
precursor  of  tyranny,  crime,  and  war.  Thou- 
sands of  our  young  men  are  being  led  away,  and 
they  are  forming  habits  truly  deplorable. 
These  are  to  be  the  men  that  the  coming 
generation  will  have  to  contend  with.  Tho 
war  between  ignorance  and  knowledge  will 
continue;  but  knowledge  and  education  are 
in  the  ascendant;  and  wherever  civilization 
extends,  the  banner  of  ignorance  trails  in  the 
dust. 

Our  noble  system  of  free  schools  is  rapidly 
raising  the  United  States  to  the  foremost  rank 
among  the  learned  nations  of  the  world.  The 
enormous  number  of  books  and  papers  pub- 
lished and  circulated  among  our  people  attest 
the  fact  that  ours  is  a  reading  and  thinking 
nation.  The  desire  for  knowledge  is  on  the 
increase ;  and,  step  by  step,  scientific  progress 
is  moving  forward.  A  hundred  years  ago  the 
bare  thought  of  a  steam  engine  had  scarcely 
found  a  place  in  the  brain  of  man.  Plows 
were  made  of  wood,  and  hoes  with  handles 
inserted  through  eyes.  Who  had  dreamed  of 
the  electric  telegraph,  the  telephone,  the  elec- 
tric light,  the  harvesting  machine,  the  sewing- 
machine,  and  the  ten  thousand  other  great 
inventions  that  crowd  the  page  of  discoveries 
of  the  nineteenth  century.?  No  one.  Thit 
age  of  genius,  enterprise,  and  learning  had 
not  developed  itself  Great  minds  have 
studied,  thought,  and  reasoned  all  their  lives 
to  bring  about  the  present  state  of  human 
knowledge ;  and  now  they  arrive  at  the  coa- 


iv 


PREFA  CE, 


elusion  that  they  are  taking  the  first  step  upon 
the  ladder  of  progress,  and  that  they  have  barely 
learned  the  A  B  C  of  science. 

Through  the  medium  of  the  printing  press 
the  leading  men  of  to-day  have  become 
acquainted  with  all  the  discoveries  and  inven- 
tions former  generations  have  ever  made.  To 
these  they  have  added  their  own  theories, 
speculations,  and  discoveries,  and  thus  have 
made  the  present  age  an  age  of  progress. 
They  have  made  deep  researches,  and  have 
performed  their  parts  well ;  but  now  the  heads 
of  many  of  our  noblest  minds  are  becoming 
silvered  o'er  with  gray.  They  will  soon  pass 
away,  and  sleep  the  silent  slumber  beneath 
the  sod,  as  their  fathers  have  before.  The 
rising  generation  will  soon  be  called  upon 
to  take  their  places  in  the  world,  with  greater 
advantages  left  for  them  than  were  ever  left  for 
any  previous  generation. 

To  the  truly  benevolent  mind,  the  moment- 
ous questions  present  themselves  :  — What 
proportion  of  this  mass  of  information  is  really 
useful  ?  How  much  of  knowledge  thus 
offered  to  the  intellect  carries  with  it  a  salu- 
tary moral  influence,  and  while  it  enlightens 
the  understanding,  improves  the  heart  ?  How 
much  of  this  vast  amount  of  the  daily  produc- 
tions of  the  press  contains  the  seeds  of  genuine 
knowledge  ?  We  fear  that  a  correct  answer  to 
these  inquiries  would  spread  a  broad  dark 
shadow  over  the  picture  of  the  march  of  intel- 
lect— ^that  the  winnower  would  find  but  a  few 
measures  of  grain  in  the  immense  heap  of 
chaff! 

We  have  viewed  with  pain  the  development 
of  the  slow  improvement,  in  a  moral  point  of 
view,  of  society  around  us,  while  general  intel- 
ligence is  so  rapidly  increasing.  Everybody 
reads — few  study.  Mind  acting  upon  mind, 
through  the  medium  of  the    cheap  literature*' 


of  the  day,  is  developing  on  every  side  a  vast 
amount  of  hidden  intellectual  vigor,  destined 
to  exert  a  powerful  influence  over  the  future 
character  of  the  race.  But  amid  all  these 
ministrations  to  the  wants  of  growing  intellect, 
there  is  too  much  apathy  on  the  subject  of 
corresponding  moral  culture.  There  is  now 
a  vast  amount  of  mental  dissipation  visible 
around  us ;  and  the  more  exciting,  the  more 
intoxicating,  the  character  of  a  publication,  the 
greater  is  the  number  of  purchasers — the 
greater  the  profits  of  the  vender.  Out  of  this 
traffic  spring  evils  as  deleterious,  and  as  much 
to  be  deprecated  by  the  wise  and  good,  as  me 
traffic  in  alcohol ;  and  every  true  philanthropist 
should  labor  to  arrest  its  progress,  and  coun- 
teract its  degenerating  influence.  With  this 
class  of  men — men  who  love  their  kind,  and 
aim  to  elevate  man,  by  a  due  improvement  of 
his  faculties,  to  his  proper  standard  of  excel- 
lence, we  delight  to  labor,  and  press  onward, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  diffusion  of  useful 
knowledge. 

In  the  following  pages,  we  have  endeavored 
to  garner  up  treasures  drawn  from  every 
department  of  human  knowledge.  We  have 
endeavored  to  make  the  pen  and  burin  sub- 
servient to  the  best  interests  of  society,  by 
portraying  those  various  truths  respecting  men 
and  things  which  form  such  important  features 
in  the  constitution  of  the  social  compact 
From  the  mines  of  History,  Biography,  Natu- 
ral History,  Moral  and  Physical  Sciences,  Fine 
Arts,  and  General  Literature,  we  have  prepared 
the  choicest  gems,  such  as  emit  the  purest 
moral  lustre;  and  at  a  price  commensurate 
with  the  means  of  the  most  humble  in  worldly 
goods,  we  offer  this  casket  to  the  public,  with 
the  sincerest  desire  that  it  may  prove  a  valuable 
acquisition  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  wealth 
of  every  possessor. 


4 


INDEX. 


A. 


Atmospheric  Phenomenon «. .  15 
Animals,  gesture  language  of .  16 
Animals,  effect  of  steam  on.  .  33 

America,  pre-historic   32 

Arabs,  peculiarities  of  the.  . .  33 
America,  the  wooden  wonders 

of   37 

Angelo,  Michael,  as  a  work- 
man  122 

Animals,  length  of  life  of   127 

Athirst   144 

A  Great  Engineer   149 

A  Text  Among  the  Cresses. . .  156 

Aluminium  159 

Astronomer,  the  Doy  166 

Atoms,  minuteness  of   167 

American  Caviare   168 

Arsenic  169 

A  Royal  Dinner   169 

Accidents,  happy   180 

Arabs,  burial  rites  of   181 

Alcohol   183 

Alpnach,  the  slide  of   191 

Anglo  Saxon  Cheer   192 

Ants,  visiting   193 

A  House  on  the  Water  196 

A  Deep  Well   205 

Accident,  taking  advantage  of  206 
Alabama  Lake,  wonders  of .  . .  207 

Ancients,  the  food  of  208 

A  Bird  Story   209 

Arnold,  Benedict,  boyhood  of  213 
Algiers,  a  Roman  tunnel  in  . .  62 

Arctic  Night   67 

Ancient  Earthworks,  Tennes- 
see   74 

Artesian  Wells   75 

A  Great  Naturalist   78 

Ancient  Fortification,  an   81 

Augean  Stables   82 

Antarctic  Region   84 

Ancient  Mode  of  Living  220 

A  Singular  Meeting  221 

A  Paper  Age  221 

An  Ancient  Document   233 

An  Odd  Trade  222 

Authors,  habits  of   231 

A  Trained  Dog   233 

An  Arabian  Thief  238 

An  Aged  Tortoise   250 

An  Energetic  Girl   253 

A  Royal  Wager   253 

A  Mother's  Song  335 

Accidental  Discovery  351 

A  Sailor's  Story  355 

A  Royal  Joke   355 

A  Useful  Drug   355 


An  Irish  Elliott  363 

A  Hundred  Years  Ago   371 

A  New  Englander's  Will  383 

Annie  Laurie   387 

A  Man  Worth  Knowing  388 

A  Railroad  Signal  Office  394 

Autumn  Has  Come   405 

A  Living  Bridge  406 

A  Wonderful  Dog   407 

Amber   408 

A  Famous  Bed  408 

American  Freedom   412 

A  Debtor's  Prison   427 

Abroad  With  Nature  432 

Anger  436 

A  Long  Speech  446 

An  Arab  Belle  451 

A  Contrast   453 

Artificial  Incubation  454 

Arizona   458 

Amonia   458 

Across  the  Western  Wilder- 

ness   463 

An  Ancient  Hotel   491 

A  Word  to  Young  Men   497 

B. 

Biology   11 

Brain,  the  unconscious  action 

of   15 

Body,  chemistry  of  the   18 

Balloons  and  Aerial  Naviga- 
tion  24 

Bohemian  Waxwing,  the. ...  30 

Birds'  Nests  for  Food   49 

Burliugame,  Anson   107 

Brougham's,  Lord,  Residence  147 
Burrett,  Elihu,  the  learned 

blacksmith  150 

Babes,  food  for   157 

Bees,  habitations  of   161 

Birds'  Nests   161 

Bat,  about  a   174 

Birds,  spare  the   185 

Babel,  the  tower  of   194 

Blind,  the  preceptions  of  the.  195 

Bunker  Hill  Monument   201 

Blood,  iron  in  the   205 

Bridge,  the  great   205 

Bahamas,  wrecking  on  the .  . .  209 

Buffalo,  migration  of  the  210 

Bees,  why  they  work  in  the 

dark   210 

Beetle,  only  a   214 

Birds  of  Tennessee   55 

Baffins  Bay  by  Moonlight   67 

Banyan  and  Ceiba  Trees   68 

Boyden,  Seth,  the  inventor. ..  69 


Books   73 

Benares,  India   73 

Bronze  Statue,  how  cast   86 

Bird,  the  humming  -  245 

Beaux  of  Former  Times   228 

Boiling  Lake   233 

Bathing  in  Famous  Waters .  .  234 

Boy  Nature   240 

Butterfly  Life   247 

Bay  Billy   328 

Bell  Family,  the   348 

Business  Success   375 

Blood  Poisoning   363 

Big  Ben   374 

Battle  with  a  Grizzly   878 

Baron  Munchausen   381 

Burton  and  Brougham   411 

Born  a  Poet   416 

Bashan  Shepherd   427 

Billiard  Balls   434 

Beef  for  Britons   450 

C. 

Compass,  gas  and  gunpowder  17 

Coral  and  Pearl  Fishing   29 

Christmas,  after   30 

Cooke,  Jay   109 

Clay,  Henry   119 

Cooper,  Peter   121 

Chase,  Salmon  P   131 

Calhoun   135 

Chickering,  Jonas   142 

City  and  Country   160 

Cats  on  Exhibition   162 

Chlorine   162 

Crow,  a  legendary   196 

Cheer  Him   197 

Caesar's  Nose   198 

Commerce,  influence  of   204 

Charcoal   206 

CoUossus,  the  modern   210 

Curious  Chances   214 

Children,  play  with  the   215 

Celestial  Oddities   215 

China,  New  Year's  day  in   218 

Carthage,  Fall  of   51 

Carniverous  Plants   56 

Ceylon,  the  natives  of   62 

Cacti  and  Agaves   63 

Canton   67 

China,  the  great  wall  of   78 

Clothing  the  Body   500 

Crocodile,  the  Florida   81 

Cerberus   85 

Coffee  Tree,  the   86 

Cushman,  Charlotte   93 

Carson.  Cliristopher   98 

Coral  Brackets   246 


V 


INDEX. 


Combat  Between  Polar  Bears.  342 

Canaries,  training   244 

Coal   254 

Carbonic  Acid   343 

Charlotte  Corday   348 

Cultivation  of  the  Quince.  . . .  357 

Cloves  and  Pepper   362 

Cattle  in  Texas   395 

Character   397 

Cotton  and  Wool   398 

Camphor   404 

Camp  Meetings   415 

Canaries,  English  and  German  424 

Cycles   428 

Curious  Pair  of  Jaws   431 

Carbon   442 

Calcium   451 

Changes  in  Fashions   452 

Cashmere  Shawls   491 

Colorado   512 


D. 

Dentistry,  Japanese  

Drake,  Francis  

Duke  of  Portknd,  the. .  . . 

Drew,  Daniel  

Dore's,  Gustave,  Studio.  . . 

Divorce  Customs  

Dalmatia,  Bag-pipers  of.. .  . 
Drunkards,  punishment  of. 
Duel,  A,  fought  in  the  air.  . 

Diamond,  the  

Dorrilism  

Depths  of  the  Ocean  

Discovery  of  a  Lost  Plant.  . 
Diving  beneath  the  Sea.  . . 

Dull  Great  Men  

Duelling  

Double  Barrelled  Faces.  . . . 

Delusive  Buoys  

Defence  of  the  Goose  

Drowning  Death  

Detractors  

Dogs  in  Council  


Electricity,  the  power  of  

Entomologist,  Visiting  an.  .  .  . 
Esquimaux,  how  they  live.  . . 

Eloquence  

Earthworm,  the  

Egypt,  the  dancing  girls  of.  . 

Elephant,  the  capture  of  

Etching  Glass,  the  manner  of. 
Engine,  the  starting  of  the. .  . 

Eye,  the  human  

English  m.  American  Good- 
breeding  

Eye,  a  mechanical  

Earthquake,  the  great  

Execution  of  Raleigh  

Elephants  at  Sea  

Early  Marriages  

Equine  Sagacity  

English  Landowners  

Economies  

Experience  of  a  Minister  

Experience  

Experiments  with  Diamonds . 
Eating  Fruit  


Fungus  

Fish,  musical. 


44 
117 
122 
130 
162 
197 
205 
206 
210 
53 
59 
65 
72 
235 
255 
373 
385 
396 
401 
437 
453 
437 


13 
20 
39 
147 
168 
172 
173 
177 
194 
208 

213 
217 
65 
230 
351 
343 
346 
348 
375 
403 
416 
458 
511 


16 

19  i 


'  Fish,  flying.   30 

Fish,  eyeless   35 

Frisky  and  Flossy   42 

Fish,  a  peculiar   42 

Flowers,  some  curious   44 

Franklin's  Visit  to  his  Mother  128 

Fame   132 

Four  Great  Men,  the  end  of . .  134 

Falconry,  the  days  of   139 

Farragut   145 

Franklin,  Benjamin        146  &  156 

Fremont,  J.  C   148 

Flowers,  sleeping   177 

Friends,  the  farmers'   179 

Fur-bearing  Animals,  skin  of  186 
Fish,  millions  of,  distributed,  189 
French  and  English  manners.  189 

Fish,  taking  of  food  by   58 

Fossils   58 

Fire,  everlasting   62 

Fish  Trap,  an  Esquimaux' ...  72 

Flowers  in  the  Tropics   74 

Furies  and  Harpies   83 

Fogs   232 

Fishing  for  Pearls   253 

French  and  English  Manners .  344 
Franklin's  Simple  Church  . . .  344 

Farmers'  Life  in  Winter  345 

Fungi   349 

Fruitful  Age   365 

Food  and  Flannel   368 

Farm  Life   369 

Future  of  Animals   383 

Frog  Barometers   391 

Freedmen's  Memorial   384 

Fruits  and  Flowers   398 

Footprints  of  Time  409 

Fishing  Through  the  Ice   424 

Foreign  Languages   428 

Feelings  while  Dying  435 

Familiar  Faces   445 

Fight  Between    Horse  and- 

Tiger   501 

Functions  of  the  Skin   505 

G. 

Gems  and  Precious  Stones. . .  20 

Ganges  Canal,  the   32 

Giants,  facts  concerning  115 

Grave  Robbers   186 

Gluttony,  ancient   193 

Gulf  Stream   194 

German  Courtships   195 

Great  Writers  as  Conversers  .  205 

Giants,  a  family  of   207 

Girls,  a  Chinese  book  for. . .  .  216 

Gold,  the  world's   82 

Gas,  origin  and  manufacture.  84 

Gold  Leaf    85 

German  Students   92 

Goodyear,  Charles   94 

Greeley,  Horace   104 

Gulf  Stream,  the   245 

Greedy  Monarchs   244 

Gossiping   256 

Gambling   331 

Getting  on  Life   333 

Greenland  Fashions   343 

Greatness  and  Goodness  352 

Good  Advice   352 

Gossip   365 

Girls   397 

German  Betrothals   415 

(i  raves  of  Presidents  433 

(Hycerine   500  I 


I  H. 

House,  a  silk-lined   34 

Hamilton,  Alexander   Ill 

Hayes,  Rutherford  B   116 

His  Choice   123 

Hohenlinden,  battle  of   154 

Hydrogen   181 

House  Raising,  Island  of  Ru- 

gen   193 

Heart,  an  oyster's   194 

Hygroscopic  Paper   218 

Human  Remains,  the  oldest.  .  54 

Heavens,  wonders  of  the   57 

Hudson,  the  first  steamboat 

on  the   62 

Honduras   71 

Howe,  Elias   89 

Henry,  Patrick   95 

Human  Sympathy   220 

Hyenas   22G 

Hydrochloric  Acid   387 

Horses  and  Their  Masters   389 

Happiness  at  Home   417 

Harmful  Literature   425 

Heines'  Last  Hours   437 

Hashish   452 

Habit  of  Observation   457 

Homes  Without  Hands   461 

Horses  in  Japan , , , ,   499 


India,  scenes  in  

Ireland  in  the  Olden  Time. .  .  116 

Indians,  the  Pecos   117 

In  the  Twilight   168 

Insect  Destroyers   179 

Invention,  what  it  has  done. .  186 

Iodine   193 

Insects  of  Commerce   202 

Incident,  a  drawing-room. . . .  210 

Instrument,  the  magical   218 

India  Rubber   80 

Ireland,  the  peat  boys  of   82 

Ink,  a  river  of   84 

Indian  Tradition   258 

Interest  and  Perseverence   346 

Ingenuity  of  Smugglers   384 

Icelanders  in  Alaska   404 

Irresolution   443 

Imaginary  Miseries   443 

Indian  Foods   492 

Indian  Runners   499 

Integrity  in  Business  , , ,  510 


Jason  and  the  Argonants  153 

Joan  of  Arc   87 

Jefferson,  Thomas   98 

Jewish  Life   222 

Jugglers  and  Snake  Charmers  238 

Josephine's  Sanctuary   238 

Japanese  Teeth-pulling, , , , . ,  385 


Kerosene  Oil,  the  history  of . .  171 
Knott's,  J.  Proctor,  Duluth 

speech   184 

Kindness  of  a  Dofi:   356 


INDEX. 


Lebanon,  the  cedars  of   29 

Let  the  World  Know  You're  a 

Man   106 

Lincoln,  Abraham   124 

Lafayette   133 

Livingstone,  David   134 

Lawrence,  Old  John   137 

Longfellow's  Residence   149 

Light  and  the  Complexion ...  100 

Limerick,  the  bells  of   170 

Locomotion,  old  modes  of  175 

Life  Considered  as  a  Mode  of 

Motion   182 

Lioness,  the  gratitude  of  a,  . .  192 

Light- Houses   193 

Life   207 

Leaf  and  Flower  Impressions.  215 

Learn,  be  willing  to  217 

Locomotive,  the  first  Ameri- 
can  161 

Lightning,  Ball   61 

Lapis  Lazuli   62 

Lavender  Culture   83 

Little  Great  Men   98 

Life,  the  history  of  a  100 

Life  in  the  Ocean  Depths. . . .  101 
Life  in  Portuguese  Towns .  .  .  232 

Lunacv,  curiosities  of  255 

Life  in  a  Water  Drop  329 

London  in  1665   336 

Lamartine's  Marriage   337 

Literature   417 

Light-Houses  421 

Last  Walk  to  Bethany  423 

Lost  to  Society  427 

Little  Things   453 

Lost  Knowledge  457 

Laughter  498 

Life  509 

M. 

j.V[icroscope,  powers  of  the.  . .  17 

Meteoric  Stones   28 

Magellan,  Straits  of   46 

Moon,  telescopic  views  of  the  48 

Men,  the  coming   106 

Marion,  Francis  110 

Mythical  Beings  118 

Money,  the  flight  of  159 

Malay  Customs   165 

Maryland  Ponies   165 

Mountain,  the  enchanted  183 

Marbles   186 

Minstrel,  the  wandering  203 

Men,  when  at  their  best   21<^ 

Mascat,  manners  and  customs 

in   52 

Monkey,  the   60 

Meteor,  a  Pacific  Coast   68 

Minotaur,  the   71 

Musical  Instrument,  ancient..  77 

Mountains,  high   83 

Morse,  S.  F.  B   99 

Marbles,  the  manufacture  of.  245 

Machinery   227 

Microscopic  Revelation   239 

Middle  Ages,  servants  in  the.  250 

Men  of  Genius   254 

Mouse  Catching  Baby   335 

Marsh  Gas   353 

Much  from  Little  368 

Magnesium  385 

Magnesia   407 

Masrriage  of  Great  Men  407 


Married  Life  in  Germany. . . .  426 

McKay,  Donald  438 

Marriages  and  Homes  447 

Mexico  491 

N. 

Nature,  Science  and  Art   31 

Neptune,  discovery  of   41 

Nightingale,  the   151 

Niagara  Falls,  a  big  ship  sent 

over   166 

Natural  History,  curiosities  of  .  51 

Night,  no   73 

Nautilus,  the   78 

Nurse,  an  elephant  as   249 

No  Tact   365 

Narrow  Minded   375 

Nitric  Acid   382 

Nature   387 

Nitrogen   418 

Newspapers,  etc   425 

New  York  Post  Office   431 

O. 

Ornithologist,  vacation  of  an..  113 

One  Great  Lesson   144 

Oxygen   160 

Old  Hickory,  the  origin  of .  . .  179 

Orator,  heroism  of  the  true  . .  217 

Olive  Tree,  the   79 

Old  Time  Streets   222 

Oil  Cloth   225 

Our  Enemies  and  Our  Allies  .  239 

One  Hundred  Years  Ago   261 

Only  One  Moment. . . .'.   333 

Odors   334 

defiant  Gas   335 

Oxalic  Acid   338 

Oral  Instruction   354 

Obstinacy  and  Firmness   395 

Oil  of  Vitriol   414 

Old  Bones   415 

Ozone   427 

Owls  and  Their  Uses   448 

Out  of  Work   456 

P. 

Printing   26 

Planetary  System,  the   28 

People,  a  new  race  of   33 

Panama  Bay,  the  phosphor- 

esence  of   35 

Photographs,  leaf   35 

Photographic  Chemicals   36 

Paper  Manufacture   36 

Packer,  Asa   108 

Prince  Albert's  Wooing   115 

Perseus  and  Hercules   119 

Pompeii   60 

Peabody,  George   138 

Putnam,  Israel   154 

Pic-nic,  an  Indian   158 

Parrots,  sagacity  in   199 

Prairies,  growing  trees  on  the  179 

Potato,  the   181 

Plains,  travelling  on  the  182 

Phosphorus   185 

Plant  Travellers  197 

Pious  Women,  dying  words 

of   207 

Pacific,  voute  to  the  209 

Pigeons,  nesting  of   211 

Popgun,  a  living  215 

Phenomenon,  a  natural  53 


Plants  that  Eat  Animals   59 

Pyramids,  how  they  were  built  65 

Pluto   105 

Prison  Life  in  France   238 

Power  of  Music   240 

Patents   242 

Pins,  how  made   250 

Pulpit  Anecdotes   251 

Prairie  Chicken   25';i 

Platinum   258 

Partridges  and  Quail  341 

Pay  as  You  Go   352 

Practical  Jokes   353 

Profitable  Excursions  358 

Power  of  Kindness   374 

Power  of  Associates   374 

Presidents  of  the  U.  S   376 

Plants  that  Sleep   378 

Professional  Diversions   395 

Promptness  on  Duty   425 

Pyramids  and  Ironclads   433 

Power  of  a  Great  Example....  455 
Potato  Culture   508 

Q. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  Cup   78 

Queensland  226 

R. 

Railways,  high  speed  on   16 

Remarkable  Blind  Characters .  112 

Rosy  Hours   118 

Rogers  the  Sculptor  123 

Railroading  in  Early  Days.  , .  158 
Richest  Man,  the  estate  of ,  <  ,  185 

Rabbits'  Tracks  ,  185 

Robbins,  early  , .  190 

.Rooms,  how  to  beautify  your.  194 

Red  Sea,  the  color  of   195 

Rosewood   206 

Russia,  the  frost  flowers  of . .  .  69 

Rice  Fields   79 

Roman  Luxury   85 

Randolph  and  Byron  100 

Railway  Speed   228 

Rupert's  Land   241 

Roman  Fondness  for  Purple. .  243 

Remarkable  Longevity  251 

Rhinocerous,  grief  of  251 

Real  Merit  Wins  332 

Roger  Bacon  408 

Rich-Poor  of  Paris   423 

Resins  435 

Reason  'ch.  Instinct   437 

Retiring  from  Business  455 

Russian  Ladies  456 

Retiring  from  the  Farm  492 

Revisiting  the  Earth  510 

S. 

Silk,  the  manufacture  of   29 

Sierras  the,  a  mystery  of  c  34 

Stone,  the  wandering   39 

Snakes   40 

Salt  Lake   41 

Stilts,  living  on   42 

Science,  the  triumphs  of   43 

Sun  and  Moon,  eclipses  of . .  .  45 

Sponges   48 

Sleepers,  the  seven   106 

South  America,  the  Pampas  of  118 
Scott's,  Sir  Walter,  friendships  122 
Scott.  Winfield   136 


INDEX, 


vii 


Sponge  fisliing  in  Greece  141 

Successful  Workers   157 

Sleep,  how  long  to  158 

Sicilian  Vespers,  the  161 

Sport  in  the  far  West  163 

Seed  life  c...  168 

Spanish  Customs   169 

Slow  but  Sure   170 

Sea  Weeds,  how  to  preserve.  170 

Sun  Dial,  the   186 

Swallows,  the  revenge  of . . , .  187 

Swift  and  his  servant   189 

Scott,  Sir  Walter   190 

Siibaquous  Life   198 

Spider,  how  it  builds  202 

Siin  light,  the  benefit  of  207 

Sea  Birds   209 

Swimming   214 

Soda,  manufacture  of  232 

Sulphur  222 

Silk  Culture  221 

Sunlight  and  Health  216 

Star  Dust   219 

Subterraneous  Walls   55 

Sea  Monster,  another   66 

Sturgeon,  number  of  eggs  in 

the   66 

Sepulchres,  Peruvian   73 

Sugar   80 

Shamoy  Skins   80 

Spiders,  house   86 

Sandwich  Islands  246 

Self  Improvement   245 

St.  Augustine   220 

Sumner,  Charles  243 

Sunstroke   333 

Salutations  334 

Streets  of  London   354 

Sagacity  of  a  Rat   358 

Silicon  363 

Salt   364 

Spring  Trips  366 

Snakes  of  Tenneesee  372 

Scenes  in  the  Polar  Regions. .  392 

Sleep   396 

Soldiers'  Dogs   402 

Sulphur  410 

Snail  Eating  418 

Spiders  at  Home  429 

Strychnine   434 

Sodium  446 

Surprised  by  a  Leopard  448 

Summer  Weather  449 

Success  and  Industry  499 

Sea- Side  Sands   503 

Sunday  in  Saxony   507 

Swedes  going  Home  508 

T. 

Telescope  and  Microscope. ...  25 

Tlie  Old  Man  Eloquent   109 

Toads..,,.,,,,,  ,.,  125 


The  Street,  taken  from   127 

Town,  Salem,  L.L.D  129 

Telegraph,  anecdote  of  the.  = .  158 

The  Shah's  Strong  Box   169 

The  Great  North- West   174 

Truth,  or  Fiction.   178 

The  Sailors  Dream   180 

Traces  of  the  Past   190 

Tortoise,  the  prisoned   192 

Training  Wild  Animals   196 

Travelling,  manners  in  208 

Toads,  intelligence  of   216 

Treasures,  recovered   217 

Truth,  neglected  219 

Trout  in  Wells   65 

Tunnels,  celebrr.ted   70 

Tradition,  a  curious. ........  83 

Timidity  of  Great  Men   221 

Terrapin  and  Turtle  Hunting.  223 

The  Dead  City  of  Is   226 

The  Future  of  My  Boys   227 

Tent  Mates   228 

Tears   231 

Traditions  Regarding  Color. .  233 

The  Cyclausen   233 

The  Lighthouse   239 

Teaching    School   in  Olden 

Times   241 

Tree  of  Saturn   249 

Talking,  the  art  of  250 

The  Road  to  Fortune  327 

Tact  332 

The  Black  Death  337 

The  Skin   337 

The  Incas   342 

The  Last  Discovery   345 

Toothache  346 

The  Boy  who  took  a  Boarder.  347 

Tyrolese   347 

The  Early  Morning  Cock  358 

The  Lemming  394 

The  Hippopotamus  361 

The  Rag  Picker's  Savings  362 

Tartaric  Acid   367 

Thrift  and  Salary   373 

Trip  to  the  Hermitage  386 

Teach  a  child  honesty   391 

Tests  of  Character   397 

Tunis   403 

Trip  to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  411 

The  true  Lady   416 

Toilet  of  Sweden   423 

Toilet  in  Spain   426 

The  American  Shrike  441 

The  Key  of  Death  442 

The  Pulse  444 

The  Silence  of  Jerusalem. . . .  444 

The  Test  of  Fidelity  447 

Trapped  by  a  Spider  448 

The  Test  of  Time  455 

The  wandering  Jew  462 

Tiny  Houses  and  their  builders  495 
The  Adoration  of  Women, , , ,  497 


Talleyrands  Wife   500 

The  Country  Store   502 

True  Economy  of  Life. ......  502 

The  Genius  of  Work   502 

Throne  of  the  Grand  Mogul. .  506 

The  Region  of  Pure  Spirits. . .  509 

Tiswein   509 

u. 

Unfinished  Work  256 

Ups  and  Downs  393 

V. 

Vanderbilt   137 

Vegetable  instinct   160 

Vacant  Minds   197 

Vaccination,  the  origin  of . . . .  202 

Vatican,  the   58 

Vulcan   79 

Vegetable  Oils  353 

Vinegar  378 

Vegetation  in  Cities  395 

Value  of  Pluck  417 

Vegetable  Acids  496 

Varnish  499 

Value  of  a  Cent  511 

W. 

Whale  the,  and  whalefishery.  47 

Whipple,  Jonathan  120 

Whitney,  Eli,  and  the  Cotton 

Gin   132 

Whale,  power  of  the  177 

Washington  180 

Wedding,  a  Persian  191 

Wonders  of  the  Tide   55 

Webster,  Daniel   90 

Wax  Vase,  how  to  mould. . . .  246 
^Vhat   we  Eat,  Drink,  and 

wear   22& 

Writing  in  Ceylon   230 

Wonderful  Waters  257 

Western  Europe  257 

Wine  348 

Window  Lights   352^ 

Wyoming  Massacre  356 

Weights  of  Boys  and  Girls. . .  364 

Winter  in  San  Francisco   443' 

Wolves  in  the  Mountains. . . .  451 

Wife  of  Socrates  457 

Weight  of  the  Human  Body.  498 
Wild  Bill  507 

Y. 

Young  Men,  worldly  prospects 

of   167 

Yacob  258 

Young  Men  m 


THE  GKOWING  WORLD. 


BIOLOGY. 


In  Biology,  the  science  of  life,  treating  not  only  of 
the  forms  and  functions  of  living  beings,  but  em- 
bracing as  it  does  everything,  intimately  or  remotely, 
relating  to  the  study  of  organized  beings,  we  have 
an  interesting,  and,  indeed,  a  fascinating  subject. 
For  life,  as  manifest  in  man,  the  highest  of  all  organ- 
ized beings,  or  in  the  Amoeba,  apparently  a  minute 
particle  of  bioplasm  and  the  lowest  and  simplest  of 
living  things,  has  ever  been  the  mystery  of  mysteries. 
In  one  vfe  find  life  in  its  complexity  and  maturity, 
w.liile  in  the  other  we  see  life  in  its  simplicity,  in  its 
cradle ;  but  neither  the  microscope  nor  the  scalpel, 
nor  the  laboratory  has  ever  been  able  to  remove  the 
mystic  drapery  surrounding  life,  but  we  are  ever 
beckoned  onward  to  another  and  different  sphere  of 
existence  for  its  solution.  And  when  even  in  a  small 
degree  we  study  by  tbe  help  of  the  microscope  the 
structure  of  beings,  more  elevated  in  the  living  hier- 
archy than  this  little  jelly-like  particle  of  living  bio- 
plasm, we  instantly  see  that  the  fundamental  mass 
has  lost  its  homogeneousness,  that  it  has  fractionized 
itself  into  many  bioplasts,  all  invisible  to  the  naked 
eye.  Now,  these  small  living  centres  or  individual 
aells,  form  the  fundamental  basis  not  only  for  the 
manifestation  of  life,  but  also  the  foundation  for 
every  organ  and  tissue  of  the  animal  or  vegetable  or- 
ganism. These  cell  bodies  are  called  anatomical  or 
histological  elements,  and  may  be  one  five-hundreth 
or  less  than  the  five-thousandth  of  an  inch  in  diam- 
eter, yet  every  one  has  a  living  bioplast  as  a  centre, 
and  into  every  centre  there  flows  a  current  of  nutrient 
matter  or  pabulum,  which,  by  a  process  that  cannot 
be  explained  by  chemistry  or  any  physical  science,  is 
changed  into  living  matter.  At  the  outer  edge  of 
the  cell  formed  material  accumulates,  and  is  in  some 
cases  tissue,  in  some  secretion,  and  in  some  an  osseous 
deposit.  Now  these  cells  with  germinal  centres  of 
bioplasm  are  scattered  so  pervadingly  through  all  or- 
ganic structures  that  in  no  organism  is  there  a  space 
one  five-hundredth  of  an  inch  square  without  a  ger- 
minal point,  or  bioplast.  The  cells  are  more 
or  less  spherical,  having  a  sort  of  individual  life 
and  independence,  assimilating  and  dis-assimil- 
•ting  on  their  own  account,  and  constituted  of 
a  substance,  colorless  and  more  or  less  viscid, 
and  when  complete  contains  a  living  bioplast  as  a 
Tiiicleus,  in  which  vitality  is  supposed  to  reside.  It  is 
now  generally  believed  that  the  bioplast  centers  alone 
convert  the  nutrient  matter  into  living  matter  and 
the  living  matter  into  the  formed  matter  of  the  tissues. 
Schlienden  was  the  first  to  show  that  the  embryo  of  a 
flowering  plant  originated  in  a  nucleated  cell  and  that 
from  such  cells  the  vegetable  tissues  are  developed. 
The  original  cells  are  formed  in  a  plasma  or  blastema 
commonly  foimd  in  pre-existing  cells,  the  nuclei  or 
bioplasts  first  appearing  and  then  the  cell-walls  of 
formed  material  manifesting  themselves.  Schwann 


afterwards  applied  this  discovery  to  animal  structures, 
Ibelieving  that  the  extra  cellular  formation  of  cells,  or 
their  origin  in  a  free  pabulum  or  blastema,  was  most 
frequent  in  animals,  and  that  the  cell  nucleus  is  formed 
by  the  semi-fluid  substance  in  the  cell.  That  the  cell 
when  OBce  formed  continues  to  grow  by  its  own  in- 
dividual powers,  but  is  at  the  same  time  directed  by 
the  influence  of  the  entire  organism  in  such  a  manner 
•as  the  design  of  the  whole  requires.  This  is,  then,  the 
theory  of  vitality,  the  fundamental  phenomenon  of  all 
animal  and  vegetable  life.  There  are  at  least  three 
forms  of  cell  multiplication,  by  fission,  by  germina- 
tion or  budding,  and  by  internal  division  or  the  indo- 
genous  process,  in  which  new  cells  are  formed  vsdthin 
a  parent  cell  by  a  separation  of  the  mass  into  a  num- 
ber of  distinct  centers,  each  of  which  becomes  a  new 
and  independent  cell,  as  in  the  fecundated  ovum. 
The  fission  process,  or  division  by  cleavage  of  a  par- 
ent  cell  and  its  bioplasm  into  two  or  more  parts,  may 
be  regarded  as  a  modification  of  endogenous  process, 
while  budding  or  germination,  consists  in  the  pro- 
jection of  a  little  process  or  bud  from  the  parent  cell, 
which  is  separated  by  the  contraction  of  its  base, 
when  it  is  thrown  off  and  becomes  an  independent 
cell.  Dr.  Beale  says  :  ' '  Every  living  organism, 
plant,  animal  or  man,  begins  its  existence  as  a  small 
particle  of  bioplasm  or  living  cell.  Every  organic 
form,  leaves,  flowers,  shells,  and  all  varieties  of  ani- 
mals; and  every  tissue,  cellular,  vascular,  hair,  bone, 
skin,  muscle  and  nerve  originate  by  sub-division  and 
multiplication  or  metamorphosis  of  bioplasm  into 
formed  material.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  there 
are  different  kinds  of  bioplasm  indistinguishable  by 
physics  and  chemistry."  And  thus,  when  we  come 
to  discriminate  between  animal  and  vegetable  bio- 
plasts or  cells,  we  find  it  exceedingly  diflficult,  for 
neither  form  nor  chemical  compositions,  nor  motive 
power  affords  sufficient  grounds  for  discrimination. 
Yet  when  we  consider  the  functions  of  bioplasm  in 
its  varied  forms  we  may  conveniently  group  all  living 
beings  into  three  great  divisions,  namely,  fungi, 
plants  and  animals.  The  bioplasm  of  plants  finds 
its  pabulum  in  merely  inorganic  compounds,  while 
that  of  animals  is  prepared  for  it  directly  or  in- 
directly by  the  vegetable.  The  function  of  fungi 
tippears  to  be  the  decomposition  of  the  formed 
matter  of  plants  and  animals  by  the  means  of  fer- 
mentation or  putrefaction,  since  the  latter  pro- 
cesses are  dependent  on  the  presence  of  fungi. 
Thus  by  bioplasm  are  the  structures  of  plants 
and  animals  reared  from  inorganic  materials,  and  by 
bioplasm  are  they  broken  down  and  restored  to  the  in- 
animate world  again.  According  lo  the  Atomic  Theory, 
the  world  is  composed  of  an  innumerable  quantity 
of  atoms,  mobile,  infinitely  small  and  distant  from 
each  other.  These  atoms  are  in  a  perpetual  state 
of  movement,  rushing  toward  each  other,  repelling  eadb 


12 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Otter,  for  they  have  their  sympathies  and  their  antipa- 
thies. It  is  from  the  diversity  of  their  aflanities  that 
result  their  exceedingly  diversified  mode  of  grouping  and 
the  variety  of  the  external  world.  It  is  by  their  vibra- 
tions, their  oscillations,  that  they  reveal  themselves  to 
man  by  impressing  his  organs  of  sense.  '*  They  have 
as  essential  qualities,  inalterability,  eternity.  When 
thev  gather  together  new  bodies  are  formed;  when 
they  disaggregate,  bodies  previously  existing  dissolve 
and  seem  to  vanish.  They  are  unhewn  stones  wl 
have  passed,  pass,  and  are  destined  evermore  to  pass 
from  one  edifice  to  another.  And  thus  all  the  phe- 
nomena, all  the  varied  aspects,  all  the  revolutions 
of  the  universe  can  be  referred  to  simple  atomic  dis- 
placements." Reproduction  in  the  higher  organisms 
consist  essentially  of  the  production  of  two  dis 
tinct  elements,  a  germ-cell  or  ovum,  and  a  sperm- 
cell  or  spermatozoid,  by  the  contact  of  which  the 
ovum  is  enabled  to  develop  a  new  individual. 
Sometimes  these  elements  are  produced  by  dLfferenl 
parts  of  the  same  organism,  in  which  case  the 
sexes  are  said  to  be  united,  and  the  individual  is  called 
hermaphrodite,  androgynous  or  monceceous,  while  in 
other  instances  the  sexes  are  distinct  and  the  species 
are  called  dioeceous.  In  ref^ard  to  the  origin  of  life  upon 
the  earth,  the  prevailing  opinion  to-day  ic  that  all  life 
begins  in  a  bioplast  or  cell ;  that  every  bioplast  known 
to  man  has  been  derived  from  a  preceding  bioplast 
Now  the  question  occurs,  Out  or.  what,  then,  came  the 
first  bioplast?  Huxley  says  that  life  is  the  cause  of 
organization,  and  not  organization  the  cause  of  life.  But 
if  life  may  exist  before  organization,  may  it  not  exist  aftei ; 
organization?  Upon  this  subject  the  world  is  divided 
into  two  great  classes,  the  Theistic  and  the  Materialistic. 
The  first  makes  God  dii-ect  and  immanent  in  all  natural 
laws,  and  every  result  of  cosmic  forces  is  attributed  to 
Divine  action.  They  contend  that  the  earth  having 
become  changed  from  its  original  chaotic  state  by  order 
of  the  Creator,  that  in  obedience  to  the  fiat  of  the 
Almighty  the  various  forms  of  vegetable  and  animal  life 
manifested  themselves  from  the  lowest  organisms  in  the 
primal  periods  as  the  earth  became  fitted  for  their 
existence,  to  the  more  complex  of  succeeding  periods. 
That  in  slow  and  solemn  majesty,  according  to  sacred 
history  and  geologic  evidence,  has  period  succeeded 
period,  each  in  succession  ushering  in  a  higher  and  yet  ^ 
higher  scene  of  existence — mollusks,  crustacje,  fish, 
reptile  and  bird,  the  mamriferous  quadruped,  and  finally 
rational,  accountable  man— and  that  several  dynasties 
of  the  great  living  procession  were  introduced  not  in 
their  lower  but  higher  forms — ^the  magnates  or  kings 
first  making  their  appearance,  while  degeneration  of 
species  followed.  They  say  with  Prof.  Dana,  as  de- 
clared in  the  closing  part  of  his  great  work  on  Geology, 
that  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  is  thoroughly  har- 
monious with  geologic  evidence  and  is  both  true  and 
divine.  The  second  class  contend  that  there  is  nothing 
in  the  universe  but  matter  and  its  laws — that  there  is  no 
spiritual  substance,  and  that  what  is  called  mind  or  soul 
in  a  man  is  but  a  mode  of  force  and  motion  in  matter. 
They  teach  that  the  soul  is  in  some  sense  secreted  by 
the  brain,  and  that  when  the  brain  dissolves  the  soul  is 
no  more.  The  Evolution  Theory  is  that  the  earth  was 
aX  one  time  an  incandescent  globe,  but  that  in  the  course 
of  time,  after  millions  of  ages,  when  the  earth  had 
cooled  and  become  fitted  for  life,  the  first  living  organ- 
isms spontaneously  organized  themselves  at  the  expense 
of  mineral  matter.  They  hold  that  all  organic  forms, 
from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  have  been  developed  pro- 
gressively from  living  microscopical  particles  spon- 
taneously organized.  That  the  first  beings  were  ex- 
ceedingly simple,  consisting  of  a  single  cell,  composed 
oi  carbon,  with  an  admixture  of  hydrogen,  oxygen, 
nitrogen  and  sulphur,  and  that  these  cells  by  their  very 
composition  possessed  perception  and  will,  and  when 
properly  united  and  nursed,  in  time  became  man 
through  progressive  development.  This  theory  makes 
man  descend  step  by  step  from  the  wonderfully  com- 
plex organism  of  the  present  age  down  through  the  in- 
ferior animals,  the  ape,  the  porpoise,  the  frog,  the  her- 
ring, the  mollusk  or  the  assidian,  to  a  small  microscopic 
particle  which  in  the  primal  period  spontaneously 
organized  itself,  where  we  find  the  original  ovum  which 
millions  of  years  afterwards  developed  into  man.  In 
this  way  the  biblical  account  of  man's  creation  is  de- 
molished and  the  mystery  of  the  universe  explained  by 
the  evolution  theory  of  life. 


Prof.  TyndaU  says  :  ''The  matter  of  the  animal  bofly 
is  that  of  inorganic  nature.  There  is  no  substance  in 
the  animal  tissues  which  is  not  primarily  derived  from 
the  rocks,  the  air  and  the  water.  Are  the  forces  of 
organic  matter,  then,  different  in  kind  from  those  of  in- 
organic matter?  The  philosophy  of  the  present  day 
negatives  the  question.  It  is  the  compounding,  in  the 
organic  world,  of  forces  belonging  equally  to  the  in« 
organic,  that  constitute  the  mystery  and  miracle  of 
vitality.  Every  portion  of  every  animal  body  may  be' 
reduced  to  purely  inorganic  matter.  A  perfect  reversal 
of  this  process  of  reduction  would  carry  us  from  the 
inorganic  to  the  organic  :  and  such  a  reversal  is  at  least 
conceivable.  The  blood  is  the  oil  of  the  lamp  of  life ; 
the  blood  is  consumed  and  the  whole  body,  though  more 
slowly  than  the  blood,  wastes  also,  so  that  after  a  cer- 
tain number  of  years  it  is  entirely  renewed.  How  is  the 
sense  of  personal  identity  maintained  across  this  flight 
of  molecules  ?  To  man  as  we  know  him,  matter  is  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  consciousness ;  but  the  matter  of 
any  period  may  be  all  changed,  while  consciousness  ex- 
hibits no  solution  of  continuity.  Like  changing  sentinels, 
the  oxygen,  hydrogen  and  carbon  that  depart,  seem  to 
whisper  their  secrets  to  their  comrades  that  arrive, 
and  thus,  while  the  Non-Ego  shifts,  the  Ego  remains 
intact.  Consistency  of  form  in  the  grouping  of  the 
molecules  and  not  consistency  of  the  molecules  them- 
selves, is  the  correlative  of  this  constancy  of  perception. 
Life  a  wave  ' .  hich  in  no  two  consecutive  moments  oL 
its  existence  is  composed  of  the  same  particles.  Sup- 
posing, then,  the  molecules  of  the  human  body,  instead 
of  leplacing  others,  and  thus  renewing  a  pre-existinflf 
lorm,  to  be  gathered  first-hand  from  nature  and  pw 
together  in  the  same  relative  position  as  those  which 
they  occupy  in  the  body.  Supposing  them  to  have  the 
self-same  forces  and  distributiou  of  forces,  the  self- 
same motions  and  disposition  of  motions — would  this 
organized  concourse  of  molecules  stand  before  us  as  % 
sentient-thinking  human  being  ?  Or  supposing  a  planei 
carved  from  the  sun  set  spinning  round  its  axis  md  r©» 
volving  around  the  sun  at  a  distance  from  him  equal  to 
that  of  our  earth— would  one  of  the  consequencesof  its  re- 
frigeration be  the  development  of  oreranic  forms  ?  I  leaa 
r,o  the  aflarmative.  Structural  forces  are  certal  nly  In  tbe 
laass,  whether  or  not  those  forces  reach  the  extent  of 
tor  ming  a  plant  or  an  animal.  In  the  amorphous  drop  of 
Water  lie  latent  all  the  marvels  of  crystalline  force  | 
and  who  will  set  limits  to  the  possible  play  of  mole- 
cules in  a  cooling  planet?  As  regards  knowledge, 
physical  science  is  polar.  It  in  one  sense  knows,  or  is 
'destined  to  know  everything ;  in  another  sense  it  knows 
nothing.  Science  understands  much  of  the  intermediate 
phase  of  things  that  we  call  nature.  Who  or  what  made 
the  Sun  and  gave  his  rays  their  alleged  power  ?  Who  or 
Vhat  made  and  bestowed  upon  the  ultimate  particles  of 
matter  their  wondrous  power  of  varied  interaction? 
Science  does  not  know ;  the  mystery  though  pushed  back 
remains  unaltered."  But  physiology  having  confessed 
that  it  is  unable  to  define  Life,  appeals  to  chemistry  for 
a  solution  of  the  question.  But  the  philosophic  poet 
warns  us — 

"From  higher  judgment  seat  make  no  appeals  to  lower," 
and  such  appeal,  from  higher  to  lower,  is  the  appeal  of 
physiology  to  chemistry.  No  analysis  of  a  nerve  fibre 
will  ever  throw  light  on  sensibility.  The  scalpel  wUl 
not  tell  how  the  cerebral  substance  Is  affected  in 
'thought.  Nor  can  physiology  tell  us  how  it  is  that  a 
small  microscopic  cell  which  we  find  in  the  egg  of  an 
animal  contains  potentially  a  living  creature,  and  which 
will  reproduce  not  only  the  form,  features,  statute  and 
specific  attributes  of  the  parent  animals,  but  also  many 
of  its  acquired  habits,  tendencies  and  tricks.  Has 
chemistry  in  the  whole  extent  of  Its  domain,  anything 
analogous  to  this  ?  Can  chemistry  furnish  us  with  even 
an  approach  to  an  explanation  of  it  ?  Chemical  analysis 
may  conduct  us  to  the  threshold  of  life,  but  at  the  thresh- 
old all  its  guidance  ceases.  There  a  new  order  of  com- 
plications intervene,  a  new  series  of  laws  has  to  be 
elicited,  for  we  have  reached  an  unknown  territory,  and 
everthing  beyond  is  an  impenetrable  my&ievj. 

Owen  thinks  life  in  its  simplest  forms  may,  perhaps, 
be  compared  to  the  power  a  magnet  exerts  when  it  at- 
tracts certain  particles  to  itself  and  rejects  others.  But 
is  this  all  we  have  in  life  ?  You  may  change  a  magnet 
from  state  to  state,  as  you  change  water  to  gases,  and 
gases  to  water.  You  may  braid  and  unbraid  the  theory 
of  any  inorganic  whip-lash  again  and  again,  but  once  uu- 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


13 


braid  any  living  strands,  and  mere  Is  no  braiding  tnem 

It  IS  admitted  now  by  biologists  that  in  the  small 
centre  of  bioplasm,  which  is  the  foundation,  the  corner- 
stone of  life,  a  change  occurs  which  is  a  sealed  volume 
to  the  deepest  physical  science.  Here  at  one  moment 
we  have  the  not-living  matter  and  at  the  next  moment 
the  livin and  who  can  explain  the  mysterious  trans- 
mutation oi  the  not  living  into  living  matter  ?  In  the 
longu  .ge  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Cooke,  to  whom  I  am  in- 
debted in  this  connection  :  "  Take  the  twittering  swal- 
lows under  the  brown  eaves,  or  your  eagle  on  the  cliff, 
or  your  lion  in  his  lair ;  the  egg  in  each  case,  is  the 
source  of  life ;  and  when  quickening  begins,  there  is 
nothing  to  be  seen  at  the  centre  of  the  egg  but  this 
structureless,  colorless,  viscid  bioplasm.  Nevertheless, 
it  divides  and  sub-divides  ;  and  weaves  in  the  one  case 
a  lion,  and  in  another  a  swallow,  and  in  another  case  an 
eagle ;  and  1  affirm,  in  the  name  of  all  reason,  that  from 
the  very  first,  the  plan  of  the  whole  organism  must  be 
In  view  somewhere.  You  know  that  when  a  temple  is 
built,  the  plan  is  in  the  comer-stone.  You  know  that 
when  the  weaver  strikes  his  shuttle  for  the  first  time  in 
the  finest  produce  of  his  art,  the  whole  plan  of  the 
figures  of  the  weh  is  before  him.  We  see  herp  the 
bioplasts  weaving  their  threads ;  we  see  thcEU  co- 
ordinating them  as  in  the  one  case,  to  make  your 
swallow,  in  another  case  to  make  your  eagle,  in  another 
case  to  make  your  lion,  and  in  another  case  to  make  your 
man,  and  v/hy  shall  we  not  say,  following  the  law,  that 
every  change  must  have  an  adequate  cause,  that  some- 
where and  somehow  there  is  here  what  all  this  mechan- 
ism needs— Forecast."  But  what  about  man's  descent 
from  the  simplest  of  organisms  through  the  ape  ? 
Virchow,  perhaps  the  greatest  living  authority,  says  : 
"  As  a  matter  of  fact  there  exists  as  yet  a  sharp  line  of 
demucation  between  man  and  the  ape.  We  cannot  teach, 
we  cannot  pronounce  it  to  be  a  conquest  of  science  that 
man  decends  from  the  ape  or  from  any  other  animal. 
Let  us  then  in  what  we  have  now  to  say,  keep  pro- 
visionally to  the  Quarternary  man  whom  we  really  find. 
When  we  study  this  fossil  man  of  the  Quarternary  period, 
who  must  of  course,  have  stood  comparatively  near  our 
primitive  ancestors  in  a  series  of  descent,  or  rather  of 
ascent,  we  always  find  a  man  just  such  as  men  are  now. 
As  recently  as  ten  years  ago,  whenever  a  skull  was 
found  in  a  peatbog,  or  in  pile  "dwellings,  or  in  ancient 
caves,  the  people  fancied  they  saw  in  it  a  wonderful 
token  of  a  savage  state  still  quite  undeveloped.  They 
smelt  out  the  very  scent  of  the  iipe.  Only  the  trail  has 
gradually  been  lost  more  and  more.  The  old  troglodytes, 
pile-villagers  and  bog-people  have  quite  respectable  so- 
ciety. They  have  heads  so  large  that  many  living 
persons  would  be  only  too  happy  to  possess  them.  On 
the  whole,  we  must  really  acknowledge  that  there  is  a 
complete  absence  of  any  fossil  type  of  a  lower  stage  in 
the  development  of  man.  Nay,  if  we  gather  together 
the  whole  sum  of  the  fossil  men  hitherto  known,  and 
put  them  parallel  with  those  of  the  present  time,  we 
can  decidedly  pronounce  that  there  are  among  living 
men  a  great  number  of  individuals  who  show  a  relatively 
inferior  type  than  there  are  among  fossils  known  up  to 
this  time." 

Prof.  Dana  says  :  "  For  the  development  of  man,  gifted 
with  high  reason  and  will,  and  thus  made  a  power 
above  Nature,  there  was  required,  as  Wallace  has  urged, 
a  special  act  of  a  being  above  Nature,  whose  supreme 
will  is  not  only  the  source  of  natural  law,  but  the  work- 
ing force  of  Nature  herself.    This  I  still  hold." 

Summarizing,  then,  the  latest  science,  we  find  tnat 
spontaneous  generation  does  not  occur — that  the  be- 
ginning of  all  life,  vegetable  or  animal,  is  a  bioplast  or 
cell — that  this  bioplast  always  arises  from  a  previous 
bioplast — that  bioplasts  are  capable  of  self-subdivision, 
and  that  each  portion  of  a  self-divided  bioplast  has  the 
same  powers  as  :he  parent  b  oplast — that  the  bioplasts 
convert  inorganic  not  living  matter  into  living  matter, 
and  living  matter  into  formed  material,  as  secretion, 
tissue,  bone,  musclo,  artery  and  nerve,  thus  not  only 
weaving  cell  membranes,  but  also  weaving  all  the  tissues 
O-  the  organism  in  accordance  with  the  forecast  of  the 
'rreat  Architect  in  the  beginning— and,  finally,  that  the 
theory  of  man's  descent  from  the  ape,  as  admitted  by 
the  evolutionists  themselves,  is  a  deductive  theory  from 
ircumstantial  evidence  alone,  and  not  inductive — a  re- 
sult of  speculation  and  not  of  observation,  and  entirely 
unsrpported  by  facts. 


POWER  OF  ELECTRICITY,  AND  THE 
ELECTRIC  TELEGRAPH. 


As  wc  stand  in  the  workshop  viewing  the  ponderous  mass- 
es of  machinery  kept  in  motion  by  some  monster  steam 
engine,  or  by  the  railway  when  the  heavy  train  is  rushing  past 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  we  naturally  ask  ourselves,  what 
can  be  more  pwerful  than  this?  Again,  as  wc  witness  the  ef- 
fect of  a  cannon  shot  thrown  from  a  mile  away,  we  are  almost 
ready  to  believe  that  gunpowder  must  be  composed  of  the 
most  powerful  ingredients  to  be  found  in  the  field  of  Nature. 
These  impressions,  however,  are  but  momentary ;  for  when 
the  angry  storm  cloud  gathers,  and  sets  the  elements  in 
commotion, — when  the  bnght  lightning  flashes  vividly  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  thunderbolt  descends  to  the  earth,  we 
behold  a  power  more  potent  than  these,  and  we  realize  the  in- 
significance of  the  power  of  man, 

A  few  weeks  since,  (November,  1875,)  during  the  passage  of 
a  severe  thunder  storm,  it  was  my  lot  to  witness  the  mighty 
power  of  the  disturbed  elements.  It  was  in  the  evening;  and 
as  the  inky  cloud  moved  up  to  the  zenithj  the  dazzling  flashes 
of  lightning  followed  each  other  in  rapid  suocession.  while 
the  roar  of  the  heavy  thunder  was  incessant,  and  like  the  ar- 
tillery of  war.  All  at  once  there  came  a  blinding  glare  of 
lightning  that  seemed  to  set  the  whole  world  in  a  blaze.  The 
crash  of  the  thunder  (hat  followed  was  instantaneous  and  aw- 
ful ;— jarring  the  solid  earth  till  the  house  seemed  to  rock,  and 
the  windows  rattled  in  their  casements.  Two  or  three 
days  afterwards,  1  beheld  the  work  the  thunderbolt  had 
wrought.  It  had  struck  a  chestnut  tree,  about  forty  ro<ls  dis- 
tant from  where  I  was  at  the  time,  and  had  literally  torn  it  to 
shreds.  Pieces  of  the  roots  had  been  torn  out,  and  hurled  tc 
the  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  rods.  Deep  furrows  were  cat 
in  the  greensward,  in  different  directions,  to  the  distance  of 
twenty  or  thirty  feet ;  and  a  fence  standing  near,  was  broken 
and  demolished.  And  it  was  all  done  by  a  spark  of  electricity. 
What,  in  comparison,  is  the  power  of  steam,  or  the  explosive 
force  of  gunpowder  I 

And  now  what  is  electricity?  Here  we  have  a  question 
more  easily  asked  than  answered.  It  is,  without  doubt,  the 
most  potent  power  in  the  whole  laboratory  of  Nature.  In  its 
undisturbed  state  it  is  invisible ;  and  in  our  unthinking  mo- 
ments we  are  unaware  of  its  presence.  And  yet  it  exists  in 
everything.  We  find  it  in  all  animal  and  vegetable  life;— in 
the  air  we  breathe  and  the  water  we  drink— in  our  very 
bodies— in  all  Nature.  Deep  down  in  the  interior  of  the  earth 
it  is,  doubtless,  at  work;  silently  bringing  about  chemical 
changes,  performing  an  important  part  in  fitting  and  prepar- 
ing this  earthly  globe  for  another  great  universal  convulsion. 
Electricity  may  be  excited  by  Physical,  Mechanical,  or  Chemi- 
cal action ;  but  why  any  of  these  means  should  rouse  its  la- 
tent powers  into  action  remains  a  mystery. 

There  are  two  states  of  electricity,  known  as  the  2'>ositive 
Bkxxd  the  neq alive.  When  a  body  contains  anoverplas  of  elec* 
tricity,  it  is  said  to  be  positive ;  and  when  it  contains  a  les& 
amount  than  what  is  natural,  it  is  said  to  be  negative. 
When  the  sky  is  partially  overcast  with  clouds,  and  currents 
of  air  are  moving  in  difterent  directions,  changing  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  atmospheref  rom  warm  to  cold  and  from  cold  to  warm, 
the  electricity  is  excited,  and  changed  also,  from  positive  to 
negative.,  axi^  from  negative  to  positive  again,  in  rapid  succes- 
sion. As  an  ove,  charged  cloud  approaches  another  that  is  un- 
dercharged, a  struggle  for  equihbrium  ensues ;  and  the  forked 
lightning  darts  from  the  ;?o;?ii'ii;e  to  the  negative  cloud,  with 
deafening  detonations  of  thunder.  Occasionally,  it  descends 
like  a  dazzling  chain  to  the  earth,  when  it  is  often  attended 
with  disastrous  consequences. 

A  terrible  case  of  lightning,  attended  ^Ith  fatal  results,  oc- 
curred only  about  four  miles  from  my  residence,  in  the  latter 
part  of  August,  1870.  The  family,  consisting  of  Mr.  James 
Eosengrant,  his  young  wife,  and  a  5'ounger  brother  of  the 
lady,  had  just  retired.  Never  in  my  life  do  I  remember  see- 
ing such  a  fearful  display  of  atmospheric  electricity,  as  on 
that  dreadful  night.  The  whole  heavens  seemed  almost  in  one 
continual  blaze;  while  the  angry  roar  of  the  thunder,  caused 
the  solid  earth  to  quake  and  tremble.  Suddenly  a  bolt  from 
the  storm-cloud  descended  upon  the  doomed  dwelling.  It 
struck  the  chimney,  and  tearing  off"  a  part,  descended  through 
the  olank  partition  at  the  foot  of  the  bedroom.  Here  it  appa- 
rently turned  aside ;  and  striking  upon  the  feet  of  Mr.  Rosen- 
grant,  followed  his  body  to  his  head,  when  it  descended 
through  the  pillow,  rending  the  cloth  and  scattering  the  feath- 
ers, after  which  it  tore  its  way  through  the  side  of  the  house 
to  the  ground  outside.  Of  course  every  person  in  the  house, 
was  instantly  rendered  unconscious.  Some  time  during  the 
night,  Mrs.  Rosengrant  called  to  her  brother,  who  was  sleep- 
ing in  an  adjoining  apartment,  and  bade  him  come  to  her.  He 
arose,  and  proceeding  to  her  room,  lit  the  lamp.  She  had  been 
vomiting,  and  now  appeared  unconscious.  He  said  James 
appeared  very  pale,  and  still,  and  as  he  touched  his  arm  it  was 
cold  and  stiff".  He  thought  things  did  not  look  right,  but  what 
was  the  matter  he  could  not  tell;  and  in  a  senii-dream-like 
state,  which  made  everything  appear  like  eome  horrid  night- 
mare, he  blew  out  the  light  and  mechanically  went  back  to 
bed.  All  night  long  Mrs.  Rosengrant  lay  upon  the  cold  arm 
of  her  dead  husband.   In  the  morning  she  roused  up.  and 


14 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ehaking  Mm  l)y  the  shoulders,  exclaimed ;  "WTiy  James  it  is 
time  you  were  up  lOHg  ago."  Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  gazed 
upon  the  pallid  face  before  her.  An  awful  truth  burst  upon 
her  mind.  He  was  dead  1  With  a  wild  shriek  she  leaped  from 
the  bed,  hurried  on  her  dress,  and  fled  frantically  down  the 
road.  At  the  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  rods  she  fell  uncon- 
scious to  the  ground ;  and  for  thirty-six  hours  she  knew  not 
her  nearest  friends.  For  many  days  her  life  was  despaired  of ; 
she  finally  recovered,  however,  and  is  now  living  with  her  sec- 
ond husband.  We  often  hear  it  said  that  lightning  will  leave 
no  mark  on  flesh;  this,  however,  is  not  always  true.  The 
arms,  and  bosom,  and  head  of  Mrs.  Rosengrant,  was  frightful- 
ly burned ;  causing  terrible  sores,  which  required  many  weeks 
to  heal.  Thus  the  lightning  had  left  Its  mark ;  and  its  course 
may  be  seen  upon  her  body  to  this  day.  in  the  shape  of  ugly 
scars  which  she  will  carry  with  her  to  the  grave.  Hence,  we  in- 
fer that  where  persons  are  said  to  be  strucK  by  lightning,  and 
no  marks  appear,  they  were  only  shocked  by  its  near  approach, , 
and  were  not  directly  struck  by  the  bolt  itself.  The  above 
appears  almost  like  a  miraculous  escape  from  death ;  and  yet 
is  revertheless  trus;  tLe  iady  in  question  being  a  cousin  to 
the  writer,  and  the  facts  of  the  case  coming  under  his  own  im- 
mediate observation.  In  company  with  many  others,  I  my- 
self visited  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  The  course  of  the  bolt 
was  plainly  shown  by  the  shattered  ceilings  and  walls,  while 
the  floors  were  covered  with  a  debris  of  feathers,  plastering, 
broken  lath,  and  splinters,  fearful  to  behold. 

A  person  struck  or  shocked  by  lightning,  never  sees  the 
flash,  or  hears  the  report ;  and  where  death  ensues,  it  is  per- 
fectly painless ;  every  nerve  being  instantly  paralyzed,  and 
the  machinery  of  life  hushed  without  a  struggle,  or  move  of  a 
muscle.  Just  here  a  q[uestion  arises  which  may  perhaps  be 
worth  while  to  investigate.  May  not  the  act  of  drawing  in 
the  breath  at  the  time,  have  something  to  do  with  the  nature 
of  the  shock  ?  In  case  of  a  person  being  shocked,  the  beslf 
thing  that  can  be  done,  is  to  pour  cold  water  upon  him  a^ 
quickly  as  possible.  *  t 

The  safest  place  in  a  severe  thunder  storm,  is  upon  a  feather 
bed  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  as  far  as  possible  from  win- 
dows, open  doorways,  stoves,  fireplaces,  or  bright  metallic 
substances.  The  cellar  is  unsafe;  for  if  the  bolt  should  hap. 
pen  to  ascend  from  the  earth  to  the  clouds,  as  is  sometimes 
the  case,  the  basement  would  sufi'er  most.  If  out  of  doors, 
avoid  standing  near  iron  railings,  or  under  trees  ;  as  lightning 
is  more  liable  to  strike  metallic  substances,  and  elevated  ol? 
jects.  The  barn  where  much  hay,  grain,  and  vegetables  is 
stored,  is  also  an  unsafe  place. 

The  loudest  thunder  can  probably  be  heard  to  the  distance 
of  twelve  or  fifteen  miles.  The  distance  ean  be  determined 
very  nearly  by  observing  the  time  that  elapses  between  the  flash 
and  the  report,  and  allowing  five  seconds  to  the  mile  for  the 
passage  of  the  sound.  The  sound  of  the  thunder  appears  to 
start  with  the  electric  flash,  and  to  follow  it  through  its 
course.  Some  claim  that  the  sound  is  produced  by  vibrations 
of  the  atmosphere,  caused  by  the  rapid  passage  of  the  electric 
spark ;  while  others  maintain  that  the  air  is  burned,  or  forced 
aside  by  its  passage,  and  the  sound  of  the  thunder  is  ;m'oduced 
by  the  surrounding  air,  rushing  in  to  fill  the  void.  The  real 
cause  has  probably,  never  been  satisfactorily  explained. 

When  the  soil  is  wet.  and  well  soaked  with  water,  the  Itght- 
ning  generally  plays  among  the  clouds ;  few  bolts  descending 
to  the  earth,  and  those  commonly  light.  Hence,  the  greater 
danger  is  to  be  apprehended  in  times  of  dry  weather.  For  the 
Lightning  Rod,  the  world  is  indebted  to  the  talented  spirit  of 
Benjamin  Franklin.  They  are  best  when  made  of  copper ;  but 
if  composed  of  iron,  they  should  be  at  least  three-fourths  of  an 
inch  in  diameter,  and  in  all  cases,  terminated  upon  the  top  by 
a  bright  platinum  point.  When  of  sufficient  size,  and  proper- 
ly put  up,  they  are  believed  to  protect  a  circle,  the  diameter  of 
which  is  four  times  the  height  that  the  rod  ascends  above  the 
building.  Thus,  if  the  rod  ascends  six  feet  above  the  top  of  the 
roof,  it  will  protect  a  space  twelve  feet  from  it,  in  every  di^ 
rection  ;  or  a  circle  twenty-four  feet  across.  Care  should  be 
taken  that  it  be  surrounded  by  wood  or  glass  at  the  points  of 
support,  and  that  its  lower  end  extend  into  the  ground  deep 
enough  to  reach  constant  moisture ;  otherwise  it  will 
probably  prove  a  source  of  danger,  instead  of  protection. 

The  Aurora  Borealis  or  Northern  Lights,  which  are  often  so 
brilliant  in  the  Northern  regions,  is  supposed  to  be  the  work- 
ing of  electricity.  Some  tell  us  that  the  sheet  lightning  so 
often  seeHyduring  the  warm  summer  nights,  are  silent  flashes 
of  electricity :  but  does  it  not  appear  probable  that  it  may  be 
the  reflection  of  lightning  in  some  far  ofi"  storm-cloud ;  which 
may  be  below  the  horizon,  perhaps  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away. 

Similar  states  of  electricity  repel  each  other,  and  opposite 
states  of  electricity  will  attract  each  other.  If  a  piece  of  glass 
or  sealing  wax  be  briskly  rubbed  with  a  silk  handkerchief  or 
piece  of  flannel,  they  will  acquire  more  than  their  natural 
amount  of  electricity  and  are  then  said  to  he  2)osiiively  electri- 
fied ;  while  the  silk  or  flannel  having  parted  with  a  portion, 
are  said  to  be  negatively  electrified.  The  sealing  wax  and  glass 
will  now  attract  or  draw  to  them  light  bodies  near  by  ;  such 
as  feathers,  bits  of  paper,  pith  balls,  etc.  In  the  same  man- 
ner the  clouds  are  drawn  towards  the  spot  where  the  greatest 
amount  of  electricity  is,  and  the  storm-cloud  rapidly  gathers. 
The  war  of  the  elements  now  commence,  and  continue  until 
the  whole  mass  is  uniformly  electrified;  and  then  the  light- 
ning ceases,  and  the  clouds  instead  of  drawing  together  repel 
each  other,  the  shower  breaks  up,  and  is  said  to  nave  rain'^' 


out.  If  the  fur  of  a  cat's  back  be  gently  stroked  with  the 
hand,  in  a  dark  room,  a  sparkling  and  crackling  will  be  ob- 
served. It  is  caused  by  the  interchange  between  the  positive 
electricity  of  the  fur  and  the  negative  electricity  of  the  hand ; 
and  is  really  nothing  more  or  less  than  lightning  in  miniature. 

For  the  purpose  of  developing  and  accumulating  electricity, 
we  have  the  Electrical  Machine;  consisting  of  a  glass  wheel 
or  plate  revolving  against  rubber,  silk,  etc.  •  and  by  means  of 
this,  and  the  Leyden  jar  which  is  charged  by  it,  many  amus- 
ing and  wonderful  experiments  may  be  performed.  The  earth, 
metals,  water,  the  human  body,  etc.,  are  good  conductors  of 
electricity;  and  sulphur,  sealing-wax,  feathers,  silk,  glass,' 
etc.,  are  non-conductors.  Now  if  a  conducting  substance  be 
completely  surrounded  by  non-conducting  substances,  none 
of  the  electricity  communicated  to  it  can  pass  away.  It  is  , 
now  said  to  be  insulated^  and  charged.  / 

If  a  piece  of  tin  foil  be  placed  over  the  centre  of  each  side' 
of  a  pane  of  glass,  and  a  prime  conductor  of  an  electrical  ma- 
chine be  brought  in  contact  with  one  of  these,  it  will  contain 
jwsitive  electricity,  while  the  other  will  contain  the  negative: ; 
for  equilibrium  cannot  ensue  through  the  non-conducting 

glass.  If,  now,  a  person  step  up  and  place  the  finger  of  one) 
and  upon  the  foil  upon  one  side,  and  the  finger  of  the  other 
hand  upon  the  foil  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  glass,  a  connect 
tion  will  be  made ;  and  as  the  fluids  rush  together  to  equalize.' 
the  person  will  receive  an  electric  shock.  If  a  person  stand 
on  a  stool  with  glass  legs  he  is  said  to  be  insulated ;  and  if 
while  in  this  position  he  touches  the  prime  conductor  of  an 
electrical  machine  in  motion,  he  can  be  filled  with  electricity 
until  the  very  hairs  of  his  head  stand  in  all  directions.  Should 
another  person  dare  approach  and  touch  him  while  in  this  sit- 
uation, a  spark  would  pass  between  the  two,  and  the  result 
Avould  be  almost  as  though  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 
Again,  should  the  insulated  person  raise  his  hand  to  the  open- 
ing of  a  gas-pipe,  there  would  be  a  flash,  and  the  escaping  gas 
would  be  set  on  fire  in  an  instant.  Gunpowder  may  also  be 
iernited  by  electricity ;  and  by  its  aid  water  can  be  decomposed 
and  separated  into  its  two  elemental  constituents,  oxygen  and 
hydrogen.  If  these  two  elements  be  now  put  into  a  strong 
glass  vessel,  and  an  electric  spark  passed  through  them,  they 
will  instantly  combine  with  a  sharp  explosion,  and  water  will 
be  formed  again.  For  the  more  powerful  electrical  experi- 
ments we  have  a  combination  of  Leyden  jars,  termed  a  bat- 
tery. The  discharge  of  the  Harlem  battery,  Holland,  is  s&\<i 
to  be  sufficient  to  kill  an  ox. 

The  operations  of  Electricity  in  Galvanism  and  Magnetism 
are  truly  wonderful ;  but  a  full  explanation  cannot  be  expect- 
ed in  an  article  like  this.  The  reader  has  doubtless  seen  pocket 
knives  that  would  draw  up  and  hold  suspended  needles,  steel 
pens,  etc.;  but  what  would  he  think  to  see  a  bar  of  iron  weigh- 
ing eighty  pounds  raised  and  suspended  in  the  air  without  be- 
ing in  contact  with  anything  ?  Such,  however,  has  been  done ; 
and  the  experiment  witnessed  by  many  at  the  Smithsonian 
Institution  at  Washington.  The  most  powerful  Electro  Mag- 
nets are  formed  of  soft  iron  bent  in  the  form  of  a  horse  shoe, 
and  wound  with  wire.  They  have  been  constructed  in  this 
way  strong  enough,  when  a  current  of  electricity  was  passing 
through  the  wire,  to  sustain  a  ton. 

The  Galvanic  battery  is  mostly  constructed  of  copper  and 
zinc,  in  the  form  of  cylinders  or  cups,  one  within  the  other, 
containing  dilute  sulphuric  acid  and  nitric  acid ;  and  the  elec- 
tricity used  is  excited  by  chemical  action.  It  is  the  Galvanic 
battery  used  in  the  process  of  electrotyping  and  gilding  and 
plating,  and  for  the  telegraph.  With  it  a  heat  may  be  gener- 
ated strong  enough  to  fuse  iron,  and  even  cause  it  to  pass  off 
in  vapor ;  while  a  light  maj^  be  made  so  exceedingly  brilliant 
that  the  eye  can  scarcely  withstand  its  dazzling  rays. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  first  to  demonstrate  to  the 
world  that  electricity  and  lightning  were  one  and  the  same. 
While  at  Philadelphia  in  1752,  he  constructed  a  kite  of  a  silk 
handkerchief,  and  fixing  a  bright  pointed  wire  upon  the  top, 
prepared  for  a  bold  experiment.  A  thunder  storm  appearing. 
Franklin  brought  out  his  kite  and  let  it  rise  to  a  great  height. 
He  now  tied  a  key  to  the  lower  end  of  the  string,  and  to  this 
he  attached  a  silk  ribbon  which  he  fastened  to  a  post  and 
awaited  the  result.  After  some  time  the  string  appeared  as 
though  it  were  excited  by  electricity ;  and  as  he  gently  touched 
the  key  with  his  knuckle  he  received  a  slight  electric  shock. 
The  rain  now  began  to  fall ;  and  the  string  becoming  wet, 
bright  sparks  flashed  in  profusion  from  the  key.  It  was  an 
hour  of  pride  to  Benjamin  Branklin.  He  was  a  discoverer; 
and  the  light  that  he  in  after  years  threw  on  this  great  branch 
of  science  made  his  name  justly  famous ;  for  it  ultimately  led 
to  the  invention  of  the  electric  telegraph. 

The  science  of  electricity  is  at  present  but  very  little  known; 
and  what  astounding  discoveries  in  this  important  branch 
await  the  future  world,  we  know  not ;  though|with  such  a  uni- 
versally diffused,  all -powerful  element,  we  can  scarcely  be  ex- 
travagant in  our  imagination.  It  will  probably  account  for  a 
great  share  of  the  wonderful  feats  of  jugglers  and  showmen; 
it  may  unveil  the  mysteries  of  so-ealled  spiritualism ;  which 
the  very  mediums  themselves  declare  they  do  not  understand ; 
with  its  magnetic  influence  it  fixes  the  seal  of  love  upon  the 
youthful  brow,  and  draws  heart  to  heart  in  fond  aff"ection ;  by 
its  mesmeric  power  the  door  of  the  mind  is  opened  to  the  brain 
of  another ;  and  as  it  is  everywhere  presented  it  may  be  used 
in  the  future  as  a  means  of  communication  the  world  over: 
and  who  knows  but  that  the  time  may  come  when  we  shall 
not  need  wires;  when  mind  can  communicate  with  mind  a 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


15 


thousand  miles  away,  by  means  of  this  all-pervading  medium 
when  even  the  thaughts  of  mankind  will  be  known,  and  such 
a  thing  as  a  secret  cannot  be  kept. 

Comparatively  speaking,  but  a  few  years  have  elapsed  since 
it  was  discovered  in  any  other  form  than  that  of  lightning; 
and  already  electro-magnetism  has  been  used  as  a  motive 
power  for  propelling  machinery.  An  electro-magnetic  engine 
was  built  at  St.  Petersburg,  in  1838,  with  a  power  sufficient  to 
propel  a  boat  containing  twelve  persons.  And  what  though 
the  experiment  cost  $120,000,  and  the  invention  worked  clum- 
say  and  awkwardly,  it  was  perhaps  not  wholly  lost.  The  first 
steam  engines  worked  the  same.  It  required  a  "Watt,  a  Stephen- 
son and  a  Fulton  to  bring  them  to  perfection.  Hundreds  of 
scientific  minds  are  to-day  investigating  and  studying  out  the 
hidden  powers  of  Electricity ;  and  depend  upon  it  the  progress 
of  inventive  genius  among  mankind  is  never  backward. 

Of  all  the  discoveries  and  inventions  yet  made  in  the  whole 
range  of  electricity  the  Electric  Telegraph  is  the  most  wonder- 
ful. By  it  space  and  time  are  annihilated,  and  our  wishes 
communicated  to  others  a  thousand  miles  distant  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye.  A  wire  connects  the  battery  underneath  the 
table  with  one  end  of  the  metallic  horizontal  lever  of  the 
manipulator  upon  the  top.  When  a  dispatch  is  to  be  trans- 
mitted the  finger  is  pressed  upon  the  button  on  the  opposite 
end  of  the  levei-,  and  a  connection  made  between  it  and  the 
wire,  which  is  constantly  interrupted  and  re-connected  again, 
in  order  to  produce  the  dashes  and  dots  of  the  telegraphic 
language.  Lq  an  instant  it  has  reached  its  destination,  even 
thongh  it  be  a  thousand  miles  away ;  and  the  electro-magnet 
that  works  the  lever  of  the  telegraphic  receiver  there,  thrills 
with  excited  electricity  at  every  connection,  while  the  dots 
and  dashes  of  the  alphabet  are  permanently  registered  upon  a 
paper  ribbon  kept  in  proper  motion  by  a  system  of  clockwork 
run  by  a  weight.  Below  will  be  found  the  telegraphic  alpha- 
bet, which  any  one  can  learn  in  a  short  time  and  be  enabled 
to  read  or  transmit  dispatches.  Experienced  operators  discard 
the  paper  ribbon  and  read  from  sound  only : 

a.—  b— ...   c..   .    d— ..    e.   f.  — .    g  .  h.... 

i..   j— .  —  .  k— . —  1         m  n — .    o.   .  p..... 

q .  .  —  .   r  .   . .   s .  .  .   t—  u .  .  —  V  .  .  .—  w  x .  —  .  . 

y..  — ..   z...    .  &  .  ... 

1.  .    2..— ..    3...—   4...—   5  6  

7  .  .   8  —   9—  .  .  —  0  

For  this  great  triumph  of  modern  science  the  world  is  in- 
debted to  the  indefatigable  labors  of  S.  F.  B.  Morse,  L.L.D., 
of  New  York.  It  would  be  interesting  to  follow  his  history  ; 
but  we  have  not  the  space  at  present.  Thirty-one  years  only 
have  elapsed  since  it  was  first  established  in  America.  To-day 
it  contains  more  than  50,000  miles.  It  climbs  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  stretches  across  the  lonely  plains  to  the  Golden  Gate 
of  the  Pacific.  It  crosses  the  briny  waters  of  the  Atlantic 
Oeean,  bringing  the  Old  and  New  World  into  instant  com- 
munication ;  and  soon  shall  we  hear  the  whole  world  is  en- 
circled with  a  medium  whereby  the  mind  of  man  can  be  flash- 
ed along  at  the  rate  of  a  hundred  thousand  miles  in  a  second ! 
Who  would  have  dared  predicted  this  a  hundred  years  ago  ? 


An  Atmospheric  Phenomenon. 

A  Russian  journal  publishes  some  interesting  details 
regarding  an  atmospherical  phenomenon,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  an  earthquake,  in  the  village  of  Kola  (a  town 
situated  at  the  extreme  northern  point  of  Russia),  and 
which  was  at  first  attributed  to  the  efEect  of  an  internal 
convulsion  of  the  earth.  According  to  our  contempora- 
ry, it  was  the  fall  of  an  enormous  asteroid  which  occa- 
sioned the  earthquake.  The  meteor  probably  f  eU  in  the 
environs  of  Kola,  although  the  precise  spot  has  not  yet 
been  discovered.  Violent  winds  and  snow  storms 
preceded  the  phenomenon.  A  few  hours  previous  to  its 
occurrence  there  had  been  several  remarkable  appear- 
ances of  the  "  Northern  Lights ;"  finally,  about  four 
o'clock,  the  asteroid  fell.  It  passed  over  the  town  to 
the  west,  and,  during  its  course,  there  formed  round  the 
meteor  a  dark  cloud,  which  suddenly  extended  itself 
far  and  wide,  and  plunged  the  town  in  profound  dark- 
ness. A  few  seconds  after,  fearful  thunder  claps  were 
heard,  the  earth  trembled,  and  began  to  heave  in  a  vio- 
lent manner.  An  earthquake  occured  on  the  shores  of 
the  White  Sea,  at  a  distance  of  abc  -t  500  kilometres 
from  Kola,  at  about  seven  o'clock  the  same  morning. 


Doctors'  Canes. — It  was  formerly  the  practice  among 
physicians  to  carry  a  cane  having  a  hollow  head,  the  top 
of  which  was  gold,  pierced  with  holes  like  a  pepper-box. 
The  top  contained  a  small  quantity  of  aromatic  powder, 
or  of  snuff ;  and  on  entering  a  house  or  room  where  a 
disease  supposed  to  be  infectious  prevailed,  the  doctor 
would  strike  his  cane  on  the  floor  to  agitate  the  powder, 
and  then  apply  it  to  his  nose.  Hence  all  the  old  prints 
of  physicians  represent  them  with  canes  to  their  noses,  i 


Artesian  Wells  in  Los  Angeles,  CaL 

Mr.  A.  Chase,  of  the  United  States  Coast  Survey,  read 
a  paper  on  the  artesian  wells  of  Los  Angeles  county. 
The  plains  of  Los  Angeles,  he  said,  slope  gradually  from 
the  sea-coast  northward  to  the  foot  hills  of  the  Sierra 
Madre,  which  rises  to  a  height  of  10,000  feet,  and  is  forty 
miles  distant.  The  general  trend  of  the  coast  line,  as 
well  as  of  the  Sierra,  is  east  and  west.  Even  during  a 
dry  season  the  quantity  of  water  brought  down  from 
this  extensive  water-shed  is  great.  The  three  principal 
rivers  which  carry  it  oH  are  the  New  and  Old  San  Gab- 
riel and  the  Santa  Anna,  which  in  Winter  are  torrents, 
but  in  Summer  dwindle  into  rivulets,  and  frequently 
sink  into  sand  and  become  lost  before  reaching  the 
coast.  Los  Angeles  and  Anaheim  obtain  their  water 
supply  by  ditches  from  the  rivers ;  but  should  these 
towns  grow  to  any  considerable  size,  other  means  wUl 
have  to  be  devised.  Artesian  well  borings  were  com- 
menced some  years  since.  So  far  as  his  observation  ex- 
tended, they  had  been  a  success  only  in  a  narrow  belt 
extending  across  the  plain  in  a  direction  parallel  with 
the  coast  line  and  the  mountain  range.  Lying  imme- 
diately on  the  coast  line  is  a  succession  of  isolated  hills. 
At  their  base,  east  of  Wilmington,  are  springs  of  soft 
water  which  might  be  called  natural  artesian  wells.  The 
most  remarkable  of  them  is  at  the  ranch  of  Alamitos, 
where  the  spring  has  a  diameter  of  seven  feet,  a  tem- 
perature of  64  deg.  Fah.,  and  brings  up  in  suspension 
particles  of  mica  and  sand.  Similar  springs  are  found 
elsewhere.  Thirteen  miles  from  the  coast  is  Anaheim. 
An  artesian  well  was  sunk  here  to  a  depth  of  200  feet, 
through  sand  and  clay,  finally  encountering  a  bed  of 
boulders,  but  no  water  was  obtained.  Near  Wilmington, 
also,  a  well  to  the  depth  of  400  feet  was  unsuccessful, 
but  at  Westminster,  half-way  between  Anaheim  and  the 
coast,  34  wells  are  in  operation.  Two  of  these,  those  on 
the  ranches  of  Mr.  Edwards  and  Mr.  Stevens,  were  de- 
scribed by  Mr.  Chase.  That  of  Mr.  Edwards  has  a  depth 
of  171  feet.  The  temperature  of  the  air  at  time  of  ob- 
servation was  71  deg.  Fah.,  and  of  the  water  64  deg. 
The  water  is  soft  and  biings  up  mica  and  sand.  The 
strata  penetrated  consists  of  sand  and  loam  3  feet ; 
tough  blue  clay  23  feet ;  alternate  layers  of  clay  and 
sand  67  feet ;  tough  blue  clay  40  feet ;  and  quicksand 
and  fine  gravel  38  feet.  At  depths  of  140  and  150  feet 
holes  were  made  in  the  piping,  which  admitted  the 
water  from  the  quicksand  and  gravel  formation. 
Stevens'  well  is  94  feet  deep,  and  the  bottom  stratum  is 
of  the  same  nature.  The  temperature  of  the  water 
when  tested  was  65  deg.  Fah.,  and  of  the  air  69  deg. 
The  other  weUs  resemble  these  closely.  The  water  only 
flows  to  the  surface  after  the  layer  of  tough  blue  clay 
has  been  penetrated  and  the  quicksand  reached,  at 
depths  varying  from  90  to  180  feet.  At  Compton,  be- 
tween Wilmington  and  Los  Angeles,  and  at  Los  Nietos, 
between  Los  Angeles  and  Anaheim,  other  wells  are  flow- 
ing. The  question  arose  whether  a  subterranean  basin 
exists  under  these  plains,  fed  by  the  rainfall  of  the 
mountains,  which  finds  its  way  in  through  crevices  in 
the  foot-hills,  and  is  confined  in  places  by  the  strata  of 
clay  and  cement,  discharging  its  surplusage  through  the 
springs  on  the  coast  ?  or  is  there  a  subterranean  river 
running  through  a  bed  of  quicksand,  and  passing 
through  an  old  canon  or  burranca,  and  having  spurs  or 
oilshoots  to  the  natural  springs,  but  emptying  the  main 
body  of  water  under  the  sea  ?  Since  the  wells  have  been 
opened  no  sensible  diminution  of  the  water  has  taken 
place,  nor  is  the  water  from  the  natural  springs  les- 
sened. 

The  Unconscious  Action  of  the  Brain 
in  Playing. 

An  organist  once  told  us  of  an  odd  experience  that 
happened  to  him  while  playing  for  the  people  to  sing  in 
church.  The  tunes  were  of  the  simplest  character,  and 
he  read  the  music  from  the  book  with  the  same  ease  as 
one  would  read  a  newspaper.  BUs  readiness  at  reading 
and  the  great  range  of  music  he  went  over  in  a  year 
made  him  forgetful,  and  he  was  at  all  times  obliged  to 
have  the  music  before  him.  One  Sunday  w^hile  playing 
some  old  and  familiar  choral,  he  looked  up  at  the  pipes 
in  that  absent  minded  way  some  organists  have,  and  lis- 
tened to  the  flood  of  music  that  roUed  through  the 
church.    Suddenly  he  lost  his  place,  and  in  alarm  looked 


1 6  THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


at  the  books  to  see  where  it  was.  He  could  not  find  it, 
could  not  tell  whether  it  was  the  first  or  last  line.  He 
Ilistened  to  the  words,  but  could  not  make  them  out,  and 
^n  a  perfect  fever  of  excitement  went  on  playing.  The 
perspiration  started  out  on  his  face.  He  was  in  a  curious 
state  of  mingled  terror  and  helplessness,  and  through  it 
all  he  went  straight  on  and  finished  the  tune  correctly. 
When  the  verse  was  concluded  he  had  a  chance  to  recov- 
er his  place,  and  the  piece  was  finished  without  accident. 
On  two  other  Sundays  this  singular  experience  happened 
to  him,  and  each  time  his  fingers  gave  the  music  without 
mistake,  while  his  mind  was  utteny  confused,  and  while 
he  could  not  tell  what  was  going  on.  The  only  explan- 
ation he  could  give  of  this  was  that  the  brain  played  the 
music  unconsciously.  It  could  not  be  said  that  the  fin- 
gers played  it.  They  moved  only  by  impulse  from  the 
brain.  At  the  same  time  all  deliberate  power  over  the 
mind  seemed  to  be  lost.  There  can  be  do  doubt  but  that 
the  mind  often  acts  unconsciously.  When  we  wish  to 
recall  a  long-forgotten  name  and  cannot,  we  have  only 
to  drop  the  subject  and  think  and  speak  of  something 
else,  and  oftentimes  the  forgotten  name  wUl  come  of  its 
own  accord.  The  brain,  if  permitted,  will  search  for  it, 
and  unconsciously  work  over  the  subject,  through  all  its 
associations,  till  the  chain  of  connecting  links  is  com- 
plete, and  the  lost  name  is  traced  out.  This  unconscious 
action  of  the  brain  has  been  made  the  subject  of  much 
scientific  research.  To  our  thinking,  the  brain  does  a 
great  deal  of  gratuitous  and  uncalled-for  work  for  us. 
In  the  case  of  the  organist,  his  brain  had  gone  through 
that  particular  tune  so  many  times,  that  it  had  acquired 
the  habit  of  giving  certain  commands  that  were  trans- 
lated by  the  eye  to  the  hand.  When  the  eye  was  with- 
drawn in  the  middle  of  the  work,  the  brain  mechanically 
delivered  the  rest  of  the  instructions  to  the  hand,  even 
while  his  mind  was  quite  detached  from  the  subject,  and 
the  eye  had  lost  its  place.  This  curious  action  oi  the 
brain  may  often  be  noticed  in  playing  and  su\ging.  We 
often  hear  a  person  singing  a  familiar  song  when  quite 
busy  with  some  other  work,  and  we  are  compelled  to  ex- 
lain  it  by  this  voluntary  and  unconscious  action  of  the 
rain.  This  also  goes  to  explain  in  part  the  action  of  the 
mind  in  playing  long  pieces  from  memory. 


Fungus. 

The  vegetable  parasites  which  attack  the  higher  organ- 
isms and  slowly  lead  to  their  destruction  perform  a  more 
important  part  in  nature  than  appears  at  first  sight.  Won- 
derfully small  plants  count  among  the  most  energetic 
agents  of  those  innumerable  transformations  which  are 
constantly  going  on  in  the  organized  world,  and  cause 
the  spectacle  of  life  to  be  an  ever-moving,  ever-varying 
picture.  When  anything  dies,  either  animal  or  vege- 
table, the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed  return  into 
nature's  bosom ;  they  serve  to  nourish  new  beings, ' 
which  are  in  their  turn  decomposed.  Myriads  of  micro- 
phites  and  microzoaires,  disseminated  in  the  air,  hasten 
the  work  by  attacking  organized  bodies  otherwise  inert. 
Some  acting  in  the  form  of  ferment,  transform  the  tis- 
sues into  new  products,  which  serve  as  nutrition  for 
vegetables  ;  others  give  to  animals  the  albuminoid  prin- 
ciples which  they  require.  Thus  between  the  two 
kingdoms  there  is  a  perpetual  change,  and  life  presides 
over  the  work  of  death. 

These  cryptogames  show  great  reproductive  forces, 
and  there  are  few  bodies  in  nature  at  whose  expense  they 
cannot  find  sustenance.    Some  vegetate  on  the  hardest 

franite,  others  absorb  with  impunity  virulent  poisons, 
very  one  knows  the  deleterious  effects  of  white  lead — 
how  the  smallest  portions  in  the  air,  daily  absorbed  by 
the  respiratory  organs,  exercise  on  man  a  poisonous  ac- 
tion, ending  in  death.  Yet  a  fungus  grows  upon  the 
refuse-heaps  thrown  out  of  the  manufactory  ;  it  is  satu- 
rated with  lead,  and  becomes  itself,  by  the  absorption,  a 
virulent  poison.  It  appears  that  it  is  possible  to  take 
away  from  these  hurtful  kinds  of  fungi  the  noxious  prin- 
ciple. The  peasants  of  the  Ukraine  eat  the  false  orange 
and  other  kinds  with  impunity,  after  salting  them  for 
some  time. 

,  Another  sure  way  is  said  to  be  by  steeping  them  in 
water,  with  the  addition  of  vinegar  and  salt.  Three  or 
four  hours  of  this  immersion  suflice  to  make  the  worst 
kinds  eatable  on  the  condition  that  they  are  thrown  in- 
to boiling  water  when  taken  out  ;  and  both  these  liquids 
must  be  carefuUy  thrown  away,  as  they  retain  the  pois- 
on.  This  purification  of  funjgi  has  been  mentioned  in 


more  than  one  ancient  work,  but  the  wisest  plan  Is  not 
to  try  anything  so  doubtful.  The  poisons  of  many  klnda 
is  indeed  so  dangerous  as  to  inconvenience  those  who 
simply  breathe  their  emanations,  and  more  than  one 
botanist  has  been  nearly  suffocated  by  having  left  speci* 
mens  in  his  bedroom. 

Some  antiseptic  substance  entirely  arrest  the  growth 
of  cryptogames,  and  have  taken  an  important  place  in 
commerce.  These  are  used  to  preserve  wood  ;  others 
for  com,  seeds  and  pastes,  so  that  they  may  not  afford 
aliment  for  what  we  call  mould,  only  another  word  for 
small  fungi.  The  efficacy  of  such  agents  is  not  altogeth- 
er certain.  Thus  resin  ordinarially  preserves  those 
woods  which  are  impregnated  with  it ;  yet  there  is  a 
fungus  which  grows  on  the  larches  of  Savoy,  and  draws 
from  the  trunks  where  it  establishes  itself  a  considera- 
ble quantity  of  resin,  sometimes  a  third  of  its  own 
weight.  It  only  appears  on  trees  that  are  already  old, 
and  gives  the  finishing  stroke  to  their  existence  by  car- 
rying off  the  interior  resin,  rendering  them  liable  to  the 
attacks  of  other  kinds  of  fungi  or  insects.  The  wood- 
man who  sees  them  in  his  plantation  hastens  to  profit 
by  the  warning,  and  cuts  down  the  tree.  Thus  various 
are  the  conditions  in  which  cryptogamous  plants  de- 
velop themselves. 


G-esture  Language  of  Animals. 

"  As  an  example  of  gesture-language,"  says  the  Rev,  J.  Q. 
Wood,  "nothing  could  be  more  expressive  and  intelligible 
than  the  method  employed  by  a  Skye  Terrier  belonging  to  one 
of  my  correspondents.  He  had  formed  a  friendship  with  a 
kitten,  and  the  two  were  one  day  in  the  garden.  Presently 
the  kitten  wished  to  go  into  the  house,  and  finding  the  door 
shut,  tried  to  call  the  attention  of  the  servants  by  mewing 
under  the  window.  She  could  not  succeed  in  making  them 
hear,  whereupon  her  friend,  the  Skye  terrier,  picked  her  up 
gently  in  his  mouth,  held  her  in  front  of  the  window,  and 
shook  her  backward  and  forward  so  as  to  be  seen  by  the  ser- 
vants. They  understood  what  the  animal  meant,  let  the  kit- 
ten into  the  house,  and  ever  afterward  the  dog  employed  the 
same  expedient.  It  is  exactly  that  which  would  have  occurred 
to  a  human  being  under  similar  circumstances. 


High  Speed  on  Railways. 

The  modern  locomotive  is  one  of  the  most  marvelloas  and 
ingenious  of  man's  inventions,  but  great  as  it  is  in  this  respect 
it  does  not  completely  fulfill  the  demands  made  upon  it.  It 
stands  to-day  the  best  exponent  of  mechanical  power  and  dura- 
bility we  have  any  knowledge  of,  but  the  world  wants  a  better 
servant,  and  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  finally  obtain  it. 
The  public  are  constantly  urging  railway  managers  to  make 
better  time— to  increase  the  speed  of  express  trains— and  the 
managers  are  endeavoring  to  satisfy  the  demand ;  but  up  to 
the  present  time  they  have  only  succeeded  in  ascertaining  that 
while  it  is  possible  to  run  trains  at  a  velocity  of  a  mile  in  one 
minute,  the  expense  of  maintaining  such  trains  is  an  insupera- 
ble obstacle  to  their  use. 

The  wear  and  tear  of  locomotives  and  rolling  stock,  and  the 
injury  to  the  permanent  way,  the  expenses  in  keeping  up  the 
road  bed,  embankments,  bridges,  and  the  cost  of  the  equip- 
ment of  a  modern  railway  are  enormously  increased  by  run- 
ning at  high  velocities.  The  mechanical  difficulties  are  not 
insuimountable.  Engines  can  be  made  to  turn  their  wheels  as 
fast  as  any  one  wishes  to  ride  after  them,  but  until  we  can 
build  a  road  bed  and  equip  it  with  a  rail  that  will  annihilate 
the  effects  of  heavy  blows  from  heavy  bodies  at  a  high  velocity 
—until  we  can  overcome  the  existence  of  live  force  and  neutra- 
lize its  effects,  we  may  relinquish  the  hope  of  a  remunerative 
traffic  at  a  high  speed. 

Trains  have  been  run  for  long  distances  in  this  country  at 
high  velocities,  only  to  demonstrate  the  views  above  set  forth. 
Locomotives  have  been  built  with  enormous  driving  wheels 
six  and  seven  feet  in  diameter,  and  driven  as  fast  as  the  pistons 
could  propel  them,  but  one  after  another  they  have  all  been 
discontinued,  and  the  regular  rate  of  twenty-five  and  thirty 
miles  an  hour  is  maintained  as  the  highest  speed  profitable. 

iWhat  engineers  have  done  to  overcome  space  rapidly  is  to 
render  the  locomotive  capable  of  making  long  runs  without 
requiring  to  stop  for  fuel  or  water.  If  it  cannot  run  at  a  high 
velocity  without  destroying  itself,  it  can  keep  running  at  one 
comparatively  low,  and  accompUsh  good  results. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


17 


It  is  possible  to  leave  New  York  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing and  reach  Buflfalo  at  twenty  minutes  past  ten  in  the  eve- 
ning, which,  viewed  by  itself  is  not  a  small  achievement.  The 
average  rate  of  speed  required  to  accomplish  the  distance  in 
the  time  mentioned  is  about  thirty  miles  an  hour ;  the  actual 
running  speed  is  higher  than  this  to  make  up  for  unavoidable 
detentions  at  stations  and  decreased  speed  through  towns  and 
at  road  crossings.  Yet  even  this  is  unsatisfactory  to  the  peo- 
ple at  large,  who  are,  as  we  have  said,  constantly  asking  for 
quicker  transit.  It  may  be  urged  that  abroad  trains  are  run 
rapidly,  at  much  higher  rates  of  speed  than  in  this  country, 
but  this  is  true  in  a  few  instances  only.  The  climate  of  Eng- 
land, however,  permits  of  making  a  much  more  stable  roadway 
ihan  our  own ;  it  is  more  easily  kept  in  alignment,  and  stock 
runs  mth  less  injury  upon  it.  Frosts  do  not  strike  three  and 
four  feet  deep  there  as  they  do  in  exposed  sections  of  this 
country,  and  stockholders  lay  out  more  money  in  cost  per 
mile  of  road  built  than  American  stockholders  care  to.  But, 
though  some  trains  do  run  at  a  speed  of  fifty  miles  per  hour, 
it  is  said  in  a  recent  report  that  they  are  not  profitable ;  the 
same  causes  working  against  them  there  as  here.  The  most 
remunerative  trains  are  those  which  run  at  the  lowest  rate  of 
speed. 

The  existing  locomotive,  wonderful  as  it  is,  can  accomplish 
no  more  than  it  has  done.  It  may  admit  of  various  refine, 
ments  in  mechanism,  improvements  in  itself,  and  additions  to 
its  capacity ;  but  so  long  as  its  enormous  weight  continues,  so 
long  as  its  power  depends  upon  its  weight  for  its  very  exist- 
ence, as  it  does,  just  so  long  it  will  destroy  as  it  moves  if 
driven  beyond  certain  velocities  ascertained  to  be  profitable. 

The  locomotive  of  the  future  and  the  railway  train  of  the 
future  to  achieve  high  velocities  will  have  to  be  of  different 
construction  and  character ;  vastly  diflferent  from  those  now 
employed.  Master  mechanics  and  car  builders  are  racking 
their  brains  to  reduce  weight  and  retain  strength  and  stiffness 
in  constructing  cars  and  engines,  but  beyond  a  certain  point 
they  are  unable  to  get,  and  they  will  always  be  met  by  the 
same  obstacles  while  the  conditions  remr^in  unchanged.  We 
must  have  lighter  motors  of  increased  force ;  lighter  cars  with 
greater  strength ;  more  solid  roadways  without  curves,  high 
embankments,  long  spanned  bridges  or  deep  cuttings.  When 
all  these  conditions  are  obtained  we  may  fly  over  the  earth's 
surface  a  mile  or  two  in  a  minute  as  easily  as  birds  traverse 
the  air.  It  is  not  too  much  to  achieve.  If  man  can  converse 
with  his  fellow  on  the  other  side  of  the  world  in  a  nunute,  he 
may  in  due  time  solve  this  problem  also. 


Powers  of  the  Microscope. 

There  Is  a  story  that  an  eminent  microscopist  had  a  bit  of 
substance  submitted  to  him  to  decide  what  it  was.  To  an 
unaided  eye  it  might  be  a  morsel  of  skin  which  a  baggage- 
smasher  had  knocked  off"  the  corner  of  a  smoothly-worn  hair 
trunk.  The  savant  appealed  to  his  microscope.  Entirely 
ignorant  of  this  tiny  bit  of  matter,  except  as  he  had  taken 
counsel  with  his  instrument,  the  wise  man  declared  that  it 
was  the  skin  of  a  human  being,  and  that,  judging  by  the  fine 
hair  on  it,  it  was  from  the  so-called  naked  portion  of  the  body, 
and,  further,  that  it  belonged  to  a  fair-complexioned  person. 
The  strange  facts  now  made  known  to  the  man  of  science 
were  these :  That  a  thousand  years  before,  a  Danish  marauder 
had  robbed  an  English  church.  In  the  spirit  of  the  old- 
fashioned  piety  the  robber  was  flayed,  and  the  skin  was  nailed 
to  the  church  door.  Except  as  tradition  or  archaeological  lore 
had  it,  the  aS&ir  had  been  forgotten  for  hundreds  of  years. 
Time,  the  great  erodent,  had  long  ago  utterly  removed  the 
oflfensive  thing.  Still,  however,  the  church  door  held  to  its 
marks  of  the  great  shame,  for  the  broad-headed  nails  re- 
mained. Somebody  extracted  a  nail,  and  underneath  its 
flat  head  was  found  an  atomic  remnant  of  that  ancient 
Scandinavian  malefactor's  pelt— that  fair-ekimied  robber  from 
the  North. 


An  Idaho  correspondent  speaks  of  a  new  and  unde- 
scribed  species  of  flsh  that  was  last  summer  discovered 
to  inhabit  a  small  lake  in  the  mountains,  on  a  tributary 
^  Peyette  river,  weighing  from  five  to  ten  pounds,  in 
*'  shape  much  like  a  shad,  and  having  a«kin  and  scales  of 
a  deep  blood-red  color.  The  meat  is  of  a  bright  yellow 
color,  and  delicious  in  taste. 


The  Locomotion  of  Serpents. 

We  read  that  the  curse  pronounced  upon  the  serpent  was, 
"Upon  thy  belly  thou  shalt  go,"  and  the  inference  seems  to  ba 
that,  previous  to  that  time,  its  mode  of  progression  was  not 
upon  its  belly.  This  would  imply  a  great  anatomical  change 
in  the  structure  of  the  creature  at  the  time  in  question,  a 
change  which,  bo  far  as  we  are  aware,  is  not  proved  by  paleon- 
tological  research,  and  the  expression  is  probably  a  figurative 
one,  as  observed  by  Dr.  Buckland.  Serpents  progress  by  the 
"foldings  and  windings  they  make  on  the  ground,"  and  the 
stiff",  movable  scales  which  cross  the  under  portion  of  the 
body  ;  but  the  windings  are  sideways,  not  vertical.  The  struc- 
ture of  the  vertebra?  is  such,  that  upward  and  downward  undu- 
lations are  greatly  restricted,  and  many  illustrations  showing 
sharp  vertical  curves  of  the  body  are  exaggerations.  Most 
persons  have  seen  snakes  glide  slowly  and  silently,  without 
any  contortion.  They  seem  to  progress  by  some  invisible 
power;  but,  if  permitted  to  move  over  the  bare  hand,  an  ex- 
periment easily  tried,  a  motion  of  the  scales  would  be  per- 
ceived. These  are  elevated  and  depressed,  and  act  as  levers  by 
which  the  animal  is  carried  forward.  Nor  can  a  serpent  pro- 
gress with  facility  on  the  ground  without  the  resistance  aff'ord- 
ed  by  the  scales.  It  is  stated  that  it  can  not  pass  over  a  plate 
of  glass,  or  other  entirely  smooth  surface.  We  saw  the  expe- 
riment  tried,  by  placing  a  small  pane  of  glass  in  a  box»  in 
which  was  a  common  black  snake.  He  was  made  to  pass  over 
it  repeatedly,  but  evidently  found  that  he  had  no  foothold  on 
it :  and  the  third  time,  as  he  approached  it,  elevated  the  for© 
part  of  his  body  slightly,  and  brought  his  hr.ad  down  beyond 
the  glass,  and,  on  passing,  his  body  seemed  scarcely  to  touch 
it.  This  gave  an  opportunity  to  witness  the  wave-like  move, 
ment  of  the  scales,  that  is,  of  their  elevation,  which  runs  from 
the  head  to  the  tail,  enabling  the  animal  to  move  continuously, 
instead  of  by  a  series  of  minute  pushes,  as  would  occur  if  all 
the  scales  be  lifted  and  depressed  at  once. 

THE  MARINER'S  COMPASS,  GAS  AND 
GUNPOWDER, 

BY  JASPEB  T.  JENNINGS. 

The  smallest  inventions  sometimes  pave  the  way  to  the 
greatest  discoveries.  Particularly  is  this  the  case  with  the 
'  mariner's  compass.  It  is  but  a  minute  nautical  instrument, 
working  upon  a  simple  law  of  nature ;  and  yet  it  has  done 
more  for  man  than  all  the  combined  armies  that  have  '^ver 
been  raised  on  earth.  A  thousand  years  ago,  navigation  was 
conducted  by  the  aid  of  sight  alone,  and  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars  were  man's  only  guide.  The  boldest  mariner  rarely  dared 
venture  far  beyond  the  sight  of  land,  for  the  heavens  were  at 
any  time  liable  to  be  overcast  with  clouds  for  days  together, 
and  then,  without  any  guide  by  which  to  direct  his  course,  he 
would  be  utterly  lost  upon  the  trackless  deep.  Hence  it  was 
confined  to  very  narrow  limits,  and  the  passage  of  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea  was  looked  upon  as  a  great  undertaking. 

Europe,  Asia  and  Africa,  with  a  few  adjacent  islands,  con- 
stituted the  whole  known  world.  The  circumnavigation  of 
Africa  by  Necho,  and  the  voyages  along  its  shores  by  Sataspes 
and  Hanno,  were  reckoned  by  the  ancients  as  among  the 
^eatest  voyages  of  discovery  ever  attempted  by  man.  And, 
indeed,  at  that  time  they  were;  but  with  the  discoveries  in 
magnetism  and  its  application  in  the  invention  of  the  mari- 
ner's compass,  a  new  aspect  was  given  to  navigation,  and  new 
pages  recorded  in  the  geography  of  the  world. 

The  loadstone,  which  is  an  ore  of  iron  of  a  dark  color,  found 
in  various  parts  of  the  world,  is  a  natural  magnet.  If  needles 
or  small  bits  of  iron  be  brought  near  it,  it  wul  draw  them  in- 
stantly to  its  surface,  and  hold  them  there  by  its  own  power 
of  attraction.  If  a  piece  be  fastened  to  a  cork  floating  upon 
the  surface  of  a  basin  of  water,  it  will  in  a  short  time  settle  in 
a  north  and  south  direction ;  and,  indeed,  at  the  time  of  its 
introduction  into  Europe,  about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  it  was  all  there  was  of  the  mariner's  compass.  Even 
this  rude  instrument  was  an  unerring  guide,  and  the  mariner 
boldly  put  out  to  sea,  hundreds  of  mUes  from  land,  without 
fear.  The  inventor  of  this  valuable  instrument  is  unknown, 
though  the  Chinese  claim  the  honor  of  the  discovery. 

If  the  north  pole  of  a  magnet  be  placed  on  the  center  of  a 
steel  bar,  and  drawn  several  times  towards  one  extremity,  and 
then  reversed  and  the  south  pole  drawn  repeatedly  from  the 
center  towards  the  other  extremity,  the  bar  will  become  mag- 
netised. If  it  now  be  balanced  upon  a  point  it  will  at  once 
commence  to  vibrate  and  ultimately  settle  in  a  north  and  south 
direction.  Upon  this  principle  the  mariner's  compass  is  con- 
structed. 

The  greatest  scientific  minds  have  never  yet  been  able  to  ex- 
plain satisfactorily  all  the  wonders  of  magnetism.  In  one 
eeuse  it  has  a  great  resemblance  to  electricity,  and  it  i?  highlj 


i8 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


probable  that  it  may  be  out  a  mooiii cation  of  the  same  force, 
like  electricity  it  is  an  invitible  fluid,  without  sensible  weight, 
and  so  very  stfbtle  that  it  pervades  all  bodies  capable  of  being 
magnetised.  If  the  north  pole  of  one  magnet  be  placed  near 
the  north  pole  of  another,  they  will  repel  each  other;  but  if 
the  north  pole  of  one  be  placed  near  the  south  pole  of  another, 
they  will  attract  each  other.  In  this  respect  it  is  similar  to 
the  positive  and  negative  states  of  electricity,  and  may  be 
governed  by  the  same  law— /i^  staUs  repelling  each  other,  and 
opposite  states  attracting. 

The  earth  itself  is  supposed  to  be  a  great  natural  magnet, 
and  the  attractive  influence  of  its  magnetic  poles,  which  are 
situated  a  short  distance  from  the  geographical  poles,  are  sup- 

?osed  to  give  the  direction  to  the  magnetic  needle.  Captain 
arry,  while  engaged  in  his  voyage  of  Arctic  discovery,  came 
upon  a  certain  spot  in  the  northwestern  extremity  of  Bafiin's 
Bay,  about  19  degrees  from  the  north  pole,  where  the  magnetic 
needle  which  had  been  varying  to  an  extreme  degree  for  some 
time,  absolutely  went  half  round  the  compass  and  pointed  due 
south.  It  continued  to  point  thus  as  he  sailed  on  to  the  north, 
and  therefore  the  spot  where  the  change  was  made  was  de- 
nominated the  north  magnetic  pole.  The  magnetic  poles  are 
never  stationary,  but  are  ever  varying  to  the  east  or  west,  and 
back  again  in  long  periods  of  years.  There  are  two  lines  on 
the  earth's  surface  passing  irregularly  from  north  to  south, 
one  through  America  and  the  other  across  the  Eastern  Conti- 
nent, where  there  is  no  variation  of  the  needle.  East  or  west 
of  those  lines  the  variations  are  sometimes  considerable.  It 
is  also  subject  to  daily  and  yearly  variations,  and  in  order  to 
be  a  good  surveyor  or  navigator  these  must  be  understood. 

In  time  the  mariner's  compass  was  improved  ;  and  now  the 
magnetic  needle  was  balanced  upon  a  steel  pivot,  in  a  circu- 
lar box  containing  a  card,  upon  which  the  difi"erent  points  of 
the  compass  were  marked.  Christopher  Columbus  now  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene,  with  a  mine  of  geographical  knowl- 
edge. He  had  studied  much,  and  he  had  a  theory  of  his  own. 
He  believed  the  world  to  be  round  ;  and  tbat  a  passage  could 
be  made  to  India  by  the  way  of  the  Western  or  Atlantic 
Ocean.  His  opinions  were  received  with  jeers  and  laughter. 
He  had  no  money,  and  was  without  the  confidence  of  the 
people.  He  applied  to  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Spain,  for  aid,  and  a  fleet  of  three  small  vessels  were 
fitted  out  and  placed  at  his  disposal.  On  the  3rd  of  August, 
1492,  he  left  the  Spanish  port,  and  with  the  mariner's  compass 
for  his  only  guide  set  sail  for  the  voyage  across  the  wide  Atlan- 
tic. It  was  a  bold  undertaking,  and  many  deeming  him  a 
fool  or  madman  declared  they  had  seen  the  last  of  him  or  his 
crew.  Day  after  day  the  sun  arose  and  set  in  its  ceaseless 
round,  and  revealed  nothing  but  the  trackless  deep.  The  men 
became  discouraged  and  sick  of  the  enterprise,  and  wished  to 
return.  It  was  now  observed  for  the  first  time  tbat  the  mag- 
netic needle  did  not  point  to  the  north.  They  were  unac- 
quainted with  the  laws  of  variation,  and  the  men  looked  upon 
the  compass  with  alarm.  They  would  go  back— they  were 
ready  for  mutiny.  Columbus  could  not  give  up  the  enterprise. 
He  pretended  to  explain  this  new  phenomena  to  his  men, 
tJiOUgh  the  real  cause  he  himself  did  not  understand.  He 
reasoned  and  expostulated  with  his  rebellious  crew,  and  con- 
tinued on  his  course  a  few  days  longer,  and  on  the  morning  of 
the  12th  of  October  he  landed  at  San  Salvador.  He  believed 
he  had  reached  India,  and  he  gave  the  inhabitants  the  name  of 
Indians.  He  returned  to  Emope  and  received  the  welcome 
plaudits  of  the  world.  His  opinions,  which  had  been  de- 
nounced as  foolish  and  visionaryj  were  demonstrated  to  man- 
Mnd  as  established  facts,  and  civilization  was  to  advance  with 
rapid  strides.  Such  was  the  great  triumphs  of  the  mariner's 
compass;  and  had  it  not  been  for  that  simple  instrument 
America  might  at  this  hour  have  been  a  howling  wilderness, 
and  the  true  shape  of  the  world  unknown. 

Another  noted  inventive  discovery  of  more  modern  date  is 
illuminating  gas.  A  few  years  since  all  the  cities  in  the  world 
were  nightly  buried  in  darkness,  excepting,  however,  a  little 
spot  now  and  then,  where  an  oil  lamp  or  dingy  lantewi  cast 
its  feeble  rays.  Hluminating  gas  was  first  made  in  England, 
by  Dr.  Clayton,  in  1739.  He  filled  bladders  with  it  and  burned 
it  like  a  candle  for  the  amusement  of  his  friends :  and  although 
he  might  have  speculated  upon  the  benefits  following  its  ap- 
plication, he  failed  in  bringing  its  notice  before  the  people 
Buflacient  to  ensure  success.  They  did  not  understand  the  use 
and  benefit  the  new  discovery  might  confer  upon  the  city. 
They  did  not  realize  that  its  intensely  brilliant  flame  was  to 
illuminate  every  street  and  narrow  alley,  and  turn  darkness 
into  day,  and  for  sixty  years  this  important  invention  was  neg- 

A  new  advocate  now  came  forward.  This  was  Mr.  Murdock, 
who  was  soon  to  display  its  merits  to  the  world.  Its  first 
application  was  in  1792,  in  lighting  his  offices  and  residence  in 
Cornwall.  In  1798  he  lighted  the  extensive  machine  shops  of 
Watt  and  Boulton,  near  Birmingham.  At  the  peace  of  Amiens, 
in  1802,  there  was  a  general  rejoicing  all  over  England;  and 
when  tne  sun  had  set,  and  the  sable  curtain  of  night  had  been 
spread,  a  grand  coal-gas  illumination  was  to  be  made  in  one  of 
the  principal  streets  of  Soho,  near  Birmingham.  The  lights 
were  disposed  in  hundreds  of  beautiful  forms,— in  clusters, 
crosses  and  crescents, — and  thousands  from  Birmingham  came 
out  to  witness  the  dazzling  display.  That  night  carried  the 
worth  of  the  discovery  to  a  believing  people,  and  its  useful 
Implication  was  thenceforward  rapid. 


If  a  common  tobacco  pipe  be  filled  with  coaJ,  and  the  bowl 
closed  with  a  bit  of  clay  and  placed  in  the  fire,  a  smoke  will 
soon  be  seen  to  issue  from  the  stem.  This  is  gas ;  and  if  a 
match  or  candle  be  applied  it  will  take  fire  and  burn  with  a 
small  brilliant  light  for  some  time.  Upon  this  principle  the 
great  gas  works  of  to-day  are  built.  Bituminous  coal  is  placed 
in  large  iron  cylinders,  which  are  closed  and  cemented  air  tight 
and  heated  from  a  furnace  underneath.  As  the  gas  is  formed 
from  the  coal  it  passes  off  through  small  iron  pipes  into  a  large 
tube,  denominated  the  hydi-auuc  main.  This  is  about  hSf 
filled  with  water,  and  as  the  gas  passes  through  much  of  ita 
impurities  are  deposited  therein.  It  now  enters  another  pipe 
and  is  conveyed  underground  to  a  broad  iron  cylinder  dipping 
into  a  reservoir  of  lime  water.  This  cylinder  is  perforated 
with  holes,  and  as  the  gas  comes  in  contact  with  the  lime 
water  its  sulphur  is  attracted  and  separated,  and  leaving  the 
last  impurity  behind  it  becomes  fit  for  burning.  Passing  out 
by  means  of  another  pipe,  It  enters  the  gasometer,  where  it  is 
stored  for  use. 

The  gasometer  is  a  huge  cylinder,  often  80  or  90  feet  in 
diameter,  closed  at  the  top  but  open  at  the  bottom,  and  is 
composed  of  iron  plates  firmly  riveted  together.  It  sets  in  a 
circular  channel  or  tank,  incased  in  brick  and  cement,  and 
filled  with  water.  As  the  gas  enters  from  underneath,  the 
gasometer  is  raised  upwards  until  its  lower  edge  is  but  slight- 
ly submerged,  and  it  is  stopped  by  a  beam  fastened  overhead. 
A  chain  is  fastened  to  the  top,  which  passes  over  two  pulleys 
and  descends  by  the  side  of  the  frame  to  the  ground.  Upon 
this  chain  heavy  weights  are  hung,  and  by  this  means  the  gas- 
ometer is  kept  in  its  proper  place.  As  the  gas  is  wanted  a 
stop-cock  is  turned,  one  of  the  weights  thrown  off  from  the 
chain,  and  the  huge  iron  gasometer  slowly  settles  down  into 
the  circular  tank  of  water,  pressing  the  gas  out  into  cast  iron 
tubes,  often  more  than  a  root  in  diameter,  but  which  branch 
out  into  hundreds  of  smaller  tubes,  like  the  arteries  of  the 
human  body,  and  traversing  the  different  streets,  two  or  three 
feet  underground,  again  branch  out,  and  entering  the  different 
houses  furnish  light  to  thousands.  The  chemical  name  of 
coal  gas  is  carburetted  hydrogen. 

Among  all  the  different  explosive  combinations,  none  have 
served  man  better  than  gunpowder.  It  was  discovered  by 
Schwartz,  a  German  monk,  while  engaged  in  the  study  of 
alchemy,  searching  for  the  "philosopher's  stone"  and  the 
"water  of  life,"  in  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
It  consists  of  a  mixture  of  74  parts  of  nitre,  10  parts  of  sulphur, 
and  16  i)arts  of  charcoal,  by  weight.  The  ingredients  are  care- 
fully mixed,  ground  in  water,  pressed,  and  broken,  and  then 
passed  through  selves,  which  gives  it  the  form  of  grains.  Its 
greatest  benefit  to  man  is  in  blasting  rocks  on  the  surface  and 
m  the  mines.  In  war  it  is  the  most  powerful  agent  of  destruc- 
tion; sending  with  unerring  precision  from  the  cannon's 
mouth  the  ponderous  ball,  to  tear  down  solid  walls  of  stone 
and  rend  asunder  the  stout  oaken  timber  of  vessels ;  and  by  its 
aid  the  murderous  shell  is  hurled,  to  mangle  mankind  and  send 
them  to  an  untimely  grave.  It  has  taken  the  place  of  the 
spear  and  battle  axe,  the  lance  and  the  knife,  and  though  there 

no  humanity  in  war,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  it  used  to  be.  Let  us 
hope  the  time  is  near  at  hand  when  the  world  shall  learn  the 
folly  of  war,  and  turn  to  the  paths  of  wisdom,  peace  and  pro- 
gress.—Its  explosive  force  has  been  calculated  at  about  la^OOtt 
pounds  upon  the  square  inch  confining  it. 


Chemistry  of  the  Body. 

BY  DR.  JAMBS  R.  NICHOLS. 

If  we  could  subject  the  body  of  an  adult  person, 
weighing  154  pounds,  to  the  process  of  chemical  analy' 
sis,  and  then  set  down  the  results  in  the  usual  way,  i\ 
would  read  as  follows  : 


Oxygen 

Hydrogen  . 

Carbon 

Nitrogen 

Phosphorus. 

Calcium 

Sulphur 

Fluorine 

Chlorine 

Sodium 

Iron 

Potassium  . 
Magnesium  . 
Silicon 


lbs. 

oz. 

grs 

Ill 

0 

0 

14 

0 

0 

21 

0 

0 

3 

8 

0 

1 

12 

190 

2 

0 

0 

0 

2 

219 

0 

2 

0 

0 

2 

47 

0 

2 

116 

0 

0 

100 

0 

0 

290 

0 

0 

12 

0 

0 

2 

154 

0 

0 

The  oxygen  and  hydrogen,  for  the  most  part,  are  com- 
bined in  the  body  in  the  form  of  water ;  of  this  com- 
pound there  would  be  about  110  lbs.  The  carbon  is 
mainly  contained  in  the  fat ;  the  phosphonis  and  calcium 
exist  in  the  bones  :  the  other  minerals  in  the  juices  of 
the  flesh  and  in  the  blood.   Of  course  the  statements  aa 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


19 


given  are  but  a  rude  approximation  to  the  truth,  but 
mey  are,  nevertheless,  sufficiently  exact  to  afford  a  tol- 
erable correct  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  substances,  and 
the  amoimts  which  enter  into  the  human  organization. 

From  this  presentation  it  will  be  seen  that  the  body 
holds  sufficient  water  at  all  times  (about  14  gallons)  to 
drown  the  individual,  if  it  were  contained  in  a  suitable 
vessel.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  six  pints  of  this 
water  leave  the  system  each  day.  If  we  drink  largely, 
of  course  an  increased  quantity  is  eliminated  through 
the  excretory  organs.  This  liquid  finds  its  way  into  the 
system  through  the  food  and  drink.  Considerably  more 
than  half  the  bulk  of  all  the  bread,  meat,  and  vegetables 
used  as  food  is  water.  There  is  no  other  substance  but 
water  which  remains  unchanged  after  entering  the  body. 
Under  the  terribly  destructive  influence  of  vital  chemical 
action,  all  other  agents  and  bodies  are  torn  asunder,  and 
from  their  elements  are  formed  new  compounds  of  most 
strange  and  complex  natures  ;  water  flows  through  our 
life,  as  it  flows  from  mountain  cataracts  and  meadow 
springs,  unchanged  and  unchangeable,  save  in  its  physi- 
<;al  aspects  and  condition. 

Of  phosphorus,  every  adult  person  carries  enough 
{1  3-4  pounds)  about  with  him  in  his  body,  to  make  at 
least  4,000  of  the  ordinary  two-cent  packages  of  Iriction 
matches,  but  he  does  not  have  quite  sulphur  enough  to 
complete  that  amount  of  the  little  incendiary  combusti- 
bles. This  phosphorus  exists  in  the  bones  and  in  the 
brain,  and  is  one  of  the  most  important  constituents  in 
the  body.  Every  schoolboy  is  acquainted  with  those 
strange  metals,  sodium  and'  potassium,  for  he  has  seen 
them  flash  into  a  brilliant  flame  when  thrown  upon  water. 
The  body  contains  2  1-4  ounces  of  the  former,  and  a  half 
ounce  of  the  latter  metal ;  enough  for  all  needed  experi- 
mental purposes  in  the  schools  of  a  large  city.  The  12 
grains  of  magnesium  would  be  ample  in  quantity  to  form 
the  ^'  silver  rain  "  for  a  dozen  rockets,  or  enough  to  cre- 
ate a  light  which,  under  favorable  conditions,  could  be 
seen  for  a  distance  of  twenty  miles. 

Our  analysis  disproves  the  old  vulgar  notion,  that  the 
blood  of  ten  men  contains  iron  enough  to  form  a  plough- 
share. The  100  grains  of  metallic  iron  found  in  the 
blood  of  a  healthy  adult  would  be  sufficient  to  make  a 
good-sized  pen-knife  blade,  but  no  useful  implement  of 
a  larger  size.  There  is  one  important  element  associ- 
ated with  iron  in  the  blood,  which  does  not  appear  in 
the  analysis,"  and  that  is  manganese.  This  element 
has  not  been  recognized  until  a  comparatively  recent 
date,  and  its  importance  has  been  strangely  overlooked. 

But  iron,  among  the  mineral  constituents  of  the  body, 
does  not  stand  alone  in  its  important  relationship.  The 
metals  exist  combined  with  other  bodies,  or  they  are 
locked  up  in  the  form  of  salts,  which  are  vital  to  the 
^economy.  There  are  five  pounds  of  phosphate  of  lime, 
one  of  carbonate  of  lime,  three  ounces  of  fluoride  of  cal- 
cium, three  and  a  half  ounces  of  common  salt,  all  of 
which  have  important  offices  to  fill.  Not  one  of  them 
must  be  allowed  to  fall  in  quantity  below  the  normal 
standard.  If  the  lime  fails,  the  bones  give  way  ;  if  salt 
is  withheld,  the  blood  suffers,  and  digestion  is  impaired; 
if  phosphorus  is  sparingly  furnished,  the  mind  is  weak- 
ened, and  the  tendency  is  towards  idiocy. 


Musical  Fish. 

If  there  is  one  common  characteristic  of  all  marine 
•animals  more  marked  than  another,  it  is  their  absolute 
sUence,  or,  to  coin  a  new  word,  voicelessness.  The  one 
exception  to  this,  and  we  believe  it  is  only  an  apparent 
exception,  is  the  musical  fish.  It  is  found  along  the 
southern  portion  of  the  coast  of  the  United  States  ;  in 
the  West  Indies  ;  and  on  the  tropical  coasts  of  South 
America ;  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal ;  in  the  muddy  creeks 
on  the  shores  of  India  ;  around  Ceylon  ;  and  along  the 
coasts  and  in  the  wide  rivers  of  Burmah,  and  the  great 
island  of  Borneo.  These  are  the  localities  in  which  its 
existence  is  recorded,  but  it  probably  has  even  a  wider 
range,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  it  is  an  inhabitant  of 
all  the  sub-tropical  seas.  Its  music  is  only  heard  at 
night,  or  in  the  evening  after  the  sun  has  set ;  and  par- 
ticular spots,  often  of  very  limited  extent,  seem  to  be 
haunted  by  the  fish,  for  on  saUmg  away  from  them,  the 
sound  becomes  inaudible,  and,  on  returning,  it  is  heard 


again.  The  accounts  of  it  given  by  travelers  agree  as  to 
the  main  features  of  the  facts,  but  as  might  be  expect- 
ed, they  differ  in  some  details.  The  sound  always  seems 
to  come  up  from  the  surface  of  the  water  in  long  notes, 
low  and  clear,  and  perfectly  distinct.  Sir  Emerson  Ten- 
nent,  who  heard  it  in  1848  at  Chilka  Lake,  an  inlet  of 
the  sea  on  the  east  coast  of  Ceylon,  describes  it  as  "like 
the  gentle  thrills  of  a  musical  chord,  or  the  faint  vibra- 
tions of  a  wine-glass  when  its  rim  is  rubbed  by  a  wet 
finger  *  *  *  not  one  sustained  note,  but  a  multitude  of 
tiny  sounds,  each  clear  and  distinct  in  itself,  the  sweet- 
est treble  mingling  with  the  lowest  bass."  Other  and 
later  visitors  to  the  same  spot  have  given  a  very  similar 
account  of  their  experience  there.  The  fish  seem,  in- 
deed, to  abound  off  the  Cingalese  coast,  and  they  have 
been  met  with  out  at  sea  in  deep  water  at  least  a  hun- 
dred mUes  from  Colombo.  This  strange  music  has  been 
heard,  too,  in  the  muddy  creeks  near  Salsette  and  Bom- 
bay, and  at  Vizagapatam  and  along  the  Coromandel 
coast.  Other  travelers  record  having  listened  to  the 
musical  fishes  on  a  calm  night  among  the  islands  of  the 
Mergui  Archipelago,  off  the  Burmese  coast,  and  in  fresh 
water  in  the  Sarumoth  River  in  Borneo.  Of  these,  some 
say  the  sound  was  a  prolonged  note,  rising  and  falling 
like  the  strains  of  an  ^olian  harp  ;  others  compare  it 
to  music  borne  on  the  wind  from  a  distant  shore  ;  and 
with  others,  again,  it  was  a  droning,  drowsy  sound,  all 
of  one  pitch,  and  seeming  not  only  to  rise  from  the 
water,  but  to  fill  all  the  calm  air  around.  The  accounts 
of  travelers  in  America  are  to  the  same  effect.  M.  De 
Thoron  heard  the  sound  in  the  Bay  of  PaUon,  in  Ecua- 
dor, and  in  the  River  Mataje,  and  he  compares  it  to  that 
of  a  church  organ  heard  outside  the  door  of  a  building, 
when  the  notes  become  mingled  and  indistinct.  The 
fish,  which  is  there  called  by  the  natives  siren  or  musico, 
begins  its  song  about  sunset,  and  continues  it  through' 
the  night.  Rev.  Charles  Kingsley,  who  visited  the  cave&, 
of  the  Bacos  Islands,  near  Trinidad,  where  the  musical 
fish  abound,  describes  the  "song"  as  a  simple  drum- 
ming, or  like  the  noise  of  a  steamer  letting  off  steam. 
This  appears  to  be  a  correct  description  of  the  sound  of 
the  West  Indian  and  North  American  varieties,  for  there 
the  fish  has  received  the  unpoetical  name  of  the  drum, 
the  drummer,  or,  worst  of  all,  the  grants.  The  varieties 
found  in  the  Indian  Ocean  and  Pacific  are,  however, 
capable  of  something  more  than  this,  and  are  well  de- 
serving of  their  title  of  musical  fishes. 

What  fish  it  is  that  produces  those  sounas  is,  as  yet, 
more  than  uncertain.  It  is,  indeed,  a  question  of  some 
difficulty  to  determine.  American  naturalists  are  gen- 
erally agreed  that  the  musical  fish  of  their  eastern  coasts 
and  of  the  West  Indies,  is  a  large  fish,  known  to  zool- 
ogists as  the  Fbgonias  chromis.  It  grows  to  a  length  of 
about  five  feet,  and  swims  about  in  shoals.  In  its  gullet 
there  are  three  movable  plates,  covered  with  large  teeth, 
and  it  is  supposed  that  it  is  the  action  of  these  that  pro- 
duces the  drumming  sound.  Of  course,  anything  like  a 
real  voice  would  be  an  impossibility ;  but  the  least  noise 
travels  a  great  way  under  water,  and  would  be  heard 
distinctly  by  any  one  on  its  surface.  The  Cingalese  at 
Chilka  Lake  told  Sir  Emerson  Tennent  that  the  singers 
there  were  shell-fish,  and  he  himself  inclined  to  the 
same  opinion ;  but  it  appears  to  us  very  improbable  that 
it  is  so.  Other  writers  have  suggested  that  the  musician 
is  a  fish  furnished  with  a  sucking  apparatus,  by  means 
of  which  it  can  attach  itself  to  the  bottom  of  a  ship  or 
boat,  and  that  its  musical  instrument  is  the  row  of  suck- 
ers on  its  head.  There  is,  however,  very  little  evidence 
to  support  this  theory.  The  fact  chat  by  applying  the 
ear  to  the  side  of  a  boat,  the  volume  of  the  sound  is  m- 
creased,  prove  nothing  ;  for,  of  course,  in  any  case,  the 
timber,  by  its  superior  conductin  power,  would  produce 
this  effect ;  moreover,  the  musi  nas  been  heard  in  places 
where  no  sucking-fish  has  been  seen  or  caught.  The 
fishermen  at  Salsette,  near  Bombay,  attribute  the  power 
to  a  small  fish  very  like  the  common  perch  ;  and  those 
at  the  Bay  of  PaUon  say  that  it  is  a  white  fish  with  bluish 
spots  on  the  back,  and  about  ten  inches  long,  which 
they  catch  on  the  spot  during  the  performance. 


To  Restore  Color. —  wnen  color  on  a  fabric  has  been 
accidentally  or  otherwise  destroyed  by  acid,  ammonia 
is  applied  to  neutralize  the  acid,  after  which  an  applica- 
tion of  chloroform  will  restore  the  original  color  ia 
almost  all  cases. 


20 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


G-ems  and  Precious  Stones. 

BT  PROF.  H.   B.  CORNWALL. 

The  diamond  is  the  hardest  known  substance,  and 
one  of  the  most  unalterable  gems.  It  is  not  affected  by 
chemicals,  is  infusible,  only  to  be  consumed  by  exposure 
to  a  long-continued  or  very  high  temperature ;  and  these 
qualities,  combined  with  its  rare  brilliancy,  make  it  the 
most  valuable  of  precious  stones.  It  is  pure  carbon ; 
chemically  almost  the  same  as  graphite,  or  plumbago, 
and  charcoal ;  but  very  different  from  them  in  its  trans- 
parency and  lustre.  It  is  generally  found  in  octahedral 
crystals,  having  highly  polished  faces  ;  and  although 
possessing  some  beauty  in  this  natural  state,  owing  to 
the  high  lustre  of  the  faces,  yet  it  has  not  a  tithe  of  the 
eplendor  exhibited  by  a  well-cut  brilliant.  The  ancients 
did  not  know  how  to  cut  the  extremely  hard  diamond 
and  were  content  to  wear  it  in  its  natural  state,  but  even 
thus  they  prized  it  highly. 

In  1456  Louis  Berqueu,  a  Belgian,  brought  the  art  of 
diamond-cutting  to  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and  it  is 
now  carried  on  chiefly  in  Amsterdam  by  the  Jews. 
Nothing  but  diamond  will  cut  diamond,  and  therefore 
the  stones  are  first  roughly  shaped  by  cleaving  off  slices 
of  the  gems  and  rubbing  two  stones  together.  After- 
wards they  are  brought  to  the  exact  shape  required,  and 
finely  polished  by  grinding  against  a  very  swiftly  revolv- 
ing disc  of  soft  steel,  smeared  with  oil  and  diamond 
dust.  On  this  operation  of  cutting  depends  the  bril- 
liancy and  consequent  value  of  the  gem ;  and  as  dia- 
monds are  sold  by  weight  there  is  a  great  tendency  to  so 
cut  the  stone  that  it  may  weigh  as  much  as  possible. 
This,  however,  is  a  great  error,  as  a  stone  must  be  cut  in 
a  certain  way  in  order  to  develope  the  most  perfect  lus- 
tre, and  any  additional  weight  inevitably  injures  the  ef- 
fect of  the  cutting. 

The  most  common  form  of  cut  diamonds  is  the  well- 
known  brilliant,  familiar  to  all.  Another  less  common 
form,  but  producing  a  fine  effect,  is  the  rose  diamond — 
a  flat  bottom,  surmounted  by  a  facetted  pyramid,  termi- 
nating in  a  point. 

According  to  their  transparency  and  lustre,  diamonds 
are  classified  into  stones  of  the  first  water,  second  water, 
and  refuse  stones.  To  be  the  first  water  a  diamond  must 
be  absolutely  colorless,  very  lustrous,  and  perfectly  free 
from  flaws.  An  undecided  tint  of  any  color  injures  its 
value  ;  and  although  deep  red,  green,  or  blue  hues  may 
g'TC  the  stones  an  exceptional  value  as  fancy  specimens, 
yet  in  the  ordinary  market  they  would  be  much  less  es- 
teemed. A  yellow  tiat  always  depreciates  the  value  ; 
and  on  this  account  many  of  the  stones  so  recently  found 
in  South  Africa  bring  very  low  prices.  These  African 
stones,  moreover,  lack  the  perfect  lustre  of  Brazilian 
diamonds,  and  have  in  consequence  commanded  far  low- 
er prices. 

A  well-cut  diamond,  of  the  first  water,  is  at  present 
worth  in  New  York  about  $50  gold,  if  it  weighs  half  a 
carat  (the  carat  being  four  grains  Troy);  if  weighing  one 
carat,  $175  ;  if  two  carats,  $550.  Above  this  weight  the 
values  depend  on  very  delicate  shades  of  difference. 
One  stone  of  three  carats  may  bring  $800,  another  might 
be  worth  $1,000.  Above  three  carats  the  price  is  only 
settled  by  agreement.  A  diamond  of  five  carats  is  a 
very  large  stone,  and  above  one  hundred  carats  few  are 
known. 

As  examples  of  some  of  the  most  celebrated  diamonds 
may  be  cited  the  Koh-i-^ioor^  one  of  the  English  crown 
jewels,  weighing  imcut  793  carats  ;  and,  after  twice  cut- 
ting, 106  1-16  carats.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  finest  diamond 
in  the  world.  The  Rajah  of  Mattam  has  one  of  367  carats. 
The  Great  Mogul  diamond  weighs  now  279  9-16  carats  ; 
uncut  900.  The  Star  of  the  ^outh,  a  Brazilian  stone, 
and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  brilliants,  weighs  125  1-4 
carats. 

Diamonds  are  found  in  alluvial  deposits,  from  which 
they  are  separated  by  washing.  In  Brazil  the  work  is 
done  by  slaves,  and  the  fortunate  finder  of  a  stone  of 
over  seventeen  carats  receives  his  freedom  and  a  suit  of 
clothes.  Scarcely  one  in  ten  thousand  is  found  to  weigh 
so  much,  and  the  majority  of  them  weigh  but  a  very 
small  fraction  of  a  carat. 

The  most  celebrated  localities  in  ancient  times  were 
Golconda  and  Borneo :  but  in  1727  the  diggings  in  Brazil 
were  opened,  and  yielded  so  abundantly  as  to'greatly  de- 
preciate the  value  of  diamonds,  and  the  dealers  tried  to 
make  people  believe  that  they  were  not  true  diamonds. 


Lately  diamonds  have  been  found  in  Australia  and  South 
Africa,  and  a  few  in  North  Carolina,  Virginia,  and  Cali- 
fornia ;  but  Brazil  furnishes  the  most  abundant  supplies 
and  the  best  gems. 

Numerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  produce  arti- 
ficial diamonds,  but  they  have  all  been  in  vain.  It  is 
even  doubtful  whether  microscopically  smaU  crystals 
have  been  formed.  Diamonds  are,  however,  very  well 
imitated  by  pastes,  which  possess  all  the  beauty  and 
fire  of  the  real  stones,  and  flash  in  our  street  cars,  the- 
atres, and  shop  windows,  quite  secure  from  detection, 
except  by  a  shrewd  judge  of  human  nature  as  weU  as 
of  stones. 

Next  in  hardness  to  the  diamond  come  the  ruby  and 
sapphire,  identical  in  composition,  being  both  nearly 
pure  alumina,  which  also  constitute  the  mineral  corun- 
dum,  so  useful  as  a  polishing  and  grinding  agent.  Em- 
ery, too,  is  only  an  impure  form  of  alumina. 

The  ruby  of  the  first  water  is  a  deep  red,  lustrous 
stone,  admired  everywhere,  and  especially  in  the  East. 
It  is  found  chiefly  in  the  kingdom  of  Ava,  whose  sove- 
reign retains  the  finest  rubies  as  his  private  property. 
Cut  in  a  flat  table,  bordered  with  small  facets,  and  sur- 
rounded by  brilliants,  it  is  an  exceedingly  handsome 
stone,  and  a  very  precious  one,  nearly  approaching  the 
diamond  in  value.  A  ruby  of  one  carat  is  worth  about 
$150  in  New  York,  and  a  ruby  of  over  three  carats  is  ac- 
tually more  valuable  than  a  diamond  of  equal  weight, 
because  much  rarer.  Rubies  are  very  well  imitated  by 
pastes,  and  not  unfrequently  very  fine  garnets  are  palm-^ 
ed  off  by  unscrupulous  dealers  as  genuine  rubies,  al- 
though the  fraud  can  be  readily  detected^  as  garnet  is  a 
much  softer  stone,  and  has  different  optical  properties. 

The  sapphire  differs  from  the  ruby  only  in  its  blue 
color.  Occurring  more  abundantly,  and  larger,  it  is  of 
less  value,  and  while  a  sapphire  of  one  carat  is  worth 
$100,  one  of  larger  size  would  command  a  far  less  price 
in  proportion  than  a  large  diamond.  Asteriated  sap- 
phires and  rubies,  which  when  cut  show  a  six-pointed 
star,  nave  a  hfgh  vafue  as  fancy  stones.  The  sapphire 
was  supposed  to  have  a  cooling  influence  on  the  wearer, 
and  has  long  been  the  badge  of  the  episcopal  ofiice. 
Sapphires  come  mostly  from  Ceylon  ;  but  inferior  rubies 
and  sapphires,  of  a  pale  hue  and  less  transparent,  are 
found  in  this  country,  especially  in  North  Carolina  and 
Georgia.    They  are,  however,  valueless  as  gems. 


VISITING  m  ENTOMOLOGIST. 

OVER  EIGHT  THOUSA.NT>  SPECIES  OF  BEETLES  IN  ONE  ROOMr- 

While  visiting  Ridgewood,  N.  J.,  not  long  since,  the 
writer  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Andrew  S.  Fuller.  He  is 
a  pleasant-faced  gentleman,  with  a  grizzled  beard  and 
iron-gray  hair,  and  occupies  a  small  oflBce  on  his  farm 
but  a  few  steps  from  his  residence.  Mr.  Fuller  is  a 
well  known  agricultural  writer  and  a  distinguished 
entomologist.  He  has  spent  many  years  collecting 
bugs  and  studying  their  habits  and  characteristics. 
His  office  is  neatly  furnished.  A  coal  stove  and 
plain  writing-table  occupy  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  a  fine  scientific  library  is  ranged  against  the 
wall.  Cases  of  bugs  in  sliding  drawers  stare  the 
visitor  in  the  face,  and  strange  sounds  are  frequently 
heard  from  old  logs  and  decaying  pieces  of  wood 
;piled  in  the  room.  Each  is  worked  by  the  grub  of 
some  bug  or  beetle  whose  habits  are  the  particular 
study  of  Mr.  Fuller.  There  are  in  the  room  125 
cases  of  beetles  alone,  containing  7,450  species  up  to 
1873.  How  many  have  been  added  to  his  collection 
since  that  time  is  not  known,  but  he  thinks  several 
hundred.  He  has  secured  many  snout  beetles  men- 
tioned in  the  work  of  Le  Conte  and  Horn,  recently 
published. 

In  answer  to  various  questions,  Mr.  Fuller  said 
that  no  collection  includes  all  the  known  species  of 
beetles  in  the  United  States.  About  10,000  kinds 
have  been  classified  and  described,  and  additions  are 
constantly  being  made.  There  are  probably  not  less 
than  25,000  species  in  the  country  15,000  of  which 
are  yet  to  be  discovered. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD,  21 


THE  ENTOMOLOGIST  AT  WORK  AMONG  HIS  BEETLES. 

terflies,  bugs,  flies,  ants,  etc. ,  together,  there  must  be  j  <»One  family  of  beetles,"  continued  Mr.  Fuller, 
over  100,000  different  species  inhabiting  the  United  "  work  exclusively  at  trees.  Their  grubs  live  and  bore 
States  alone.  It  is  supposed  that  over  100,000  into  the  timber.  There,  for  instance,  are  the  long- 
kinds  of  plants  are  scattered  over  the  world,  horned  beetles,  551  species  being  aheady  named  and 
aad  five    distinct    species    of    insect    prey  upon  |  described  in  the  United  States.    Every  farmer  knows 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


the  apple-tree  borer,  which  is  one  of  the  long-horned 
family." 

Here  Mr.  Fuller  drew  out  a  case  and  showed  the  re- 
porter the  long-homed  crew.  They  stood  impaled  on 
slender  needles  by  platoons,  of  all  sizes  and  colors, 
from  one-eighth  of  an  inch  to  three  inches  long.  They 
were  all  slender  fellows,  with  shimmering  clothes.  The 
antenno9  of  many  were  curled  over  their  backs  like  the 
horns  of  an  ibex,  while  in  other  cases  they  were  five 
times  the  length  of  the  insects  themselves.  Among  the 
lot  the  entomologist  pointed  out  what  he  called  the 
tickler  beetle.  It  is  often  found  in  the  Eastern  States, 
breeding  in  pine-trees.  The  male  may  be  seen  standing 
on  the  bark  of  a  tree  or  an  old  log.  It  will  throw  for- 
ward its  antennae  and  make  a  ticking  sound,  supposed 
to  be  a  call-note  to  its  mate,  for  the  female  will  in- 
variably appear,  and  the  couple  fly  away  together. 

"The  destructiveness  of  beetles,"  said  Mr.  Fuller, 
"  may  be  imagined  when  I  tell  you  that  some  of  their 
grubs  are  as  large  as  a  man's  finger,  and  live  in  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  from  ten  to  twenty  years  before  changing  their 
shape  and  becoming  beetles.  All  these  years  they  are 
constantly  feeding.  They  go  boring  through  the  trees 
like  augers,  and  leave  trails  as  crooked  and  devious  as 
the  path  of  a  ship  in  ahead  wind.  I  have  known  grubs  to 
bore  over  fifty  feet  in  oak  trees  before  they  were  turned 
into  beetles.  But  these  grubs  have  tlieir  enemies. 
The  little  woodpecker  eats  the  eggs  which  he  finds 
on  the  bark  of  the  tree,  and  nips  the  grub  as  he  is 
working  his  way  in.  As  the  forests  are  cut  down 
and  the  country  becomes  more  cultivated,  the  num- 
ber of  grubs  increases,  for  the  woodpocker  leaves  us. 
He  will  not  visit  isolated  groves,  either  because  they 
are  so  small  he  don't  consider  the  grain  worth  reap- 
ing, or  because  lie  is  shot  or  frightened  away  by 
sportsmen,  whose  numbers  seem  to  increase  with  the 
decrease  of  game." 

"One  might  suppose,"  continued  the  buggist, 
*'  when  a  grub  is  encased  in  two  inches  of  solid  green, 
hard  maple,  that  he  is  pretty  well  protected  from  the 
outside  world.  But  it  is  not  so,  for  here  we  have  a 
fly,"  drawing  out  one  of  his  cases,  "that  finds  and 
destroys  him." 

There  were  rows  of  flies  in  the  case.  The  wings 
were  transparent,  the  legs  and  antenae  yellow,  the 
waist  wasp-like,  and  a  tail  like  a  horse-hair,  five 
inches  long,  ran  from  the  end  of  the  insect.  Through 
1;his  fine  hair  she  deposits  her  eggs. 

"This,"  said  the  savan,  "is  the  ichneumon  fly. 
It  has  been  a  great  mystery  to  know  how  this  fly  can 
tell  the  exact  spot  in  the  tree  to  find  the  grub.  She 
undoubtedly  does  it  by  listening,  for  a  man,  placing 
his  ear  to  the  tree,  can  hear  the  grub  boring. " 

Here  Mr.  Fuller  picked  up  part  of  an  old  limb  and 
held  it  to  the  writer's  ear.  A  faint  noise  was  heard, 
as  though  some  mite  was  running  a  grist-mill. 

"It  is  a  grub,"  explained  the  bug  col- 
lector, "  hard  at  work.  Well,  the  ichneu- 
mon fly,  by  listening  on  the  tree,  knows 
where  to  find  her  grub.  The  next  thing  is 
to  get  to  it.  She  places  her  eggs  through  this  fine  horse 
hair  or  tail.  Here  is  a  microscope.  Look  at  the  end  of 
this  egg-placer  and  you  will  see  a  two-bladed  back  saw. 
See  it?"  The  writer  nodded.  "With  this  saw,"  said 
the  scientist,  "the  fly  cuts  through  the  solid  wood  to  the 
grub.  But  when  she  reaches  him  she  does  not  destroy 
hini.  She  simply  drops  an  egg  upon  his  back,  the  egg 
hatches  another  grub,  and  the  second  grub  bores  into 
the  first  one,  feeds  on  him,  destroying  him,  and  en- 
larges, until  in  time,  after  various  changes,  it  emerges 
from  the  tree  another  ichneumon  fly.  It  cannot 
propagate  its  species  without  finding  this  grub." 

Here  Mr.  Fuller  replaced  his  case  of  beetles,  and 
after  lighting  a  cigar  continued  :  "  One  digression.  1 
want  to  show  you,  in  this  fly,  how  clear  nature  does 
her  work.  Take  the  maple-tree.  Of  all  the  seeds  that 
fall  from  it  to  the  ground  one  in  a  thousand  grows. 
Of  all  the  seedlings,  through  crowding  and  accidents, 
one  in  a  thousand  lives  and  becomes  a  tree.  But  if  this 
one  tree  had  no  enemy,  the  maples  would  crowd  out 
all  other  vegetation,    bo  along  comes  the  borer  and , 


keeps  the  trees  in  check,  and  through  fear  that  the 
borer  might  overdo  the  work.  Nature  sends  along  the 
ichneumon  fly  and  keeps  the  borer  in  check." 

"  The  fly  has  killed  the  grub,"  continued  the  speaker, 
"but  the  grub  has  bored  a  hole  which  lets  in  the  air 
and  moisture,  and  hastens  the  decay  of  the  tree.  He  has 
cut  off  many  of  the  vessels  that  carry  up  the  sap,  for 
the  borers  that  escape  the  fly  do  not  go  out  the  way 
they  came  in.  He  cannot  pass  out  the  hole  through 
which  he  entered,  for  he  has  increased  in  size  fifty 
times,  and,  more  than  that,  the  hole  has  grown  over 
long  before  his  maturity.  On  reaching  full  growth  he 
takes  a  direct  course  outward,  stopping  at  the  bark,  for 
should  he  go  through  and  poke  out  his  head  some 
woodpecker  might  come  along  and  take  it  off.  So  the 
grub  rests  under  the  bark,  surrounding  himself  with  a 
ring  of  excrement.  There  he  undergoes  his  last  trans- 
formation and  becomes  a  beetle.  Then  he  gnaws  a 
hole  through  the  bark  and  escapes  to  the  open  air." 

"  Let  us  watch  the  maple  tree,"  said  Mr.  Fuller.  "  The 
attacks  of  these  insects,  together  with  old  age,  finally  tell 
on  it.  Scores  of  insects  work  upon  its  leaves,  others  feed 
upon  the  little  twigs,  and  an  almost  endless  line  of  ants 
and  bugs  train  up  and  down  its  trunk.  It  loses  all  vitality, 
and  dies.  Then  the  wind  blows  the  old  tree  down.  It 
scarcely  touches  the  ground  before  it  is  attacked  by  an 
entirely  different  class  of  insects.  They  have  no  tooth 
for  live  timber,  but  only  for  that  which  is  dying  or  dead. 
Some  bore  straight  into  the  solid  wood.  Others  go 
under  the  bark  and  remain  between  the  bark  and  the 
surface  of  the  wood.  Their  peculiar  oflBce  seems  to  be 
to  separate  the  bark  from  the  wood,  and  for  this  pur- 

Eose  they  are  made  very  thin,  some  of  them  not  over  the 
undreth  part  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  The  holes  and 
looseness  of  the  bark  allow  the  water  to  get  in  and 
hasten  the  decay  of  the  log.  The  wood  becomes  soft 
and  mellow,  like  a  well-ripened  apple.  Then  the  stag- 
horned  beetles  appear,  the  females  dropping  their  eggs 
where  the  grubs  will  find  suitable  food.  The  snapping^ 
bug  also  takes  a  hand  at  the  old  log  and  revels  in  its 
rottenness. 

"The  last  feeder  of  all,"  said  Mr.  Fuller,  "is  a  great 
lazy,  shining,  black  beetle  with  corrugated  wing  covers^ 
a  short-jointed  antennae  frayed  like  the  end  of  a 
thread,  a  good-sized  mouth,  a  horn  on  his  nose  like  that 
of  a  rhinoceros  reversed.  He  is  the  laziest  of  the  beetles. 
When  picking  up  an  old  log  I  have  seen  dozens  drop  to 
the  ground,  but  not  one  ever  made  an  attempt  to> 
escape.  When  this  beetle  has  finished  his  work  the 
maple  has  gone  through  its  last  change.  The  old  log  i& 
thoroughly  rotten  and  becomes  pure  vegetable  mold." 

Here  the  reporter  was  about  to  leave  when  the  en- 
tomologist  said  :  "I  have  given  you  the  little  I  know 
concerning  one  beetle,  but  to-day  there  is  not  one 
hundred  of  our  North  American  insects  whose  true 
history  is  well  known.  There  is  room  for  a  thousand 
active  young  men  to  distinguish  themselves  in  this  di- 
rection. The  pursuit  is  most  fascinating,  and  no  matt 
who  has  once  entered  it  will  ever  wish  to  turn  back. 
Just  to  give  you  an  idea.  One  man  visited  Florida 
during  the  winter  and  brought  back  over  1,500  new 
species  of  bugs.  Another  man  broke  dovm  the  bug^ 
market  in  one  specialty.  He  found  under  a  dead  pal- 
metto fan  hundreds  of  bugs  that  were  previously  rated 
at  $75  apiece." 

A  hunter  near  Denver,  Col.,  turned  over  an  old  buf- 
falo hide  and  found  a  double  handful  of  another  speclea 
worth  $15  each.  The  discoverer  knew  their  value,  and 
sold  them  at  the  highest  prices,  but  after  that  their  value 
was  gone,  for  every  collector  was  supplied. 

The  entomologist,  whether  in  all  the  buoyancy  and 
ardor  of  youth,  or  falling  into  the  "sere  and  yeUow 
leaf,"  possesses  a  peculiar  advantage  over  those  en- 
gaged in  the  examination  of  other  natural  objects.  The 
specimens  of  the  geologist  or  mineralogist  are  frequently 
of  considerable  bulk  and  weight,  and  require  a  corre- 
sponding space  for  scientific  arrangement.  The 
ornithologist  may  secure  for  his  herons,  swans  and 
falcons,  their  respective  plumage  and  attitudes,  but  he 
must  do  so  at  considerable  cost,  and  requires  a  range  of 
large  cases  for  their  display  and  classification.  The 
loveliest  rose  that  ever  unfolded  her  petals  to  the  skies 
of  June,  or  the  sweetest  violet  that  ever  yielded  her 
fragrance  to  the  breath  of  April,  are  alike  reft  of  their 
beauty  when  transferred  to  the  Jwstvs  siccus  of  the 
botanist.   But  the  colors  of  insects  axe  not  evanescent 


THE  GROlVnVG  IVORLD. 


23 


and  fugitive,  but  fixed  and  durable,  surviving  their  sub- 
ject and  adorning  it  as  much  after  death  as  before,  and 
a  single  drawer,  of  moderate  dimensions,  will  hold  hun- 
dreds of  them,  in  all  the  richness  of  their  hues  and  the 
variety  of  their  forms. 

The  internal  structure  of  insects  is  no  less  remarkable 
than  the  external.  Good  air  is  as  Indispensable  to  them 
as  it  is  to  other  creatures ;  but  they  do  not  breathe  by 
the  mouth,  and  are  not  provided  with  lungs.  The  in- 
ternal organs  by  which  the  air  received  is  distributed  are 
very  wonderful ;  and  the  structure  of  the  alimentary 
canal  in  insects  is  wonderfully  diversified.  Not  only  are 
differences  discoverable  as'  we  pass  from  family  to 
family,  and  from  species  to  species,  but  the  same  in- 
dividual will  often  be  found  to  have  a  canal  quite  dif- 
ferent, according  as  it  is  examined  in  its  grub  or  perfect 
state.  The  variations  exactly  accord  with  the  tem- 
porary or  constant  mode  of  life  of  the  creatures  in  whom 
they  appear.  "  Thus,"  says  Cuvier,  "  the  voracious 
larvae,  '  or  grubs'  of  the  Scarabaei  (beetle)  and  butterflies 
have  intestines  ten  times  as  large  as  the  winged  and 
sober  insects,  to  which  they  give  birth." 

In  two  beetles  which  have  been  examined  a  remarkable 
difference  has  been  observed.  In  the  one  there  is  no 
crop  or  gizzard,  but  the  stomach  is  fringed  on  each 
side,  and  there  are  three  bile-vessels  ;  while  in  the  other 
the  gullet  is  dilated  into  a  crop,  which  includes  a 
gizzard,  in  which  the  divine  wisdom  is  singularly  ap- 
parent ;  for  though  so  minute  as  scarcely  to  exceed  a 
large  pin's  head  in  size,  it  is  stated  to  be  provided  in- 
ternally with  more  than  four  hundred  pair  of  teeth, 
moved  by  a  far  greater  number  of  muscles.  The  object 
of  this  extraordinary  structure  is  the  reducing  to  powder 
of  the  timber  which  this  beetle  has  to  perforate  and 
probably  devour,  for  it  belongs  to  the  family  spoken 
of  by  Mr.  Fuller  as  "  working  exclusively  at  trees." 

p»  Insects,  consid- 

ering  their  size, 
are  very  strong. 
Some  leap  two 
hundred  times 
their  own  length; 
and  Bradley  as- 
serts that  he  has 
seen  a  stag  beetle 
carry  a  wand  half 
a  yard  long  and 
half  an  inch 
thick,  and  fl  y 
with  it  several 
yards.  Others 
can  resist  great 
pressure  in  a 
wonderful  d  e  - 
gree.  One,  for 
instance,  an  in- 
habitant of  mud- 
dy pools,  has 
been  occasion- 
ally taken  up 
with  the  water 
used  in  paper- 
making,  and,  ac- 
cording to  Lin- 
naeus, has  re- 
sisted, without 
injury,  the  im- 
mense pressure  given  to  surrounding  pulp. 

"  It  is  fortunate,"  say  Messrs.  Kirby  and  Spence, 
''that  animals  of  a  larger  size,  especially  noxious  ones, 
have  not  been  endowed  with  a  muscular  power  pro- 
portionable to  that  of  insects.  A  cockchafer,  if  respect 
were  had  to  their  size,  would  be  as  strong  as  a  horse  ;  and 
if  the  elephant,  as  Linnaeus  has  observed,  were  strong  in 
proportion  to  the  stag-beetle,  it  would  be  able  to  pull  up 
rocks  by  the  roots,  and  level  mountains.  But  the  Creator, 
in  these  little  creatures,  has  manifested  his  almighty 
power  in  showing  what  he  could  have  done  had  he  so 
willed  ;  and  his  goodness  in  not  creating  the  higher 
animals  endued  with  power  and  velocity  upon  the  same 
scale  with  that  of  insects,  which  would  probably  have 
caused  the  early  desolation  of  the  world  which  he  has 
made." 

Some  of  our  American  beetles  are  remarkable  for  the 
fine  phosphoric  light  which  is  observed  to  emanate  from 
tbem  durm^  the  evening  twilight,  and  when  the  evening 


shadows  of  night  have  fallen  upon  the  forests.  One 
of  them  was  transported  to  Paris  under  the  form  of  a 
chrysalis  or  larva,  and  having  made  its  escape  into  the 
streets  after  the  assumption  of  its  perfect  state,  it  greatly 
astonished  the  inhabitants  of  the  Fabourg  St.  Antoine. 

The  Fire-fly  is  an  insect  of  the  beetle  tribe  {J^JlaUr 
noctilucm),  about  an  inch  in  length  and  one-third  in 
breadth  ;  it  gives  out  its  principal  light  from  two  trans- 
parent eye-like  tubercles  placed  upon  the  thorax ;  but 
there  are  also  two  luminous  patches  concealed  under 
the  elytra,  which  are  not  visible  except  when  the  insect 
is  flying,  at  which  time  it  appears  adorned  with  four 
brilliant  gems  of  the  most  beautiful  golden  blue  lustre  ; 
in  fact  the  whole  body  is  full  of  light,  which  shines  out 
between  the  abdominal  segments  when  stretched.  We 
are  told  that  the  Indians  used  to  employ  these  living 
lamps,  which  they  called  ciicuji,  instead  of  candles,  in 
their  evening  household  occupations.  In  traveling  at 
night  they  used  to  tie  one  to  each  great  toe,  and  in 
firhing  and  hunting  they  required  no  other  flambeau. 

The  sacred  beetle  of  the  Egyptians  belongs  to  the  genus 
(Scarabaeidae).  It  is  of  about  an  inch  long,  or  rather 
more,  and  of  a  black  color.  The  ancient  Egyptians  held 
that  it  was  sacred  to  the  sun  ;  and  regarded  it  as  typical 
of  that  luminai-y.  which  is  the  source  of  light,  heat,  and 
all  abundance.,  and  looked  upon  it  as  the  emblem  of 
fertility  in  general.  Representations  of  it  are  frequent 
among  their  hieroglyphics,  and  sculptured  images  of 
it  are  found  on  their  rings,  necklaces  and  other  orna- 
ments ;  it  was  even  embalmed  with  them  after  death. 

A  laborious  task  is  performed  by  the  insect  called 
the  burying  beetle.  M.  Gleditsch,  a  foreign  naturalist, 
had  often  remarked  that  dead  moles,  when  laid  upon 
the  groupd,  and  especially  if  upon  loose  earth,  were 
almost  sure  to  disappear  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
days,  and  often  in  twelve  hours.  To  ascertain  the  cause, 
he  placed  a  mole  on  one  of  the  beds  of  his  garden. 
It  had  disappeared  on  the  third  morning ;  and  on 
digging  where  it  had  been  laid,  he  found  it  buried  to  the 
depth  of  three  inches,  and  under  it  four  beetles,  which 
seemed  to  be  the  agents  in  this  singular  interment.  Not 
perceiving  anything  particular  in  the  mole  he  buried  it 
again  ;  and  on  examining  it  at  the  end  of  six  days,  he 
found  it  swarming  with  maggots,  apparently  the  off- 
spring of  the  beetles,  which  he  naturally  concluded  had 
buried  the  carcass  for  food  for  their  future  young. 
To  place  this  beyond  doubt,  he  continued  his  ex- 
periment, and  in  fifty  days  four  beetles  had  buried,  in  a 
small  space  of  earth,  four  frogs,  three  small  birds,  two 
fishes,  one  mole,  two  grasshoppers,  the  entrails  of  a 
fish,  and  two  morsels  of  the  lungs  of  an  ox,  all  evidently 
intended  for  the  same  purpose. 

When  in  small  numbers  the  larvae  of  beetles  may  do 
no  great  injury  ;  but  where  they  abound,  as  they  often 
do,  by  interrupting  the  course  of  descending  sap,  and 
admitting  wet  between  the  bark  and  wood,  decay 
speedily  ensues,  and  the  tree  perishes.  Almost  every 
kind  of  tree  is  liable  to  the  assaults  of  one  or  more 
species. 

Expressly  designed  for  progression  through  the  air, 
insects  compose  the  most  extensive  class  of  the  whole 
animal  kingdom.  This  part  of  animated  nature,  like 
every  other,  is  eminently  calculated  to  direct  the  mind 
to  the  great  Creator. 

"  To  trace  in  Nature's  most  minute  design, 
The  signature  and  stamp  of  power  divine ; 
Contrivance  intricate  expressed  with  ease, 
Where  unassisted  sight  no  beanty  sees ; 
The  shapely  limb,  and  lubricated  joint, 
Within  the  small  dimensions  of  a  point ; 
Mnscle  and  nerve  miraculously  spun, 
His  mighty  work  who  speaks,  and  it  is  done !" 


After  manifold  trials,  a  composition  of  glass  has  been 
discovered  which  may  be  made  at  any  time  into  curled 
or  frizzled  yarn.  The  frizzled  threads  surpass  in  fine- 
ness not  only  the  finest  cotton,  but  even  a  single  cocoon 
thread,  and  they  appear  at  the  same  time  almost  as  soft 
and  elastic  as  silk  lint.  The  woven  glass  flock  wool  has 
recently  been  used  as  a  substitute  for  ordinary  wool 
wrappings  for  patients  suffering  from  gout,  and  its  use 
for  this  purpose  has  been  successful.  Chemists  and 
apothecaries  have  found  it  useful  in  filtering.  The  smooth 
threads  are  now  woven  into  textile  fabrics,  which  are 
made  into  cushions,  carpets,  tablecloths,  shawls,  neck 
ties,  cuffs,  collars  and  other  garments. 


24 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


BALLOONS  AKD  AERIAL  NAVIQATIOK 


Few  subjects  furnish  a  more  interesting  field  of  speculation 
than  Aerial  Navigation.  The  region  of  the  air  was  given  to 
the  birds,  the  empire  of  the  sea  to  fishes,  and  the  realms  of  the 
landed  world  to  quadrupeds.  To  man  alone  was  given  the 
dominion  over  all.  The  land  is  his  native  place  of  abode,  but 
his  inventive  skill  has  enabled  him  to  traverse  the  mighty 
ocean,  and  why  should  not  his  ingenuity  enable  him  to  soar 
among  the  lofty  aerial  regions  of  the  birds  ?  So  reasoned  men 
long  years  ago,  but  the  world  was  not  ripe  for  the  invention, 
ancf  nothing  was  accomplished  in  that  line  until  about  a  hun- 
dred years  ago. 

The  first  public  balloon  ascension  took  place  at  Annonay,  in 
France,  June  5th,  1783.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  a  large 
concourse  of  people  were  present.  At  the  appointed  hour  the 
inventors,  Messrs.  Robert  and  Joseph  Montgolfier,  came  for- 
ward and  kindled  a  fire  underneath.  Some  bundles  of  straw 
were  now  chopped,  thrown  upon  the  flames  and  dampened, 
when  a  dense,  hot  smoke  ascended  through  the  mouth  of  the 
suspended  linen  balloon.  It  became  rapidly  inflated,  when  it 
measured  about  40  feet  in  diameter,  and  required  the  united 
strength  of  eight  men  to  hold  it  down.  At  a  signal  it  was  let 
go,  when  it  mounted  a  mile  in  the  air,  appearing  as  a  conspicu- 
ous object  for  miles  around.  It  fell  after  some  time,  but  a 
short  distance  from  its  place  of  ascension. 

The  first  public  ascension  created  a  sensation,  and  induced 
the  inventors  to  try  again.  A  new  balloon  was  accordingly 
constructed  of  silk,  in  a  superior  manner,  varnished,  and  in- 
flated with  hydrogen  gas.  When  everything  was  ready  it  was 
conveyed  by  torch-light  to  the  Champ  de  Mars.  It  was  the 
27th  of  August,  1783.  Thousands  of  spectators  thronged  the 
streets  and  balconies,  and  covered  the  house  tops  of  Paris. 
They  were  impatient  and  eager,  for  they  knew  it  was  to  be  the 
grandest  balloon  ascension  the  world  at  that  time  had  ever 
witnessed.  The  huge  silken  globe  was  fully  inflated,  and  it 
rolled  and  plunged  from  side  to  side,  tugging  at  its  fastenings 
and  struggling  like  a  caged  lion  to  escape.  Suddenly  the  dis- 
charge of  a  cannon  announced  that  the  time  had  come  for  set- 
ting the  struggling  invention  free.  The  main  rope  that  held  it 
down  parted  with  a  shrill  twang,  and  the  balloon  shot  sky- 
ward like  an  arrow.  It  remained  in  the  air  for  about  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  when  it  descended  near  a  small  village 
about  15  miles  away.  Here,  for  a  while,  it  bounded  about 
upon  the  ground,  the  fetid  gas  escaping  with  an  angry,  hissing 
sound.  The  inhabitants,  who  had  never  seen  anything  of  the 
kind,  were  terrified  and  amazed.  Two  of  the  more  pious 
monks  declared  it  a  horrible  demon  from  some  unknown  world. 
Religious  exercises  were  held,  and  prayers  ofi"ered.  No  one 
dared  approach  the  terrible  monster.  At  length  all  of  the  gas 
had  escaped  ;  the  hissing  sound  died  away,  it  ceased  its 
motions  and  was  at  rest.  The  people  now  plucked  up  their 
courage,  and  arming  themselves  with  clubs,  pikes  and  forks, 
rushed  upon  it  with  wild  unearthly  yells  and  tore  it  to  shreds. 

A  short  time  afterwards  another  balloon  was  constructed, 
75  feet  in  height  by  43  in  width.  A  basket  was  attached,  into 
which  was  placed  a  sheep,  a  duck,  and  a  cock.  It  ascended 
from  the  palace  yard  at  Versailles,  and  in  a  short  time  descend- 
ed to  the  ground  about  two  miles  distant.  The  animals  were 
perfectly  uninjured,  and  the  sheep  was  found  near  its  landing 
place,  cropping  the  short  grass  as  quietly  and  unconcernedly 
as  though  nothing  had  occurred. 

The  Montgolfiers  now  constructed  another  balloon  of  very 
superior  strength,  and  the  young  naturalist,  Pilatre  de  Rozier. 
boldly  offered  to  undertake  an  aerial  voyage.  On  the  21st  of 
November,  1783,  he  entered  the  car  in  company  with  the  Mar- 
quis d'  Arlandes,  and  the  fastenings  were  cast  loose.  As  the 
huge  aerial  ship,  70  feet  in  height  and  46  in  diameter,  arose 
with  the  two  daring  aeronauts,  a  silence  like  death  reigned 
among  the  thousands  of  Parisian  spectators.  Up,  up,  up  they 
went,  until  the  two  men  looked  like  little  children  iu  size ;  and 
now  as  they  waved  their  handkerchiefs  a  wild  burst  of  applause 
went  up  from  the  assembled  multitude  below.  Higher,  still 
higher;  and  the  brave  navigators  could  scarcely  be  discerned 
by  the  naked  eye.  They  reached  a  height  of  3,000  feet ;  and 
after  a  voyage  of  six  miles  descended  safely,  after  having  been 
in  the  air  about  25  minutes. 

The  whole  French  world  viewed  this  great  exploit  with 
astonishment.  All  Paris  was  excited  over  the  subject  of  aerial 
navigation.  The  enthusiast  dreamed  of  celestial  voyages, 
where  he  might  look  down  upon  the  earth  and  behold  it  as  a 
vast  map  spread  before  him— where  he  might  behold  at  a  glance 
the  plans  of  cities  and  the  outlines  of  nations.  In  his  imagi- 
nation he  seemed  to  see  the  time  near  at  hand  when  all  the 
business  travel  of  life  would  be  carried  on  through  the  regions 
of  the  clouds.  The  gates  of  the  Infinite  seemed  to  be  swinging 
back  before  the  steady  march  of  progressive  science,  and  the 
imagination  seemed  to  whisper  that  we  were  not  to  be  chained 
longer  upon  this  earth.  The  moon  might  be  visited,  the  sun, 
the  starry  heavens !  Another  balloon  was  speedily  construct- 
ed, superior  to  the  other,  and  on  the  1st  of  December,  1783,  the 
ascent  was  made  in  the  presence  of  three-fourths  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Paris.  Messrs.  Charles  and  Robert  Montgolfier  were 
the  aeronauts.  They  ascended  rapidly  to  the  height  of  2,000 
feet,  at  which  elevation  they  floated  for  about  two  hours,  when 
they  descended  27  miles  from  the  place  of  ascent.   But  they 


were  not  to  stop  here.  As  Robert  stepped  from  the  car  the 
balloon  bounded  upward  again,  carrving  Charles  with  it,  to 
the  height  of  9,000  feet.  The  sun,  which  had  set  to  the  world 
\  below,  now  became  visible,  and  he  once  more  beheld  its  part- 
ing rays  as  it  silently  sank  below  the  horizon.  The  world 
paled  from  eight ;  below  all  was  darkness.  The  pale  moon 
arose  in  the  east  like  a  queen  of  night,  and  shining  upon  the 
long  lines  of  fog  and  ever-varying  strata  of  ascending  vapor, 
gave  them  a  feeble,  sUvery  whiteness.  The  intrepid  aeronaut 
drank  in  the  lovely  moonlight  scene  below  him  with  rapturous 
delight ;  but  night  had  fairly  set  in  and  he  dared  not  continue 
longer.  He  threw  open  the  valve,  and  alighted  in  a  field,  only 
three  miles  from  Paris. 

In  September,  1784,  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  accompanied  by  the 
'Montgolfier  Brothers,  ascended  in  a  new  and  improved  balloon, 
with  oars  and  a  rudder.  When  they  had  reached  an  altitude 
of  1,400  feet,  they  noticed  the  dark  and  threatening  aspect  of 
the  horizon,  while  the  low  muttering  thunder-peals  portended 
the  coming  storm.  Great  masses  of  inky  clouds  came  rolling 
up,  and  the  wind  commenced  to  blow.  Suddenly  the  tempera- 
ture changed,  and  they  began  rapidly  to  descend.  Throwing 
their  ballast  overboard  they  shot  upward  with  amazing  swift- 
ness. Everything  now  seemed  to  be  in  wild  commotion.  All 
at  once  they  entered  the  sombre  storm-cloud,  and  the  darkness 
of  night  seemed  to  envelop  them.  Occasionally  the  blinding 
glare  of  the  vivid  lightning  would  reveal  the  horror-stricken 
faces  of  the  voyagers  to  each  other,  whUe  the  thunder's  crash 
seemed  almost  sufficient  to  rend  the  heavens  asunder.  Sud- 
denly they  dashed  upward  through  the  upper  surface  of  the 
angry  cloud,  and  the  sun  in  all  its  splendor  shtjne  full  upon 
them.   Below  them  rolled  the  storm  king  in  majesty  and 

grandeur,  its  fleecy  upper  surface  rendered  bright  and  dazzling 
y  the  brilliant  rays  of  the  sun.  They  were  STill  ascending 
rapidly ;  and  they  would  soon  arrive  at  a  point  where  the  bal- 
loon would  burst.  Something  must  be  done.  The  Duke  drew 
his  sword  and  plunged  it  into  the  great  globular  receptacle. 
The  gas  commenced  to  escape  through  the  rent,  and  the  bal- 
loon began  to  descend.  They  reached  the  ground  in  safety; 
though  they  came  verjr  near  falling  into  a  lake.  They  had  been 
five  hours  in  their  aerial  voyage. 

The  first  baUoon  ascension  in  England  was  made  by  Count 
Zambeccari,  on  the  25th  of  November,  1783.  The  first  English 
aerial  voyage  occurred  on  the  21st  of  September,  1784.  In 
January,  1785,  Blanchard  and  Jefieries  undertook  to  cross  the 
British  Channel.  When  about  half  way  over  the  balloon  be- 
gan to  descend.  They  threw  all  of  their  ballast  overboard, 
with  the  hope  that  it  would  rise,  but  it  descended  still.  It 
neared  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  aeronauts  became 
alarmed.  To  save  themselves  from  a  watery  grave  they  threw 
overboard  their  anchors,  ropes,  provisions,  books  and  instru- 
ments ;  and  as  a  last  resort  they  stripped  off  their  clothing  and 
dropped  it  into  the  sea.  They  now  lashed  their  bodies  to  the 
car  and  prepared  to  meet  their  fate.  But  they  were  not  doomed 
to  such  a  death.  All  at  once  the  balloon  arose ;  and  struggling 
on  toward  the  French  coast,  landed  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Calais. 

Pilatre  de  Rozier  was  the  first  to  attempt  a  passage  from 
the  French  shores.  He  ascended  on  the  15th  of  June,  1785. 
Adverse  winds  worked  against  him.  For  some  time  he  re- 
mained in  the  air  in  sight  of  Boulogne ;  and  then  the  balloon 
caught  fire.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  his  body,  which  fell 
three-quarters  of  a  mile,  was  found  where  it  struck,  a  lifeless, 
shapeless  mass.  In  1785  Major  Money  met  with  a  serious  acci- 
dent. By  the  bursting  of  his  balloon  he  was  precipitated  into 
the  German  Ocean.  For  five  hours  he  clung  to  the  wreck,  buf- 
feting with  the  waves  and  struggling  between  life  and  death, 
when  a  passing  vessel  picked  him  up. 

One  of  the  most  adventurous  balloon  voyages  on  record  is 
that  of  M.  Testu,  the  French  aeronaut.  This  remarkable 
ascension  was  made  at  Paris,  at  4  o'clock  on  the  18th  of  June, 
1786,  and  lasted  12  hours.  The  balloon  was  constructed  in  a 
peculiar  manner,  with  wings  and  steering  appendages,  and  as 
the  aeronaut  entered  the  car  he  felt  sanguine  of  success.  He 
soon  reached  an  altitude  of  3,0C0  feet,  and  fearing  his  balloon 
wovdd  burst  hfe  was  obliged  to  descend ;  when  he  found  him- 
self in  a  corn  field  on  the  Montmorenci  plains.  An  immense 
crowd  collected  about  the  spot,  and  the  exasperated  proprietor 
in  an  angry  tone  demanded  pay  for  the  damage  done  to  his 
crop.  M.  Testu  offered  no  resistance,  telling  them  he  had  lost 
his  wings,  and  as  escape  was  impossible  he  was  at  their  mercy. 
The  crowd  now  seized  the  ropes,  and  with  clamorous  shouts  of 
triumph  set  out  for  the  village.  But  the  aerial  voyager  was 
not  to  be  captured  thus.  He  had  noticed  that  the  balloon  had 
acquired  considerable  buoyancy,  and  noAV  reaching  over  the 
edge  of  the  car  he  cut  the  ropes,  and  immediately  shot  sky- 
ward: leaving  the  disappointed  peasants  overwhelmed  with 
astonishment.  He  soon  reached  a  great  height,  where  it  was 
so  cold  that  particles  of  ice  filled  the  air  around  him.  Just  be- 
fore night  set  in  he  heard  the  blast  of  a  horn,  and  saw  below 
him  a  party  of  returning  huntsmen.  Throwing  open  the  valve 
he  descended,  and  threw  off  his  cumbrous  and  useless  wings. 
Again  he  ascended ;  this  time  enshrouded  in  pitchy  darkness. 
He  passed  through  a  mass  of  electric  matter  and  entered  the 
dark  rolling  mass  of  angi-y  clouds  that  portended  the  coming 
storm.  The  lightning  flashed  around  him  in  every  direction, 
and  the  roar  of  the  deep  toned  thunder  was  terrific.  A  shower 
of  sleet  and  snow  came  dashing  in  his  face.  The  gilded  flag 
that  he  had  on  board  emitted  sparks  of  electric  fire.  Sudden- 
ly there  was  a  blinding  glare  of  lightning  that  almost  seemed 


THE  GROIVING  JVORLD. 


25 


10  set  the  whole  heavens  abfaze.  The  flag  was  torn  in  pieces 
by  the  bolt,  and  the  crash  was  appalling.  He  continued  to 
move  on,  he  knew  not  whither.  At  length  the  dark  storm- 
cloud  rolled  away,  and  the  bright  stars  appeared  like  glittering 
diamonds  in  the  clear  arch  overhead.  The  morninc  dawned, 
the  sun  arose ;  and  then  the  daring  voyager  descended  to  the 
ground  unharmed,  and  70  miles  from  Paris, 

Balloon  ascensions  now  became  common ;  and  from  that 
time  until  the  present  thousands  of  aerial  voyages  have  been 
recorded.  On  tne  18th  of  October,  1863,  M.  Nadar,  accompanied 
by  eight  passengers,  ascended  from  the  Champ  de  Mara,  Paris, 
in  a  balloon  74  feet  in  diameter,  the  car  of  which  was  a  two 
story  house,  weighing,  when  full,  over  three  tone.  It  was  45 
minutes  past  five  in  the  afternoon  when  they  left  Paris,  and  at 
nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  they  landed  between  Bremen 
and  Hanover.  This  huge  balloon  when  inflated  contained  over 
200,000  cubic  feet  of  gas. 

On  the  31  St  of  August,  1874,  M.  Durnof,  accompanied  by  his 
wife,  ascended  from  Calais,  France.  It  was  seven  o'clock  in 
the  evening  when  they  arose,  and  they  were  soon  lost  to  view 
by  the  gloom  of  night.  A  strong  wind  blew  them  directly  out 
over  the  North  Sea.  All  night  long  they  journeyed  through 
the  darkness ;  and  when  the  morning  dawned  the  aerial  voy- 
agers beheld  an  apparently  boundless  watery  waste  below 
them.  Some  ships  appearing,  M.  Durnof  attempted  to  descend. 
The  angry  waves  caught  the  car  and  almost  buried  it  beneath 
a  shower  of  foamy  spray.  Madame  Durnof  fainted,  and  her 
husband  was  obliged  to  sustain  her  in  his  arms  and  struggle 
and  bufi'et  with  the  angrjr  sea.  It  was  a  terrible  hour ;  but  the 
vessels  were  coming  to  his  relief.  The  sailors  seized  the  trail- 
ing rope  and  drew  the  balloon  on  board,  and  the  lives  of  the 
adventurous  aeronauts  were  saved. 

La  Mountain  is  a  name  well  known  all  over  America.  He 
was,  perhaps,  the  greatest  aerial  navigator  in  the  world.  On 
the  1st  of  July,  1859,  in  company  with  Messrs.  Wise,  Hyde 
and  Gager.  he  accomplished  one  of  the  most  noted  voyages  on 
record.  They  ascended  from  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  and  in  a 
little  less  than  twenty  hours  they  landed  m  Henderson,  Jefl"er- 
son  Co.,  N.  Y.,  having  travelled  1,150  miles. 

In  September,  1859,  La  Mountain,  in  company  with  Mr.  John 
A.  Haddock,  ascended  from  Watertown,  N.  Y.  They  rose  very 
nearly  perpendicular  until  they  had  reached  an  altitude  of! 
about  3,000  feet,  when  they  were  struck  by  a  strong  north-east 
current,  which  drove  them  along  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  in  two 
minutes,  rising  as  they  went.  When  they  had  reached  a  height 
-of  about  10,500  feet  they  were  caught  by  another  current,  and 
they  sped  rapidly  away  to  the  eastward.  They  were  now  in 
the  region  of  the  clouds.  The  sun  went  down,  and  the  world 
below  was  bathed  in  the  darkness  of  night.  They  could  direct 
their  course  no  longer.  They  knew  not  whither  they  were 
going.  They  were  lost  in  mid  air.  Ascending  through  the 
damp  chilling  vapor  of  the  clouds,  they  beheld  the  clear  blue 
sky  studded  with  twinkling  stars  above  them;  and  for  hours 
they  floated  upon  the  upper  surface  of  the  storm  cloud  like  a 
boat  upon  the  water.  At  length  they  threw  open  the  valve 
and  descended  into  the  darkness  below.  Several  times  they 
attempted  to  land,  but  as  often  they  found  themselves  over  a 
thick  forest.  At  length  the  balloon  caught  in  the  top  of  a 
spruce  tree.  Making  it  more  secure  by  means  of  a  rope,  the 
weary  men  threw  themselves  down  in  the  car  and  were  soon 
sound  asleep.  They  were  awakened  from  their  slumbers  by 
the  pattering  of  falling  rain  upon  the  leaves  around  them. 
The  morning  dawned  with  gloom  and  storm ;  and  as  far  as  the 
eye  .could  reach  stretched  one  unbroken  sea  of  tree  tops.  A 
terrible  fact  was  revealed;  they  were  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest  wilderness  of  Upper  Canada.  Abandoning  their  balloon, 
they  set  off  through  the  woods.  Starvation  at  length  stared 
them  in  the  face,  and  some  frogs  which  they  found  and  ate 
greedily,  head,  bones  and  all,  perhaps  saved  their  lives.  After 
an  adventurous  journey,  they  at  last  reached  the  laud  of  civi- 
lization. 

But  the  bold  aeronaut  could  not  rest.  On  the  4th  of  July, 
1873,  he  made  his  last  ascension,  in  the  presence  of  an  immense 
<;rowd  of  spectators.  The  ascent  was  glorious,  and  ere  long  he 
appeared  almost  like  a  speck  playing  among  the  fleecy  clouds. 
Occasionally  he  would  be  hid  from  sight,  and  then  he  would 
reappear  between  the  interstices.  Suddenly  the  ring  that  en- 
circled the  balloon  was  broken.  The  balloon  escaped,  and  La 
Mountain  descended  with  the  useless  car.  Down,  down  he 
came,  rolling  and  tumbling,  gathering  force  and  swiftness, 
until  with  the  rush  of  a  whirlwind  his  body  struck  in  a  field, 
before  the  gaze  of  the  assembled  thousands.  A  deep  indent- 
ure was  made  in  the  earth  where  he  struck,  and  some  of  his 
bones  were  crushed  to  powder.  His  body  was  almost  reduced 
to  a  mass  of  jelly,  and  his  jaw-bone  was  hurled  some  distance 
away,  where  it  was  picked  up  bathed  iu  blood.  So  perished  ] 
La  Mountain,  the  famous  aeronaut. 

The  fate  of  Donaldson,  who  was  lost  in  Lake  Michigan  last 
summer,  is  fresh  in  the  mind  of  the  reader. 

Among  the  highest  ascents  ever  made,  may  be  reckoned  that 
of  Guy  Lussac,  m  1804.  He  ascended  to  the  height  of  23,000 
feet,  and  the  thermometer,  which  was  31  deg.  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  fell  at  his  highest  altitude  to  9^  deg.  below  zero. 
His  pulse  rose  from  66  to  120,  and  the  sky,  in  the  rare  atmos- 
phere, appeared  dark— almost  black,  while  the  silence  was 
fearful. 

Aerial  navigation  has  thus  far  been  unsuccessful.  It  has  not 
advanced.  It  remains  as  it  was  ninety  years  ago.   So  did  the 


I  steam  engine  stand  until  a  Watt  and  a  Stephenson  appfied 
"  their  minds  to  the  work.  A  Watt  or  a  Stephenson  will  yet  ap- 
ply their  minds  to  aerial  navigation,  and  they  will  startle  the 
world  with  their  discoveries.  You  and  I,  dear  reader,  may 
never  see  the  day,  but  the  time  will  come  when  the  air  will  be 
navigated.  The  step  that  has  l)een  gained  will  be  taken  up  by 
future  minds,  and  they  will  carry  it  through  to  completion. 
Depend  upon  it :  science  moves  not  backward. 


THE  TELESCOPE  AND  MICROSCOPE. 


There  is  nothing  more  elevating  and  ennobling  than  the  con. 

templation  of  Nature.  Here  the  thinking  mind  can  always  find 
food  for  reflection.  Here  the  searcher  after  truth  and  know- 
ledge finds  abundant  material  for  meditation;  a  book  for  study, 
bearing  the  impress  of  the  Almighty  hand.  He  beholds  the 
kingly  elephant  stalking  through  the  tangled  forest  or  the 
intricate  jungle  of  his  own  native  land;  the  mighty  whale  of 
the  Polar  Seas  coursing  and  sporting  along  the  briny  deep;  the 
golden  and  scarlet  plumed  birds  fluttering  among  the  branches 
and  green  leaves  of  a  tropical  forest,  warbling  forth  their  eve- 
ning songs;  the  reptile  crawling  among  the  leaves  and  grass; 
myriads  of  tiny  insects  humming  and  sporting  in  the  air;  and 
as  he  observes  how  everything  is  carried  on  with  order  and 
harmony  and  beauty,  each  in  its  appointed  time  and  sphere,  hia 
thoughts  wander  from  the  beautif "il  scenes  of  Nature  up  to 
Nature's  God. 

With  the  unassisted  eye  we  can  behold  but  a  very  small  por- 
tion of  the  great  field  of  Nature.  We  can  observe  a  few  of  the 
more  prominent  terrestrial  or  earthly  wonders,  and  a  few  bright 
stars,  like  mere  specks  of  light  in  the  concave  of  heaven.  But 

feaius  and  a  thinking  and  reasoning  brain,  given  to  man  and 
irected  by  the  mighty  power  of  inspiration,  has  opened  the 
doors  of  light  and  truth,  and  enabled  him  to  look  upon  worlds 
more  than  a  thousand  millions  of  miles  away. 

By  the  aid  of  the  Telescope  the  bright  twinkling  stars  of 
night  are  shown  to  be  worlds  and  suns,  some  of  which  are  more 
thafti  a  thousand  times  the  size  of  this  earth.  The  sight  and 
the  mind  darts  instantly  forth  and  wanders  among  the  fixed 
stars  or  distant  suns  so  very  remote,  that  light,  which  travels  at 
the  rate  of  11,000,000  miles  in  a  minute,  would  require  thousands 
of  years  to  pass  from  them  to  us.  Among  them  all  we  realize 
that  the  world  we  inhabit  is  but  as  a  mote  of  dust  or  a  grain  of 
sand  upon  the  sea-shore. 

With  the  invention  of  this  important  instrument  a  new  im- 
pulse was  given  to  astronomy.  The  old  Ptolemaic  theory  fell 
to  the  ground;  and  the  truths  of  Copernicus,  and  Kepler,  and 
Tycho  Brahe,  and  Galileo  were  demonstrated  before  a  hitherto 
unbelieving  world.  The  moon  was  seen  with  its  rugged  moun- 
tains and  towering  precipices,  coursing  round  the  earth;  Saturn 
with  its  brilliant  rings,  Jupiter  with  its  belts  and  resplendent 
moons,  and  Venus,  the  queen  of  the  stars,  traveling  round  the 
sun.  The  fiery  comet  was  seen  to  dash  in  among  them,  and 
quickly  pass  away  again  on  its  appointed  course,  paling  from 
sight  in  the  dim  and  nnknown  distance,  to  reappear  again  only 
after  years  and  centuries  had  passed  away.  Countless  millions 
of  worlds  appeared  in  the  blue  concave  overhead.  And  yet 
this  was  but  a  fragment  of  Nature.  The  sublime  scenery  of  the 
heavens  impressed  the  mind  of  man  with  a  feeling  of  wonder, 
astonishment  and  awe.  He  viewed  the  mighty  power  of  God, 
and  hesitated  not  to  exclaim,  "  An  undevout  astronomer  must 
be  madP'' 

About  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  two  children 
of  a  spectacle-maker  were  one  day  playing  in  their  father's 
workshop,  at  Middleburgh,  in  Holland.  Picking  up  two  specta- 
cle glasses  and  placing  one  before  the  other  at  a  little  distance 
apart,  they  observed  by  looking  through  them  both,  that  objects 
appeared  inverted,  drawn  near  by,  and  greatly  increased  in 
size.  Their  father  noticed  their  simple  experiment  with  inter- 
est; and  fixing  two  movable  glasses  on  a  strip  of  board,  pre- 
pared a  rude  instrument  for  himself.  People  flocked  in  and 
amused  themselves  by  viewing  distant  objects  thro^igh  this  new 
contrivance.  Their  curiosity  was  awakened;  and  this  rude  in- 
strument furnished  the  ideas  and  paved  the  way  for  the  inven- 
tion of  the  telescope  by  Galileo  in  1609. 

The  first  instrument  of  Galileo's  was  made  by  enclosing  in  a 
tube  two  spectacle  glasses,  plain  upon  one  side,  while  upon  the 
other  one  was  spherically  convex  and  the  other  concave.  Apply- 
ing his  eye  to  the  convex  glass  he  beheld  objects  appearing 
three  times  nearer  and  nine  times  larger  than  to  the  unassisted 
eye.  Shortly  afterwards  he  made  another,  which  ^ave  objects 
the  appearance  of  being  sixty  times  larger;  and  ultimately  he 
constructed  one  which  caused  objects  to  appear  thirty  times 
nearer  and  a  thousand  times  larger. 

His  discoveries  in  the  heavens  spread  rapidly,  and  caused  in- 
tense excitement  throughout  all  Italy.  Copernicus  had  been 
denounced  as  a  teacher  of  false  doctrine.  Galileo  proved  his 
theory  correct.  In  other  words,  he  declared  that  the  sun  was 
the  center  of  the  solar  system;  that  the  planets  shone  only  by 
the  reflected  light  of  the  sun;  and  that  the  world  turned  on  its 
axis.  This  brought  him  in  direct  conflict  with  the  teachings  of 
the  learned  men  of  the  age,  who  defended  the  Ptolemaic  doc- 
trine, asserting  that  the  earth  was  the  center  of  the  universe, 
around  which  the  suu,  moon,  and  stars  daily  revolved.  They 
hesitated  not  in  declaring  Galileo  a  false  and  deluded  teacher— 


26 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


a  lying  heretic.  They  would  not  renounce  their  teachings  for 
this  one  scientific  reformer,  and  they  caused  him  to  be  arrested 
uid  brought  before  the  Inquisition,  that  terrible  tribunal  where, 
in  the  name  of  justice  and  even  holy  religion,  men  were  placed 
npon  the  cruel  rack  or  engines  of  torture  and  inhumanly  torn 
and  mangled  and  murdered.  Galileo  bore  his  part  well;  but 
he  was  an  old  man  and  he  could  not  die  thus.  Kneeling  upon 
the  crucifix,  with  one  hand  on  the  Bible,  he  was  forced  to  re- 
nounce all.  But, 

"  Truth  crushed  to  earth  will  rise  again,'''' 

and  as  he  arose  he  could  not  help  whispering  to  one  of  his  at- 
tendants, "  The  earth  does  move,  for  aU  thatP'' 

Bigotry  and  ignorance  could  not  quench  the  fires  of  truth  and 
true  discovery.  The  worthy  senators  met  in  Venice,  and  Gali- 
leo was  invited  to  bring  his  instrument  and  prove  his  theories 
there.  He  took  his  best  telescope  and  erected  it  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  the  tower  of  St.  Mark.  It  was  a  cloudless  night.  Jupi- 
ter, Venus,  and  the  crescent  moon  shone  brilliantly  in  the  clear 
blue  sky.  The  old  astronomer  was  filled  with  joy.  It  was  just 
such  a  night  as  he  had  anxiously  hoped  and  prayed  for.  The 
senators  gathered  around  him,  and  one  after  another  gazed  upon 
the  sublime  scenery  of  the  heavens.  Taking  advantage  of  the 
situation,  he  stepped  forward  and  delivered  a  long  lecture;  in 
plain  language  setting  forth  the  truths  of  his  long  cherished 
theory.  With  their  own  eyes  they  had  beheld  the  wonders  the 
telescope  revealed,  and  they  listened  to  the  words  of  the  great 
astronomer  with  attention.  That  night  carried  conviction  to 
the  minds  of  the  leading  men  of  Venice.  That  night  estab- 
lished the  truth  of  the  Copemican  theory.  That  night  was  fatal 
to  the  system  of  the  ancient  schools. 

Astronomy  now  became  one  of  the  leading  branches  of  science. 
Larger  and  better  instruments  were  constructed,  and  the  build- 
ers were  rewarded  by  making  new  discoveries.  No  such  planet 
as  Uranus  was  known  to  exist,  until  in  1781  it  was  discovered  by 
the  aid  of  Herschel's  powerful  telescope;  and  yet  it  is  a  planet 
of  our  solar  system  nearly  ninety  times  the  size  of  our  earth. 
What  new  worlds  await  the  discovery  of  the  near  future  we 
know  not;  though  we  have  reason  to  believe  they  will  be  many, 
for  the  study  of  true  astronomy  as  a  science  has  only  just  com- 
menced. 

The  celebrated  telescope  at  Parsonstown,  Ireland,  erected  by 
Lord  Rosse,  is  one  of  the  largest  instruments  ever  constructed. 
The  grand  speculum  or  reflector  is  six  feet  in  diameter  and 
weighs  four  tons.  A  foundry  was  built  expressly  for  this  great 
casting.  The  magnificent  tube  is  seven  feet  in  diameter  and 
fifty-six  in  length.  It  is  hung  between  two  brick  walls  seventy- 
two  feet  long  and  fifty  in  height,  and  is  easily  moved  in  any 
direction  by  means  of  a  system  of  ropes  and  pulleys.  The 
weight  of  the  speculum  and  tube,  including  the  bed  piece,  is 
about  fifteen  tons.  By  means  of  this  king  of  astronomical 
telescopes,  objects  may  be  discerned  on  the  moon  as  small  as  300 
feet  cube.   Its  cost  was  $60,000. 

The  "  Grand  Refractor"  at  Cambridge,  near  Boston,  is  a  noble 
instrument  weighing  about  three  tons,  so  nicely  balanced  that 
it  can  be  directed  towards  any  quarter  of  the  heavens  by 
the  finger  of  a  child.  Its  cost  was  |19,842.  The  tube  of  the 
Great  Refracting  Telescope  of  the  Cincinnati  Observatory,  as 
well  as  that  at  Cambridge,  was  made  in  Germany.  It  is  seven- 
teen feet  in  length,  and  cost  $9,437. 

The  Microscope  is  no  less  wonderful.  The  telescope  shows 
08  a  host  of  mighty  worlds,  so  numerous  that  the  eye  can 
Scarcely  number  them.  The  microscope  reveals  a  world  of  ani- 
mated life  in  a  single  drop  of  water.  It  has  shown  man  more 
wonders  in  the  terrestrial  field  of  Nature  than  any  other  instru- 
ment ever  constructed.  It  has  opened  a  new  world  to  him;  and 
caused  him  to  realize  the  fact  that  the  world  he  inhabits  and 
the  air  he  breatues  is  absolutely  crowded  with  life.  That  the 
fly  which  he  crushes  beneath  his  foot  is  in  proportion  as  much 
larger  than  the  smallest  monad,  as  the  elephant  is  larger  than 
the  fly.  That  life  lives  only  through  death.  That  for  every 
being  born  another  must  perish.  That  at  every  fleeting  breath 
we  draw  ten  thousand  creatures  die.  What  is  life  itself?  How 
did  it  all  originate?  He  who  guides  and  directs  the  unnumbered 
millions  of  planetary  worlds  and  rules  the  unbounded  universe 
alone  can  tell. 

If  bits  of  straw,  old  half  decayed  leaves,  stalks  of  plants,  etc., 
be  placed  in  a  jar,  and  the  vessel  filled  with  the  purest  water 
and  left  open  to  the  air,  it  will  soon  be  found  teeming  with  life. 
They  may  not  be  readily  seen  with  the  naked  eye  alone,  but  the 
microscope  will  reveal  them,  so  exceedingly  numerous  that  a 
single  drop  has  been  thought  to  contain  more  living  creatures 
than  there  is  human  inhabitants  on  the  globe. 

Would  you  study  the  beauties  of  Nature — think  not  to  be  suc- 
cessful with  the  unassisted  eye  alone.  You  have  many  times 
caught  butterflies,  and  you  have  doubtless  noticed  the  yellow 
dust-like  powder  upon  their  frail  wings,  a  portion  of  which  was 
quite  likely  left  upon  your  fingers  after  you  had  let  the  tiny 
creature  go;  but  did  you  dream  that  that  apparently  yellow  dust 
was  feathers,  as  truly  and  perfectly  formed  as  those  on  the 
goose  or  hen?  The  microscope  reveals  the  fact.  Did  you  dream 
that  the  frail  spiders'  web  that  you  swept  from  your  path  was 
composed  of  4,000  threads?  The  microscope  will  convince  you. 
By  its  aid  the  physician  detects  the  adulteration  of  the  drugs 
be  buys,  the  exact  condition  of  the  blood  in  health  and  disease, 
counts  3,500  pores  on  a  single  square  inch  of  the  palm  of  the 
hand,  views  tne  body  of  man  covered  all  over  with  scales  like 
a  fish,  and  sees  even  the  marrow  of  a  human  hair.  Snow  flakes 
are  seen  to  consist  of  beautifully  formed  crystals,  nicely  ar- 


ranged in  many  different  forms.  By  its  aid  the  study  of  vege- 
tation is  made  doubly  interesting.  The  cells,  tissues,  and  gran- 
ules of  which  the  wood  is  composed,  are  seen  arranged  in  regu- 
lar order,  in  accordance  with  Nature's  laws.  The  wheels  and 
running  parts  of  a  watch,  when  viewed  through  a  powerful 
glass,  appear  almost  like  the  wheels  and  gearing  of  a  grist-mill. 
Every  little  rough  spot  is  plainly  shown,  and  the  smallest  defect 
in  the  work  can  be  readily  pointed  out.  A  fine  needle  has 
almost  the  appearance  of  a  crowbar;  and  the  finely  polished 
surface  of  a  steel  razor  resembles  a  plowed  field. 

The  lion,  leopard  and  tiger  are  to  the  naked  eye  ferocious 
looking  beasts.  But  the  microscope  reveals  among  the  minute 
insect  creation  creatures  which,  according  to  their  size,  are  a 
thousand  fold  more  savage  and  terrible.  The  gnat,  with  its 
barbs  and  darts  and  sharp  cutting  instruments;  the  bee  with  its- 
poison  divided  sting;  and  the  barbarous  spider  with  its  deadly 
fan^s,  nails  and  claws,  are  the  most  formidable. 

We  might  go  on  describing  the  appearance  of  the  minute 
forms  of  creation  until  we  had  filled  a  whole  number  of  the 
Growing  Word  were  it  required,  but  it  is  not  necessary.  The 
observer  in  this  department  of  Nature's  wonders  can  now  pro- 
cure a  moderate  glass  at  very  little  expense,  and  pursue  his  in- 
vestigations with  pleasure  and  profit. 

The  microscope  is  said  to  have  been  invented  by  Jansen^ 
about  the  time  of  the  invention  of  the  telescope;  but  Galileo- 
brought  it  to  perfection. 


PMINTim, 


BY  JASPER  T.  JENKINGS. 

If  we  look  at  the  history  of  the  world,  we  shall  find  that  thr 
brilliant  age  of  civilization  and  enlightenment  dates  back  only 
about  three  or  four  hundred  years.  The  ancient  Greeks  and 
Romans  of  two  thousand  years  ago  had,  it  is  true,  made  some 
advances  in  civilization  and  knowledge,  which  at  that  time  had 
raised  them  above  the  nations  of  Christendom  ;  but  what  was 
their  knowledge  when  compared  with  the  learned  minds  of 
to-day?  In  many  things  a  humble  school-boy  of  the  nineteenth 
century  would  utterly  confound  the  logic  of  a  score  of  ancient 
expounders,  and  not  half  try. 

In  those  days  the  great  teachers  like  Plato,  Socrates,  and 
Demosthenes,  taught  their  pupils  orally,  and  instruction  was 
passed  from  lip  to  lip,  or  written  out  at  enormous  expense. 
Years  and  centuries  rolled  away,  and  the  masses  remained  in 
ignorance.  Books  could  only  be  produced  by  writing  and  copy- 
ing with  a  pen— a  slow  and  tedious  process.  It  required  years 
of  labor  to  produce  a  copy  of  the  Bible,  and  its  cost  was  often 
equal  to  that  of  a  good  farm.  Books  were,  therefore,  only  in- 
reach  of  the  rich.  The  poor  could  scarcely  think  of  their 
purchase. 

Knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences  was  confined  to  the  few; 
and  consequently  its  progress  was  extremely  slow  and  back- 
ward. Occasionally  there  were  natural  scholars  and  shining 
lights  in  the  world,  as  now;  but  they  had  no  means  of  diffusing 
their  knowledge  among  men.  Their  grand  ideas  and  noble 
lectures  rarely  reached  beyond  tke  sound  of  their  voices,  and 
but  few  persons  could  be  benefitted  by  them.  Their  brilliant 
talents  and  silent  thoughts  could  not  be  hurled  away  to  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe  by  the  medium  of  the  newspaper  and 
printed  page,  to  illumine  other  minds  a  thousand  miles  away, 
and  the  years  came  and  went,  and  generation  succeeded  genera* 
tion  with  little  apparent  change. 

Emperors,  despots,  popes  and  priests  ruled  the  world  for 
power  and  profit.  The  ignorant  people  who  had  been  taught  to- 
receive  then-  word  as  the  only  law,  tamely  submitted  to  a  life  of 
slavery.  They  dared  not  think  for  themselves,  and  they  knew 
not  their  God-given  rights,  powers  and  privileges.  They  be- 
came willing  slaves,  "hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water;" 
willing  to  work  and  toil  their  lives  away  to  suit  the  wishes  of 
the  ruling  power,  provided  they  could  obtain  food  and  clothing 
enough  to  keep  the  soul  and  body  together.  In  this  way,  thou- 
sands of  years  ago,  Thebes,  Babylon  and  Jerusalem  were  built. 
In  this  way  the  pyramids  of  Egypt  and  the  stupendous  works  at 
Palmyra  and  Nineveh  were  erected.  And  in  later  years  the  mind 
and  toil  and  gold  of  generations  were  in  like  manner  lavished 
upon  the  churches  and  cathedrals  of  Europe.  ^      .  , 

Gradually,  however,  as  age  after  age  passed  away,  the  mind 
of  man  began  to  struggle  up  from  the  dark  mists  of  ignorance, 
and  to  develop  itself.  The  masses  began  to  look  into  their  situa- 
tion;  and  as  they  studied,  thought,  and  reasoned,  they  saw  that 
they  were  created  equal  to  their  masters,  and  that  their  lives 
were  being  worn  away  to  enrich  and  fill  the  greedy  coffers  of 
the  grasping  and  avaricious  few.  ,        -r^     ^  * 

At  length,  in  1441,  John  Guttenberg  and  Dr.  Faust,  of  May- 
ence,  Germany,  came  forward  with  the  crowning  invention  of 
the  modern  world.  This  was  the  art  of  printing  frona  movable 
types;  an  invention  that  immortalized  their  names  as  the  great- 
est benefactors  of  the  world  ever  produced.  It  is  true  the  Chi- 
nese  claim  to  have  made  the  discovery  several  hundred  years 
before,  but  its  use  was  unknown  among  enlightened  nations, 
and  the  two  illustrious  Germans  above  named  were  discoverers 
and  inventors  none  the  less,  if  they  were  not  the  first  origina- 
tors. When  the  type  for  a  book  was  once  set,  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  copies  could  be  printed  at  very  little  cost.  Books, 
pamphlets  and  papers  now  began  to  be  disseminated  among 
the  oeoDle.  and  teachers  sprang  up  on  every  hand.   Ihe  mmd» 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD. 


27 


of  poor  laboring  men  were  at  once  brought  in  communication 
with  tlie  profoundest  minds  on  the  globe;  and  now  commenced 
ihe  great  struggle  between  truth  and  error.  New  scientific 
theories  arose  in  contradiction  to  the  teachings  of  those  who 
had  formerly  been  unquestioned.  Copernicus  denounced  the 
Ptolemaic  system  of  astronomy,  and  declared  the  sun  to  be  the 
center  of  the  solar  system.  Harvey  announced  his  discovery 
of  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  Martin  Luther  raised  his  pro- 
testing voice  against  the  Pope  and  the  corrupted  religion  of  the 
time.  A  mighty  reformation  was  begun,  headed  by  noble 
minds,  working  shoulder  to  shoulder  at  the  great  wheel  of  uni- 
versal progress.  Not  solely  a  religious  reformation,  but  a  refor 
mation  in  learning,  in  art,  in  science,  in  everything. 

The  old  school  of  scientific  expounders  beheld  the  new  and 
rapidly  rising  sects  with  alarm.  In  the  near  future  they  beheld 
their  doom.  The  new  doctrines  were  declared  false,  heretical 
and  dangerous;  and  every  nerve  was  strained  for  their  over- 
throw. Copernicus,  Galileo  and  others  were  arrested  and  hur- 
ried away  to  prison.  Harvey  was  looked  upon  as  a  fool  or  a 
madman,  and  Luther  was  met  with  the  most  determined  oppo- 
eition.  Excitement  ran  high,  and  in  the  darkened  age  of  igno- 
rance and  fanaticism,  imperious  and  arbitrary  rulers  established 
that  infernal  court— the  Inquisition.  Thumb-screws,  scourges, 
chains,  racks,  and  every  other  instrument  of  torture  the  hellish 
ingenuity  of  man  could  invent,  filled  its  execution  rooms;  and 
the  work  carried  on  in  the  Star  Chambers  of  this  horrid  tribu- 
nal was  well  calculated  to  strike  terror  to  the  heart  of  the 
itrongest  mind.  In  the  name  of  justice,  and  even  holy  religion, 
men  were  bound  upon  the  cruel  rack,  with  clasps  around  their 
wrists  and  ankles,  ropes  were  attached,  passing  over  windlasses, 
the  executioners  took  their  places,  and  at  a  signal  the  doomed 
victim  was  slowly  torn  limb  from  limb.  The  tortures  perpetra- 
ted upon  the  victim  of  the  untutored  savage  of  the  American 
wilds  was  scarcely  a  comparison  to  the  blood-curdling  horrors 

Serpetrated  upon  the  victims  of  these  inhuman  monsters,  who 
ared  to  call  themselves  men,  civilized  and  religious.  The  mind 
«ickens  at  the  bare  recital.  Through  the  agency  of  the  press 
the  people  were  informed  of  the  murderous  proceedings  carried 
on  by  tneir  despotic  rulers,  and  they  rose  m  their  power  and 
might,  and  for  a  time  a  reign  of  terror  ensued  and  the  soil  of 
Europe  was  drenched  with  blood.  But, 

"Truth  crushed  to  earth  will  rise  again." 

It  cannot  be  blotted  out  forever.  The  spread  of  printed  mat- 
ter now  brought  mind  in  contact  with  mind,  and  rending  the 
dark  veils  of  bigotry,  ignorance,  and  superstition,  flung  open 
the  portals  to  light,  trutn,  and  knowledge.  The  press  became 
the  great  motive  power  of  human  progress.  All  that  was  known 
in  the  arts  and  scienceB  was  condensed  and  brought  before  the 
world;  and  the  reader  or  philosopher  could  in  a  short  time 
acquaint  himself  with  the  logic  of  the  greatest  scholars  that 
ever  lived.  Theories  and  principles  that  had  been  discovered 
only  by  lives  of  patient  study  were  flung  abroad  on  the  printed 
pt^ge,  and  the  work  of  a  lifetime  grasped  and  retained  by  a 
million  minds  in  a  single  season.  To  these  were  added  their 
own  theories  and  speculations,  and  the  world  moved  on  from 
discovery  to  discovery— from  darkness  to  light  and  truth.— 
America  was  discovered,  the  bloody  Inquisition  swept  away, 
the  art  of  navigation  extended,  and  a  thousand  inventions 
studied  out.  The  press  became  the  potent  power  to  link  to- 
gether mind  and  Nature,  genius  and  enterprise;  and  the  civi- 
lized world  seemed  to  leap  forward  almost  miraculously  into  a 
higher  and  nobler  state  of  existence. 

Printing  was  first  introduced  into  England  by  William  Caxton 
m  1474.  His  press  was  erected  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  his 
fijst  work  was  entitled,  "The  Game  and  Play  of  the  Chess."  In 
1638  Rev.  Jesse  Glover,  an  English  clergyman,  purchased  a  rude 
press  by  means  of  friendly  contributions,  and  in  company  with 
Stephen  Daye,  an  experienced  printer,  embarked  for  the  New 
World.  Mr  Glover  died  during  the  passage,  but  I)aye,  with  hia 
dissentmg  friends,  proceeded  to  Cambridge,  Massachusetts, 
where  uie  new  press  was  set  up,  and  in  January,  1639,  an  alma- 
^  and  The  Freeman's  Oath  "  made  their  appearance.  In 
1&49  Daye  was  succeeded  by  Samuel  Green,  who  was  the  father 
of  nineteen  children,  many  of  which  learned  their  father's 
trade.  In  1704  the  first  newspaper  published  in  the  American 
ctJlonies  was  issued  at  Boston.  It  was  a  small  folio,  printed  in 
small  pica  type  on  half  a  sheet,  and  was  entitled  "  The  Boston 
News-Letter.''  Shortlv  afterwards  the  Massachusetts  Evening' 
Post  was  established,  followed  by  the  Gazette,  the  Essex  Jour- 
nal, the  Worcester  Spy,  etc. 

•  E?.V^.ication  in  Pennsylvania  was  an  almanac,  issued 

m  1687,  by  William  Bradford.  The  first  newspaper  was  issued 
Dec.  22nd,  1819,  and  was  entitled  "The  American  Weekly 
Mercury."  "The  American  Daily  Advertiser,"  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, commenced  in  1784,  was  the  first  daily  paper  issued  iu 
America.  In  1813  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser  was  commenced 
The  first  printing  press  brought  into  New  Jersey  was  in  175l' 
and  the  first  newspaper  published  in  the  State  was  the  New 
Jersey  Gazette,  issued  at  Burlington,  Dec.  5th,  1777.  The  sheet 
was  only  eight  by  twelve  inches  in  size,  and  the  price  w>a8 
twenty  shillings  a  year.  The  first  newspaper  published  in  Ver- 
mont was  the  Green  Mountain  Newsboy,"  started  by  Spooner 
&  Green,  at  Westminster,  in  1781.  In  January,  1785,  Titcomb 
«  Wait  commenced  the  publication  of  the  Falmouth  Gazette 
the  first  newspaper  in  Maine.  The  "  Wilmington  Courant  "  was 
started  by  James  Adams  in  1761.  It  was  the  first  and  only 
newspaper  published  in  Delaware  previous  to  the  Revolution 
Qeor£ia  also  had  but  one  newspaper  previous  to  the  great  strng- 


fle  for  independence,  the  "  Georgia  Gazette,"  first  issued  by 
ames  Johnston  in  1762, 

With  the  establishment  of  American  independence  literature 
seemed  to  rise  and  spread  in  every  direction,  and  ere  long  the 
publishing  business  became  immense.  To-day  it  almost  rivals 
that  of  the  whole  world.  The  most  noted  publishing  houses  in 
the  United  States  are  the  Harper's  and  Appleton's  of  New  York, 
Lippincotts  of  Philadelphia,  and  Ticknor  and  Fields  of  Boston. 
Ivison,  Blakeman,  Taylor  &  Co.,  and  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co.,  of 
New  York,  and  E.  H.  Butler  «fc  Co.,  of  Philadelphia,  take  the 
lead  in  the  list  of  American  school  book  publishers.  Either  of 
the  above  named  firms  turn  out  hundreds  of  thousands  of  vol- 
umes yearly. 

Among  the  leading  American  newspapers  may  be  mentioned 
the  Herald,  Sun,  Times,  Tribune,  World,  News,  and  Day-Book, 
of  a  political  character;  the  Ledger,  Saturday  Night,  Fireside 
Companion,  and  New  York  Weekly,  as  story  papers.  The  more 

f)rominent  pictorials  and  illustrated  papers  are  Harper's  Week- 
y,  Harper's  Bazar,  Frank  Leslie's  Illustrated  Newspaper,  Frank 
Leslie's  Chimney  Comer,  the  Days  Doings,  Police  News,  etc. 
Nearly  all  the  above-mentioned  periodicals  have  an  immense 
circulation,  and  are  among  the  cheapest  and  best  of  their  class. 
The  leading  magazines  are  Hari>er'8  and  Scribner's. 

Few  people  are  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  printer,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  does  more  work  for  the  money  than  any  other 
mechanic  on  earth.  Step  into  any  respectable  printing  ofllce 
during  working  hours,  and  you  will  be  convinced,  A  type  has 
to  be  picked  up  and  put  in  its  place  for  every  letter.  Count  the 
letters  on  a  single  page  before  you,  and  you  will  be  astonished 
at  the  number.  The  Bible,  we  are  told,  contains  3,566,480  let- 
ters, and  the  type  for  each  one  of  these  had  to  be  taken  up 
singly  and  placed  in  the  composing  stick  one  by  one.  And  yet 
the  Bible  is  but  one  of  the  many  millions  of  volumes  turned 
out  by  the  press  every  year.  The  books  in  the  Astor  Library, 
New  York,  cover  about  21,000  feet  of  shelving,  and  weigh  about 
200  tons.  What  must  have  been  the  labor  expended  in  type 
setting  for  this  stupendous  array  of  intellectual  food?  And  yet 
this  is  but  a  mere  speck  in  the  mighty  field  of  literature.  Look 
at  the  newspapers  and  pamphlets  and  magazines  published  in 
almost  every  hamlet  throughout  our  wide  domain  1  The  press- 
rooms of  our  largest  publishing  houses  present  a  babel  of  whir- 
ring machinery.  In  some  of  them  eight  or  ten  heavy  steam 
power  presses  are  kept  running  night  and  day,  while  the  printed 
matter  is  piled  up  like  cords  of  wood,  and  drawn  away  like  great 
loads  of  hay  to  the  mailing  offices,  eventually  to  find  its  way  to 
the  reading  millions. 

When  the  type  is  once  set  and  fastened  in  forms,  the  heaviest 
part  of  the  printer's  work  is  done.  The  forms  are  placed  in  the 
prees,  and  the  machinery  set  in  motion.  It  passes  under  the 
ink  rollers  and  out  again,  the  white  paper  is  laid  upon  it  and 
carried  beneath  a  heavy  ryiler  to  instantly  make  its  appearance 
as  a  printed  page.  Thousands  of  impressions  are  taken  in  an 
hour.  If  a  great  number  of  impressions  are  required,  wax 
casts  of  the  forms  are  made,  and  these  are  plated  with  copper 
by  means  of  galvanic  electricity,  and  from  these  plates  the 
pages  are  printed.  As  any  number  of  these  plates  can  be  pre- 
pared, a  dozen  presses  may  be  employed  upon  a  single  issue  of 
a  paper.  Books  and  papers  publisned  in  this  way  are  said  to  be 
electrotyped. 

The  first  types  were  made  of  wood.  Those  now  in  use  are 
generally  made  of  lead,  with  a  small  proportion  of  antimony  and 
zinc  to  render  them  more  durable.  The  first  book  printed  from 
movable  types  was  an  edition  of  Donatus.  The  first  newspaper 
ever  printed  by  steam  power  was  the  London  Times,  of  Nov. 
28th,  1814.  The  celebrated  Hoe  press  was  patented  in  July,  1847. 

The  highest  price  ever  paid  for  any  printed  work  was  for  the 
only  perfect  copy  known  to  exist  of  Valdarfar's  first  edition  of 
Boccaccio's  Decameron,  or  "Ten  Days'  Entertainment,"  of 
1471;  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  works  of  genius  ever  writ- 
ten, and  which,  after  the  lapse  of  five  centuries,  is  still  regarded 
as  one  of  the  ptirest  specimens  of  Italian  prose.  It  was  sold  at 
auction  in  London,  June,  1811,  and  bid  off  by  the  Marquis  of 
Blandford  for  £2,260,  Lord  Spencer  competing  for  the  prize  up 
to  £2,250. 

The  nineteenth  century  Is  an  age  of  literature.  The  news- 
paper has  become  the  great  educator  of  the  people.  It  is  almost 
an  indispensible  article  in  every  household.  If  you  enter  the 
dwelling  of  a  stranger  the  newspaper  upon  the  line  or  the  books 
in  the  secretary  will  reveal  to  you  the  character  of  the  minds  of 
those  people.  If  none  appear  in  sight  you  may  depend  upon  it 
that  family  are  deplorably  sunk  in  ignorance. 

People  do  not  realize  and  properly  appreciate  the  benefit  and 
power  of  the  independent  press.  It  is  not  sustained  as  it 
should  be.  They  know  that  through  its  instrumentality  Ameri- 
ca was  discovered;  that  it  was  the  Key  that  led  to  the  invention 
of  the  steam  engine  and  the  electric  telegraph;  that  it  swept 
away  the  dark  ages  and  brought  civilization  to  its  present  bril- 
liant state;  but  they  do  not  realize  that  its  "reat  mission  has 
but  just  commenced.  The  world  is  still  filled  with  ignorance, 
envy,  malice,  bigotry,  jealousy,  and  superstition.  Those  are  to 
be  eradicated  by  the  dissemination  of  truth  and  knowledge,  and 
in  the  great  struggle  the  silent  press  has  a  mighty  work  to  per- 
form. In  this  noble  work  the  newspaper  is  the  one  great  school 
of  man.  Its  cost  is  but  little,  and  it  should  find  its  way  to  the 
home  of  the  lowliest.  In  every  family  there  are  minds  to  be 
educated,  expanded,  and  elevated.  Let  not  the  young  grow  up 
in  ignorance  while  the  newspaper  remains  the  poor  man's  libra- 
ry. The  true  newspaper  is  a  teacher  of  good  morals,  and  a  dis- 
penser of  true  and  useful  information.   We  rise  from  its  pcru- 


28 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


sal  with  a  sense  that  our  time  has  not  been  wasted,  but  that  we 
are  wiser  and  better  than  we  were  before,  Such  a  paper  ex- 
poses fraud  and  corruption  and  causes  tyrants  to  tremble.  It 
shields  the  innocent  and  brings  the  guilty  to  justice.  Look  at 
its  work  around  usl  It  is  the  potent  lever  that  is  moving  the 
world.  By  its  power  we  exercise  our  liberties  and  privileges 
to-day.  It  is  constantly  bringing  forth  and  demonstrating  great 
truths,  and  crushing  error  in  the  dust.  It  is  uniting  mind  with 
mind  and  heart  to  heart,  in  one  grand  brotherhood  of  love, 
peace,  and  universal  process.   Let  no  man  then  say  he  is  too 

?oor  to  take  a  paper.  He  cannot  afford  to  live  without  one. 
erhaps  he  has  children:  and  if  so,  their  young  minds  must 
have  food.  Let  him  select  for  them  some  OJie  of  the  many 
worthy  publications  of  the  day,  and  its  periodical  visits  will  be 
hailed  with  delight.  A  desire  and  thirst  for  knowledge  will  be 
.awakened,  and  a  boon  will  be  conferred  on  the  family.  It  will 
be  like  sowing  seed  in  rich  ground,  and  it  will  yield  a  hundred 
toW. 


The  Planetary  System 

Try  a  flight — pass  over  twenty  millions  oi  millions  of 
miles.  We  have  reached  the  nearest  of  the  stars,  and 
taking  our  stand  on  one  of  its  planets,  and  waiting  till 
evening  falls,  we  look  eagerly  abroad  to  mark  the  altered 
aspect  of  the  heavens.  Here,  surely,  where  we  have  put 
such  an  overwhelming  distance  between  us  and  our  for- 
mer position,  the  face  of  the  sky  will  be  no  longer  recog- 
nizable—the old  heavens  will  have  passed  away  from 
over  our  head,  as  well  as  the  old  earth  from  beneath  our 
feet.  But  no — as  the  stars  one  by  one  steal  out  from  the 
darkness,  they  group  themselves  in  their  old  well-known 
configurations.  There  is  the  Little  Bear  with  its  pole 
star  and  the  Great  Bear  with  its  pointers  :  there  are  the 
bands  of  Orion  and  the  sweet  influence  of  the  Pleiades  ; 
there  are  Mazaroth  and  Arcturus,  just  as  they  appeared 
to  Job  five  thousand  years  ago,  and  sixty  billion  miles 
away.  Vast  as  is  the  space  we  have  traversed,  it  is  not 
a  thousandth  part  of  that  which  separates  the  two  most 
distant  stars  of  the  system,  and  hence  we  need  not 
wonder  that  the  change  we  have  found  is  no  greater  than 
that  which  comes  over  the  distant  landscape  as  the 
traveler  advances  a  score  or  two  of  yards  along  his  way. 
Let  us,  then,  pursue  our  journey  still  further.  Sun  after 
sun  beams  upon  us  with  its  brilliant  bands  of  planets  and 
comets — sun  after  sun  pales  and  lessens  in  the  distance 
as  we  leave  it  behind  in  our  flight.  Gradually  a  change 
creeps  over  the  face  of  the  heavens.  The  general  figures 
of  the  constellations  remain  the  same,  but  those  behind 
contract  their  dimensions  and  shrink  more  closely  to- 
gether, while  those  in  front  are  opening  out  and  grow- 
ing larger  and  brighter.  At  length  we  near  the  farthest 
confines  of  the  Milliy  Way. 

Very  few  and  scattering  are  the  stars  which  still  re- 
main in  front  of  us.  We  can  number  them  all  with  ease. 
And  now  but  three  are  left  before  us — but  two — but  one. 
That  one  is  reached  in  turn.  We  pass  to  the  further 
aide  and  look  forth  into  the  mysterious  abyss  which  lies 
beyond.  Before,  behind,  to  the  right,  to  the  left — which 
way  we  turn  our  gaze,  it  meets  with  deep,  but  the  black- 
ness of  darkness — the  nought  gloom  of  the  midnight 
sky  is  unbroken  by  the  gleam  of  a  single  star.  Onward 
still  we  wing  our  daring  flight ;  the  last  resting  place  is 
abandoned,  the  last  oasis  left  behind,  and  we  venture 
forth  into  the  trackless  waste  of  space.  One  by  one  the 
planets  of  this  last  sun  are  passed  in  our  course ;  now 
and  then  a  comet  overtakes  us,  and  blazes  swiftly  past 
into  the  depths  beyond  ;  but  if  we  look  onward  we  see 
that  even  it  soon  pauses  in  its  reckless  flight,  and  wheels 
back  on  rapid  wing  to  less  solitary  and  untrodden 
regions.  The  sun  itself  dwindles  down  to  a  star,  and 
takes  its  place  among  a  cluster  of  others  which  come 
forth  from  behind  and  around  it  as  its  paling  light  per- 
mits them  to  become  visible.  And  soon  this  cluster  too 
fades,  till  all  distinction  of  stars  in  it  is  lost,  and  nothing 
is  left  but  a  dim  white  patch  of  light,  ere  long  to  be 
blotted  out  in  turn,  as  it  seems  to  be  swallowed  up  by 
the  surrounding  darkness.  All  created  works  are  left 
behind,  and  we  stand  alone  face  to  face  with  the  infini- 
tude of  God — alone,  where  mortal  footstep  has  never 
been  trod,  where  presence  there  has  never  been  save 
that  of  the  ever  omnipresent  Creator  and  the  spirits 
which  pass  and  repass  ascending  the  ladder  of  vision 
which  bridges  the  chasm  between  heaven  and  earth,  as 
Uiey  go  and  come,  ministering  to  the  heirs  of  salvation. 


Alligators  fall  into  a  lethargic  sleep  during  the  win- 
i«r  season,  like  the  toad. 


Meteoric  Stones. 

It  is  a  curious  and  indeed  a  startling  fact,  that  hot, 
ponderous  masses  of  mineral  and  earthy  matter  are  often 
i)rojected  with  great  force  upon  the  earth,  from  the  mys- 
terious depths  of  space  from  over  our  heads.  In  former 
times  the  falling  of  these  stones,  as  well  as  other  celes- 
tial phenomena,  like  comets  and  eclipses,  were  univer- 
sally regarded  with  the  greatest  awe  and  superstition. 
The  fall  of  a  meteor  in  Eastern  countries  was  supposed 
to  be  the  immediate  precursor  of  some  important  public 
event  or  national  calamity,  and  therefore  the  precise  date 
of  each  descent  was  carefully  recorded.  In  China,  for 
example,  these  records  go  back  more  than  two  thousand 
years,  and  there  are  extant  accounts  of  the  fall  of  six- 
teen aerolites  between  the  years  644  b.  c.  and  333  after 
Christ.  No  wonder  the  ignorant  people  of  those  early 
times  were  filled  with  terror,  when  the  whizzing  missiles, 
all  aglow  with  light,  dashed  upon  the  earth,  as  even  now, 
in  this  age  of  science  and  universal  knowledge,  we  can 
scarcely  regard  them  vnthout  a  certain  degree  of  dread. 
There  are  on  record  four  or  five  cases  of  persons  who 
have  been  kUled  by  them  ;  and  villages  in  India  have 
been  set  on  fire  through  their  agency.  Instances  of 
Injury  it  is  true  are  rare,  but  since  these  stones  are  liable 
to  fall  any  where,  at  any  time,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  reflect 
upon  the  serious  catastrophes  that  may  suddenly  occur. 

The  stones  that  come  down  to  us  from  above  are 
always  in  a  more  or  less  heated  state,  and  sometimes 
they  are  quite  incandescent.  The  heat  in  large  masses 
continues  so  long,  that  often  they  cannot  be  touched  for 
several  hours.  Passing  over  the  accounts  of  the  fall  of 
aerolites  in  ancient  times,  with  the  exception  of  that  of 
^gos  on  the  Hellespont,  which  happened  about  the 
year  467  b.  c,  we  will  consider  briefly  some  of  those 
which  have  fallen  within  the  past  five  or  six  centuries. 
The  meteoric  stone  which  fell  at  ^gos  was  of  vast  size, 
if  the  accounts  of  Plutarch  and  Pliny  are  reliable.  They 
represent  it  as  a  great  stone,  the  size  of  two  millstones, 
and  equal  in  weight  to  a  full  wagon-load. 

A  very  remarkable  aerolite  fell  in  Alsace,  in  France,  in 
1492,  just  at  the  time  when  the  Emperor  Maximilian, 
then  king  of  the  Romans,  was  on  the  point  of  an  engage- 
ment with  the  French  army.  This  stone  is  still  preserved 
in  the  Public  Library  of  Colmar,  and  is  regarded  as  an 
object  of  much  interest  by  residents  and  travelers.  In 
1803,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Caen  and  Alencon,  France, 
a  large  fire-ball  was  observed  at  a  considerable  elevation, 
in  the  daytime,  when  the  sky  was  clear  and  cloudless. 
It  suddenly  changed  to  a  vaporous  condition,  which 
change  was  attended  with  a  violent  explosion,  and  soon 
after,  the  rattling  of  stones  was  heard  among  the  trees 
and  buildings,  over  a  wide  area.  From  this  exploded 
aerolite  more  than  three  thousand  fragments  were  pick- 
ed up,  ranging  in  weight  from  half  an  ounce  to  seven- 
teen pounds.  The  first  recorded  fall  of  an  aerolite  ia 
England  was  in  1633  in  Devonshire.  Westcote,  one  of 
the  quaint  old  Devonshire  historians,  thus  describes  the 
incident :  "In  some  part  of  this  manor  there  fell  from 
above — I  cannot  say  from  heaven— a  stone  of  twenty- 
three  pounds'  weight,  with  a  great  and  fearful  noise  in 
falling ;  first  it  was  heard  like  unto  thunder,  or  rather  to 
be  thought  the  report  of  some  great  ordnance,  cannon 
or  culverin  ,  and  as  it  descended,  so  did  the  noise  lessen, 
at  least  when  it  came  to  the  earth,  to  the  height  of  the 
report  of  a  petronel  or  pistol.  It  was  for  matter  like 
unto  a  stone  singed  or  half  burned  for  lime."  This 
stone,  in  its  descent,  buried  itself  in  the  ground  three 
feet  deep,  and  it  was  3  1-2  feet  long,  2 1-2  wide,  and  1 1-2 
thick.  Since  the  fall  of  this  stone,  twenty  others  have 
been  recorded  in  England,  one  of  which  weighed  56 
pounds.  This  is  now  preserved  in  the  British  Museum. 
In  striking  the  earth  it  penetrated  through  18  inches  of 
soil  and  hard  chalk. 

The  fall  of  stones  in  this  country  has  been  very  fre- 
quent, and  almost  every  museum  of  any  extent  containA 
one  or  more  specimens.  The  singular  mass  on  exhibi- 
tion at  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  in  Washington,  attracts 
the  attention  of  all  visitors.  It  is  of  annular  form,  and 
externally  is  smooth  as  if  polished  by  hand.  The  two 
metals  which  preponderate  in  its  composition  are  iron 
and  nickel,  and  it  is  therefore  a  dense,  heavy  mass. 
Aerolites  have  fallen  in  every  State  of  the  Union,  and  in 
Mexico  and  South  America,  and  there  are  but  few  per- 
«  sons  living,  having  attained  middle  life,  who  have  not 
seen  in  the  heavens  these  fiery  messengers,  shootiiig 
athwart  the  sky,  and  lightine:  up  the  country  for  a  yaat 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


29 


distance.  They  are  still  objects  of  terror  to  the  Indians 
in  the  northern  and  western  sections,  and  to  simple, 
ignorant  people  living  upon  the  borders  of  the  States. 

About  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  eminent  mathemati- 
cians of  the  time  took  up  the  subject,  and  by  a  course  of 
elaborate  calculations,  proved  that  meteoric  stones  could 
not  come  from  the  moon,  as  by  careful  measurements  of 
their  velocity  they  were  found  to  move,  when  near  the 
earth,  at  the  rate  of  114,000  feet,  or  about  21 1-2  miles 
per  second ;  whereas,  if  they  came  from  the  moon,  they 
would  start  with  an  initial  velocity  of  8,292  feet  per 
second,  and  reach  the  earth  with  a  velocity  of  only 
35,000  feet  per  second.  It  was  clear,  therefore,  that 
they  came  from  a  more  distant  region  in  space  than  that 
occupied  by  the  moon. 


Coral  and  Pearl  Fishing. 

The  manner  in  which  the  Mediterranean  fisheries  are 
jonflucted  is  1  >  man  small  boats — coralines  they  are 
called — with  -ews  of  eight  men  each.  These  men  are 
always  excellent  divers.  They  take  with  them  a  great 
cross,  whose  arms  are  of  equal  length  and  very  strong. 
To  each  arm  is  attached  a  net,  shaped  like  a  sack.  A 
stout  ropo  is  fastened  to  the  center  of  the  cross,  by  which 
it  is  lowered  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  with  sufficient 
weight  1  J  keep  it  steady.  The  diver  next  descends.  The 
cross  he  moves  about  so  that  the  arms  scrape  the  coral 
from  the  rocks,  nd  it  becomes  entangled  in  the  nets. 
About  thirty  seconds  is  the  average  time  in  which  a 
diver  can  do  this  work.  At  a  given  signal  he  is  dravm 
to  the  surface  of  the  water,  with  his  cross  and  coral,  by 
the  men  in  the  boat. 

The  fishery  that  furnishes  us  with  pearls  and  the 
mother-of-pearl  is  the  most  perilous  of  all  the  submarine 
pursuits.  These  two  substances  are  the  same  in  compo- 
sition. They  are  formed  mainly  of  carbonate  and  phos- 
phate of  lime.  The  great  difference  in  value  between 
the  two  is  because  the  so-called  mother-of-pearl  is  found 
in  several  species  of  shell-fish,  and  is,  therefore,  abund- 
ant ;  but  pearls  are  comparatively  rare  and  accidental. 
Even  in  the  species  in  which  they  are  most  frequently 
found,  twenty  or  thirty  shells  are  often  examined  before 
one  can  be  found  of  a  regular  outline  and  of  a  certain  size. 

The  pearl  oyster,  which  the  fishermen  call  pintadina  or 
"  mother  of  the  pearls,"  resembles  the  common  oyster, 
but  is  much  larger.  It  is  principally  caught  in  the  Strait 
of  Manaar,  between  the  Island  of  Ceylon  and  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Deccan.  It  is  also  found  on  the  coast  of 
Japan,  the  Persian  Gulf,  the  Red  Sea,  the  Gulf  of  Mexi- 
co and  the  coast  of  South  America.  The  fisheries  in  the 
Strait  of  Manaar  belong  to  the  English.  These  oyster- 
beds  comprehend  several  banks,  one  of  which  is  said  to 
be  twenty  miles  in  length.  Fishing  commences  in  the 
month  01  February  and  ends  in  May.  Each  boat  has  a 
crew  of  twenty  men,  half  divers,  half  sailors,  besides  a 
master  and  a  pilot. 

Each  diver  grasps  with  the  toes  of  his  right  foot  a 
rope  to  the  end  of  which  a  stone  is  attached.  The  stone 
helps  his  descent,  and  enables  him  to  keep  at  the  bottom 
of  the  water.  He  never  dives  head  foremost,  but  goes 
down  either  in  a  standing  or  couching  position.  With 
his  left  foot  he  holds  his  net.  In  his  right  hand  is  the 
etone-weighted  cord.  His  ears  are  stopped  with  cotton, 
and  with  his  left  hand  he  pinches  his  nostrils.  When  he 
arrives  at  the  bottom  he  hurriedly  picks  off  all  the  oys- 
ters within  his  reach,  places  them  in  his  net,  which  he 
hangs  about  his  neck,  and  when  he  can  remain  no  longer, 
at  a  given  signal  he  is  drawn  up  by  his  companions  in 
the  boat. 

A  diver  never  can  work  at  greater  depth  than  eight  or 
nine  fathoms.  Neither  can  he  remain  under  water  at 
great  depth  more  than  half  a  minute.  There  is  no  truth 
in  the  statement  that  these  men  sometimes  spend  a  min- 
ute or  more  under  this  mass  of  water.  The  pressure  is 
twofold  that  of  the  atmosphere,  and  no  man  is  capable 
of  so  extraordinary  a  feat.  A  robust  diver  will  some- 
times accomplish  fifteen  or  twenty  de<icents  in  one  morn- 
ing; but  under  adverse  circumstances  will  not  dive  more 
than  four  or  five  times. 

Diving  soon  affects  the  health  of  the  men.  A  diver 
rarely  grows  old.  Many  of  them  contract  a  frightful 
disease,  which  unfits  them  for  work.  Their  sight  grows 
weak.  Then  their  eyes  becomes  ulcerated,  and  all  their 
body  covered  with  sores,  others  are  stricken  with  apo- 
plexy or  die  of  suffocation  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea — 


some  fall  victims  to  the  sharks,  that  are  the  terror  of 
pearl  fishers.  The  presence  of  one  of  these  voracious 
man-eaters  on  the  fishing-ground  will  scatter  an  entire 
fleet  of  boats  and  drive  them  into  port.  j.  j.  w. 


Manufacture  of  Silk. 

Many  efforts  have  been  made  in  our  country  to  make 
a  success  of  silk  manufacture,  but  none  of  them  have 
yet  brought  that  industry  to  perfection  here.  It  was,  as 
a  writer  properly  states,  "an  object  of  attention  and 
hope  before  the  Revolution.  In  Pennsylvania  a  society 
was  formed  to  encourage  the  importation  of  silk-worms 
and  the  establishment  of  filatures.  The  weaving,  pre- 
paring and  dyeing  of  silk  occupied  the  attention  of  our 
ancestors,  and  they  had  hope  of  rendering  it  a  successful 
branch  of  industry.  Yet,  from  various  reasons  they 
failed,  and  the  next  generation  took  up  the  task,  to  fail 
again.  When  the  protection  of  American  manufactures 
became  the  principle  of  a  great  party,  encourage- 
ment to  the  silk  manufacture  was  given  with  no  more 
success  than  on  previous  trials.  The  great  morus  mul- 
ticaulis  excitement  had  its  origin  in  the  hopes  built  upon 
the  establishment  of  the  silk  manufacture,  and,  when 
that  bubble  burst,  the  effect  upon  the  silk  production 
was  serious.  Yet  we  have  before  us  a  hopeful  condi- 
tion of  affairs  in  refef ence  to  this  industry. 

"  In  1860  the  value  of  the  silk  manufacture  was  re- 
turned by  the  census  takers  in  the  United  States,  at 
$3,000,000.  This  capital  has  been  increased  ten  times 
in  the  course  of  ten  years,  and  value  in  1870  at  $30,000,- 
000.  It  gave  employment  to  six  thousand  persons,  and 
their  earnings  were  up  to  $800,000  per  annum.  Silk  is 
woven  in  this  country  for  many  articles  of  use  and  of 
apparel  which  do  not  compete  with  the  dress  goods  from 
foreign  countries.  Neckties,  scarfs  and  ribbons  absoi1> 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  manufacture,  and  dress 
silks  are  woven  with  such  fineness  as  to  command  sales." 

Sewing  silk  is  by  far  the  largest  and  most  important 
branch  of  this  production.  New  Jersey  has  at  Newark 
and  other  places,  some  successful  factories  devoted  to 
this  branch  of  business  alone.  In  Connecticut  a  large 
interest  is  manifested  in  manufacture,  and  those  con- 
cerned in  it  are  so  well  satisfied  with  their  progress,  and 
the  demand  for  their  goods  increases  so  gradually  and 
surely,  that  in  ten  years  more  we  expect  the  advance  iit 
this  branch  of  industry  will  be  more  remarkable  than  h 
has  been  during  the  last  decade. 


The  Cedars  of  Lebanon. 

'The  cedars  of  Lebanon,  once  the  glory  of  the  earth, 
have  become  like  a  history  of  the  past.  Time  was  when 
their  widespread  branches,  each  forming  a  green  pla- 
teau, one  above  the  other,  flourished  in  aU  their  luxur- 
iance and  beauty,  on  the  far-famed  mountain  of  Leba- 
non. That  was  the  time  when  the  monarch  of  Tyre — a 
city  then  the  queen  of  nations— sent  thousands  of  his 
workmen  to  fell  cedars  for  the  construction  of  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem.  Those  who  would  view  the 
cedars  of  Lebanon  now  must  be  somewhat  affected  by 
the  fewness  of  their  number  and  their  decay  and  deso- 
lation. A  little  remnant  is  left,  and  the  traveller  gazes 
upon  them  with  a  feeling  that  has  in  it  a  touch  of  sad- 
ness. All  through  the  middle  ages  a  visit  to  the  cedars 
of  Lebanon  was  regarded  by  many  persons  in  the  light 
of  a  pUgrimage.  Some  of  the  trees  were  thought  to 
have  been  planted  by  King  Solomon  himself,  and  were 
looked  upon  as  sacred  relics.  Indeed,  the  visitors  took 
away  so  many  pieces  of  wood  from  the  bark,  of  which 
to  make  crosses  and  other  articles,  that  it  was  feared 
the  trees  would  be  destroyed.  The  once  magnificent 
grove  is  but  a  speck  on  the  mountain  side.  Alany  per- 
sons have  taken  it  in  the  distance  for  a  wood  of  fir  trees; 
but  on  approaching  nearer,  and  taking  a  clear  view,  the 
trees  resume  somewhat  of  their  ancient  majesty.  The 
space  they  cover  is  not  more  than  half  a  nile  ;  but  once 
amidst  them,  the  beautiful  fanlike  branches  overhead, 
tne  exquisite  green  of  the  younger  trees  and  the  colossal 
size  of  the  older  ones  fill  the  mind  mth  intensest  admir- 
ation. The  trees  are  fast  disappearing  from  the  face  of 
the  earth.  Each  succeeding  traveller  finds  them  lower 
in  number  than  his  predecessors.  There  are  now  but 
seven  of  the  cedars  remaining,  which  from  their  age  and 
experience  indicate  that  they  had  an  existence  in  Bible 
days. 


30 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


AFTEE  CHRISTMAS. 

BT  MRS.  S.  M.  WALSH. 

I  have  lately  heard  a  secret, 

Heard  it,  too,  from  truthful  lips', 
Santa  Glaus,  the  sly  old  fellow. 

Makes  his  after-Christmas  trips. 

I've  been  told  he  has  discovered 
Many  things  that  cause  him  pain, 

Discontent  and  hateful  envy- 
Thoughtful  love  bestowed  in  vain. 

He  has  seen  his  choicest  presents 

Torn  and  broken  and  defaced; 
Santa  Glaus,  though  rich  and  lavish, 

Frowns  on  willful,  wicked  waste. 

All  unseen  he  watched  some  children 

In  their  pleasant  home  at  play, 
With  the  yery  toys  he  gave  them 

On  the  Merry  Ghristmas  day. 

Johnny's  rocking-horse  was  splendid  1 

Gaily  decked  in  red  and  gold; 
Katy's  doll,  as  fair  a  creature 

As  a  child  could  wish  to  hold. 

Johnny's  horse  was  kicked  and  battered. 

Just  because  it  couldn't  neigh! 
Thought  his  papa  might  have  brought  him 

Two  live  horses  and  a  sleigh! 

Katy  wished  her  doll  was  larger; 
Wished  its  eyes  were  black,  not  blue; 

Finally  grew  vexed  and  threw  it- 
Broke  its  lovely  head  in  two! 

Santa  Glaus  looked  grave  and  troubled, 

Shook  his  head  and  went  away; 
"  I'll  remember  this,"  he  muttered, 

"  On  another  Ghristmas  day!" 

Then  he  peered  in  dismal  places, 

Where  he  was  not  wont  to  go; 
Where  the  hungry,  shivering  children 

Never  any  Christmas  know. 

And  his  heart  was  sad  and  sorry 

That  he  could  not  help  them  all; 
And  he  thought  in  grief  and  anger 

Of  the  broken  horse  and  doll. 

As  he  took  his  onward  journey, 

He  was  seen  to  drop  a  tear. 
And  I'm  certain  that  he  whispered, 

"  I'll  remember  this  next  year!" 

But  he  has  so  much  to  think  of, 

And  so  many  things  to  get, 
Can't  the  Johnnies  and  the  Katies 

Think  of  it,  if  he  forget? 

The  eucalyptus  trees  planted  at  Nice  have  prevented, 
during  the  last  two  years,  the  malarial  fevers  usual  in 
that  city. 


The  Bohemian  Waxwing. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKE. 

This  bird  is  very  rarely  brought  to  this  country.  It  is 
found  in  all  parts  of  Europe,  chiefly  preferring  the 
northern  latitudes.  It  lives  in  forests,  especially  of  pine 
and  fir.  It  is  a  migratory  bird,  although  not  in  the 
strictest  sense  of  the  word,  being  found  in  the  southern 
parts  of  Germany  all  winter. 

It  is  chiefly  prized  on  account  of  its  very  beautiful 
plumage,  which  is  thus  described  by  Bechstein  ;  "  It  is 
about  the  size  of  the  redwing  thrush,  eight  inches  long, 
the  beak  black,  short,  straight,  convex  above  and  broad 
at  the  base,  so  that  the  mouth  opens  widely  ;  the  irides 
red-brown,  the  feet  black  and  almost  one  inch  high,  the 
plumage  is  entirely  of  a  delicate  and  silky  nature ;  the 
feathers  on  the  vertex  are  elongated  and  form  a  crest, 
the  head  and  upper  part  of  the  body  are  of  a  reddish 
ash  color,  passing  into  gray  at  the  rump." 

This  is  a  very  hardy  bird,  easily  reared,  and  well  adapt- 
ed to  be  a  cage  bird  for  this  country,  because  it  is  so 
well  inured  to  a  cold  climate.  Bohemian  waxwings  or 
"  chatterers,"  as  they  are  sometimes  called,  suffer  from 
artificial  heat.  Even  a  small  degree  of  heat  becomes  in- 
supportable to  them,  and  if  an  apartment  becomes  in 
the  least  warm,  they  immediately  droop.  This  is  a  proof 
that  a  very  cold  climate  must  be  their  summer  place  of 
resort.  I  should  advise  those  to  put  them  in  a  cage  who 
dislike  a  room  bemg  soiled  by  birds.  The  cage  must  be 
one  similar  to  that  used  for  the  thrush,  but  the  floor 
should  be  covered  with  sand,  as  these  birds  are  very 
uncleanly. 

In  spring  he  feeds  like  the  thrush,  upon  various  sorts 
of  flies  and  insects  ;  in  autumn  and  winter  it  eats  all 
kinds  of  berries,  service,  mistletoe,  buckthorn,  viburnum 
and  juniper  berries,  and,  in  case  of  need,  the  buds  of 
beech,  maple  and  fruit  trees. 

It  swallows  everything  in  large  pieces,  and  eats  roll 
with  avidity.  He  is,  besides,  no  epicure,  and  swallows 
all  eatables  thrown  to  him,  such  as  greens,  potatoes,  and 
even  raw  salad  and  all  kinds  of  raw  fruit.  It  is  fond  of 
bathing,  but  only  sprinkles  itself,  and  does  not  wet 
itself  so  much  as  other  birds. 


Flying  Fish. 

The  mechanism  of  the  movements  of  the  flying-fish 
through  the  air  has  been  described  with  much  detail  by 
Professor  Moebius,  of  Kiel,  who  concludes,  from  the 
observations  of  those  who  have  published  on  the  sub 
ject  and  his  own,  that  the  flying-fish  dart  from  the 
water  mth  great  speed  without  reference  to  the  course 
of  the  wind  and  waves.  They  make  no  regular  flying 
motions  with  their  pectoral  and  ventral  fins,  but  spread 
them  out  quietly,  though  very  rapid  vibrations  can  be 
seen  in  the  outstretched  pectoral  Sns.  The  hinder  part  of 
the  body,  while  the  fish  moves  in  the  air,  hangs  some- 
what lower  than  the  forepart  of  the  body.  They  usually 
fly  farther  against  the  wind  than  with  it,  or  if  their  tracK 
and  the  direction  of  the  wind  form  an  angle.  Most 
flying-fish  which  fly  against  or  with  the  wind  continue 
in  their  whole  course  of  flight  in  the  same  direction  in 
which  they  come  out  of  the  water.  Winds  which  blow 
from  one  side  on  to  the  original  track  of  the  fish  bend 
their  coarse  inward.  All  fish  which  are  at  a  distance 
from  tht  vessel  hover  in  thetr  whole  course  in  the  air 
near  the  surface  of  the  water.  If  in  strong  winds  they 
fly  against  the  course  of  the  waves,  then  they  fly  a  little 
higher  ;  sometimes  they  cut  with  the  tail  into  the  crest 
of  the  same.  One  such  flying-fish  rises  to  a  considerable 
height  (at  the  highest,  by  chance,  five  meters  above  the 
surface  of  the  sea)  whose  course  in  the  air  becomes  ob- 
structed by  a  vessel.  In  the  daytime  flying  fish  seldom 
fall  on  deck  of  the  ship,  but  mostly  in  the  night ;  never 
in  a  calm,  but  only  when  the  wind  blows.  For  the  most 
part  they  fall  on  ships  which  do  not  rise  higher  than 
two  or  three  yards  above  the  water  when  they  are 
sailing  on  the  wind,  or  with  half  wind,  and  are  making 
a  good  course.  Flying-fish  never  come  on  board  from 
the  lee  side,  but  only  on  the  windward  side.  Before 
vessels  which  pass  between  their  swimming  schools  the 
fish  fly  into  the  air  as  before  predaceous  fish  or  cetaceans. 


The  sea  holds  60,000.000,000,000  tons  of  salt. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


31 


NATURE,  SCIENCE  AND  ART. 


Mankind  were  placed  in  this  world  to  do  good.  This  great 
mission  is  not  confined  to  the  few— to  a  minister  here  and  a 
iStatesman  there,  but  to  the  whole  human  race.  The  still  voice 
of  God  is  whispering  through  the  portals  of  the  mind  of  every 
living  soul,  bidding  them  work  in  His  vineyard  to-day.  There 
are  none  exempt  from  duty.  Every  one,  be  they  ever  so  hum- 
ble, has  an  important  part  to  perform  in  the  advancement  of 
the  world.  Let  us  all,  then,  be  found  at  oar  posts  of  duty,  with 
energy,  with  action,  with  determination;  shoulder  to  shoulder 
with  the  great  army  of  progression,  rolling  the  mighty  wheels 
of  education  and  truth  over  the  foul  weeds  of  ignorance,  with 
its  attendant  miseries  of  vice  and  crime. 

Through  the  medium  of  the  printing  press  the  leading  men 
of  to-day  have  become  acquainted  with  all  the  discoveries  and 
inventions  former  generations  have  ever  made.  To  these  they 
have  added  their  own  theories,  speculations,  and  discoveries, 
and  they  have  made  the  present  age  an  age  of  progress.  They 
have  made  deep  researches,  and  have  performea  their  parts 
well.  But  now  the  heads  of  many  of  our  noblest  minds  are 
becoming  silvered  o'er  with  gray.  "  They  will  soon  pass  away, 
and  sleep  the  silent  slumber  beneath  the  sod,  as  their  fathers 
have  before.  You,  my  young  friends,  will  soon  be  called  upon 
to  take  their  places  in  the  world.  You  will  have  greater  ad- 
vantages left  for  you  than  have  ever  been  left  for  any  previous 
generation.  Pit  and  prepare  your  minds,  that  you  may  be  every 
way  worthy  of  your  sires  who  have  gone  before. 

Through  the  work  of  the  rising  generation  we  look  forward 
to  great  inventions  in  the  future.  People  will  study,  reflect,  and 
learn;  and  depend  upon  it,  the  spirit  of  true  progression  will 
never  flag.  As  has  been  said  before,  this  generation  is  wiser 
than  that  which  preceded  it,  and  the  next  generation  will  be 
wiser  than  this.  The  noble  system  of  free  schools  is  rapidly 
raising  the  United  States  to  the  foremost  rank  among  the 
learned  nations  of  the  world.  The  enormous  number  of  books 
and  papers  published  and  circulated  among  our  people  attest  the 
fact  that  ours  is  a  reading  and  thinking  nation.  The  desire  for 
knowledge  is  on  the  increase;  and  step  by  step  scientific  pro- 
gress is  moving  forward.  A  hundred  years  ago  the  bare  thought 
of  a  steam  engine  had  scarcely  found  a  place  in  the  brain  of 
man.  Plows  were  made  of  wood,  and  hoes  with  handles  in- 
serted through  eyes.  Who  had  dreamed  of  the  electric  tele- 
graph, the  mowing  machine,  the  sewing  machine,  and  the  ten 
thousand  other  great  inventions  that  crowd  the  page  of  dis- 
coveries of  the  nineteenth  century?  No  one.  The  age  of 
genius,  enterprise,  and  learning  had  not  developed  itself. — 
Great  minds  have  studied,  thought,  and  reasoned  all  their  lives 
to  bring  abont  the  present  state  of  human  knowledge;  and  now 
they  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  they  are  taking  the  first  step 
upon  the  ladder  of  progress,  and  that  they  have  barely  learned 
the  A  B  C  of  science. 

Young  men  and  women,  you  will  soon  have  not  only  the  ship 
of  state,  but  the  destinies  of  the  world  committed  to  your  care ! 
Resolve  this  hour  to  prove  yourselves  well  worthy  of  the  great 
trust.  The  young  men  who  will  be  the  statesmen,  governors, 
and  presidents  in  the  year  1900  are  now  among  us.  They  are 
not  found  among  those  who  frequent  saloons,  tippling  houses, 
.and  gambling  dens;  they  are  to-day  leading  virtuous  lives,  eager 
in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  The  great  book  of  Nature  lies 
before  us  all,  and  inwardly  the  cry  comes  welling  up  in  our 
bosoms— shake  off  this  lethargic  sleep  of  inaction  1  arise,  go 
forth  and  learn. 

Geology,  what  do  we  know  of  it  ?  In  the  time  to  come,  if 
studied  in  the  right  direction  and  with  the  right  spirit,  what 
hidden  treasures  may  it  not  reveal  ?  These  native  hills  and  val- 
ues are  literally  filled  with  minerals;  whether  worthless  or  not 
the  meditation  and  brain  work  of  the  future  must  bring  to 
light.  Astronomy,  what  do  we  know  of  it  ?  That  our  world 
when  compared  with  the  innumerable  host  that  course  through 
the  firmament  of  heaven  is  but  a  grain  of  sand  upon  the  sea- 
shore. What  are  their  number?  are  they  inhabited?  what  are 
their  destinies?  We  await  the  answer  of  the  learned  minds  of 
the  future.  Chemistry,  what  do  we  know  of  it?  Just  the  bare 
introduction.  And  even  now  by  its  agency  we  can  cause  water 
to  burn  like  wood  or  coal.  What  wonders  may  we  not  expect 
future  generations  to  astonish  the  world  with,  in  respect  to  this 
great  science?  The  principles  of  Natural  Philosophy,  what  do 
we  know  of  them?  Scarcely  the  ABC,  It  is  true  we  have 
great  power  looms,  steam  presses,  steam  engines,  and  we  navi- 
gate the  air  in  balloons;  but  what  are  these  in  comparison  to 
the  great  hidden  powers  contained  in  this  branch  of  science, 
and  which  energetic  minds  are  yet  to  work  out?  Electricity, 
what  do  we  know  of  it?  Scarcely  nothing.  It  is  true  we  have 
spanned  the  ocean  with  the  electric  telegraph,  and  performed  a 
few  more  little  wonders,  and  it  is  said  we  have  advanced  science 
so  far  that  we  handle  the  lightning.  But  what  is  this?  Go  to 
where  the  great  oak  four  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base  and  with 
a  hundred  spreading  branches  has  been  struck  by  a  bolt  from 
the  storm  cloud  and  shivered  to  splinters.  There  is  a  mighty 
power  here,  and  before  it  steam  and  gunpowder  pass  into  com- 
parative insignificance.  It  pervades  all  nature.  It  invisibly 
surrounds  us  every  day  of  our  lives.  It  courses  through  every 
part  of  our  bodies  Without  it  we  die.  Who  is  going  to  bring 
this  great  power  to  light?  who  is  going  to  handle  it?  who  is 


going  to  utilize  it?  Ask  the  generation  yet  to  be.  Mametism, 
spirituaJism,  the  mind,  the  eternal  soul,  what  do  we  know  of 
them?  Again  comes  the  answer  that  our  knowledge  in  this 

auarter  is  almost  imperceptible.  Who  is  going  to  solve  the 
ark  mystery?  Who  is  going  to  draw  the  veil  aside  and  let  in 
the  glorious  blaze  of  light  and  truth,  like  a  mighty  revelation 
from  the  portals  of  heaven?  No  one  answers.  Let  the  millions 
yet  unborn  work  out  the  mighty  problem. 

Do  not  think  because  you  are  poor  you  are  debarred  and  shut 
out  from  an  education.  It  is  not  so.  Franklin  was  poor,  Watt 
was  poor,  Fulton  was  poor,  and  all  the  other  famous  minds  in 
Christendom  have  struggled  in  their  early  days  with  poverty. 
"  Where  there''s  a  will  there's  a  way.''''  Now,  perhaps,  you  have 
never  thought  how  small  an  amount  of  money  is  required  to 
gain  a  vast  amount  of  knowledge.  Literature  is  so  cheap  that 
the  world  is  flooded  with  books  and  papers  of  every  denomina- 
tion, sect,  creed,  and  stripe.   No  matter  what  a  man's  princi- 

f)les  and  views  are,  he  will  find  able  advocates  among  the 
iterature  of  the  day.  If  your  time  and  means  are  limited,  the 
first  thing  to  be  connidered  is' the  choice  of  the  literature  you 
buy.  The  world  is  filled  with  that  which  is  trashy  and  worth» 
less,  and  even  vulgar  and  obscene.  Beware  of  such  publica- 
tions; for,  even  though  they  may  not  corrupt  your  mind,  you 
can  ill  afford  to  spend  your  time  upon  them,  and  arise  with  the 
firm  conviction  that  you  have  gained  nothing  from  their  neru- 
sal.  Sit  down  and  think  what  publications  in  your  judgment 
would  supply  you  with  the  greatest  amount  of  desirable  and 
useful  information,  and  wisely  make  your  choice.  Fifty  cents 
a  month  will,  by  a  judicious  selection,  supply  you  with  the 
necessary  books  for  a  noble  self-education.  Remember  it  is 
not  the  number  of  books  that  we  read  that  gives  us  true  know- 
ledge, but  our  thorough  understanding  of  them. 

Don't  be  too  ready  to  believe  everything  you  see  in  print. 
Use  your  own  judgment  and  reason  in  what  you  read.  Throw 
away  all  prejudice  and  read  both  sides  carefully.  Look  to  the 
reasons  of  every  theory  advanced,  and  really  believe  nothing 
that  you  cannot  make  appear  plain  to  your  understanding.  Do 
not  take  it  for  granted  that  the  world  is  round  because  some  one 
else  has  merely  said  so.  Study  their  reasons  and  proofs,  and  if 
they  appear  reasonable  believe  them.  In  the  study  of  mathe- 
matics, do  not  think  that  a  problem  should  be  worked  thus  and 
so,  simply  because  the  rule  in  the  book  says  so;  before  you 
proceed  seek  for  the  cause  of  the  rule,  and  endeavor  to  under- 
stand why  problems  should  be  worked  thus  and  so.  Know- 
ledge gained  in  this  way  is  permanent  capital  and  power,  for  it 
will  never  go  from  us. 

The  world  is  filled  with  a  great  deal  of  book-learning  and 
surface  knowledge,  of  very  little  practical  benefit.  People  do 
not  learn  enough  for  themselves.  Those  who  study  and  reflect 
upon  the  cause  and  reasons  of  stated  rules  and  theories  soon 
reach  the  position  of  the  author;  and  then  their  minds  may 
reach  ahead,  and  develop  new  theories  and  new  ideas,  and 
demonstrate  new  facts  and  rules  never  before  dreamed  of.  In 
this  way  the  world  advances. 

The  public  school  is  now  in  reach  of  most  every  one  in  the 
land.  It  is  a  blessing  our  forefathers  enjoyed  only  to  a  very 
limited  extent.  Attend  it  steadily  while  you  may;  for  remem- 
ber, of  all  time,  youth  is  the  season  to  gain  instruction.  Never 
speak  harshly  or  unkindly  of  your  teacher.  Aside  from  your 
parents  he  is  the  best  friend  you  have  on  earth.  Before  you 
condemn  him  pause  and  reflect.  Has  he  taught  you  anything 
low,  vulgar,  immoral,  or  mean  ?  No.  Have  you  performed 
your  part  properly  ?  Have  you  studied  because  you  took  an 
interest  in  it  ?  Because  you  saw  its  benefit  ?  Because  you 
loved  it  ?  And  was  your  whole  mind  and  attention  given  to 
the  work  ?  If  not,  you  have  no  cause  to  complain;  for  unless 
you  work  for  yourselves  with  a  willing  determination  to  suc- 
ceed, you  will  not  advance,  though  you  attend  the  best  schools 
for  forty  years.  Forced  learning  is  absolutely  worthless.  It 
must  be  gained  by  your  own  free  good-will.  The  school-room 
is  emphatically  the  place  for  work.  Ere  you  waste  your  time, 
seriously  ask  yourself  who  you  are  cheating. 

In  this  world,  and  in  this  age,  time  is  money.  Few  realize 
the  vast  amount  of  time  wasted  and  frittered  away  in  frivo- 
lous pleesure.  Now  I  do  not  mean  to  condemn  all  pleasure.  I 
do  not  wish  to  advocate  your  going  about  with  long  faces  as 
though  you  were  marching  to  the  executioner's  block,  or  as 
though  one  foot  was  in  the  grave  and  the  other  on  the  edge,  for 
pleasure  and  merry  smiles  is  what  brings  happiness  into  the 
world.  But  be  particular  in  your  dmce  of  plea'sure,  for  there 
are  many  kinds.  Avoid  the  low  jest,  or  vulgar  slang,  sometimes 
used  to  raise  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  others.  A  thoughtless 
jeer  sometimes  wounds  deep.  You  cannot  afford  it.  Because 
some  one  has  made  a  serious  blunder,  or  has  met  with  misfor- 
tune, do  not  seek  to  make  him  an  object  of  ridicule.  It  is  un- 
manly, ungentlemanly  and  unjust.  As  a  man  and  a  brother 
lend  him  a  helping  hand,  or  encourage  him  with  kind  and 
sympathizing  words.  Make  it  your  motto  to  "i>o  unto  others 
as  ymi  would  have  others  do  unto  you.'''  By  so  doing  you  be- 
come true  and  faithful,  and  pure  and  good.  It  is  the  sum  and 
substance  of  ail  commandments;  and  it  is  the  full  and  com- 
plete duty  required  of  man.  It  will  gain  you  friends  and  neigh- 
bors everywhere ;  and  jnst  so  sure  as  you  live,  they  will  help 
you  on,  higher  and  higher,  until  you  may  stand  upon  the  very 
pinnacle  of  fame.  It  Is  the  path  of  a  true  Chri,....au,  a  con- 
queror, and  a  hero. 

One  of  the  greatest  pleasuaes  in  the  world  is  that  of  acquir- 
ing useful  knowledge.  Early  form  the  habit  of  reading  useful 
literature,  and  storing  your  mind  with  wisdom.   Think  of  th« 


32 


THE  GROlVlNG  WORLD. 


long  winter  evenings  at  your  disposal.  To  waste  them  foolish- 
ly is  almost  criminal.  An  hour's  study  each  day  for  a  year  is 
about  equal  in  time  to  a  three  months'  term  of  school.  Fifty 
cents  a  month  will  in  seventeen  years  gain  you  a  hundred  dol- 
lar library;  and  in  that  time,  if  you  have  made  a  proper  use  of 

{rour  leisure  hours,  you  will  have  read  them  all  understanding- 
y,  and  you  cannot  fail  of  being  an  educated  person.  Fathers, 
a  good  library  in  your  household  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars 
to  every  one  of  your  children.  A  good  education  is  worth 
more  than  all  else  that  you  can  give  them.  It  is  capital  in  it- 
self.  You  cannot  be  guilty  of  stunting  their  mental  growth. 

Our  recent  civil  war  cost  us  nearly  three  thousand  millions 
of  dollars,  and  the  destruction  of  thousands  of  millions  of 
property.  Brother  was  arrayed  against  brother  in  fraternal 
strife,  the  land  was  drenched  in  blood,  and  the  nation  filled  with 
widows  and  orphans.  Such  are  ever  the  foolish  fruits  of  war. 
What  an  advance  might  the  world  have  made  had  this  vast  sum 
been  expended  in  the  interests  of  science.  How  discouraged 
genius  would  have  leaped  for  joy;  and  what  great  inventions 
and  discoveries  would  have  startled  the  world. 

But  we  forbear  further  speculation.  Things  are  as  they  are, 
and  it  is  useless  to  repine  over  the  follies  of  the  past.  Our 
duties  are  for  the  present.  The  world  is  moving  on,  time  is 
moving  on,  and  our  lives  are  silently  and  steadily  moving  on- 
ward to  the  end.  Time  is  now.  It  passes,  and  never  returns. 
A  moment  once  spent  is  forever  gone,  and  we  are  another  mo- 
ment nearer  the  grave.  Why  stand  we  idle  ?  The  world  is 
advancing  in  knowledge  and  greatness  all  around  us.  Others 
are  performing  their  parts  in  the  great  drama  of  life,  their 
shoulders  are  to  the  great  wheel  of  progress— why  this  lethargy 
in  us  9  We  may  not  have  the  chances  and  the  privileges  that 
others  enjoy,  but  what  of  that  ?  We  all  have  talent;  and  small  i 
though  it  may  be,  by  cultivation  it  can  be  expanded  and  devel- 
oped, and  it  will  do  good  in  the  world. 

Ignorance  is  constantly  putting  forth  false  literature  and 
teaching  false  doctrines,  through  which  the  young  mind  is 
liable  to  be  tempted  and  led  astray.  It  is  the  instigator  of ! 
drunkenness,  debauchery  and  shame.  It  is  the  precursor  of 
tyranny,  crime  and  war.  Thousands  of  our  young  men  areJie-  j 
ing  led  away,  and  they  are  forming  habits  truly  deplorable,  j 
These  are  to  be  the  men  that  the  coming  generation  will  have 
to  contend  with.  The  past  ages  have  had  mighty  obstacles  to 
overcome.  Look  at  the  tyranny  and  persecution  of  the  dark 
ages,  and  the  horrors  of  the  bloody  Inquisition.  You  will  not 
have  these  to  strive  against.  The  war  between  ignorance  and 
knowledge  will,  however,  continue;  but  knowledge  and  educa- 
tion are  in  the  ascendant;  and  wherever  civilization  extends, 
the  banner  of  ignorance  trails  in  the  dust. 

And  now  the  time  has  come  to  draw  these  brief  lectures  to  a 
close.  I  have  endeavored  to  give  you  an  outline  of  the  most 
wonderful  objects  of  Nature,  and  the  more  celebrated  objects 
to  be  met  with  in  the  field  of  science  and  art.  Their  prepara- 
tion has  been  a  pleasure  to  me,  and  now  with  reluctance  I  lay 
down  the  pen.  If  what  has  been  said  can  induce  the  kind  and 
indulgent  reader  to  investigate  and  study  deeper  among  more 
worthy  authors,  I  shall  be  gratified.  If  it  will  raise  in  their 
hearts  a  desire  for  knowledge  and  truth,  my  highest  hopes  will 
be  realized. 


Pre-Historic  America. 

The  question  as  to  the  date  at  which  this  continent 
was  discovered  by  Europe,  seems  in  a  fair  way  for  settle- 
ment.  We  have  long  believed  that  the  original  discovery 
was  made  by  the  Norsemen,  some  eight  or  nine  hundred 
years  ago.  These  intrepid  sea-kings  had  long  before  that, 
had  settlements  in  Iceland  and  Greenland,  whence  they 
drifted  southward,  certainly  as  far  as  the  New  England 
coast,  leaving  mementos  of  their  visits  in  many  places  at 
which  they  touched  or  transiently  settled.  And  now 
Canon  Eangsley  throws  the  weight  of  his  scholarship  and 
antiquarian  lore  into  the  same  scale.  In  the  second  of 
his  Boston  course  of  lectures  he  elucidates  the  inquiry  bj 
the  legends  and  sagas  of  the  Norseland,  leaving  no  doubt 
on  the  minds  of  his  audience  that  Bjame  Grimolfsen,  so 
early  as  863  years  ago,  had  certainly  visited  these  shores 
— and  it  is  not  likely  that  even  he  was  the  first.  The 
lecture  of  Mr.  Elingsley  abounded  with  ancient  citations 
of  the  most  interesting  kind,  containing  many  references 
to  early  Norse  and  English  history,  and,  from  the  reports 
of  explorers  and  the  traditions  of  their  successors,  the 
lecturer  made  it  quite  clear  that  the  old  Norse  navigators 
not  only  discovered  these  shores,  but  coasted  so  far 
south  as  to  hear  of  that  high  civilization  which  all 
antiquaries  admit  to  have  once  existed  in  the  milder  zone 
of  our  continent. 


Effect  of  Steam  on  Animals. 

An  engineer  who  has  run  many  a  mile  on  the  road, 
and  been  a  practical  worker  with  steam  for  many  years, 
thus  gives  his  experience  of  the  behavior  of  certain  ani- 
mals under  the  effects  of  steam. 

Dogs  will  run  about  the  wheels  of  a  departing  locomo- 
tive, barking  and  leaping,  and  strange  to  say,  few  of 
them  ever  get  hurt.  An  ox  or  bull  can  hardly  be  moved 
out  of  the  way  of  an  engine.  Horses  will  race  ahead  of 
one  on  the  track,  and  will  not  leave  it  until  the  last  mo- 
ment. Larks  have  been  known,  in  several  cases,  to 
build  their  nests  under  railroad  switches,  and  swallows 
frequently  make  their  homes  in  engine  houses.  A  pair 
of  these  birds  have  been  known  to  build  several  years  in 
succession  in  a  noisy  mill,  where  a  steam-engine  was 
keeping  up  a  continual  clatter  and  bang  day  and  night, 
while  another  pair  was  known  actually  to  build  a  nest  in 
the  paddle-box  of  a  steamer  which  was  constantly  plying 
its  trade  upon  the  water. 

On  the  western  side  of  a  Zoological  Garden  lies  a  con- 
necting railroad,  and  over  it  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
night  the  heaviest  locomotives  are  passing.  The  scream 
of  the  whistle  one  would  suppose  would  greatly  scare 
the  dumb  animals,  there  having  a  home.  They  do  not, 
however,  seem  to  be  much  scared  after  the  first  day  or 
two's  residence.  The  sea  lion  from  the  Northern  Pacific, 
whose  tank  is  in  close  proximity,  seemed  to  require  the 
longest  time  of  any  of  the  animals  to  become  accustomed 
to  the  noise. 


Whatever  our  place  allotted  to  us  by  Providence, 
that  for  UG  is  the  post  of  honor  and  duty.  God  esti- 
mates US;  not  by  the  position  we  are  in,  but  by  the  way 
in  which  we  fill  it.  T.  Edw^ards. 


The  G-anges  Canal. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CABNES. 

Taylor  tells  us  that  the  Ganges  Canal  is  one  of  the 
grandest  undertakings  of  the  age.  It  was  constructed 
under  the  direction  and  at  the  expense  of  the  Govern- 
ment, mainly  for  the  purpose  of  irrigating  the  level, 
fertile  tracts  between  the  Ganges  and  Jumna,  and  also^ 
to  afford  means  of  transportation  from  the  country  to 
the  head  of  navigation  on  the  former  river  at  Cawnpore. 
The  labor  of  more  than  ten  years  had  been  expended 
upon  it  at  the  time  of  his  visit,  and  it  was  estimated 
that  it  would  take  four  or  five  years  more  to  complete  it. 
It  will  be  eighty  feet  wide,  its  depth  varying  according 
to  the  season,  but  probably  averaging  eight  feet,  and 
including  its  numerous  branches,  will  have  an  extent  of 
eight  hundred  miles.  It  taps  the  Ganges  at  Hurdwar 
(eighteen  miles  to  the  northwest  of  Roorkh)  and  returns 
to  it  again  at  Cawnpore,  a  distance  of  more  than  four 
hundred  miles.  Its  total  cost  will  not  be  far  short  of 
£2,000,000,  but  it  is  expected  to  yield  £500,000  annually. 
The  Ganges  Canal  will  be  of  vast  importance  in  increas- 
ing the  amount  of  grain  in  that  region,  the  design  of  the 
Government  being  to  render  famine  imjxmKibie.  As  this 
canal  insures  the  perennial  crops  from  failure,  it  in- 
creases the  rent  of  the  land,  and  so  promotes  industry 
and  productiveness. 

A  great  modern  work  in  India  is  the  Canal  Aqueduct 
over  the  Lelanee  River.  It  is  constructed  exclusively  of 
bricks,  and,  including  the  abutments,  is  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  length  by  a  hundred  and  eighty  feet  in  breadth. 
There  are  sixteen  arches  of  seventy  feet  span  and  rising 
twenty  feet  above  the  river,  the  foundation  of  the  piers 
being  sunk  twenty  feet  below  the  bed.  The  arches  are 
four  feet  thick  in  order  to  support  the  immense  pressure 
of  water  about  them.  Hundreds  of  workmen  were  em- 
ployed on  the  structure,  and  a  small  railroad  was  laid  to 
bring  the  materials,  and  a  locomotive  was  imported 
from  England,  but  owing  to  the  stupidity  of  the  natives 
accidents  were  continually  occurring,  and  the  experi- 
ment soon  proved  a  failure. 

It  is  hoped  now  that  this  immense  canal  proves  that 
intelligence  and  science  have  gained  a  strong  foothold, 
in  heathenish  India,  that  the  horrible  famines  which 
have  formerly  visited  this  country  may  be  no  more 
known.  In  1838  hundreds  of  thousands  perished  of 
want  there ;  and  this  is  the  natural  result  of  the  existing 
laws,  where  the  tenant  is  forced  to  yield  the  landowners 
75  per  cent,  of  the  assessed  products — therefore,  if  the 
crops  fail,  there  is  absolutely  nothing  but  starvation  fo< 
the  poor  and  ignorant  millions  of  India. 

Descendmg  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth  it  is  found 
that  the  tempearature  increases  at  the  mean  rate  of  one 
degree  Fahrenheit  for  every  forty-five  feet.  At  this  rate 
water  is  at  a  boiling  pitch  at  a  depth  of  six  miles,  while 
at  a  depth  of  sixty  miles  the  hardest  rocks  known  to  the 
geologists  are  in  a  melted  state. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


33 


A  New  Race  of  People. 

A  correspondent  writes  from  Africa  concerning  gome 
remarkable  discoveries  of  a  party  of  German  explorers 
whom  he  had  accompanied  to  the  interior,  under  the 
lead  of  Dr.  Von  Guldenhom.  On  the  123d  day  after  en- 
trance into  a  hitherto  unexplored  forest,  they  emerged 
upon  a  vast  plain,  on  which  were  some  large  trees,  look- 
ing across  which  one  could  see  the  silvery  glimmer  of  a 
lake,  beyond  which  mountains  rose  to  an  enormous 
height.  For  some  reason  the  gorillas  which  had  been 
following  the  expedition  refused  to  follow  them  into  the 
clear,  but  stood  on  the  borders  of  the  forest,  shaking 
their  fists  angrily,  while  their  faces  wore  an  expression 
of  fiendish  and  vindictive  delight,  which  puzzled  the 
Germans,  and  certainly,  if  all  that  Dr.  Von  Guldenhorn 
says  is  true,  should  afford  Dr.  Darwin  a  new  chapter  in 
regard  to  the  expression  of  emotions  in  animals.  Their 
actions  were,  indeed,  so  aggravating  that  the  men  could 
with  difficulty  be  withheld  from  giving  the  brutes  a 
taste  of  gunpowder,  for  Germans  have  a  special  dislike 
of  being  made  the  subject  of  ridicule  the  cause  of  which 
they  cannot  understand.  After  the  fatigues  of  their  long 
journey  it  may  readily  be  believed  that  the  explorers 
were  gratified  to  find  greensward  on  which  to  lie,  and 
plenty  of  water  to  drink,  for  the  plain  was  irrigated  by 
a  number  of  streams,  on  the  banks  of  one  of  which  they 
gat  down  and  proceeded  to  eat  a  hearty  dinner.  Careful- 
ly observing  the  ground,  they  saw  at  a  distance  of  about 
five  hundred  feet  a  plot  of  land  which  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  the  territory  was  occupied  by  people  skilled  in 
agriculture.  It  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  planted  with  a 
vegetable  resembling  gigantic  red  cabbages,  arranged  in 
regular  rows.  Dr.  von  Guldenhom  approached  them  in 
order  to  make  a  closer  inspection,  when,  to  his  great 
surprise,  they  moved  rapidly  away,  each  on  its  own 
pedicle,  giving  at  the  same  time  a  loud  shout  which 
struck  the  exploring  party  at  once  with  amazement  and 
consfe'omation.  In  less  than  a  minute  thereafter  the  air 
was  full  of  stojies,  hurled  with  considerable  velocity 
from  the  place  to  which  the  anomalous  beings  had  re- 
tired, loward  the  Germans,  and  two  of  the  party  were 
struck,  although  the  aim  taken  did  not  seem  to  have 
been  very  accurate,  several  of  the  missiles  falling  wide  of 
the  mark.  Roused  by  this  attack.  Dr.  Von  Guldenhom 
ordered  his  men  to  fire,  and  two  of  the  beings  curled  up 
in  death,  their  pedicles  kicking  and  convulsively  quiver- 
ing like  the  legs  of  a  hen  whose  head  has  just  been 
violently  removed.  The  noise  of  the  explosion  and  the 
fall  of  the  two  beings  seemed  at  once  to  strike  terror  to 
the  hearts  of  their  comrades,  who  ran  off  again,  filling 
the  air  with  their  clamorous  shouts. 

The  Germans  then  advanced  to  the  place  where  those 
lay  who  had  been  hit  with  the  bullets,  and  examined 
them.  They  were  found  to  be  animals  so  closely  re- 
sembling men  as  to  necessitate  their  classification  in  the 
geiius  homo.  Taking  hold  of  the  extremity,  what  had  at 
first  been  supposed  to  be  a  pedicle,  of  the  corpse  of  one 
— the  other  being  merely  wounded — Dr.  Von  Gulden- 
hom found  it  in  every  particular  to  resemble  the  hand 
of  a  man.  In  lifting  it  from  the  ground  the  arm  of  this 
strange  thing  was  found  attached  to  the  trunk  by  a  ball 
and  socket  joint;  the  abdominal  integuments,  which 
were  very  small,  were  situated  as  in  man ;  there  was  a 
Tery  short  neck,  and  the  enormous  head  had  first  caused 
the  beings  to  be  mistaken  for  cabbages.  This  head  was 
furnished  with  the  eyes,  nose,  mouth,  and  ears  of  man ; 
the  eyes  being  small,  but  well  set  in  the  forehead,  the 
nose  somewhat  flat  and  quite  broad,  the  mouth  capacious 
and  the  teeth  large  and  strong,  the  ears  like  those  of  a 
negro.  The  top  of  the  head  was  bald,  the  hair  having 
been  worn  off  in  a  way  the  cause  of  which  the  party 
afterward  discovered  to  their  cost.  The  bone  of  the  top 
of  the  skull  was  apparently  very  thick,  rather  elastic 
than  otherwise,  and  evidently  capable  of  great  resist- 
ance. While  the  one  who  had  been  killed  was  undergo- 
ing such  slight  examination  as  could  then  be  given,  the 
other,  which  was  merely  suffering  from  a  fractured  hu- 
merus, the  ball  having  cut  the  biceps  and  shattered  the 
bone,  lay  on  the  ground  cursing  and  groaning,  tearing 
his  hair  and  watching  his  captors  with  glaring  and  re- 
vengeful eyes.  The  language  he  used  was  almost  iden- 
tical with  that  of  the  Bosjesmans,  with  which  several  of 
the  party  were  tolerably  well  acquainted,  and  in  it,  as 
used  by  the  fallen  hero  in  his  extremity,  could  be  detect- 
ed such  expressions  as  "fool,  double-headed  Dutchman, 


donnerwetter,"  and  others  eviucmg  rage  and  possibly 
also  despair.  As  there  seemed  no  probability  of  an  im- 
mediate attack.  Dr.  Von  Guldenhom  sot  the  injured 
bone  of  his  prisoner  and  endeavored  to  engage  him  in 
conversation,  but  he  continued  sullen  and  would  have 
little  or  nothing  to  say. 

As  night  had  now  come  on,  pickets  were  stationed,  and 
the  rest  of  the  party  lay  down  and  were  soon  asleep.  About 
midniglit  they  were  aroused  by  a  shout,  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  an  attack  of  the  letrless  one-armed  men  of 
Obiljipoona.  who  discharged  themselves  at  their  enemies 
by  means  of  a  device  curious  in  the  extreme.  They  had 
slowly  worked  their  way  into  the  trees  by  inserting  the 
strong  nails  of  their  hands,  one  after  another,  into  the 
bark,  until  a  limb  fit  for  their  purpose  was  gained.  They 
then  flung  themselves  from  this  branch  backward  and 
forward  until  their  bodies  obtained  a  considerable  mo- 
mentum, when  they  discharged  themselves  singly  or  in 
volleys  directly  at  their  foes,  striking  with  their  heads 
and  rebounding  to  quite  a  distance.  Their  operations 
could  be  seen  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  was  shin- 
ing brightly,  and  their  actions  were  so  grotesque  that 
the  Germans,  though  hard  pressed  and  in  danger,  could 
not  refrain  from  laughter,  which  only  added  to  the  in- 
dignation and  rage  of  their  opponents,  who  came  at  them 
now  in  broadsides  and  now  singly,  apr)arently  with  the 
notion  of  sharpshooting,  which  was  not,  however,  par- 
ticularly successful.  At  dawn  the  whole  party  swung 
and  waddled  away  in  disgust  and  chagrin. 

The  Germans  had  lost  but  one  of  their  force,  August 
Krampelheim,  a  promising  young  engineer,  from  Bingen, 
who  was  struck  on  the  head  in  such  a  way  as  to  fracture 
his  parietal  bone  so  severely  that,  fever  seti  ing  in,  he 
died  in  two  days.  Two  prisoners  were  taken,  who  were 
sent  under  guard  to  the  Gold  Coast,  and  are  now  on 
their  way  to  Berlin,  whence  we  doubtless  shall  soon  re- 
ceive intelligence  of  them. 


Peculiarities  of  the  Arabs. 

No  Arab  is  ever  curious.  Curiosity  with  all  Eastern 
nations  is  considered  unmanly.  No  Arab  will  stop  in 
the  street,  or  turn  his  head  to  listen  to  the  talk  of  by- 
standers. No  Arab  will  dance,  play  on  an  instmment, 
or  indulge  in  cards  or  any  game  of  chance,  since  games 
of  chance  are  forbidden  by  the  Koran.  Never,  more- 
over, invite  an  Arab  to  take  a  walk  with  you  for  pleas- 
ure. Although  the  Arabs  are  on  occasion  good  walkers, 
they  have  no  notion  of  walking  for  amusement.  Thej 
only  walk  as  a  matter  of  business.  Their  temperance 
and  their  constant  out-door  habits,  render  all  out-door 
exercise  for  exercise  sake  unnecessary ;  they  cannot, 
therefore,  understand  the  pleasure  of  walking  for  walk- 
ing's sake.  What  Arabs  like  best  is  to  sit  still,  and  when 
they  see  Europeans  walking  up  and  down  in  a  public 
place  in  Algeria  they  say.  "Look  1  look  !  the  Christians 
are  going  mad!"  The  Arab  does  not  even  mount  on 
horseback,  except  as  a  matter  of  business  or  for  his 
public  fetes  and  carousals.  And  when  you  do  walk,  you 
should  not  walk  quickly,  just  as  in  speaking  you  should 
not  talk  fast  or  loud,  for  the  Koran  tells  you,  "Endeavor- 
to  moderate  the  step,  and  to  speak  in  a  low  tone,  for  the 
most  disagreeable  of  voices  is  the  voice  of  the  ass." 

Indeed,  it  was  observed  by  a  famous  Arab,  "Countless 
are  the  vices  of  men,  but  one  thing  will  redeem  all — 
propriety  of  speech."  And  again  :  "  Of  the  word  which 
is  not  spoken,  I  am  the  master  ;  but  of  the  word  spoken, 
lam  the  slave."  The  famous  proverb,  "speech  is  of 
silver,  but  silence  is  of  gold,"  is  a  motto  of  Arabic 
origin. 

A  silent,  grave  people  are  the  Arabs,  and  a  polite  one ; 
too  very  much  given,  nevertheless,  to  highway  robbery 
on  a  large  scale ;  but  the  Arab's  tent  is  always  open  to 
you,  and  you  can  get  any  amount  of  camel's  milk,  or 
even  roasted  mutton,  if  he  has  it.  You  will  be  treated 
as  a  guest  from  God  as  long  as  you  are  under  his  roof, 
after  which  your  happiness  is  in  your  own  hands,  which 
means  that  your  host  who  fed  you  in  the  evening  may, 
at  a  decent  distance  from  his  tent,  rifle  your  saddle-bag 
in  the  morning,  and  let  the  powder  speak  to  you  if  you 
object ;  after  which,  Allah  be  merciful  to  you. 

There  is  nothing  formidable  about  death  except  the  con- 
sequences ot  it,  and  these  we  on  eelves  can  regulate  and  con. 
tpol.  The  shortest  life  is  long  enough  if  it  leads  to  a  better, 
and  the  longest  is  too  short  if  does  not. 


34 


THE  GROIVING  ^VORLD. 


A   Mystery  of  the  Sierras. 

BY   MATILDA  TRAVERSE. 

Often  during  my  rambles  in  the  wilds  of  the  Sierras 
has  my  curiosity  been  excited  by  some  strange  blossom, 
plant  or  natural  formation.  Often  have  1  felt  a  thrill  of 
norror  and  superstition  which  I  found  it  difficult  to  ban- 
ish, although  being  perfectly  aware  of  the  folly  of  in- 
dulging in  such  reflections,  induced  by  finding  myself 
in  some  weird,  uncanny-looking  place.  But  never  have 
my  sympathies  been  so  intensely  wrought  upon,  never 
have  I  experienced  such  a  thrill  of  horror  and  awe,  as 
during  one  of  my  many  rambles  and  adventures  in  the 
Sierras,  the  particulars  of  which  I  am  about  to  relate. 

It  was  one  glorious  summer  day.  I  sauntered  along,  a 
gentle  breeze  fanning  my  face,  as  it  came  laden  with  the 
spicy  aroma  of  the  pines.  After  climbing  to  the  top  of 
the  ridge,  I  seated  myself  on  a  projecting  boulder,  and 
contemplated  the  lovely  view  before  me.  At  my  right 
was  a  shallow  ravine,  where  the  ground  is  covered  with 
email  pebble-stones.  This  place  is  called  in  mining  par- 
lance, "Prospect  Hollow,"  or  "Holler,"  On  the  other 
side  a  deep,  dark-looking  canyon,  termed  in  the  same 
elegant  phraseology,  "Rattle  Snake  Gulch."  Away  off 
in  the  distance  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  strip  of  a  sun- 
parched  valley  looking  like  a  border  of  yellow  ribbon 
on  the  green.  And  Mount  Shasta,  like  some  stately 
monarch,  raised  his  snow-crowned  head  in  the  distance. 
Seeing  some  luscious-looking  "  Thimble  "  berries  grow- 
ing on  the  side  of  the  canyon,  I  with  some  difficulty 
made  my  way  down  to  them.  After  I  had  eaten  as  many 
as  I  wanted,  I  wandered  along  a  narrow  path  which 
wound  through  the  chapparelle.  I  was  aroused  from  my 
reverie  by  perceiving  that  I  stood  at  the  base  of  a  lofty 
cliff  of  gray-looking  rock.  There  was  an  opening — a 
natural  arch  some  fifteen  feet  high  and  twelve  feet 
wide— which  led  to  a  sort  of  ante-chamber,  which  was 
nearly  square.  At  the  farther  end  was  a  narrow  door- 
way about  three  by  five  feet,  which  led  into  an  arched 
passage-way.  The  light  being  very  dim  and  uncertain,  I 
could  see  but  a  short  distance  in  this  passage  ;  but  as 
far  as  I  could  see  the  floor  was  smooth,  and  the  roof 
arched,  as  was  the  outside  chamber.    Not  caring  to  ex- 

f)lore  the  gloomy-looking  cavern  alone,  and  having  no 
ight,  I  retraced  my  footsteps  to  the  mining  camp,  which 
for  the  present  1  called  home.  As  I  descended  the  path 
which  led  into  the  Wolf  Creek  Canyon,  the  sun  was  just 
disappearing  behind  the  tops  of  the  pines,  and  the  'fcene 
that  met  my  view  was  Califocnian  in  all  its  details. 
Miners'  cabins  stood  here  and  there  along  the  creek — 
they  were  all  built  of  logs  and  covered  with  slabs  ;  one 
end  rested  in  the  chapparelle,  and  the  other  apparent- 
ly rested  on  nothing  ;  but  on  closer  inspection  you  find 
them  supported  with  poles  with  the  bark  on.  On  either 
side  were  dark  openings  in  the  mountain,  where  tunnels 
were  being  run.  I  hasten  my  footsteps  across  the  nar- 
row brook  as  I  hear  the  loud  murmur  of  an  approaching 
volume  of  water,  for  I  know  by  this  that  the  floodgates 
have  been  raised  at  the  reservoirs  above,  and  that  the 
hitherto  pent-up  volume  of  water  will  soon  come  rush- 
ing down  the  canyon,  to  be  used  by  the  miners  in  "  clean- 
ing up "  after  the  day's  "run." 

As  I  pass  by  a  large  miners'  boarding-house  com- 
posed of  two  huge  sugar  pine  logs  on  the  "weather" 
side,  forked  stakes  at  the  comers  and  roof,  and  remain- 
ing three  sides  covered  with  fine  boughs  interwoven,  my 
nostrils  are  greeted  with  the  flavor  of  strong  coffee  and 
"biled"  beans,  the  proverbial  miner's  fare. 
At  last  I  reached  my  home,  a  fragrant  bower  composed 

f>rincipally  of  pine  boughs,  which  occupied  the  only 
evel  space  in  all  that  mining  camp. 

The  next  day  a  party  of  four  proceeded  to  explore  the 
mysterious  cave  I  had  discovered  the  preceding  day. 
We  found  the  place,  and  after  possessing  ourselves  of 
torches,  we  entered  it.  We  proceeded  along  the  narrow 
passage-way  some  twenty  feet  in  single  file  ;  then  we 
came  to  a  lofty  chamber.  The  roof  was  arched,  as  were 
the  rest ;  we  waved  our  torches  aloft,  and  saw  a  strange- 
looking  object  lying  in  a  farther  comer.  We  approached 
it  closely,  and  as  the  weird  glare  of  the  torches  fell  upon 
it  we  beheld  with  horror  a  grinning  skull.  The  skeleton 
was  dressed  in  some  coarse  dark  cloth ;  a  long  bowie 
knife  was  lying  several  feet  away,  completely  covered 
with  rast ;  a  rusty,  worm-eaten  rifle  stood  near  the  wall. 
There  was  a  box,  which  was  badly  decayed  in  which 


were  some  letters,  but  they  were  so  defaced  by  time, 
mold,  and  damp  as  to  be  unintelligible.  We  entered  the 
cavern  with  gay  laughter  and  repartee.  We  left  it  with 
hushed  footsteps,  bated  breath  and  awe-stmck  coun- 
tenances. 

The  following  day  an  investigation  was  made,  but 
nothing  was  found  to  elucidate  the  mystery.  A  bullet 
hole  was  found  in  the  skull,  and  from  appearances  death 
must  have  been  instantaneous.  The  rifle  in  the  cavern 
was  loaded,  and  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  the  man 
could  have  committed  suicide. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  strange  feeling  that  took  pos- 
session of  me,  as  the  funeral  cortege  filed  mournfully 
out  of  the  cavern  at  the  entrance  of  which  I  and  a  friend 
were  standing.  Just  then  a  gust  of  wind  swept  up  the 
gorge,  and  waved  the  tops  of  the  pines,  and  a  mournful 
wail  broke  the  solemn  silence,  then  all  the  trees  of  the 
forest  took  up  the  plaint,  and  wailed  and  sobbed  in  uni- 
son. Some  weeks  after  this,  a  miner  from  the  camp  was 
out  prospecting,  and  in  following  up  a  "lead,"  he  came 
to  an  old  tunnel.  It  had  partially  caved  in,  and  a  grove 
of  pine  shrubs  stood  in  front  of  the  entrance  which 
concealed  it  from  view.  He  and  some  companions  suc- 
ceeded in  removing  the  debris  from  the  tunnel ;  the 
timbers  had  fallen  to  decay.  About  thirty  feet  at  the 
farther  end  was  not  timbered,*but  stood  perfectly  solid 
with  the  pick  marks  plainly  visible  in  the  soft  rock. 
This  was  near  the  cavem  of  which  I  spoke;  all  the 
necessary  mining  implements  were  there,  but  the  gold- 
pan.  The  men  tested  a  few  handfulls  of  the  gravel 
and  found  that  it  yielded  well  of  the  yellow  metal.  They 
then  went  to  the  cave,  and  after  searching  among  the 
miscellaneous  articles  that  were  scattered  about,  they 
found  an  old  gold-pan ;  and  putting  this  and  that  togeth- 
er, one  would  draw  the  inference  that  the  man  whose 
skeleton  was  found  in  the  cave  was  the  ovmer  of  the 
"Tunnel  Claim,"  and  that  he  had  possibly  accumulated 
a  large  amount  of  dust,  for  which  some  person  murder- 
ed him  to  obtain.  This  is  the  most  plausible  theory  I 
;can  think  of. 

I  often  think  if  some  of  the  dark,  treacherous-look- 
ing canyons  of  the  Sierras  could  give  up  their  secrets, 
many  a  mysterious  disappearance  would  be  explained, 
and  many  an  anxious  one  would  hear  of  the  sad  fate  of 
husband,  lover,  brother,  or  friend,  who,  with  the  fever 
strong  upon  him,  bade  adieu  to  his  loved  ones  and  hast- 
ened to  join  the  stream  of  gold-hunters  and  adventu- 
rers who  flocked  to  the  Bay  State  in  '49. 


A  Silk-Lined  House 

This  house  is  made  by  a  kind  of  spider  that  live  in 
California,  and  is  called  the  mason  spider.  His  house  is 
very  marvelous  for  such  a  little  fellow  to  make  all  alone 
by  himself,  without  any  hammer,  or  saw,  or  axe,  or  nails, 
or  plaster,  or  any  such  things  as  men  use  in  building;  and 
yet  this  mansion  is  fit  for  a  little  queen;  for  it  is  lined 
throughout  with  fine  white  silk! 

The  spider's  house  Is  nearly  as  large  as  a  hen's  egg,  and 
is  built  of  a  sort  of  red  clay,  almost  as  handsome  as  the 
brown  stone  they  are  so  proud  of  in  New  York  city. 

It  is  cylindrical  in  shape.  The  top  opens  with  a  little 
trap  door,  which  is  fastened  with  a  hinge,  and  shuts  of 
itself.  The  door  and  inside  are  lined  with  the  most  del- 
icate.white  silk,  finer  than  the  costliest  dress  ever  worn 
by  a  lady. 

Mr.  Spider  builds  his  house  in  some  crevice,  or  bores  a 
cylindrical  hole  in  the  clay,  so  that  all  is  concealed  from 
view  except  this  tiny  trap-door.  When  he  sees  an  enemy 
approaching,  he  rans  quickly  to  his  silk  lined  house, 
swings  open  the  little  door,  goes  in  and  as  the  door  shuts 
tightly  after  him,  holds  it  firmly  by  placing  his  claws  m 
two  openings  in  the  white  silk  lining  of  the  door,  just 
large  enough  to  admit  his  little  hands  or  feet,  whichever 
you  choose  to  call  them  ;  and  here,  nestled  m  this 
luxurious  retreat,  he  bids  defiance  to  all  intruders. 


A  FAMILY  in  Red  Willow  County,  Nebraska,  has  a  cat 
that  gave  birth  recently  to  two  kittens;  one  of  which 
lived  three  days,  and  was  a  curiosity,  it  being  the  pos- 
sessor of  3  mouths,  2  noses,  5  eyes,  2  ears  and  4  legs.  It 
lived  but  three  days. 

Rabbit  breeding  is  a  regular  business  in  Italy.  The 
meat  is  used  for  food  and  the  skins  for  furs. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


35 


The  Phosphorescence  of  the  Bay  of 
Panama. 

There  is  not,  perhaps,  a  more  extraordinary  phenome- 
non to  be  seen  at  sea  than  when  the  old  ocean  is  lighted 
up  at  night  by  the  phosphorescence  produced  by  the 
myriads  of  animalculae  that  inhabit  its  waters.  This 
luminous  property  of  organic  life  is  denied  to  the  higher 
ranks  of  animals.  For  some  years  back,  says  the  editor 
of  the  Panama  Herald,  we  >ave  taken  notes  when  the 
sea  that  fills  the  Bay  of  Panama  exhibited  its  illumina- 
tions, and  as  an  occurrence  that  must  have  equally  ex- 
cited the  wonder  of  many  of  our  readers,  we  fancy  the 
Jesuits  of  our  observations  will  not  be  devoid  of  in- 
terest. 

In  February,  when  the  rains  are  all  over  and  the  sea 
ioses  its  clearness  along  the  shores,  in  sheltered  bays  we 
begin  to  notice  various  colored  patches  o  its  surface. 
When  said  patches  are  of  a  brick-red  hu  the  sea  at 
night  is  sure  to  show  forth  its  phosphorescence  in  every 
wave  that  breaks  on  the  beach.  The  track  of  every  fish 
is  marked  out  by  a  radiance  like  the  tail  of  a  comet. 
The  oars  drop  drops  of  fire,  and  the  least  disturbance  of 
the  waters  is  followed  by  a  corresponding  flash  of  un- 
earthly light.  If  we  take  some  of  the  water  and  inter- 
rogate it  with  the  microscope,  we  find  it  contains  an 
immense  variety  of  the  cyclopidse,  the  bell-shaped  ani- 
malculae  and  fan-shaped  spiculse.  But  the  great  lamp- 
lighter of  the  sea  that  stands  first,  is  a  little  tailed  ves- 
icle, called  the  noctiluca  miliaris.  We  have  never  found 
it  wanting  when  the  sea  was  vividly  phosphorescent 
and  reddish  patches  were  seen  by  day  on  its  surface, 
driven  onward  by  the  wind  and  current.  Caught  and 
collected  in  a  tumbler  of  sea  water  at  night,  these  light- 
giving  vesicles  form  a  gelatinous  scum  on  its  surface, 
dark  when  quiescent,  but  giving  out  a  vivid  bluish  light 
when  the  tumbler  is  shaken.  Looked  at  next  morning 
the  mass  of  noctilucae  has  a  reddish  tinge,  and  has  sunk 
to  the  bottom,  as  if  some  modification  had  increased 
their  specific  gravity.  The  spicules,  which  accompany 
these  and  aid  in  coloring  the  sea,  are  found  to  be  hollow 
tubes,  disposed  in  zigzag,  stellar  curves  or  shapes  like 
the  ribs  of  a  fan,  and  break  up  in  pieces.  Then  there 
are  round  minute  gelatinous  masses  studded  with 
minute  ova,  like  plums  in  a  pudding.  If  retained  any 
length  of  time  monads  appear,  and  feeding  on  the  gela- 
tine set  free  the  ova,  which  fall  to  the  bottom.  These 
monads  also  enter,  apparently,  as  infusorial  scavengers, 
the  inside  of  the  spicular-looking  tubes  fiUed  with  gela- 
tine and  yolk-like  granules,  and  clean  them  out.  They 
also  make  their  way  into  the  inside  of  the  noctilucae, 
consume  the  gelatine  that  distends  them,  and  liberate 
the  more  solid  granules.  Above  all,  the  bell-shaped  ani- 
malculae  of  the  sea  one  never  tires  of  looking  at.  Every 
convulsive  contraction  of  the  stalks  carrying  the  bell  is  a 
flash  of  light,  like  that  of  the  stars.  Watching  still  fur- 
ther the  changes  that  take  place  in  these  multiform 
marine  infusorial  luminous  animalculge,  we  found  that 
each  and  every  one  of  them  finally  extruded  the  ova-like 
germs  they  contained  and  broke  up.  The  minute  sili- 
cious  tubes  floated  about  empty.  Of  the  bell-shaped 
animalculae  there  only  remained  the  central  stalk.  The 
bells  were  gone  and  the  stalk  empty  of  its  granules.  It 
would  seem,  then,  that  all  these  parent  forms,  after 
carrying  about  the  ova  germs,  die  and  decay,  or  are 
eaten  by  monads,  the  ova-like  granules  are  committed 
to  the  deep,  to  the  bottom  of  which  they  sink  to  perpet- 
uate the  race  ;  at  all  events,  the  sea  toward  the  end  of 
February  has  recovered  its  transparency,  and  no  relics  of 
those  lighters-up  of  the  ocean  could  be  detected. 

With  respect  to  the  cause  of  phosphorescence  in  ma- 
rine animals,  opinions  are  as  various  as  they  are  unsatis- 
factory. That  of  Professor  Panceri,  of  Naples,  that  it 
is  due  to  the  same  condition  that  renders  dead  fish  lumi- 
nous, no  one  who  has  witnessed  the  power  of  emitting 
light  by  certain  tropical  insects  and  worms,  more  especi- 
ally that  wonderful  beetle  Elater  noctiluciis,  which  appear 
at  night  like  wandering  stars  in  the  darkness  of  the 
forest,  would  agreed  to.  They  abound  on  the  Isthmus, 
where  they  are  often  caught  and  fed  on  sugai-  cane.  Left 
quiet  and  enclosed  in  a  cavity  made  in  the  cane,  they 
seem  to  get  asleep.  The  light  emitting  organ  is  dull  and 
©paque,  but  the  moment  the  insect  is  wakened  up,  as  it 
were,  the  light  also  becomes  brilliant,  like  the  letting  on 
of  more  gas  through  an  almost  extinguished  gas-burner. 
The  light  organ  is  evidently  under  the  control  of  the 


■  animal,  and  not  the  result  of  any  involuntary  chemicjd 
condition.  When  the  animal  is  in  a  torpid  state  the  sud- 
den emission  of  light  strikes  one  with  the  same  forcible- 
ness  as  does  the  return  of  inteUigence  to  the  human  eye 
after  a  state  of  insensibility.  In  most  of  the  marine 
infusoria  the  light-giving  property  seems  to  reside  on  the 
surface  of  their  bodies,  rather  than  in  special  glands. 
There  is  not  a  more  beautiful  object  than  certain  micro- 
scopic melon-shaped  jelly  fish  {Jieroe)  with  its  longitu- 
dinal rows  of  cilia  flashing  fire  when  they  are  in  action. 
The  mind  of  the  observer  refuses  to  believe  that  this 
brilliancy  belongs  to  the  same  category  as  the  phosphor- 
esence  of  decaying  fish  and  bones,  and  that  for  the 
reason  that  life  in  them  being  extinct,  owe  their  phospho- 
rescence to  the  disengagement  of  phosphoretted  hydro- 
gen. Professor  Panceri,  we  understand,  has  submitted 
the  light  of  phosphorescence  to  the  spectroscope,  with 
what  result  we  have  not  heard.  On  the  whole  we  con- 
sider the  phosphorescence  of  the  sea  due  to  a  function 
of  animal  life  like  the  development  of  electricity  in  some 
species,  rather  than  as  being  a  mere  operation  of  inor- 
ganic chemistry. 


Eyeless  Fish  that  Live  in  Hot  Water. 

A  most  singular  discovery  was  recently  made  in  the 
Savage  mine,  Nev.  This  is  the  finding  of  living  fish  in 
the  water  now  flooding  both  the  Savage,  Hale  and  Nor- 
cross  mines.  The  fish  found  were  five  in  number,  and 
were  hoisted  up  the  incline  in  the  large  iron  hoisting 
tank  and  dumped  into  the  pump  tank  at  the  bottom  of 
the  vertical  shaft.  The  fishes  are  eyeless,  and  are  only 
about  three  or  four  inches  in  length.  They  are  blood 
red  in  color. 

The  temperature  of  the  water  in  which  they  are 
found  is  128  degrees  rahrenheit—almost  scalding  hot. 
When  the  fish  were  taken  out  of  the  hot  water  in  which 
they  were  found,  and  placed  in  a  bucket  of  cold  water, 
for  the  purpose  of  being  brought  to  the  surface,  they 
died  almost  instantly.  The  cold  water  at  once  chilled 
their  life  blood. 

In  appearance  these  subterranean  members  of  the 
finny  tribe  somewhat  resemble  gold  fish.  They  seem 
lively  and  sportive  enough  while  in  their  native  hot 
water,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  have  no  eyes 
nor  even  the  rudiments  of  eyes.  The  water  by  which 
the  mines  are  flooded  broke  in  at  a  depth  of  2,200  feet  in 
a  drift  that  v.^as  being  pushed  to  the  northward  in  the 
Savage.  It  rose  in  the  mine,  also  in  the  Hale  and  Nor- 
cross,  the  two  mines  being  connected,  to  the  height  of 
400  feet ;  that  is,  up  to  the  1,800-foot  level.  This  would 
seem  to  prove  that  a  great  subterranean  reservoir  or 
lake  has  been  tapped,  and  from  this  lake  doubtless  came 
the  fish  hoisted  from  the  mine. 

Eyeless  fishes  are  frequently  found  in  the  lakes  of 
large  caves,  but  we  have  never  before  heard  of  their  ex- 
istence in  either  surface  or  subterranean  water  the  tem- 
perature of  which  was  so  high  as  is  the  water  in  these 
mines.  The  lower  workings  of  the  Savage  mine  are  far 
below  the  bed  of  the  Carson  river,  below  the  bottom  of 
the  Washoe  lake — below  any  water  mnning  or  standing 
anywhere  within  a  distance  of  ten  miles  of  the  mine. 


Leaf  Photographs. 

A  very  nretty  amusement,  especially  for  those  who  have  just 
completed  the  study  of  botany,  is  the  taking  of  leaf  photo- 
graphs. One  very  simple  process  is  this:  At  any  druggist's 
get  a  dime's  worth  of  bichromate  of  potash.  Pat  this  in  a 
two  ounce  bottle  of  soft  water.  When  the  solution  becomes 
saturated— that  is,  when  the  water  has  dissolved  as  much  as  it 
will— pour  off  some  of  the  clear  liquid  into  a  shallow  dish ;  on 
this  float  a  piece  of  ordinary  writing  paper  till  it  is  thorough- 
ly moistened.  Let  it  become  nearly  dry  in  the  dark.  It  should 
be  of  a  bright  yellow.  On  this  put  the  leaf,  and  under  it  a 
piece  of  soft  black  cloth  and  several  sheets  of  newspaper.  Put 
these  between  two  pieces  of  glass  (all  the  pieces  should  be  of 
the  same  size)  and  with  spring  clothespins  fasten  them  to- 
gether. Expose  to  a  bright  sun,  placing  the  leaf  so  that  the 
rays  will  fall  upon  it  as  nearly  perpendicular  as  possible.  In 
a  few  minutes  it  will  begin  to  turn  brown,  but  it  requires  from 
.half  an  hour  to  several  hours  to  produce  a  perfect  print. 
When  it  has  become  dark  enough,  take  it  from  the  frame  aai 
put  it  in  clear  water,  which  must  be  changed  eTwj  few  min 
ates,  till  the  yellow  part  becomes  perfectly  wkite. 


36 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Paper  Manufacture. 

A  plant  known  as  the  paper  mulberry  is  extensively 
used  by  the  Japanese  for  the  manufacture  of  handker- 
chiefs, napkins,  garments,  and  numerous  other  articles. 
When  the  plant  is  about  thirteen  feet  high,  the  winter 
season  is  chosen  for  the  operation  of  removing  the 
branches  and  chopping  them  into  bits  about  two  inches 
in  length,  and  these  are  boiled  in  water  until  the  bark 
comes  off  readily  in  the  hand.  Drying  of  the  bark  in 
the  air  for  two  or  three  days  follows,  and,  after  immer- 
sion in  running  water  for  twenty-four  hours,  the 
material  is  scraped  on  a  cutting  blade,  so  as  to  sepa- 
rate the  two  kinds  of  fibre  of  which  it  is  composed. 
The  exterior  fibres  are  of  dark  color,  and  serve  to 
make  paper  of  inferior  quality.  The  interior  filaments 
are  used  for  fine  paper,  after  passing  through  various 
processes  of  preparation.  Clothing  is  made  from  a  pa- 
per called  shefa,  which  is  cut  into  threads  more  or 
less  fine,  according  to  the  fabric  to  be  produced.  — 
These  are  twisted  by  the  fingers,  previously  moistened 
with  milk  of  lime,  and  are  woven  into  cloth  either 
alone  or  with  silk  ;  the  stuff  can  be  washed,  and  is  said 
to  be  of  great  strength  and  durability. 


Photographic  Chemicals. 

BY  W.  P.  BENNETT. 

A  person  who  sits  for  his  photograph  will  notice  a  box 
with  a  brass  tube  in  it,  presented  towards  him  from  some 
direction.  That  box  is  a  camera.  In  the  tube  are  several 
lm&e&.  These  lenses  are  so  constructed  that  they  form 
an  image  on  the  ground-glass  in  the  back  end  of  the 
camera.  If  the  camera  is  a  good  one,  and  the  image  not 
too  large,  it  will  be  perfect  in  every  particular,  provided 
the  subject  is  properly  lighted.  The  image  will  be  clear 
and  well  defined  in  every  part,  and  although  it  is  on  a 
flat  surface,  it  will  exhibit  a  depth  in  proportion  to  the 
depth  of  the  subject's  head.  But  if  we  remove  the 
ground-glass  from  the  box  we  do  not  remove  the  image 
— it  still  remains  where  it  was,  in  the  space  occupied  by 
the  ground-glass.  The  object  of  this  paper  is  to  explain 
how  that  picture,  formed  in  the  camera,  may  be  taken 
out  and  looked  at,  and  sold  to  a  customer. 

The  image  there  formed  is  merely  a  reflection — a  light 
and  shade;  then  it  is  needful  to  place  a  something — a 
chemical — in  the  position  of  the  ground-glass,  that  the 
light  of  the  image  will  affect  or  impress. 

Take  silver  coin  or  bullion,  melt  in  a  crucible,  and 
pour  into  a  dish  of  water.  The  water  will  reduce  it  to 
fine  fragments.  These  are  put  in  a  glass  jar  and  nitric 
acid  poured  on  to  the  silver.  K  kept  in  a  warm  place  a 
few  days,  it  will  be  cut— that  is,  the  acid  will  have  united 
with  the  silver  and  formed  nitrate  of  silver.  When  prop- 
erly purified  it  can  be  dried  by  heat,  and  it  forms  into 
beautiful  white  crystals.  Forty  grains  of  these  crystals 
are  dissolved  in  an  ounce  of  pare  water  for  a  hath.  A 
glass  tub,  broad  and  deep,  with  walls  very  close  together, 
to  hold  20  or  100  ounces,  is  used  to  hold  the  bath. 

Collodion  is  made — equal  parts  of  alcohol  and  ether.  In 
these  are  dissolved  iodide  of  ammonia  and  bromide  of 
cadmium,  and  six  grains  of  gun  cotton  to  the  ounce  of 
solution.  The  cotton  gives  the  solution  body  and  the 
iodide  makes  it  sensitive. 

The  iron  solution  is  made  of  protosulphate  of  iron 
(copperas),  dissolved  in  water  with  six  per  cent,  of 
acetic  acid.  The  clearing  solution  is  simply  cyanide  of 
potassium  and  water. 

We  now  have  our  chemicals  ready  for  use.  Take  a 
good  French  or  German  glass;  clean  it  until  it  is  abso- 
lutely clean.  Hold  it  by  one  comer  and  pour  on  to  it 
suflacient  collodion  to  cover  it  and  let  it  run  off  back  into 
the  bottle.  The  ether  and  alcohol  will  soon  evaporate, 
and  when  just  right,  not  too  moist  or  too  dry,  immerse 
it  in  the  nitrate  bath.  This  is  done  by  a  dipper,  a  long 
narrow  piece  of  glass  with  the  lower  end  bent  to  sup- 
port the  plate.  The  plate  is  left  in  the  bath  two  or  three 
minutes,  during  which  time  it  becomes  charged  with  the 
silver.  The  iodine  and  bromine  that  are  in  the  collodion 
have  formed  a  double  compound,  which  we  will  call 
iodide  of  silver.  This  iodide  of  silver  is  sensitive  to  light. 
When  the  plate  is  taken  from  the  bath  it  presents  a  beau- 
tiful white  surface,  just  a  little  tinged  with  yellow.  The 
film  is  very  thin  and  of  a  very  flne  and  delicate  texture. 


No  paper  or  cloth  can  begin  to  compare  with  ic.  it  is 
very  sensitive  and  not  a  particle  of  light  muet  reach 
it.  The  plate  is  placed  in  a  dark  slide  that  fits  the  back 
of  the  camera.  The  ground-glass  is  removed,  and  the 
dark  slide  put  in  its  place  ;  a  thin  slip  is  pulled  from  the 
dark  slide,  and  the  film  is  exposed  to  the  light  of  the 
image,  in  exactly  the  same  surface  that  the  ground-glass 
occupied.  When  the  film  is  sufficiently  exposed,  the 
dark  slide  is  closed  and  taken  again  to  the  dark  room. 
We  use  a  yellow  light  (that  does  not  affect  the  film)  to 
work  by.  When  the  plate  supporting  this  film  is  taken 
from  the  dark  slide,  you  can  see  no  impression;  it  ap- 
/  pears  just  the  same  as  when  put  there.  Holding  the 
'plate  in  position  we  pour  on  to  it  the  iron  solution — the 
developer— and  lo!  what  a  change?  It  seems  like  a 
spirit  coming  from  some  vasty  deep.  The  shirt  bosom, 
or  some  light  bow  or  ribbon  is  seen  first,  then  the  eyes- 
and  the  high  lights  of  the  hair,  and  last  comes  the  dark 
drapery. 

Now  we  have  a  developed  negative — that  is  to  say,, 
what  was  white  in  the  subject  is  dark  in  this  image,  and 
what  was  dark  in  the  subject  is  white  in  this  image:  so 
we  have  an  opposite  or  negative.  Now  what  has  been 
done  chemically  ?  In  the  film  is  nitrate  of  silver  com- 
bined with  iodine.  The  nitrate  of  silver  is  a  union  of 
nitric  acid  with  metallic  silver.  In  certain  places  the 
light  has  impressed  the  film,  and  in  those  places  the  ni- 
tric acid  has  left  the  silver  and  united  with  the  iron,  be- 
cause the  acid  has  a  greater  affinity  for  the  iron  than  it 
has  for  the  silver.  The  silver  being  deprived  of  the  acid 
is  no  longer  nitrate  of  silver,  but  metallic  silver.  This  we 
prove  by  di-ying  the  plate  and  rubbing  away  the  cotton 
of  the  film,  and  the  metallic  silver  is  exposed,  wherever 
the  light  has  impressed  the  film;  and  in  the  shadows  and 
dark  drapery  the  glass  is  clear. 

But  let  us  go  back  to  our  negative  as  left  by  the  de- 
veloper. In  this  condition  the  lights  are  composed  of 
metallic  silver  and  the  shadows  of  iodide  of  silver.  The 
next  object  in  the  process  is  to  remove  the  iodide.  The 
film  is  thoroughly  washed  and  the  potash  solution  is 
poured  over  it  and  every  particle  of  the  iodide  is  dis- 
solved off  and  the  shadows  are  left  clear,  so  that  we 
have  an  opaque  or  dark  image  of  the  subject  for  our 
negative.  It  must  be  well  washed  or  the  potash  would 
in  time  dissolve  off  the  whole  image.  Now  if  we  stand 
in  a  dark  comer  and  hold  the  negative  towards  the  light 
its  beauties  or  defects  may  be  seen.  It  is  now  dried  and 
varnished  to  protect  the  film. 

From  this  negative  we  can  print  photographs.  Photo- 
graphic paper  is  very  fine  and  close  grained.  The  face  of 
it  is  coated  with  albumen,  that  gives  it  a  beautiful  finish. 
A  nitrate  of  silver  solution  is  put  into  a  broad  porcelain 
tray,  and  the  paper  floated  on  it.  In  the  albumen  coat- 
ing there  is  chloride  of  ammonium.  This  combines  with 
the  nitrate  of  silver,  absorbed  by  the  paper,  and  forms 
chloride  of  silver,  in  the  paper,  which  is  sensitive  to  light. 
After  the  paper  is  dry  a  piece  is  put  against  the  film  of 
the  negative  and  held  by  springs.  Now  wherever  the 
negative  is  open  and  clear,  the  light  shines  through  and 
changes  the  paper  dark.  The  eyes,  hair  and  drapery  are 
open  in  the  negative  and  of  course  print  dark;  and  in  the 
lights  of  the  face  and  shirt  bosom  or  ribbon,  where  there 
is  a  dense  or  opaque  film,  the  paper  is  protected  from 
the  light  and  remains  white;  so  that  our  negative  has  at 
last  given  a  complete  picture,  or  positive  of  the  subject. 

These  pictures,  if  given  out  in  their  present  condition, 
when  exposed  to  the  light,  would  turn  dark  and  be 
spoiled.  To  prevent  this,  the  silver  must  be  removed 
from  the  paper.  The  prints  are  placed  in  water  and  the 
unused  sUver  washed  out.  They  are  now  quite  too  red 
for  use,  and  are  toned  in  chloride  of  gold  to  the  desired 
tint.  From  the  toning  they  are  removed  to  a  solution  of 
hyposulphite  of  soda.  This  re-dissolves  whatever  chlo- 
ride of  silver  may  remain  in  the  paper,  and  the  print  is 
no  longer  sensitive  to  light.  The  soda  solution  is  washed 
or  soaked  from  the  paper  with  an  abundance,  and  many 
changes  of  water,  as  you  would  soak  salt  from  a  codfish. 
The  prints  are  then  trimmed,  mounted,  pressed  and  de- 
livered. 


There  is  a  fish  which  is  used  as  a  candle,  and  is  caught 
>n  the  coast  of  Alaska.  It  is  about  eight  inches  lone 
-ansparent,  and  very  fat,  which  fat  is  pure,  white,  aiS 


— -^"-j        »v'*j'  xa,i,,  wuicjj  iau  IB  pure,  wnite,  a 
ery  sweet.    The  Indians  dry  this  fish  then  light  it  _ 
ae  tail,  and  it  bums  with  a  clear  sparkling  flame,  whic> 


at 


he  wind  cannot  extinguish. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


37 


THE  WOODEN 

WONDERS  OF  AMERICA. 


America  has  been  called  a  wooden  country,  and  with 
reason  From  the  Atlantic  westward,  and  from  the 
great  lakes  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  vast  forests  confronted 
file  early  settlers.  Not  a  patch  of  com  could  be  planted 
till  trees  were  felled.   Civilization  literally  hewed  its  way 


the  bridges.  To  Englishmen,  a  "  wooden  bridge  i- 
suggestive  of  a  few  rustic  planks  across  a  stream  m 
some  peaceful  meadow.  In  America  the  ponderous 
train,  freighted  with  hundreds  of  human  beings 
dashes  across  one  wooden  bridge  after  another,  and 
miles  and  miles  of  trestle-  work.  Bridges  in  all  stages 
of  development  may  be  seen  in  America,  from  the 
simple  planks  laid  parallel  on  heavy  timbers  stretchea 
from  bank  to  bank,  to  the  elegant  susj^nsion  bridge 
spanning  rivers  so  broad,  that  in  recalling  them  the 


TRESTLE-BRIDGE  ON  THE  PACIFIC  RAILWAY. 


through  barricades  of  timber.  Timber  lumbered  the 
country  as,  ir  a  few  remaining  localities,  it  does  stiU. 
"Corduroy  roads  "were  but  a  systematic  arraage- 
ment  of  "  lumber"  stems  felled,  and  offering  other 
wise  impassable  obstructions.  In  the  utilization  of 
this  superabundant  timber,  wooden  towns  arose, 
wooden  bridges,  roadways,  piers,  wharfs,  ramparts, 
to  an  extent  unknown  in  other  countries.  Imposing 
edifices,  with  architectural  embellishments,  are  seen 
of  wood.  But  of  public  works  where  wood  is  ex- 
tensively employed,  none  are  more  astonishing  than 


Yankee  may  be  pardoned  for  having  compcix^  the 
Thames  at  'Richmond,  in  England,  to  a  few  yards  ot 
white  ribbon  among  the  gooseberry-bushes.  Wooden 
bridges  have  taken  a  high  rank  in  modern  engineer 
ing-j  and  for  boldness  in  their  design,  combined 
with  mechanical  perfection  and  simplicity,  Am- 
erica enjoys  the  precedence.  As  viaducts  too, 
over  the  swampy  region  of  lowlands,  or  across 
gulches  and  gorges  ir  the  mountains,  whence  you  gaze 
down  perpendicular  aepths,  startling  and  terrifying  to 
UBtrained  nerves,  the  amazed  traveler  is  home  along:  or 


38 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


airy-looklng  woodwork.  Many  perilous  journeys  on 
creaking  timbers  can  the  writer  recall.  Through  the 
swamps  and  cane-brakes  of  the  South,  during  the  late 
war,  and  across  broad  estuaries— where  many  parts  were 
out  of  repair  for  want  of  hands — slowly  and  cautiously 
the  train  crept  along,  and  glad  were  we  to  get  on  firm 
ground  again.  Crossing  the  Alleghanies,  at  elevations 
of  some  2,000  feet,  are  chasms  of  terrific  grandeur, 
bridged  over  by  only  wood.  Again,  along  the  Pacific 
railway,  the  trestle  bridges  of  later  construction  are 
among  the  most  remarkable  features  of  the  route.  The 
traveler  who  crosses  them  for  the  first  time,  does  so  with 
a  strange  sensation  of  peril,  as  he  looks  down  into  the 
depths  below,  and  seems  to  feel  the  great  mass  swaying 
beneath  him.  The  accompanying  sketch  of  one  of 
them  conveys  a  fair  idea  of  several  of  them. 

Spanning  Dale  Creek,  a  mountain  stream  near  Sher- 
man, is  a  trestle  bridge,  650  feet  from  one  rocky  bluff  to 
another.  High,  light,  airy,  and  graceful,  as  you  look  up 
126  feet  from  the  silvery  stream,  and  like  ornamental 
trellis-work,  its  strength  is  nevertheless  enormous.  Not 
a  single  portion  of  the  framework  used  in  these  bridges 
is  less  than  twelve  inches,  generally  fifteen  inches  in 
diameter ;  and  the  posts  and  piles  "  corded  "  or  banded 
together  with  iron  plates,  are  simply  countless,  except 
to  engineers,  who  sum  them  up  by  mathematical  rule. 
Another  trestle  bridge  is  at  a  point  which,  from  its 
gloomy  and  dangerous  character,  has  been  named  in  the 
forcible,  if  not  poetical,  vernacular  of  the  West,  Devil's 
Gate.  This — about  ten  miles  from  the  Great  Salt  Lake — 
Is  where  the  Weber  River  rushes  with  tremendous 
violence  down  a  chasm  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  On 
the  first  opening  of  the  line,  the  train  passed  over  on  a 
trestle  bridge  seventy-eight  feet  above  the  boiling  cur- 
rent, and  where  the  volume  of  water  was  great  and  rapid. 
A  Government  inspector  thus  reported  of  the  spot  :— 
"  Should  a  train  go  down  into  this  fearful  gulf,  all  who 
escaped  being  crushed  would  inevitably  be  drowned.". 
He  described  the  bridge  as  a  "  double  trestle,  one  rest- 
ing on  the  other,"  the  supporting  timbers  standing  at  an 
angle  of  about  forty  degrees,  gradually  narrowing  from 
the  base  to  the  top.  "  The  upper  timbers,  among  other 
means  adopted  to  prevent  their  giving  way,  are  secured 
by  large  ropes  tied  around  them,  and  fastened  to  pro- 
jecting rocks  above."  The  inspector  of  the  line  pro- 
nounced the  structure  "extremely  dangerous,"  and  aB 
iron  bridge  indispensable.  As  he  was  detained  twenty 
four  hours  to  have  the  trestles  better  secured  by  means 
of  additional  braces,  and  recorded  the  death  of  a 
mechanic,  who  had  fallen  in  and  been  swept  down  the 
raging  current,  ''rescue  being  impossible,"  it  is  to  bo 
lioped  that  the  trestle  bridge  at  Devil's  Gate  exists  no 
longer. 

Good  trestle-work  is  expected  to  last  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  years,  and  for  viaducts  is  reckoned  much  cheaper 
than  embankments. 

American  engineers  affirm  that  when  renewals  are 
necessary,  the  timber  can  be  replaced  at  small  cost,  or 
filled  in  with  earth  embankments,  by  transporting 
materials  along  the  line  at  less  expense  than  in  the 
first  construction  of  the  railway,  A  glance  at  a  few  i 
figures  enables  us  to  appreciate  the  labor  and  expense 
of  transporting  timber  in  the  construction  of  our  west- 
ern railways.  A  great  deal  of  the  wood  used  is  pine 
fBom  Puget's  Sound,  reckoned  nearly  equal  to  oak, 
— Besides  this,  there  is  pine  on  the  mountains,  and 
what  is  called  "  hardwood,"  or  scrub-oak,  valuable, 
but  unattainable,  except  from  great  distances.  For 
instance,  at  Denver,  Col. ,  pine  wood  was  procured  at 
$30  a  cord,  and  scrub-oak  at  double  that  price.  A 
cord  contains  128  cubic  feet  of  timber,  and  costs, 
where  wood  is  plentiful,  only  from  three  to  five  dol- 
lars. From  Denver  to  the  nearest  point  on  the  Pacific 
Railroad,  200  miles  north,  timber  was  transported  in 
wagons  at  an  expense  of  about  $75  a  cord,  and  pur- 
chased by  the  railroad  agents  at  the  enormous  cost  of 
$105  each  cord;  the  scrub-oak  for  twice  that  price. 
"  What  could  make  it  such  a  price  ?  "  you  ask.  Dis- 
tance. Picture  to  yourselves  the  labor  of  conveying 
it  from  the  slopes  of  the  mountains,  and  the  long 
trains  of  wagons,  each  drawn  by  from  twelve  to 
eighteen  mules  or  oxen  toiling  over  rocky  heights 
and  pathless  plains  at   the  rate  of  ten  miles  a 


day.  In  one  single  year,  and  starting  from  on* 
single  town  (Atchison,  in  Kansas)  4,480  of  such 
wagons  were  in  use  to  convey  material  for  the 
railway.  7,310  mules  and  29,720  oxen  were  required  t©- 
draw  these  wagons,  and  5,610  men  to  control  and  con- 
duct them.  27,000  tons  of  freight  were  thus  conveyed 
for  the  construction  of  the  line.  Not  all  wood^  it  is  true 
were  the  loads,  but  similar  calculations  might  be  made 
from  Denver  and  other  lumber  markets.  Omaha, 
Leavenworth,  and  other  large  towns  in  Kansas  and 
Nebraska,  tell  us  of  similar  thousands  of  wagons,  men, 
and  cattle  engaged  in  moving  to  its  destination  half  a 
million  tons  of  freight  that  one  year. 

The  greatness  of  the  engineering  works  of  our  country 
correspond  with  the  vastness  of  her  scenery.  Her  rivers, 
wide  as  they  are,  must  be  bridged  over,  and  the  plans 
adopted  by  the  architects  in  wood,  as  well  as  in  stone- 
iron,  or  all  combined,  vary  with  the  nature  of  the  locali- 
ties. Suspension  bridges  of  enormous  proportions  are- 
taking  the  place  of  the  old-fashioned  drawbridges  ;  and 
where  immense  width  but  less  shipping  demand  bridges  of  a 
different  oharacter,  experiments  and  combinations  are  count- 
less. Wooden  bridges  with  iron  towers,  iron  bridges  with 
wooden  towers,  piers  of  iron,  wood  or  masonry,  ana  various 
kinds  of  truss  bridges,  known  by  the  names  of  inventors,  now 
meet  you  all  over  the  country.  There  is  the  "  Lattice-truss 
bridge,"  the  " Pratt-truss  system,"  "Long's  plan,"  "Barr'a 
plan,"  and  "  Howe's;"  with  blocks  of  "hard  wood  "  and  belts 
of  iron  through  them,  and  braces,  and  counter-braces,  and  nuts, 
and  screws,  and  bolts,  and  a  variety  of  other  things,  compre- 
hensible to  the  engineer  only,  and  with  which  we  will  not  fa- 
tigue the  reader. 

At  Quincy,  Illinois,  there  is  a  trestle  bridge  across  the  Mis* 
sissippi,  which,  including  the  embankments,  is  nearly  a  mile  ia 
length. 

'  The  Portage  bridge,  spanning  the  Genesee  Eiver,  was  de- 
stroyed last  year  by  fire.  It  spanned  a  gorge  with  perpendicn- 
lar  walls,  through  which  the  river  leaps  m  three  successive 
falls  to  the  level  of  the  valley  below,  and  stood  upon  thirteea 
stone  piers  set  in  the  river  bed.  Upon  these  piers  it  rose  ^ 
feet.  It  was  800  feet  long,  cost  $175,000,  and  was  so  ingeniously 
constructed  that  any  single  timber  in  it  could  be  removed  and 
replaced  at  pleasure  without  deranging  others. 

Over  the  Schuylkill,  at  Philadelphia,  is  another  remarkable 
wooden  bridge,  with  a  span  of  340  feet.  Over  the  Ohio,  at 
Wheeling,  is  a  wooden  bridge  which  has  a  span  of  above  1,00§ 
feet,  and  farther  down,  uniting  the  States  of  Ohio  and  Ken- 
tucky, at  Cincinnati,  is  a  suspension  bridge  whose  total  length 
is  2,250  feet,  and  100  feet  above  high-water  mark,  with  a  center 
span  of  1,067  feet.  The  Hudson,  the  Mississippi,  the  Ohio,  the 
Missouri,  each  boast  of  bridges  claiming  honor  for  some  especial 

At  Omaha,  the  starting  point  of  the  Pacific  Railway,  the 
trains  from  the  east  were  at  first  shifted  bodily  on  to  huge  flat- 
bottomed  boats  to  cross  the  Missouri  River;  and  the  first  rail- 
road bridge  built  there  was  swept  away  by  the  overpowering 
"freshets  "on  the  breaking  up  of  the  ice,  "Never  njind," 
cried  the  enterprising  and  undaunted  engineers;  "  we  will  build 
it  stronger  next  time."   And  so  they  have.   It  is  of  iron  now. 

For  the  rivers  to  rise  ten,  twenty,  forty  feet  within  a  few 
hours  is  not  unusual,  and  bridges  must  be  built  accordingly. 
Against  "ice-floods"  some  of  the  bridges  are  guarded  with 
' '  ploughshare-shaped  ice-breakers, ' '  or  their  piers  sheathed  with 
plate-iron,  as  in  the  Susquehanna  bridge,  whose  piers  are  of 
solid  granite  masonry— eight  of  them  on  solid  rock,  and  six,  in 
consequence  of  the  unstable  bed  of  the  river,  on  pile  founda- 
tions. 

The  bridge  now  in  progress  over  the  East  River,  New  York, 
is  to  eclipse  all  previously  constructed  bridges  in  astonishing 
engineering.  Its  center  span  will  be  1,268  feet,  and  a  tall  ves- 
sel can  sail  beneath  it.  The  piers  of  this  magniflcent  structure 
rest  on  caissons  made  of  pine  from  the  forests  of  Georgia.— 
Each  box,  or  "  caisson,"  is  168  feet  long,  102  feet  wide,  nine  and. 
a  half  feet  deep,  and  eight  feet  thick,  and  at  the  bottom  twen- 
ty-two feet  thick.  Inside  it  has  a  number  of  partitions,  each 
four  feet  thick,  and  outside  it  is  covered  all  over  with  thick  iron 
Besides  this,  the  edges  of  the  box  are  "  shoed  "  with  cast  iron, 
and  the  whole  interior  is  lined  with  boiler  plates,  every  joint 
being  air-tight  and  "  bolted  "  strongly  to  the  box. 

We  will  suppose  one  of  these  dainty  boxes  ready  to  be  sunk,, 
what  next?  First,  it  is  to  be  inhabited  for  a  time  by  workmen, 
who  pass  in  and  out  by  an  aperture  at  the  top,  and  to  the  vari- 
ous chambers  formed  by  the  partitions,  through  which  are 
openings.  And  thus  it  begins  to  sink,  workmen  and  all.— 
Powerful  machinery  is  employed— derricks  and  so  forth— to^ 
shift  this  monstrous  box  to  its  destination,  and  to  lower  it  into 
the  water;  and  day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  the  air  is 
pumped  in  to  the  imprisoned  workmen,  while  they  pump  out 
the  sand  and  gravel  and  water,  and  excavate  deeper  and  deeper 
—perhaps  one  hundred  feet  into  the  bed  of  the  river— and  all 
the  while  masonry  is  being  piled  on  the  top  of  the  box  to  force 
it  down,  while  the  occupants  dig  and  burrow  beneath.  When 
sufficiently  sunk  and  settled  on  the  firm  bed  of  the  river,  the 
buried  workmen  are  released,  and  their  late  habitation  is  filled 
in  with  concrete,  which  soon  becomes  as  hard  as  the  rock  itself. 
This  is  the  sort  of  wooden  box  on  which  rest  a  pier  and  a  tower 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD. 


39 


If  a  Buspension  bridge,  and  railway  trains  into  the  bargain. 

The  construction  of  the  bridge  at  Omaha,  to  replace  the 
wooden  one  washed  away  by  the  spring  Hoods,  she!  vs  us  what 
eort  of  bed  is  that  of  the  Missouri  Kiver,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
Mississippi,  the  Platte,  and  several  others,  where  roclts  lie  deep 
in  the  ever-shifting  sandy  bottoms.  Imagine  an  iron  "ring'' 
ten  feet  long,  an  inch  and  three-quarters  thick,  and  nine  and  a 
half  feet  in  diameter.  Scores  of  such  "  rings "  were  cast  in 
Chicago,  and  conveyed  across  Illinois  and  Iowa  to  Omaha.— 
The  railroad  suspension  bridge  there  is  half  a  mile  long,  and 
has  eleven  spans  of  250  feet  each,  and  of  course  twelve  piers, 
each  composed  of  from  six  to  twelve  of  these  iron  rings. 
Twenty-four  hours  are  spent  in  sinking  one  ring,  and  the  oper- 
ation is  similar  to  that  of  sinking  the  wooden  boxes  for  the 
East  River  bridge.  By  an  air-tight  cover,  and  atmospheric  pres- 
sure from  above,  it  is  driven  down  until  the  top  is  on  a  level 
with  the  surface  of  the  ground.  Then,  by  means  of  machinery, 
the  sand  is  driven  out— men  working  inside  of  it  as  well— until 
it  has  firmly  settled,  when  anotiier  ring  is  lowered  upon  it  and 
"  bolted  on,"  and  so  on,  until  the  lowest  ring  has  reached  the 
bed-rock  of  the  river.  Though  suspension  bridges  are  of  very 
remote  origin,  those  of  iron  date  only  from  the  latter  part  of 
the  last  century.  In  ancient  Peru  were  suspension  bridges  on 
the  Andes  made  of  ropes  and  bark  of  trees.  The  Chinese 
boast  of  one  330  feet  high,  built  a.  d.  63.  "  Wire  "  ropes  in  use 
at  the  present  day  "are  of  six  or  seven  twists,  each  from  two  to 
three  inches  in  diameter.  14,560  such  wires  are  employed  in 
the  cables  of  the  Niagara  Suspension  Bridge,  where  the  trains 
run  245  feet  above  the  boiling  torrent. 

The  project  of  the  Pacific  Railroad  was  first  brought  into 
public  notice  by  Mr.  Asa  Whitney,  who  from  1846  to  1850  agita- 
ted the  scheme  in  addresses  to  State  Legislatures  and  to  popu- 
lar meetings.  He  proposed  to  construct  the  road  by  the  sale  of 
the  public  lands  along  its  line,  and  he  asked  from  Congress 
a  free  grant  of  alternate  sections  for  a  width  of  thirty  miles  on 
each  side,  to  be  given  to  himself  and  his  heirs  and  assigns  for 
the  purpose.  His  uesign  was  to  commence  at  Prairie  du  Chien 
on  the  Mississippi,  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  the  South 
Pass,  and  fix  the  principal  Pacific  terminus  on  Vancouver's 
Sound,  with  a  branch  from  some  convenient  point  west  of  the 
mountains  to  San  Francisco. 

One  of  the  great  objects  which  Mr.  Whitney  proposed  to  ac- 
complish by  the  enterprise  was  to  render  America  the  route  of 
Asiatic  commerce.  The  settlement  of  California,  however, 
furnished  a  new  reason  for  the  building  of  the  road,  and  the 
BCheme  was  taken  up  by  the  Government.  Mr.  Benton,  of 
Missouri,  for  a  long  period  advocated  it  zealously  in  the  Senate 
and  before  the  people. 

The  exploration  of  Col.  Fremont,  by  throwing  light  upon 
the  physical  geography  of  this  great  and  nearly  unexplored 
region,  advanced  the  project. 

Finally  in  March,  1853,  Congress  made  an  appropriation  cf 
S15Q,000  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  necessary  surveys,  and 
in  that  year  six  parties  were  organized  and  sent  out  by  the 
War  Department.  These  parties  were  fitted  out  in  the  most 
complete  manner,  with  a  view  to  collect  all  possible  informa- 
tion relative  to  the  great  physical  character  of  the  region  tra- 
versed, including  its  topography,  its  elevation  above  the  sea,  its 
climate,  its  geology,  its  botany  and  its  natural  history,  as  well 
as  all  details  bearing  upon  the  actual  construction  of  the  road. 

In  1854  Congress  made  two  more  appropriations  of  $40,000  and 
$150,000  respectively,  for  deficiencies  and  for  continuing  the 
work,  and  three  additional  parties  were  organized. 

The  reports  of  these  surveys  have  been  presented  in  13  vols., 
4  to.,  and  printed  by  Congress,  with  handsome  illustrations  and 
elaborate  maps  and  profiles.  For  exact  information  relative  to 
the  physical  characteristics  of  the  great  West,  they  will  long 
remain  the  standard  authority. 

The  Pacific  Railroad  was  finally  completed  on  the  10th  of 
May,  1869,  by  the  junction  of  the  Central  Pacific  and  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroads,  at  Promontory  Summit,  Utah,  a  point  1,084 
miles  west  from  Omaha,  and  690  east  from  Sacramento.  The 
last  spike  was  driven  with  imposing  ceremonies,  and  on  the 
15th  of  May  through  trains  began  to  run  regularly. 

The  average  cost  of  constructing  the  road,  including  car- 
shops,  depots,  stations,  locomotives,  cars,  and  all  necessary  ex- 
penses, except  those  of  surveying,  is  stated  at  $68,058  per  mile 
for  914  miles  west  from  Omaha,  and  $90,000  per  mile  for  186 
miles;  while  the  total  cost  of  the  road  for  this  distance,  inclu- 
ding surveys,  is  stated  at  $82,445,012. 

The  Union  Pacific  Railroad  Company  was  organized  in  Octo- 
ber 1863,  under  a  charter  granted  by  Congress,  called  "An  Act 
to  aid  in  the  construction  of  a  Railroad  and  Telegraph  Line 
from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  to  secure  to 
the  Government  the  use  of  the  same  for  postal,  military,  and 
other  purposes."  According  to  the  provision  of  the  charter, 
the  management  of  the  road  is  controlled  by  a  Board  of  twenty 
directors,  five  of  whom  are  appointed  by  the  General  Govern- 
ment, and  are  prohibited  from  holding  stock  in  the  road.  The 
Government  also  exercises  the  right  of  appointing  three  com- 
misssioners  to  examine  the  road  and  report  whether  it  is  con- 
Btrocted  and  operated  according  to  law. 

The  country  has  reason  to  congratulate  itself  that  this  great 
work  of  national  importance  was  brought  so  rapidly  to  comple- 
tion under  such  favorable  auspices. 


Value  op  Time. — As  nothing  truly  valuable  can  be  at- 
tained without  Industry,  so  there  can  be  no  persevering 
toduetry  without  a  deep  sense  of  the  value  of  time. 


How  the  Esquimaux  JLlve. 

In  the  winter  season  the  Esquimaux  live  in  huts  built 
of  snow,  and  we  may  imagine  what  must  have  been  tha 
necessity  and  distress  that  could  first  have  suggested  to 
a  human  being  the  idea  of  using  such  an  unpromising 
material  as  a  means  of  protecting  himself  from  cold.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  the  snow  "  igloe,"  or  hut,  affords  not 
only  security  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  but 
more  comfort  than  either  stone  or  wooden  buildinga 
without  fire.  The  construction  of  them  requires  con- 
siderable tact,  and  is  always  performed  by  the  men,  two 
being  required  for  it,  one  outside  and  the  other  inside. 
Blocks  of  snow  are  first  cut  out  with  some  sharp  in- 
strument from  the  spot  that  is  intended  to  form  the  lloor 
of  the  dwelling,  and  raised  on  edge,  inclining  a  little 
inward  around  the  cavity.  These  blocks  are  generally 
about  two  feet  in  length,  two  in  breadth,  and  eight 
inches  thick,  and  are  joined  close  together.  In  this 
manner  the  edifice  is  erected,  contracting  at  each  suc- 
cessive tier,  until  there  only  remains  a  small  aperture  at 
the  top,  which  is  filled  by  a  slab  of  clear  ice,  that  serves 
both  as  a  keystone  to  the  arch  and  a  window  to  light 
the  dwelling.  An  embankment  of  snow  is  raised  around 
the  wall,  and  covered  with  skins,  which  answer  the 
double  purpose  of  beds  and  seats.  The  inside  of  the 
hut  presents  the  figure  of  an  arch  or  dome  ;  but  the 
usual  dimensions  are  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  diameter,  and 
about  eight  feet  in  height  at  the  centre.  Sometimes  two 
or  three  families  congregate  under  the  same  roof,  having 
separate  apartments  communicating  with  the  main 
building,  that  are  used  as  bedrooms.  The  entrance  to 
the  "igloe"  is  effected  through  a  winding  covered  pas- 
sage, which  stands  open  by  day,  but  is  closed  up  at 
night  by  placing  slabs  of  ice  at  the  angle  of  each  bend, 
md  thus  the  inmates  are  perfectly  secured  against  the 
sverest  cold. 


The  Wandering  Stone. 

In  the  Zillerthal,  about  half  an  hour's  walk  from  the 
little  village  of  Fugen,  in  a  small  valley  on  the  right  side 
<of  the  entrance  to  the  vast  forest  of  Benkerwald,  lies  a 
rock  soma  two  cubic  feet  in  measure,  bearing  on  its  side 
a  rude  cross  chiselled  in  the  stone. 

The  rock  is  noted  all  over  the  country,  for  each  time 
it  is  removed  from  its  resting  place,  by  some  supernatu- 
ral agency,  it  returns  again  to  the  same  spot.  Why  it 
wanders  about  in  this  strange  manner  nobody  knows, 
hut  why  it  stands  there  is  known  to  every  little  village 
child  in  the  surrounding  country. 

At  the  end  of  the  last  century  two  peasant  women  of 
Fugen,  were  engaged  by  the  day  in  cutting  corn  at  the 
adjacent  farm  of  Wieseck,  on  the  Pancraz  Mountain. 
The  farmer,  anxious  to  get  in  his  com  while  the  weather 
lasted,  promised  to  increase  their  wages  if  they  hastened 
on  with  their  work.  At  this  promise,  both  the  girls  re- 
doubled their  efforts,  but  at  the  end  of  the  week,  instead 
of  paying  them  alike,  the  farmer,  in  augmentation  of 
their  wages,  gave  to  one  of  them  two  loaves  of  bread, 
while  to  the  other  he  gave  but  one.  On  their  way  home, 
close  to  Fugen,  and  on  the  spot  where  now  lies  the  stone, 
the  two  women  began  to  quarrel  about  the  bread,  and  at 
last  this  dispute  grew  so  hot  that  they  fell  to  fighting 
with  their  sickles,  and,  like  tigresses,  the  sight  of  blood 
seemed  only  to  increase  their  ferocity;  and  what  seems 
to  be  incredible,  but  which  is  nevertheless  perfectly  true, 
they  fought  until  they  both  fell  down  and  bled  to  death 
on  the  spot.  Here  they  were  buried,  and  over  them  was 
placed  the  stone  which  still  remains  there,  but  none  of 
the  villagers  will  pass  that  way  after  nightfall. 

There  are  numberless  people  who  have  convinced 
themselves  of  the  wonderful  properties  of  the  Walden- 
stein,  and  many  are  the  warnings  given  by  the  country 
folk  to  strangers  who  seek  to  pass  there  after  the  sun 
has  set. 


How  violently  do  rumors  blow  the  sails  of  popular 
judgments  !  How  few  there  be  that  can  discern  between 
truth  and  truth-likeness,  between  shows  and  substance  ! 

Sir  p.  Sidney. 


Neither  human  applause  nor  human  censure  is  to  be 
taken  as  a  test  of  the  truth :  but  either  should  set  us 
upon  testing  ourselves.  Bishop  Whately. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD, 


SNAKES.  , 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

We  who  live  in  the  temperate  regions  of  America,  know  by 
experience  but  little  about  the  race  of  gigantic  and  venomous 
serpents.  There  are,  however,  many  difierent  kinds  in  our  lat- 
itude, a  few  of  which  are  i)oi8onous  and  formidable,  and  many 
repulsive  and  forbidding  in  their  appearance.  Snakes  appear 
to  have  the  power  of  affecting  the  nervous  system  of  man  in  an 
entirely  different  manner  from  any  other  representative  of  the 
animal  kingdom.  Not  that  I  would  advocate  for  truth  the  fab- 
ulous stories  of  serpeift-charming  set  forth  in  the  novels  and 
fictions  of  the  day,  but  who  is  there  that  has  not  been  shocked 
and  startled  upon  coming  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  upon  this 
hideous  reptile?  A  momentary  shudder  ruflles  our  tranquil 
nerves— it  is  natural,  and  we  cannot  help  it;  but  reason  and 
judgment  come  constantly  to  the  rescue,  teaching  us  man's  su- 
periority over  all  other  animated  life,  and  we  return  and  crush 
the  coiled  serpent  as  we  would  a  worm. 

In  countries  where  the  ground  freezes  they  pass  the  winter 
in  a  torpid  state;  and  on  coming  forth  on  the  return  of  warm 
weather,  they  shed  their  skins.  Often  they  do  not  cast  their 
skins  until  the  heated  term  of  the  dog's  days;  at  which  time 
they  are  blind  and  sluggish,  and  far  more  apt  to  bite.  On  warm 
pleasant  days  in  early  spring  they  may  often  be  seen  in  large 
numbers  around  springs  and  water  courses,  about  the  time  the 
tender  green  grass  is  starting  up,  and  the  beautiful  yellow  blos- 
soms of  the  dandelion  are  putting  forth.  On  one  occasion 
several  years  since  I  counted  thirty-three,  all  on  less  than  five 
square  rods  of  ground.  There  were  three  different  kinds;  the 
streaked,  green,  and  little  brown  snake.  It  was  a  bright  sunny 
afternoon,  about  the  first  of  May  I  think,  and  they  had  crawled 
forth  from  their  winter's  retreat  to  breathe  the  pleasant,  invig- 
orating air,  loaded  with  the  sweet  perfume  of  swelling  buds  and 
blossoms,  and  to  bask  in  the  sun's  genial  rays,  that  was  now 
fast  dissipating  the  last  remnants  of  occasional  patches  of  old 
»now-drift  along  some  fence  or  stone  wall,  and  preparing  forest 
and  field  for  its  kingly  robe  of  celestial  green.  On  another  oc- 
casion, I  counted  twenty-nine  small  green  snakes  all  on  less 
a  square  rod  of  space.  Many  persons  on  seeing  so  many  snakes 
congregated  around  their  springs  and  wells  have  an  antipathy 
against  using  the  water.  This,  nowever,  is  all  folly.  The  fact 
is  they  gather  about  springs  and  water  courses  because  frogs, 
and  lizards,  and  mice,  which  form  their  principal  food,  are 
more  numerous  in  such  places;  and  as  the  cold  weather  of  win- 
ter  approaches  they  descend  into  the  ground  which  is  warmer 
in  their  vicinity,  and  sooner  thawed  out  in  the  spring.  Let  no 
one  loathe  the  water  on  their  account— they  will  not  damage 
it.  They  are  there  to  obtain  food;  and  natural  instinct  told 
them  where  to  go. 

The  serpent  tribe  are  propagated  by  means  of  eggs;  which 
are  disposed  in  rows  or  bunches,  in  some  old  half  decayed  log 
or  cleft  of  rock,  and  securely  fastened  together  with  a  glutinous 
substance.  Some  time  since,  happening  near  where  an  old  rot- 
ten log  was  being  removed,  I  observed  a  large  bunch  of  ser- 
pents' eggs  of  a  dirty  white  color,  each  of  which  was  about 
the  size  of  a  partridge's  egg.  I  took  them  upon  a  smooth  spot 
of  ground  and  succeeded  in  breaking  the  tough  leathery  shell 
of  one  of  them  with  a  sharp  stick,  when  out  leaped  a  little 
spotted  snake  six  or  seven  inches  long,  which  instantly  coiled 
up  and  leaped  its  full  length  directly  at  me,  angrily  darting 
forth  its  forked  tongue.  I  soon  put  an  end  to  its  existence,  and 
then  proceeded  to  destroy  the  others;  all  of  which  acted  in  the 
same  hostile  manner.  They  were  a  species  of  adder,  known 
in  this  section  as  the  milk-snake,  and  were  twenty-seven  in 
number. 

The  milk-snake  may  be  classed  among  our  largest  Peiiusyl- 
vania  snakes;  measuring  when  full  grown  from  three  to  five 
feet  in  length.  It  is  mottled  with  large  dark  brown  and  yel- 
lowish white  spots  on  the  back,  and  its  belly  is  white.  Its 
aspect  is  exceedingly  hideous  and  revolting.  It  feeds  on  mice, 
frogs  and  birds,  and  its  known  fondness  for  milk  has  been 
what  has  given  it  the  name  of  milk-snake.  Some  years  ago  a 
well-to-do  farmer,  living  less  than  a  mile  from  my  place  of  resi- 
dence, noticed  that  his  pans  of  milk  were  nightly  robbed  of 
their  cream.  At  first  he  laid  the  blame  on  his  cats,  and  they 
were  promptly  expelled  from  the  house.  Still  it  made  no  dif- 
ference with  the  farmer's  cream.  It  was  missing  as  usual.  One 
night  shortly  afterwards  he  solved  the  mystery.  Having  occa- 
sion to  go  to  his  milk-room  with  a  light,  he  espied  with  horror 
a  large  milk-snake  coiled  in  one  of  his  pans  of  milk,  busily 
engaged  in  lapping  up  the  cream.  He  lost  no  time  in  killing 
the  unwelcome  intruder,  and  after  that  his  cream  was  left  un- 
touched. 

When  the  country  was  first  settled  saw-mills  were  but  little 
known,  and  the  houses  and  barns  were  mostly  constructed  of 
logs.  These,  though  warm  and  comfortable,  were  not  like  the 
houses  of  to-day,  and  they  often  became  infested  with  wasps 
and  snakes.  Among  the  early  settlers  of  Northern  Pennsyl- 
vania was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Samuel  Williams,  who  lived 
iu  a  log  house  of  the  above  description,  but  a  short  distance 
from  my  father's  residence.  One  evening  in  the  early  autumn, 
just  as  the  nights  began  to  feel  a  little  cool,  he  retired  early, 
and  was  soon  in  the  land  of  dreams.  Sometime  during  the 
night  he  was  awakened  by  the  movement  of  something  cold 
along  his  back.  Instinctively  he  reached  his  hand  behind  him, 
and  grasping  a  cold  wriggling  object,  threw  it  out  upon  the 
floor.  Leaping  from  the  bed  he  struck  a  light  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble, and  hurried  back  just  in  time  to  see  a  large  milk-snake 


gilding  from  tho  spot.  Of  course  the  reptile  was  soon  dls- 
patched,  but  a  shudder  ran  through  the  strong  man's  frame  as 
he  reflected  upon  his  hideous  bed-fellow. 

The  muscles  of  serpents  are  often  very  powerful;  and  when 
any  part  of  their  body  is  wound  about  any  stationary  object 
they  will  squeeze  or  pull  remarkably.  I  once  saw  the  end  of  a 
stick  placed  upon  the  body  of  a  large  milk-snake,  just  as  it 
was  in  the  act  of  entering  a  hole  under  a  rock.  The  stick  was 
pressed  down  with  all  all  the  force  of  a  strong  man,  while  I 
with  another  stick  endeavored  to  draw  it  from  its  retreat.  After 
wriggling  several  minutes  it  pulled  itself  completely  asunder, 
leaving  six  or  eight  inches  of  its  tail  beneath  the  stick.  Five  or 
six  hours  afterward,  I  observed  a  snake  making  its  way  across 
the  field  twelve  or  fifteen  rods  from  the  spot  where  the  first  had 
escaped,  which  fled  rapidly  on  my  approach  and  took  refuge 
under  a  stone.  Turning  over  the  stone  I  quickly  dispatched 
it,  when  I  noticed  that  a  portion  of  its  tail  was  missing,  reveal- 
ing the  fact  that  it  was  the  same  one  that  had  escaped  us  in  the 
morning.   As  it  was,  it  measured  over  four  feet  in  length. 

Perhaps  the  most  formidable  of  all  North  American  serpents 
is  the  well-known  rattle-snake.  It  inhabits  hilly  and  moun- 
tainous districts,  where  the  soil  is  loose,  rocky  and  barren, 
often  attaining  a  length  of  five  or  six  feet,  and  in  appearance 
resembling  the  adder  or  milk-snake.  Its  motion  is  naturally 
slow  and  sluggish,  but  when  disturbed  or  irritated  it  quickly 
coils  itself  in  a  heap,  with  its  head  elevated  in  the  centre, 
throws  its  jaws  wide  open,  revealing  its  sharp  hooked  fangs, 
while  its  bright  eyes  gleam  like  two  coals  of  fire.  Its  tail  is 
raised  and  the  warning  note  of  its  rattle  thrills  in  the  ear  of  the 
intruder;  its  neck  is  arched,  and  its  eyes  glow  with  an  intense 
fiery  light,  fixed  with  a  deadly  glare  upon  its  disturber;  and 
then  with  a  bound  forward  its  fangs  are  struck  deep  into  the 
flesh  of  its  horror-stricken  victim.  At  the  root  of  the  fangs  is 
a  little  bag  or  natural  reservoir  of  liquid  poison.  The  fangs 
themselves  are  hollow,  with  a  slit  or  aperture  near  the  point, 
through  which  the  deadly  poison  is  thrown  into  the  deepest 
part  of  the  wound.  The  fatal  fluid  at  once  mixes  with  the 
blood,  and  should  it  return  with  the  life  current  to  the  heart, 
recovery  is  hopeless,  and  death  generally  ensues  in  the  course 
of  two  or  three  hours.  If  a  person  is  bitten  by  a  rattle-snake 
the  most  energetic  means  must  be  adopted  to  extract  the 
poison,  or  death,  riding  on  swift  wings,  will  overtake  him  and 
convulse  him  with  its  horrid  agonies  before  he  is  fairly  aware 
of  it.  A  bold,  deep  incision  should  be  made  in  the  wound  at 
once,  and  if  another  person  be  near,  the  wound  should  be  vigor- 
ously sucked  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  the  poison  blood 
drawn  out.  Previous  to  this  a  ligature  should  be  tied  tight 
above  the  wound  to  prevent  the  rapid  return  of  the  blood  to 
the  heart.  An  application  of  a  drawing  nature  should  finally 
be  applied,  and  if  everything  has  been  done  with  dispatch  the 
person  will  probably  suffer  but  very  little  inconvenience  from 
the  bite.  There»is  a  plant  found  growing  in  some  localities, 
called  rattle-snakes'  masterpiece,  which  is  said  to  be  an  an  an- 
tidote for  the  poison;  but  whether  it  can  be  relied  on  in  all 
cases,  is  extremely  doubtful. 

Along  the  Blue  Eidge  and  Allegheny  ranges  of  mountains 
immense  dens  of  the  rattle-snake  are  found,  and  here  they  are 
seen  of  the  largest  size.  Some  years  ago,  as  a  man  was  walk- 
ing along  the  margin  of  a  little  stream  that  wound  around  the 
base  of  a  steep  rocky  declivity,  a  spur  of  the  Allegheny  chain, 
m  Virginia,  he  observed  a  smooth,  hard  path  leading  from  a 
hoie  in  the  rocky  soil  above,  down  to  the  water's  edge.  As  he 
stood  wondering  what  could  have  formed  the  singular  track  in 
that  wild  secluded  spot,  he  saw  a  rattle-snake  emerge  from  the 
loose  stones  at  the  head  of  the  path,  and  slide  down  to  the 
water  to  drink.  This  was  followed  by  another,  and  another, 
until  he  counted  over  two  hundred,  gliding  and  wriggling  along 
the  bank— a  mass  of  loathsome  reptiles  that  fairly  sickened  his 
sight.  He  now  undertook  to  destroy  the  poison  legion,  but  his 
task  was  too  great.   He  worked  with  might  and  main,  but  they 

fathered  around  him  in  almost  countless  numbers,  and  ere  long 
e  was  bitten  more  than  once,  and  well  knowing  that  death 
was  near,  he  left  the  place.  He  had  barely  time  to  communi- 
cate the  horrid  fact  to  his  friends  ere  his  step  faltered  and  his 
voice  was  forever  hushed. 

A  number  of  years  ago,  a  poor  intoxicated  Scotch  vagrant  fell 
into  the  large  Flat  Rock  chasm  near  West  Chazy,  Clinton 
County,  N.  Y.,  and  no  one  being  near  to  help  him,  he  miserably 
perished.  Sometime  afterwards  some  men  happened  to  pass 
that  way,  and  looking  down  into  the  chasm  beheld  with  horror 
the  skeleton  of  the  unhappy  man,  literally  filled  with  rattle- 
snakes. The  sight  was  sickening,  and  they  fled  from  the  place. 
Returning  well  armed,  the  war  was  commenced,  and  ere  long 
they  had  possession  of  the  field.  Several  of  the  fearful  reptiles 
were  killed,  while  many  more  darted  away  and  took  refuge  be- 
neath the  rocks  and  stones.  The  man  was  identified  by  the 
shreds  of  his  clothing,  and  another  name  added  to  the  list  of 
the  victims  of  the  bottle. 

Snakes  are  slow  breathers,  long  lived,  and  can  live  a  long 
time  without  food.  In  New  England  and  New  York  there  are 
at  least  sixteen  species;  two  of  which  are  deadly  poison — the 
copperhead  and  rattlesnake.  Among  some  of  the  most  noted 
non-venomous  snakes  of  this  country  may  be  mentioned  the 
black  snake,  often  larger  than  the  rattle-snake,  and  which 
squeezes  its  victims  to  death,  the  moccasin  snake  of  the  South- 
ern States,  the  water-snake,  etc.  Nearly  all  snakes  are  killed 
very  easily,  provided  they  are  struck  in  the  right  place.  A  whip 
or  goad,  such  as  is  often  used  for  driving  oxen,  five  or  six  feet 
in  length  and  about  as  thick  as  a  man's  thumb,  is  one  of  the 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


41 


Dest  weapons  for  their  destruction.  The  blow  should  be  struck 
just  back  of  the  head. 

The  serpents  of  our  country  are,  however,  aa  a  mere  nothing 
in  comparison  to  the  monsters  of  South  Anierica,  Africa,  India 
and  the  other  tropical  regions.  There,  in  the  marshes  and 
swamps,  and  jungles,  they  swarm  in  countless  numbers,  The 
ffi^antic  boa  constrictor,  python,  anaconda,  rock-snake,  etc., 
are  amone  the  largest  and  most  powerful  of  the  serpent  tribe; 
some  of  which  have  been  known  to  measure  thirty  or  thirty- 
ilve  feet  in  length.  The  largest  snakes  are,  however,  not  poison- 
ous The  huge  boas  coil  themselves  in  the  branches  of  a  large 
tree"  near  a  spring  of  water,  and  as  the  unsuspecting  antelope 
or  buffalo  comes  near  to  drink,  they  descend  upon  them  and 
quickly  envelope  them  in  thir  folds.  Nothing  can  withstand 
Uieir  powerful  pressure.  A  traveler  tells  us  that  he  has  heard 
the  bones  of  the  buffalo  crack  like  guns  at  every  fresh  turn  of 
the  encircling  folds  as  they  crushed  the  huge  carcass  to  a  shape- 
less mass.  They  then  cover  it  all  over  with  saliva,  and  for 
sometime  are  engaged  in  the  operation  of  swallowing  it.  After 
this  they  generally  lie  in  a  semi-torpid  state  for  days  together, 
when  they  can  easily  be  approached  and  destroyed.  Terrific 
conflicts  sometimes  occur  between  these  monstrous  serpents 
and  other  denizens  of  the  forest ;  and  even  man  has  been 
■obliged  to  battle  for  his  life  in  the  dread  encounter  with  this 
formidable  reptile. 

The  tropical  regions  also  abound  in  poisonous  snakes;  prom- 
inent among  which  is  the  fatal  naia  haje  of  Africa,  and  the  ter- 
rible cobra-de-capello,  or  hooded  serpent  of  India.  The  latter 
is  often  destroyed  by  the  mongoose,  or  Egyptian  ichneumon,  an 
animal  little  larger  than  a  cat,  which  its  poisonous  bite  does 
not  destroy.  The  same  little  animal  also  destroys  crocodile's 
eggs  in  great  numbers.  In  the  jungles  of  India  a  snake  is 
found,  often  not  more  than  three  or  four  inches  in  length,  a 
mere  worm  in  size,  so  exceedingly  poisonous  that  the  victim 
of  its  deadly  bite  is  said  to  die  within  the  hour.  The  East  In- 
dian jugglers  and  serpent-charmers  handle  thetnost  venomous 
aerpents  with  impunity,  often  startling  the  uninitiated  with 
thair  perilous  and  daring  feats  and  performances.  The  secret 
Of  their  art  ia  generally  unknown  to  foreigners. 


Salt  Lake. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

explorations,  Fremont 


thus  describes 


During  his 
Salt  Lake ; 

'*We  reached  the  Butte  without  any  difficulty,  and  as- 
cending to  its  summit  we  beheld,  immediately  at  our 
feet  the  object  of  our  anxious  search — the  great  Inland 
Sea,  stretching  in  still  and  solitary  grandeur  far  beyond 
the  limit  of  our  vision  ;  and  as  we  looked  over  the  lake 
in  the  first  emotions  of  excited  pleasure,  I  am  doubtful 
if  the  followers  of  Balboa  felt  more  enthusiasm,  when 
from  the  heights  of  the  Andes  they  saw,  for  the  first 
drae,  the  great  Western  Ocean.  *  *  *  it  was  a  noble 
terminus  to  this  part  of  our  expedition  ;  and  to  us  so 
long  shut  up  among  mountain  ranges,  a  sudden  view 
of  these  silent  waters  had  something  sublime  in  it.  Sev- 
eral extensive  islands  raised  their  high,  rocky  heads 
from  the  waves  ;  but  whether  they  were  wooded  or  not 
we  could  not  tell,  as  their  distance  forbade  us  anything 
more  than  making  out  the  dark  outlines.  During  the 
day  black  clouds  rose  over  the  mountains  to  the  west- 
ward, and  c  storm  burst  over  us  in  sudden  fury,  and 
hid  the  islands  from  sight." 

Later  he  goes  on :— "  To-night  there  was  a  brilliant 
sunset  of  golden,  orange  and  green,  that  left  the  western 
sky  pure  and  clear." 

It  was  September  6th,  yet  he  says  The  summer 
frogs  were  singing  around  us,"  and  he  speaks  of  their 
pleasant  fancies  around  the  camp-fires.  Would  they 
find  springs  of  soft,  clear  water,  and  wild  game  to  feast 
them  after  their  long  privations  ? 

During  the  next  day  they  moved  loiteringly  down  one 
of  the  river  outlets,  which  in  many  places  was  verv  shal- 
low, and  encamped  for  that  night  among  rushes  and 
willows,  where,  over  their  driftwood  fire,  they  cooked 
their  supper  of  game,  shot  during  the  day.  He  says 
that  the  mild  stillness  of  the  night  was  full  of  echoes 
from  thousands  of  water-bird  voices ;  but  with  early 
morning  they  prepared  to  launch  their  India-rubber 
boat.  They  waded  along,  dragging  their  boat,  and  for 
some  distance  out  found  the  water  quite  fresh,  with  an 
insipid  taste  ;  but  a  mile  from  shore  a  black  ridge  was 
visible  at  the  bottom,  beyond  which  was  firm  sand. 
Here  the  water  very  suddenly  deepened  and  was  found 
to  be  salt.  While  they  could  touch  bottom  with  the 
paddles  the  party  was  gay,  but  as  the  lake  deepened, 
and  their  frail  craft  began  to  feel  and  respond  to  the 
swell  of  the  waves,  a  change  came  over  them.  Patches 
of  foam  drifted  by,  showing  a  southerly  set  of  the  cur- 
rent, and  recalled  disagreeable  tales  of  whirlpools  which 
had  been  related  to  them  by  Indians  and  guides.  The 


waves  were  of  a  beautiful  bright  green  hue,  and  the 
spray  thrown  into  the  boat  became  a  crusting  of  salt. 
Ere  long,  the  waves  show  gouts  of  foam,  breaking 
under  the  force  of  a  strong  wind,  and  as  they  neared  the 
islands  they  found  the  clins  whitened  and  crusted  with 
salt.  They  ascended  a  bare,  rocky  peak,  800  feet  above 
the  lake,  from  whence  they  could  view  a  vast  expanse 
of  water  laving  the  silent  shores.  The  scene  was  solemn 
and  impressive. 

Upon  the  island  they  encamped  for  the  night,  and 
kindled  a  huge  fire  of  driftwood.  The  evening  was 
pleasant ;  but  as  the  night  advanced  a  heavy  wind  arose, 
and  the  waves  broke  with  a  jar  and  roar  against  the 
island,  which  trembled  with  the  concussions. 

What  a  wierd  scene  1  What  a  strange  sensation  must 
have  been  theirs,  as  travelers  for  months,  toiling  up 
mountain  fastnesses,  and  winding  down  through  defile 
and  valley,  to  now  hear  the  boom  and  roar  of  an  ocean 
surf.  The  morning  showed  them  a  dark  and  agitated 
sea ;  but  they  had  to  attempt  returning  over  the  rough 
and  dangerous  way,  while  the  wind  roared  in  a  gale,  and 
the  farther  they  went  from  the  island  the  rougher  they 
found  the  water,  so  that  their  joy  can  be  imagined  when 
they  found  that  by  severe  labor  they  were  nearing  the 
shore,  and  lessening  the  chances  of  being  blown  beyond 
the  island  reaches  of  this  unknown  sea.  A  general 
shout  went  up  from  the  party  when  the  unstable  and 
unsafe  boat  came  into  shoal  water  and  safely  landed. 
Here  packing  their  accoutrements  they  prepared  to  push 
on  toward  the  Columbia  River. 

Discovery  of  Neptune. 

BY  B.  C.  MOKSBEE. 

Seldom  in  the  history  of  any  science  is  so  remarkable 
an  achievement  recorded  as  that  which  is  recorded  in 
Astronomy  concerning  the  discovery  of  the  planet  Nep- 
tune. The  scientific  wonder— for  I  can  call  it  by  no 
other  name— which  comes  nearest  to  this  in  point  of 
magnitude  is  the  description,  and — as  after  discoveries 
proved,  the  accurate  description — of  an  extinct  species 
of  fish  with  only  the  aid  of  an  impression  of  a  single 
scale — which  was  done  by  Agassiz.  Yet  wonderful  as 
this  last  may  be,  when  compared  with  any  other  scien- 
tific work,  it  may  be  considered  of  comparative  insignifi- 
cance, when  compared  with  the  discovery  of  Neptune. 

Previous  to  the  year  1781,  astronomers  had  noticed 
certain  irregularities  in  the  orbit  of  Saturn,  then  sup- 
posed to  be  the  boundary  of  the  solar  system.  In  that 
year,  Sir  William  Herschel  accidentally  discovered  the 
planet,  which  for  a  time  bore  his  name,  but  was  after- 
wards changed  to  Uranus.  The  discovery  of  this  planet 
explained  all  of  the  irregularities  in  the  orbit  of  Saturn, 
but  when  Uranus  had  nearly  completed  its  revolution 
around  the  sun,  irregularities  were  discovered  in  its 
orbit,  which  caused  astronomers  to  suspect  the  existence 
of  a  planet  superior  to  Uranus. 

Accordingly,  a  Frenchman  named  Le  Verrier,  set  him- 
self to  work  to  discover  it.  He  first  prepared  exact 
tables  of  the  planetary  movements,  and  then  commenced 
his  calculations.  He  succeeded  so  well  that  in  a  few 
months,  or  to  be  exact,  in  September,  1846,  he  wrote  to 
his  friend.  Dr.  Galle,  of  Berlin,  requesting  him  to  direct 
his  telescope  to  a  certain  part  of  the  heavens,  where  he 
suspected  the  stranger  to  be. 

His  friend  complied,  and  on  the  first  evening  of  ex- 
amination discovered  within  less  than  one  degree  of  the 
predicted  place,  a  strange  star  of  the  eighth  magnitude. 
The  next  evening  it  was  found  to  have  moved  with  a 
velocity,  and  in  a  direction  very  nearly  the  same  that 
Le  Verrier  had  calculated. 

What,  then,  shall  we  say  of  a  science  that  enables  its 
; devoted  followers  to  reach  out  into  space  and  feel  suc- 
cessfully in  the  dark  for  an  object  more  than  twenty- 
eight  hundred  millions  of  miles  distant  ?  Yet  so  exact 
is  astronomical  science  that  Le  Verrier  not  only  pointed 
out  the  place  where  it  would  be  seen  on  a  given  hour, 
but  even  predicted  the  length  of  its  year,  which  is  equal 
to  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  of  our  years,  ascertained 
its  distance  from  the  sun,  the  direction  and  velocity  of 
its  motion,  its  size,  and  its  density,  and  this,  too,  before 
it  had  been  seen  by  a  single  human  eye. 

It  was  subsequently  ascertained  that  Mr.  Adams,  of 
England,  had  been  engaged  in  the  same  computations, 
and  bad  arrived  at  nearly  the  same  results  as  Le  Ver- 
rier. 


42 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


FRISKY  AND  FLOSSY. 

BY  MARY  WILEY. 

Now  listen,  my  dears,  said  a  wise  mother  mouse ; 

rm  going  to  market,  so  don't  leave  the  house, 

A  little  old  box  was  the  house  which  she  meant. 

Where  they  lodged  the  year  through  without  taxes  or  rent. 

There's  danger  abroad  in  many  a  shape, 
Which  should  you  go  near,  you'll  never  escape ; 
For  instance,  there^s  aiways  that  worrying  cat; 
She  never  sleeps  soundly ;  and,  then,  there's  the  trap ! 

Two  schemes  of  the  envious  housewife,  you  see. 
To  shorten  the  lives  of  you.  pets,  and  me. 
The  cat  is  much  petted,  and  roams  where  she  will, 
And  the  trap  with  choice  bait  sits  under  the  sill. 

Besides,  I've  seen  water  and  milk  stand  around. 
Which  should  you  fall  in  you  surely  will  drown. 
But  to  name  every  danger  would  take  me  all  daj. 
And  the  sun  being  high,  1  must  hurry  away. 

Only  heed  what  I've  said,  and  rest  at  your  ease, 
While  I  go  for  some  bread,  some  meat,  and  some  cheese. 
She  hurried  away,  but  not  without  fears, 
For  she  was  a  mouse  of  experience  and  years. 

But  Frisky  was  always  inclined  to  be  naughty. 
Her  mother,  she  said,  was  too  proud  and  haughty 
To  mix  wim  the  world  or  chat  with  a  neighbor. 
Her  life  being  nothing  but  worry  and  labor. 

She  yawned  and  complained  she  had  nothing  to  do, 
Said  the  day  was  too  long  to  ever  live  through. 
And  begged  of  pet  Flossy,  her  sly  little  sister. 
So  hard  to  go  walking  she  could  not  resist  her. 

Oh  1  Frisky,  how  can  you  1  grave  Flaxy  cried  out, 
And  through  fright  and  vexation  jumped  wildly  about. 
But  Frisky  and  Flossy  were  soon  out  of  sight. 
They'd  hurry,  they  said,  and  get  back  before  night. 

They  tripped  along  lightly,  soon  losing  all  fear. 
Nor  ever  once  dreaming  of  danger  quite  near. 
Oh,  dear,  what  is  that?  Flossy  suddenly  cries. 
I'm  afraid  it's  the  cat.    Oh,  what  terrible  eyes  1 

They  ran  from  her  sight,  and  crept  under  the  sill. 
They  would  stop  awhile  there,  and  keep  very  still, 
They  said,  till  that  horrible,  terrible  cat 
Should  return  to  her  sleep  on  the  fire-hearth  mat. 

A  long  time  they  sat,  two  forlorn  little  mice. 
Then  Frisky  said,  softly,  she  smelt  something  nice, 
And  looking  around,  saw  the  prettiest  house, 
Just  built,  she  believed,  for  some  dear  little  mouse. 

Then,  carefully  peeping,  saw  cheese  hanging  in  it, 
Which  she  was  sure  she  could  get  in  less  than  a  minute ; 
But,  Frisky,  you  know  mother  spoke  of  a  trap. 
And  did  she,  I  wonder,  mean  something  like  that  ? 


Too  late  came  the  warning  as  in  went  her  head. 
And  in  less  than  a  minute  gay  Frisky  was  dead. 
Poor  Flossy  was  dumb  with  fright  and  despair, 
And  thought  she  should  die  right  then  and  there ; 

Then,  hearing  a  noise,  started  wildly  for  home. 
But  soon  lost  her  way.  and  lay  down  to  bemoan 
Her  own  sad  condition  and  poor  Frisky's  fate. 
Again  the  noise  roused  her,  but  this  time  too  late, 

For  Kitty  was  watching  this  poor  little  mouse. 
Who  never  got  back  to  that  cosy  old  house, 
From  which  in  the  morning,  so  merry  and  gay. 
Herself  and  bright  Frisky  had  hurried  away. 

 Baikbbidge,  Pa. 

A  Peculiar  Fish. 

The  Fish  of  Paradise  is  one  of  the  most  peculiar  of 
Chinese  fresh-water  fish.  It  is  small  in  size,  a  pale  gray 
in  color,  and,  at  first  sight,  having  but  little  about  it  to 
attract  attention.  As  soon  as  the  animal  becomes  ex- 
cited, however,  the  long  fins  on  the  back  and  belly 
straighten  out  and  assume  a  rich  purple  blue  tinted  with 
green.  The  long  and  fork-shaped  tail  spreads  into  a 
kind  of  fan,  and  the  stripes  upon  the  sides  of  the  fish 
become  yellow,  red,  and  blue,  constantly  changing  in 
color.  The  scales  seem  to  become  opalescent,  and  re- 
flect the  light  with  the  greatest  brilliancy,  while  the  eyes 
appear  illuminated  with  a  bluish-green  fire.  The  habits 
of  the  animal  are  as  odd  as  its  appearance.  The  males 
take  charge  of  the  young  and  buUd  the  nest.  The  latter 
is  simply  a  clot  of  foam  floating  upon  the  water,  and  is 
made  by  the  fish  rising  to  the  surface  and  alternately 
absorbing  and  expelling  air,  until  a  little  cluster  of  fine 
bubbles,  hardly  three-tenths  of  an  inch  square,  is  formed. 
The  female  then  deposits  her  eggs,  which  are  at  once 
seized  upon  by  the  male,  who  carries  them  in  his  moutb 
to  the  nest.  Then  he  watches  their  incubation,  careful- 
ly guarding  and  distributing  them  with  wonderful  saga- 
city evenly  throughout  the  mass  of  foam.  When  they 
clot  together,  he  pushes  them  apart  with  his  nose,  and, 
besides,  keeps  up  a  continual  manufacture  of  bubble© 
until  the  eggs  are  lifted  up  above  the  water  and  rest  onZv 
upon  their  soft  couch.  As  soon  as  the  embryos  appear 
his  care  is  doubled.  He  watches  that  none  escape ;  and 
in  case  some  become  separated,  he  chases  them,  catches 
them  in  his  mouth,  and  replaces  them  carefully  in  the 
nests.  If  one  becomes  injured,  he  removes  it  from  the 
others,  and  gives  it  a  separate  bubble  by  itself;  and  ap- 
parently nurses  it  until  it  regains  its  strength. 


Living  on  Stilts. 

In  the  sunny  lands  south  of  Bordeaux,  the  shep- 
herds have  adopted  the  curious  habit  of  walking  upon 
stilts.  The  first  time  that  a  group  of  these  people  are 
seen,  there  is  a  curious  emotion  in  the  mind  as  of  a 
strange  prodigy.  Dressed  in  sheep-skins,  worn  by  time, 
knitting  stockings  or  spinning  thread,  they  pass  over 
reeds  and  furze  ;  the  spectator  buried  as  it  were  in  the 
bushes,  they  lifted  nearer  the  sky  on  the  verge  of  the 
horizon.  The  long  stick  which  they  handle  with  so  much 
address,  serving  as  a  balancing  pole  or  a  support  for  the 
arm,  contributes  still  more  to  the  strangeness  of  their 
appearance;  they  look  like  gigantic  criokels  preparing  to 
spring.  In  the  lands  of  Medoc  not  only  the  shepherds 
but  everyone  uses  this  style  of  locomotion  ;  the  children 
have  no  fear,  and  the  women,  who  are  invariably  dressed 
in  black,  resemble  large  ravens  perched  on  dead  branches. 

Grotesquely  mounted  on  these  borrowed  legs,  the  shep- 
herd watches  over  his  charge,  concealed  in  the  brushwood,, 
crosses  uninjured  the  marshes  and  quicksands,  fears  not 
•.  to  be  torn  by  thorns  or  dry  twiars,  and  can  at  any  time 
double  the  speed  at  which  he  ordinarily  walks.  W  hether 
it  has  any  effect  on  the  character  cannot  be  decided;  but 
certain  it  is  that  these  people  are  distinguished  by  their 
jvild,  savage  nature.  They  have  a  horror  of  strangers, 
and  if  they  perceive  a  traveler  coming  toward  them  they 
hasten  to  "flee  into  concealment. 


Itt  the  lives  of  the  saddest  of  us  there  are  bright  day*, 
when  we  feel  as  if  we  could  take  the  great  world  into 
our  arms.  Then  come  the  gloomy  days,  when  the  fire 
will  neither  burn  on  our  hearths  nor  in  our  hearts,  and 
all  without  and  within  is  dismal,  cold,  and  dark.  Be- 
lieve me,  every  heart  has  its  secret  sorrows  which  the 
world  knows  not ;  and  oftentimes  we  call  a  man  cold^ 
when  he  is  only  sad.  Longfellow. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


43 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  SCIENCE ; 

OB  THE 

Raising  of  the  Great  Britannia  Tubular  Bridge. 


In  the  present  state  of  human  knowledge,  the  fountain-head 
of  mechanical  power  is  water.  It  drives  the  loom,  it  turns  the 
mill  and  within  it  the  motive  power  of  the  steam  engine  origi- 
nates. The  steam  that  arises  from  it  becomes  the  herculean 
power  that  carries  us  from  continent  to  continent  in  ten  days, 
and  from  ocean  to  ocean  in  six.  In  the  time  to  come,  electri- 
city may,  and  probably  will  be,  the  leading  motive  power  of 
the  world';  but  as  yet  we  have  not  been  able  to  handle  it  as  un- 
derstandingly  as  we  can  water,  and  probably  many  of  its  lead- 
ing principles  are  shrouded  in  mystery.  Water,  however,  we 
have  put  to  a  thousand  uses;  and  in  many  places  it  has  dis- 
played its  mighty  power  in  a  manner  well  calculated  to  fill  the 
mind  with  wonder  and  amazement.  How  few  there  are  who 
fully  realize  the  silent  power  existing  in  the  rain  drop  that 
falls  unnoticed  at  our  feet,  or  the  little  brook  that  ripples  on 
by  our  side. 

Now,  I  am  not  one  who  would  have  you  believe  all  the  stories 
about  the  "  Keely  Motor,"  and  other  miraculous  powers  that 
have  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the  sensational  papers  within 
the  last  year  or  two;  yet  I  would  say  receive  not  the  reports  of 
the  most  sanguine  and  enthusiastic  inventors  with  ridicule. 
Their  lives  have  been  given  to  the  object— yours  have  not;  and 
besides,  the  time  has  arrived  when  we  may  at  any  time  expect 
startling  discoveries  from  the  army  of  scientific  searchers  after 
truth  that  now  fill  the  grand  empire  of  science  and  enterprise. 
Remember  how  the  first  efforts  of  Columbus,  and  Fitch,  and 
Harvey,  and  Fulton,  and  Watt,  were  received;  and  yet  their 
genius,  with  the  aid  of  indefatigable  perseverance,  has  placed 
.,hem  at  the  head  of  the  shining  lights  of  the  world.  A^tnough 
the  efforts  of  Mr.  Keely  will  quite  likely  be  unsuccessful,  it  is, 
nevertheless,  a  step  in  a  direction  that  other  inventors,  perhaps 
^■"ng  after  he  is  dead  and  gone,  may  take  advantage  of,  and  by 
a  hmt  from  an  unfinished  machine,  startle  an  unthinking  world 
with  a  wonderful  discovery. 

It  is  a  fixed  principle  of  hydrostatics  that  an  amount  or  quan- 
tity of  water,  however  small,  may  balance  a  quantity  however 
great.  This  at  first  appears  absurd;  and  has,  therefore,  been 
denominated  the  hydrostatic  paradox.  The  secret  of  it  is:  the 
downward  pressure  of  water  is  not  according  to  the  mass  or 
quantity,  but  according  to  the  vertical  height.  Take  a  strongly 
hooped  cask,  or  cider  barrel,  and  fill  it  with  water,  and  insert  a 
vertical  tube,  thirty  or  thirty-five  feet  long,  in  the  top.  Fill 
the  tube  with  a  small  quantity  of  water,  and  even  though  the 
bore  be  no  larger  than  a  pipe-stem,  holding  no  more  than  a 

?faart  or  two  of  water,  the  cask  will  be  burst  by  the  operation; 
or  the  pressure  upon  it  is  equal  to  what  it  would  have  been 
had  the  tube  been  of  the  same  diameter  as  the  barrel.  Jack- 
screws  have  been  invented  for  raising  buildings,  etc.,  and  with 
them  whole  blocks  of  heavy  brick  edifices  have  been  elevated. 
Capstans  and  pulleys  have  been  invented,  and  with  them  pon- 
derous masses  of  stone  and  iron  have  been  raised.  But  the  hy- 
draulic press,  worked  by  the  pressure  of  water,  eclipses  them 
all.  Imagine  a  strong  upright  iron  cylinder,  partly  filled  with 
water,  within  which  works  a  closely  fitting  piston,  the  end  area 
of  which  is  a  thousand  square  inches.  Parallel  with  this  we 
VTill  suppose  a  small  tube,  fifty  inches  in  height,  bent  at  the 
Tlottom  and  inserted  into  the  large  cylinder  below  the  piston, 
in  order  to  give  free  communication  for  the  water,  the  end  sur- 
face of  the  interior  of  the  small  tube  being  only  one  square 
inch  in  area.  If  the  large  piston  is  not  allowed  to  press  upon  the 
water  in  the  cylinder,  the  water  will  instantly  find  its  own  level 
in  both  the  cylinder  and  tube;  and  hence  an  inch  of  water  in 
the  tube  balances  a  thousand  in  the  cylinder.  If  the  piston  is 
allowed  to  descend  in  the  cylinder,  it  will  force  the  water  out 
through  the  top  of  the  tube,  providing  it  be  not  too  high.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  a  small  piston  be  inserted  into  the  tube,  and 

{)ressed  downwards  to  the  bottom,  forcing  the  fifty  cubic 
nches  of  water  into  the  large  cylinder,  the  water  will  be  raised 
there,  forcing  up  the  large  piston  one-twentieth  of  an  inch.  If 
there  be  twenty-five  inches  of  water  in  the  tube,  and  the  same 
depth  in  the  cylinder,  the  cylinder  will  contain  25,000  cubic 
inches;  and  in  this  case  the  twenty-five  cubic  inches  in  the 
tube,  weighing  only  about  a  pound,  balances  the  25,000  cubic 
inches  in  the  cylinder,  weighing  about  a  thousand  pounds.  If 
the  small  piston  be  driven  downward  with  a  force  of  one 
hundred  pounds,  it  will  force  the  large  piston  upward  with  a 
force  of  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  or  fifty  tons;  and  if  the 
downward  pressure  upon  the  small  piston  be  a  thousand 
pounds,  the  upward  pressure  upon  the  large  one  will  be  a  thou- 
sand thousand,  or  five  hundred  tons;  but  in  either  case  the 
large  piston  will  be  raised  only  the  fortieth  of  an  inch.  The  larger 
the  surface  of  the  water  in  the  cylinder,  in  comparison  to  that 
in  the  tube,  the  greater  the  power  and  slower  the  lifting  mo- 
tion. Such  is  the  principle  of  the  famous  hydraulic  press— the 
most  powerful  machine  ever  invented  by  the  hand  of  man.  In- 
deed the  only  limit  to  its  power  is  the  strength  of  the  material 
of  which  it  is  composed. 

Perhaps  the  mighty  power  of  the  hydraulic  press  has  never 
been  more  strikingly  displayed  than  in  the  raising  of  the  cele- 
brated Britannia  Tubular  Bridge.  This  famous  structure  spans 
the  Menai  Straits;  a  narrow  passage  of  water  connecting  the 
Irish  Sea  with  St.  George's  Channel,  and  separating  the  Isle  of 


Angicsci*  from  the  Carnarvon  shores  of  North  Wales.  The 
noted  Menai  Suspension  Bridge  had  been  built  some  time;  and 
now  the  rapid  progress  of  steam  locomotion  was  demandin;^  a 
passage  way  across  the  ever  foaming  waters  from  cliff  to  clifl. 
At  first  it  was  proposed  to  appropriate  one  side  of  the  suspen- 
sion bridge  for  this  object;  but  this  plan  was  found  to  be  in> 
practicable.  A  new  br.dgc  must  be  built;  strong  enough  to  sus- 
tain the  heavy  loaded  train,  as  it  passed  with  undiminished  speed 
across  the  "great  tidal  chasm,"  on  its  aerial  trip  from  shore, 
above  the  tallest  whip  mast.  It  was  a  gigantic  work.  Who 
would  dare  undertake  the  task?  Robert  Stephenson,  son  of  the 
illustrious  George  Stephenson,  of  locomotive  fame,  was  the 
man  for  the  occasion.  He  proposed  a  bridge  of  two  cast-iron 
arches  of  450  feet  span,  each  arch  to  commence  50  feet  above 
the  surface,  and  be  100  feet  high  in  the  centre.  Its  cost  he 
estimated  at  £250,000,  or  $1,250,000.  The  plan  he  carried  to  the 
Admiralty  was  said  to  bespeak  one  of  the  most  elej^ant  struc- 
tures ever  erected  by  human  hands,  and  yet  it  was  rejected. 

The  great  engineer  went  away  with  bowed  head,  though 
nothing  daunted;  for  he  felt  that  the  resources  of  his  own 
mind  was  yet  adequate  to  the  work.  It  should  still  be  con- 
structed of  iron;  it  was  his  favorite  material.  Ere  long  his 
new  project  was  matured.  He  would  construct  enormous 
iron  tubes,  or  tunnels,  462  feet  in  length,  through  which  the 
railway  track  might  be  laid,  the  whole  of  whicn  was  to  be 
elevated  and  supported  upon  three  lofty  stone  pillars.  Having 
completed  his  design,  ana  satisfied  his  own  mind  that  such  a 
structure  would  be  strong  and  durable,  he  called  in  several  of 
the  more  eminent  English  engineers  to  aid  him  in  makin;^  esti- 
mates of  cost,  calculating  the  strength  of  material,  and.  best 
form  for  the  tube.  A  long  series  of  laborious  and  costly  ex- 
periments followed.  Small  tubes  were  made  of  different  forms, 
and  their  strength  tested;  and  at  length  the  problem  was 
solved,  and  the  proposed  plan  approved. 

Laborers  were  called  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  ar- 
rangements speedily  made  for  the  erection  of  the  colossal 
structure.  RIes  of  masonry  were  quickly  raised  on  either 
"'lore,  to  the  height  of  160  feet;  while  upon  a  rock  in  the  centre 
'if  the  straits  a  strong  tower  was  commenced.  The  outside  of 
the  tower  was  composed  of  148,625  cubic  feet  of  Anglesea  mar- 
ble; and  the  inside  of  144,625  cubic  feet  of  sandstone.  387  tons 
of  cast  iron  girders  and  beams  gave  it  additional  strength;  and 
when  it  was  completed  it  formed  one  of  the  greatest  bridge 
piers  in  the  world.  Its  base  is  fifty  feet  square,  embedded  m 
pure  Roman  cement,  laid  on  a  solid  rock  foundation;  its 
weight  upwards  of  20,(XX)  tons,  and  its  altitude  or  height  no 
leas  than  230  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  It  was  in- 
tended to  crown  this  great  central  tower  with  a  beautiful 
statue  or  figure  representing  science;  which  was  to  have  been 
fifty  feet  in  height,  and  composed  of  17,000  cubic  feet  of  stone. 
The  rapid  depreciation  of  railway  property,  however,  caused 
the  directors  to  abandon  this  magnificent  ornamental  design. 

On  each  side  of  the  land  ends  of  the  two  abutments  is  a 
beautifully  executed  couchant  stone  lion;  resembling  those  of 
the  ancient  ruins  of  Egypt.  Each  one  is  25^^  feet  long,  \2}4 
feet  high,  8  feet  wide  and  weighs  80  tons.  8,000  cubic  feet  of 
limestone  were  required  for  the  formation  of  the  four.  570,000 
cubic  feet  of  timber  was  used  for  scaffoldings,  in  erecting  the 
towers,  piers  and  abutments,  while  the  quarries  from  which  the 
stone  was  obtained  extended  along  the  Anglesea  shore  for 
more  than  twenty  miles. 

Meanwhile  preparations  had  been  made  for  the  construction 
of  the  tube.  An  immense  timber  platform  had  been  built,  and 
along  this  were  piled  rows  of  huge  iron  plates,  three-fourths  of 
an  inch  in  thickness,  two  feet  wide,  and  from  six  to  twelve 
feet  long.  All  was  now  animation  and  activity.  1,500  men 
were  at  work,  and  a  mushroom  city  extending  along  the  shore 
for  half  a  mile  was  the  result.  Shanties,  cottages,  sheds,  board- 
ing houses,  workshops,  and  engine  houses  coveted  acres  of 
ground.  The  scene  has  been  thus  described  by  a  correspond- 
ent of  the  London  Visitor:  "  The  spectacle  which  was  pre- 
sented during  the  progress  of  the  work  was  novel,  interesting 
and  impressive.  Shiploads  of  iron,  constantly  arriving  from 
Liverpool,  of  Anglesea  marble  from  Penmon,  of  red  sandstone 
from  Runcorn,  and  forests  of  timber  from  various  ports,  dis- 
charged their  cargoes  at  the  wharves  and  platforms;  and  wag- 
ons and  carts  incessantly  traveling  in  all  directions  on  tram- 
ways and  roads,  combined  to  form  a  remarkable  spectacle; 
while  vast  clouds  of  dark  smoke,  issuing  from  chimneys; 
steam  engines  always  at  work,  pouring  forth  volumes  of  steam 
high  into  the  air;  the  whirring  of  machinery,  the  explosion  of 
gunpowder,  the  thunder-like  clang  of  the  blacksmith's  ham- 
mers at  the  forges,  and  the  reverberation  from  those  at  work 
along  the  tubes  where  the  rivetters  were  securing  the  plates, 
formed  a  chaos  of  sights  and  sounds  which  it  is  easier  to  con- 
ceive than  to  describe." 

Every  part  of  the  work  was  carefully  inspected  by  the  ever 
Vigilant  eye  of  the  great  engineer.  Even  the  iron  plates  which 
appeared  so  true  aud  uniform  were  not  allowed  to  be  placed  in 
the  tube  until  they  had  passed  between  two  massive  iron  roll- 
ers worked  by  steam  power,  that  every  little  hump  or  bunch 
might  be  squeezed  down  to  a  perfect  smooth  surface.  The 
holes  for  the  rivets  were  made  by  a  strong  punching  machine, 
working  a  steel  bolt  with  a  pressure  of  from  sixty  to -eighty 
tons;  perforating;  the  iron  plates  as  though  they  had  been  mere 
paper.  Two  millions  of  rivets  were  used,  weighing  about  900 
tons,  and  requiring  126  miles  of  iron  rod  for  their  construction. 
The  constant  clang  of  the  heavy  hammers  heading  red  hot  riv- 
ets  made  a  confused  din  that  seemed  to  jar  the  atmosphere 
txom  mom  till  night.   So  strongly  were  thea^  cnade  that  each 


44 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


^ne  would  sustain  a  force  of  six  tons  before  it  would  give  way. 

At  length  the  great  tube  was  finished,  and  everything  made 
ready  to  convey  it  to  its  final  destination.  All  nations  knew  of 
the  event,  and  people  from  France,  and  Germany,  and  Aus- 
tria, and  the  United  States,  gathered  by  thousands  to  witness 
the  display  of  the  power  of  science.  Special  trains  from  all 
directions  came  loaded  with  human  freight,  to  swell  the  vast 
concourse  that  already  gave  to  the  whole  vicinity  the  appear- 
ance of  one  vast  encampment.  A  large  number  of  seats  had 
been  constructed  for  a  long  distance  along  the  shore,  affording 
a  fine  view  of  the  straits  and  of  the  field  of  operations;  and 
these  were  loaded  with  thousands,  while  thousands  more  stood 
further  back,  unable  to  obtain  a  seat.  The  hotels  and  boarding 
houses  in  all  the  neighboring  towns  were  full,  and  further  ac- 
«ommodatiQii  was  out  of  the  question.  It  seemed  as  if  swarms 
had  arrived  from  every  clime  and  nation,  with  hearts  beating 
anxiously  to  witness  the  unparalleled  achievement. 

A  portion  of  the  wooden  platform  had  been  cut  away  from 
the  ends  of  the  tnbe,  a  dock  arranged,  and  at  each  side  four 

fiontoons  had  been  sunk,  each  25  feet  wide,  11  deep,  and  about 
00  feet  long.  Their  combined  floating  power  amounted  to 
fully  3,200  tons.  Chains,  and  ropes,  and  immense  hawsers  of 
great  strength  were  attached,  running  off  in  all  directions, 
over  pulleys,  and  shafts,  to  great  capstans,  worked  by  hundreds 
of  men.  At  the  appointed  hour  a  hundred  seamen  took  their 
places  on  board  the  different  vessels  and  nine  hundred  others 
assumed  their  several  posts  elsewhere.  The  ponderous  iron 
tunnel  was  drawn  forward— the  valves  of  the  sunken  pontoons 
were  closed,  and  they  rose  to  the  surface  like  the  shoulders  of 
Atlas  to  receive  their  monstrous  load.  The  huge  mass  was 
afloat;  and  in  a  short  time  thereafter  it  was  conveyed  to  the 
foot  of  the  towers,  when  the  pontoon  valves  were  again  thrown 
open,  allowing  them  to  sink,  while  the  tube  slowly  descended 
to  its  prepared  place. 

,  Mounted  upon  the  summits  of  the  lofty  towers  were  enor- 
mous hydraulic  presses  weighing  forty  tons  each.  The  solid 
cast  iron  of  the  cylinders  were  no  less  than  eleven  inches 
thick;  and  it  was  estimated  that  if  it  was  used  as  a  forcing 
pump,  one  of  them  would  be  powerful  enough  to  throw  water 
in  a  vacuum  five  and  a  half  miles  high.  The  lifting  force 
amounted  to  2,622  tons.  Connected  with  the  top  of  the  piston 
of  the  great  Bramah  press  was  a  horizontal  iron  beam,  from 
the  extremities  of  which  hung  two  enormous  iron  chains, 
weighing  a  hundred  tons,  by  means  of  which  the  tube  was  to 
be  lifted  to  the  place  of  its  destination.  A  maze  of  huge 
chains,  and  hawsers,  and  ropes,  ran  off  in  different  directions, 
over  pulleys,  and  around  heavy  shafts  connected  with  capstans 
and  windlasses,  to  steady  it  and  keep  it  straight. 

Everything  being  prepared,  the  word  was  given  and  the 
steam  was  applied  to  the  two  forty-horse  steam  engines  to 
^ork  the  presses.  Slowly  the  great  piston  began  to  emerge 
from  the  cylinder— there  was  a  creaking  of  ropes,  and  clinking 
of  chains  as  they  were  drawn  to  a  powerful  tension— and 
then  the  mighty  mass,  weighing  no  less  than  1,800  tons,  Iipft 
its  bed  and  began  slowly  to  move  upward.  It  was  a  grand  tri 
umph  of  science,  and  for  the  moment  every  voice  was  hushed, 
and  the  multitude  stood  in  silent  amazement  before  the  won- 
drous displajr  of  the  power  of  water  and  the  hydraulic  press. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  had  been  elevated  six  feet,  and  then  it 
-stopped.  The  cylinder  was  full  of  water,  and  its  power  for 
further  elevation  was  at  an  end.  It  was  now  firmly  secured  by 
heavy  timbers  and  blocks  of  stone,  and  then  the  power  that 
worked  the  press  was  taken  off.  The  ponderous  piston  de- 
scended, the  water  was  forced  back  through  the  upright  tube, 
and  again  was  the  machine  ready  for  a  new  lift.  The  engines 
were  set  in  motion,  and  again  was  the  great  tube  hoisted  six 
feet  higher.  Again  and  again  was  this  operation  repeated,  and 
at  length  it  had  reached  an  elevation  of  thirty  feet.  So  great 
was  the  pressure  upon  the  cylinders  of  the  presses  that  the 
water  was  forced  through  the  pores  of  the  iron  and  stood  all 
over  the  outside  like  dew  or  sweat.  All  at  once  there  was  a 
sharp  explosion.  The  cylinder  of  the  largest  press  had 
bursted;  and  a  piece  of  solid  iron  weighing  three  thousand 
pounds  had  been  blown  off.  The  immense  tube  fell  suddenly 
through  a  space  of  seven  inches,  striking  the  timber  and 
masonry  that  had  been  built  up  from  underneath  as  it  had  been 
raised.  There  was  a  fearful  jar,  but  no  serious  damage  was 
done;  and  as  soon  as  a  new  cylinder  could  be  constructed  the 
work  went  on  as  before. 

The  final  lift  of  the  first  tube  took  place  on  the  13th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1849.  Others  soon  followed,  and  on  Tuesday,  the  5th  of 
March,  1850,  three  powerful  locomotives,  weighing  ninety  tons, 
gaily  decorated  with  the  flags  of  all  nations,  and  conveying  the 
celebrated  engineer  and  other  distinguished  men,  swept  across 
the  threshold  and  through  the  center  of  the  stupendous  fabric. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  grand  triumph  of  science  that  will  long  re- 
main a  monument  of  fame  to  its  illustrious  founder,  Robert 
Stephenson,  England's  great  engineer. 

Its  dimensions  when  finished  was  1,513  feet  in  length,  26  in 
height,  14  in  width,  and  its  elevation  was  more  than  100  feet 
Above  high  water.  The  weight  of  the  iron  in  the  tubes  alone 
was  over  10,000  tons,  and  1,400,000  cubic  feet  of  masonry  exists 
in  the  piers,  abutments  and  wing  walls.  Its  cost  was  £500,000, 
or  $2,500,000.  The  Victoria  Tubular  Bridge  across  the  St.  Law- 
rence, at  Montreal,  is  a  similar  structure  on  a  more  extensive 
scale. 

Lateriy  the  power  of  the  hydraulic  press  has  been  even  more 
strikingly  displayed.  Among  its  more  powerful  achievements 
may  be  mentioned  the  launching  of  the  Great  Eastern,  weigh- 
ing 12,000  tons. 


Some  Curious  Flowers. 

BY  BESSIE  LEE. 

What  wonderful  plants  and  flowers  have  bloomed  and 
died  in  obscure  quarters  of  the  globe,  unnoticed  but  by 
the  eye  of  their  Creator.  Many  more  have  been  known 
and  passed  by  unheeded  by  unappreciative  observers.  A 
gentleman  lately  saw  in  Turkey  a  flower  of  most  ex- 
quisite beauty,  which  was  a  perfect  representation  of 
the  humming  bird.  This  fairy  creature  has  often  been 
called  a  winged  flower ;  but  here  was  the  bird  itself 
transformed  into  a  blossom  and  growing  on  a  stem.  The 
breast  was  of  a  bright  emerald  hue,  the  two  outstretched 
wings  of  a  deep  rose  color,  and  the  throat,  head,  and 
even  eyes,  were  a  perfect  copy  of  the  bird.  The  lower 
part  was  of  deep  brown  tint,  and  here  the  seeds  were 
found. 

Florists  and  gentlemen  of  means  and  leisure  often 
spend  a  great  deal  of  time  and  labor  in  raising  new  spe- 
cies of  well-known  flowers.  An  English  gentleman  has 
succeeded  in  producing  a  curious  geranium ;  the  flow- 
ers, stem  and  leaves  of  which  are  all  white  like  trans- 
parent wax.  He  estimates  its  value  at  a  thousand 
pounds. 

The  night  blooming  jasamine  is  a  curious  flower.  By 
day  you  might  pass  the  humble  shrub  a  dozen  times 
without  notice.  The  greenish  yellow  buds  look  as  un- 
pretending as  a  row  of  tiny  candles,  and  are  entirely 
scentless.  But  when  evening  comes  on,  the  little  candles 
are  all  alight  with  beauty,  and  send  forth  a  perfume  as 
delicious  as  precious  censer.  With  the  dawn  of  day, 
they  begin  to  contract  and  to  gather  up  their  delightful 
fragrance,  shutting  it  up  in  some  mysterious,  hidden 
'casket,  and  they  prepare  for  a  long  sleep  while  others 
are  awake  and  stirring.  Kegular  aristocrats  are  these 
little  blossoms,  which  thus  turn  night  into  day  and  day 
Into  night.  The  evening  primrose  has  a  similar  fancy, 
and  opens  its  petals  at  sunset  with  a  snap,  like  a  very 
mild  type  of  torpedo. 


Japanese  Dentistry. 

An  American  dentist,  living  in  Yokohama,  sends  to 
the  Dental  Cosmos  an  account  of  the  Japanese  habits  in 
regard  to  their  teeth.  He  says  that,  as  the  young  women 
have  very  fine  teeth,  it  is  remarkable  that  they  should 
keep  up  the  bad  practice  of  blacking  them  after  mar- 
riage. The  Japanese,  as  a  race,  possess  good  teeth,  but 
they  lose  them  very  early  in  life.  "Their  tooth  brushes 
consist  of  tough  wood,  pounded  at  one  end  to  loosen 
the  fibres.  They  resemble  a  paint  brush,  and,  owing  to 
their  shape,  it  is  impossible  to  get  one  behind  the  teeth. 
As  might  be  expected,  there  is  an  accumulation  of  tar- 
tar which  frequently  draws  the  teeth  of  old  people. 
Their  process  of  manufacturing  false  teeth  is  very  crude. 
The  plates  are  made  of  wood,  and  the  teeth  consist  of 
tacks  driven  up  from  under  the  side.  A  piece  of  wax 
is  heated  and  pressed  into  the  roof  of  the  mouth.  It  is 
then  taken  out  and  hardened  by  putting  it  into  cold 
water.  Another  piece  of  heated  wax  is  applied  to  the 
impression,  and  after  being  pressed  into  shape  is  har- 
dened. A  piece  of  wood  is  then  roughly  cut  into  the 
desired  form,  and  the  model,  having  been  smeared  with 
red  paint,  is  applied  to  it.  Where  they  touch  each  other 
a  mark  is  left  by  the  paint.  This  is  cut  away  till  they 
touch  evenly  all  over.  Shark's  teeth,  bits  of  ivory  or 
stone  for  teeth,  are  set  into  the  wood,  and  retained  in 
position  by  being  strung  on  a  thread,  which  is  secured 
on  each  end  by  a  peg  driven  into  the  hole  where  the 
thread  makes  its  exit  from  the  base.  Iron  or  copper 
tacks  are  driven  into  the  ridge  to  serve  for  masticating 
purposes,  the  unequal  wear  of  the  wood  and  metal  keep- 
ing up  the  desired  roughness.  Their  full  sets  answer 
admirably  for  the  mastication  of  food,  but,  as  they  do 
not  improve  the  looks,  they  are  worn  but  little  for  orna- 
ment. The  ordinary  service  of  a  set  of  teeth  is  about 
five  years,  but  they  frequently  last  much  longer.  All 
full  upper  sets  are  retained  by  atmospheric  pressure. 
This  principle  is  coeval  with  this  art.  In  Japan,  den- 
tistry exists  only  as  a  mechanical  trade,  and  the  status 
of  those  who  practice  it  is  not  very  high.  It  is,  in  fact, 
graded  with  carpenters— their  word  hadyikfsan  meaning 
tooth-carpenter. " 

Fly  pride,  says  the  peacock.  Shakespeare. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


45 


ECLIPSES  OF  THE  SDN  AND  MOON, 


The  science  of  Astronomy  forms  one  of  the  most  interesting 
and  sublime  pages  to  be  met  with  in  the  whole  domain  oJ  the 
great  book  of  Natnre.  In  the  contemplation  of  the  heavens  we 
Behold,  not  leaves,  and  flowers,  and  trees,  and  animals,  but  we 
take  in  at  a  single  view  a  thousand  mighty  worlds  ;  whirling 
and  revolving  through  the  boundless  realms  of  space,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  unchangeable  laws  of  the  Almighty  Creator 
of  the  universe.  As  we  reflect  on  their  immense  distances  and 
vast  proportions,  and  speculate  on  the  hosts  of  animated  life 
they  may  teem  with,  we  realize  that  our  earth  is  in  comparison 
but  as  a  mote  of  dust  in  the  sunbeam.  Number,  and  distance, 
and  magnitude,  defy  our  comprehension.  We  observe  that 
everything  works  in  circles,  in  periods,  and  in  perfect  har- 
mony, without  clash  or  jar,  and  we  gaze  in  wonder  and  admira- 
tion upon  the  grand  display  of  the  eternal  power  of  God. 

As  we  look  back  on  the  dark  pages  of  the  world's  history, 
we  find  people  even  in  the  most  enlightened  nations  bowing 
down  to  the  sun,  moon  and  stars,  and  worshiping  them  as 
gods.  If  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun  happened  to  occur,  they  be- 
lieved in  their  ignorance  that  the  Lord  was  ofliended  ;  that  He 
had  hid  His  face,  and  shrouded  the  world  in  darkness;  and 
superstition  chained  them  with  mortal  fear.  Knowing  little 
of  astronomy,  and  the  laws  that  govern  the  planetary  worlds, 
they  looked  upon  the  whole  as  supernatural;  and  prostrating 
themselves,  they  ofllered  up  supplications  and  entreaties,  that 
the  threatened  calamity  of  everlasting  night  might  be  averted. 
At  the  time  of  the  Peloponnessian  war,  when  the  powerful 
Grecian  fleet,  under  command  of  Pericles,  was  preparing  to  at- 
tack Peloponnesus,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  occurred  which  threw 
the  whole  Athenian  army  into  the  wildest  consternation.  At 
)nother  time,  when  the  Medes  and  Persians  were  arrayed  in 
the  habiliments  of  war,  and  stood  ready  for  the  order  that  was 
to  usher  in  a  scene  of  carnage  and  destruction,  the  celestial  orb 
was  darkened  by  an  eclipse.  Alarm  seized  the  hearts  of  the 
brave  warriors  of  one  short  hour  before,  and  laying  their  deadly 
weapons  upon  the  ground,  both  sides  came  together  in  friend- 
ship, and  entered  into  a  treaty  of  peace. 

Thales,  one  of  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,  had  noticed  several 
facts  respecting  the  periodical  returns  of  eclipses,  and  he  pre- 
dicted that  the  sun  would  be  darkened  May  28th,  585  B.  C.  It 
occurred  accordingly;  and  the  Grecian  philosopher  was  looked 
upon  as  a  prophet;  while  the  war  that  was  then  raging  between  ' 
the  Medes  and  Lydians  was  speedily  concluded  by  peace. 
Hundreds  of  instances  might  be  recorded  where  eclipses  have 
been  looked  upon  by  the  ignorant  and  credulous  as  warnings 
and  forerunners  of  death,  calamity  and  disaster.  Thus  the 
eclipse  of  the  moon  that  took  place  July  16th  523  B.  C,  was 
thought  by  many  to  be  the  harbinger  of  the  death  of  the  Per- 
sian king,  Cambyses,  which  took  place  shortly  afterwards. 
The  solar  eclipse  of  August  31st,  431  B.  C,  was  thought  to  be 
the  forerunner  of  the  plague  at  Athens,  where  thousands  were 
swept  into  an  untimely  grave  by  a  horrid  disease.  On  the  30th 
of  April,  in  the  year  59,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  occurred,  which 
Nero  reckoned  as  among  the  prodigies  which  took  place  at  the 
death  of  Agrippina.  At  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Sara- 
cens, in  the  year  1009,  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place; 
thought  by  the  superstitious  a  sign  to  express  to  an  unbeliev- 
ing world  the  displeasure  of  the  Deity. 

A  knowledge  of  the  phenomena  of  the  heavens  has  often 
been  used  by  designing  men  to  impose  upon  the  credulity  of 
the  unenlightened  portion  of  mankind.  It  was  often  resorted 
to  in  ancient  times  to  impress  the  mind  with  fear,  in  order  to 
secure  obedience,  and  terms  in  war.  We  are  told  that  Colum- 
bus, when  wrecked  on  the  coast  of  Jamaica,  in  1503,  made  use 
of  his  knowledge  of  astronomy  as  a  stratagem  to  induce  the 
natives  to  bring  him  food  to  keep  off  the  horrors  of  starva- 
tion, while  his  men  worked  on  tksir  shattered  vessels.  Know- 
ing that  an  eclipse  of  the  moca  w«s  about  to  take  place,  he 
summoned  the  principal  chiefs  to  assemble  at  a  certain  spot, 
and  as  the  shades  of  evening  approached  he  appeared  among 
them.  It  was  a  calm,  beautiful  evening,  and  when  the  full 
moon  arose,  in  all  its  splendor,  shedding  its  silvery  light  over 
the  lovely  landscape,  the  scene  was  enchanting.  At  length 
Columbus  arose  and  spoke:  "  My  people,"  said  he,  "  have  met 
with  misfortune.  They  have  been  wrecked  and  blown  about 
by  the  angry  winds ;  and  now  they  are  suffering  from  hunger. 
They  have  never  harmed  the  children  of  the  forest.  They 
have  come  among  them  as  brothers,  and  you  refuse  them  lood, 
when  you  have  an  abundance.  The  Great  Spirit  you  serve 
looks  upon  such  proceedings  with  anger.  Look!  See  yonder 
resplendent  orb  riding  in  silent  majesty  across  the  clear,  blue, 
celestial  dome.  Ere  the  morning  dawns  it  shall  be  clothed  in 
black  darkness."  Some  received  his  words  with  contempt,  few 
believed,  and  a  few  noticing  his  earnestness  shook  their  heads 
in  doubt.  At  length  the  time  approached,  and  the  black 
shadow  of  the  earth  began  to  shroud  the  moon  in  darkness. 
Gradually  it  crept  over  the  face  of  the  round  orb,  and  the  oueen 
of  night  was  hid  from  view.  The  pleasing  landscape  was  no 
longer  visibleu  In  the  obscurity  of  the  night  an  appalling 
gloom  seemed  settling  over  all.  The  natives  were  horror 
struck.  They  were  conAdnced.  They  believed  every  word 
Columbus  had  told  them,  and  hastening  to  his  famishing  crew, 


with  large  quantities  of  their  best  provisions,  they  eagerly  be- 
sought him  to  intercede  with  the  celestial  Deity,  that  the  curso 
might  be  stayed  and  the  moon  restored.  Columbus  retired  foi 
some  time,  telling  them  he  would  consult  the  great  supreme 
luler  of  heaven;  and  when  the  time  had  nearly  arrived  for  the 
noon  to  emerge  from  the  earth's  shadow  he  came  forth  and 
i.old  them  he  liad  succeeded.  That  the  curse  would  be  re- 
moved; that  the  moon  would  shortly  come  forth  from  the  darfe- 
uess,  and  shine  as  bright  and  glorious  as  ever  in  her  accus- 
tomed place  in  the  heavens.  As  the  moon  once  more  appeurjd 
to  view,  the  Indians  clustered  around  the  old  astronomer,  be- 
lieving him  gifted  with  supernatural  power,  and  adoring  him 
as  they  might  have  adored  a  god.  They  promised  him  faithful 
obedience  forever;  and  from  that  hour  the  crew  of  Columbus 
lacked  not  for  food.  Thus  were  the  slaves  of  ignorance  often 
duped  by  the  power  of  an  enlightened  and  designing  mind. 

Through  patient  study  and  observation,  the  laws  that  govern 
the  movements  of  the  planetary  \vorlds  were  discovered;  and 
the  invention  of  printing  carried  all  that  was  known  to  the  re- 
motest bounds  of  civilization.  Men  consulted  no  longer  an 
oracle,  or  an  interpreter;  they  saw,  ana  thought,  and  reasoned 
tty  themselves,  and  for  themselves.  The  age  of  duplicity  be- 
came an  age  of  the  past;  for  a  knowledge  of  science  had  made 
the  mystery  plain.  A  few  facts  in  regard  to  eclipses  oi  me  sun 
and  moon  may  not  in  this  connection  prove  wholly  uninter- 
esting. 

First  let  us  know  what  is  meant  by  the  ecliptic.  If  a  circle 
be  drawn  upon  a  board,  or  any  other  flat  surface,  the  board 
or  other  flat  surface,  whatever  it  may  be,  forms  the  plane  of 
that  circle.  If  a  piece  of  pasteboard  be  laid  across  a  circular 
hoop,  it  forms  the  plane  of  that  circle.  Now  the  sun  is  the 
center  of  the  solar  system,  around  which  the  different  planets 
revolve.  The  earth,  in  its  yearly  course  around  the  sun,  per- 
forms a  great  circle  termed  its  orbit— nearly  190,000,000  miles 
across.  The  plane  of  this  great  circle,  at  all  times  passing 
through  the  cenjre  of  the  earth  and  sun,  is  what  is  known  as 
the  ecliptic.  The  orbit,  or  path  of  the  moon  in  its  course 
around  the  earth  intersects  the  ecliptic  at  an  angle  of  only 
about  five  and  one  eighth  degrees;  and  these  points  of  inter- 
section, which  of  course  are  opposite,  or  180  degrees  apart,  are 
denominated  the  moon's  nodes.  The  point  where  the  planet 
passes  upward  through  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic  is  known  as  the 
ascending  node,  represented  thus  ;  while  the  point  where  it 
passes  below,  or  south  of  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic,  is  known  as 
the  descending  node,  represented  thus.  Is. 

The  interposition  of  the  moon  between  the  earth  and  the 
sun  is  what  causes  an  eclipse  of  the  sun;  and,  therefore,  it 
must  happen  at  the  time  of  the  new  moon;  and  in  order  to  pro- 
duce an  eclipse  the  change  must  occur  within  seventeen  de- 
grees of  either  of  the  moon's  nodes.  An  eclipse  of  the  moon, 
IS  caused  by  the  interposition  of  the  earth  between  the  sun  aud 
moon,  obstructing  the  sun's  rays,  and  bathing  the  lunar  orb  in 
its  dark  shadow.  The  moon,  like  the  earth  and  other  planets, 
is  of  itself  an  opaque  or  dark  body;  and  when  another  dark 
body  gets  between  it  and  the  sun,  the  source  of  all  light  is  shut 
out,  and  an  eclipse  is  the  result.  The  full  moon  is  always  seen 
in  the  east  when  the  sun  is  setting  in  the  west,  the  earth  being 
betiveen  them,  and  therefore  a  lunar  eclipse  occurs  at  the  time  of 

f ull  moon;  but  in  order  to  produce  an  eclipse  the  moon  must  be 
nil  when  the  sun  is  within  twelve  degrees  of  either  node. 
Therefore  the  number  of  eclipses  of  the  sun  are  to  those  of  the 
moon  as  seventeen  to  twelve. 

The  moon's  nodes  are  not  always  at  the  same  points  on  the 
ecliptic,  but  are  constantly  moving  backward  at  about  the  rate 
of  nineteen  degrees  yearly;  hence  the  eclipses  take  place,  o?i 
an  average,  about  nineteen  days  earlier  each  year.  As  the 
nodes  are  exactly  opposite,  eclipses  must  take  piace  about  six 
months  apart.  By  looking  in  the  almanac  for  this  year,  you 
will  find  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  took  place  March  9th,  aud 
another  will  occur  September  3d.  An  eclipse  of  the  sun  hap- 
ened  March  25th,  and  another  will  take  place  September  18th; 
ence  you  observe  they  only  lack  six  or  seven  days  of  being 
six  months  asunder.  If  an  eclipse  occurs  in  June,  there  will 
certainly  be  another  at  the  new  or  full  moon  in  December,  or 
last  days  of  November;  and  if  an  eclipse  take  place  in  February, 
there  will  shortly  be  another  at  the  new  or  full  moon  in  August, 
or  the  last  days  of  July;  and  if  one  occurs  in  May,  we  may  look 
for  another  in  November;  and  so  on  continually. 

The  least  number  of  eclipses  that  can  occur  in  any  one  year 
are  two,  and  these  will  both  be  of  the  sun.  The  greatest  number 
are  seven;  in  which  case  five  will  be  of  the  sun,  and  two  of  the 
moon;  and  the  moon's  eclipses  will  be  total.  The  usual  num- 
ber are  four.  The  sun  is  never  totally  eclipsed  to  any  one  place 
longer  than  about  four  minutes;  but  the  duration  of  totality  in 
an  eclipse  of  the  moon  may  extend  to  an  hour  and  forty-eight 
minutes.  Although  less  in  number,  more  eclipses  of  the  moon 
are  visible  from  any  one  point  than  are  those  of  the  sun;  for  a 
lunar  eclipse  is  visible  from  a  whole  hemisphere,  while  a  solar 
eclipse  is  only  visible  over  a  small  region  of  country.  When 
the  moon  is  eclipsed  to  us,  the  sun  must  be  eclipsed  to  an  ob- 
server on  the  moon;  and  when  the  sun  is  eclipsed  to  the  in- 
habitants ot  the  earth,  the  earth  is  eclipsed  to  those  of  the 
moon.  An  eclipse  of  the  moon  always  begins  on  its  eastern 
side  and  goes  off  on  its  western;  but  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  be- 
gins on  the  western  side  and  passes  off  on  the  eastern.  Solar 
eclipses  which  take  place  in  March  pass  over  the  earth  in  a 
north-easterly  direction;  while  those  that  occur  in  September 
pass  over  in  a  south-easterly  direction.  Those  which  happe« 
u  June  and  December  pass  over  the  earth  in  an  eastern  direc- 
ion- 


46 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Astronomy  Is  a  deep  study;  and  to  calculate  eclipses  with 
scientific  accuracy  requires  considerable  mathematical  know- 
ledge; still,  they  occur  in  periods  of  such  regularity,  that  an 
understanding  of  these  will  enable  any  one  to  foretell  eclipses 
easily,  and  with  remarkable  perspicuity.  After  223  revolutions 
of  the  moon  around  the  earth,  the  sun,  moon  and  nodes  ao  not 
varv  half  a  degree  from  the  same  position  again.  This  period 
embraces  eighteen  years,  eleven  days,  seven  hours,  forty-two 
minutes,  and  thirty-one  seconds,  when  the  last  day  of  February 
in  leap  years  is  four  times  included;  and  in  this  time  the  same 
eclipses,  or  those  of  the  same  magnitude,  are  said  to  return. 
Hence,  if  we  wish  to  calculate  or  foretell  future  eclipses,  all  we 
need  do  is  to  consult  some  old  almanac  to  find  the  time  of  any 
eclipse  in  the  past,  and  to  this  add  the  above-mentioned  period, 
when  we  shall  have  the  time  of  a  similar  eclipse  in  the  future. 
Throwing  aside  the  hours,  minutes  and  seconds,  and  simply 
adding  the  years  and  days,  we  shall  have  come  within 
one  day  of  the  time,  which  is  even  nearer  than  some  of  the 
earlier  astronomers  used  to  reckon.  On  the  18th  of  July,  I860, 
there  was  a  large  solar  eclipse.  Add  to  this  eighteen  years  and 
eleven  days,  and  we  have  for  time,  July  29th,  1878,  at  which 
time  a  similar  eclipse  of  the  sun  will  occur.  Again,  on  the  6th 
of  June,  1872,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place.  Add  to  this 
eighteen  years  and  eleven  days  and  we  find  it  will  return  June 
17th,  1890.  If  you  happen  to  have  an  almanac  for  the  year  1858, 
which  is  eighteen  years  ago,  you  will  find  by  consulting  it  that 
similar  eclipses  occurred  that  year  to  those  that  occur  this 
year;  and  furthermore,  if  you  add  tbe  days,  hours,  etc.,  given 
m  the  above-mentioned  period,  to  the  times  of  eclipses  given 
in  the  former  almanac,  you  will  arrive  very  nearly  at  the  time 
or  date  of  those  given  m  the  almanac  for  1876.  To  tell  just 
where  the  eclipses  will  be  visible  in  the  future,  it  is  necessary 
to  know  where  the  sun  or  moon  may  be  shining  at  the  time, 
and  to  enter  deeper  into  mathematical  astronomy.  Enough 
has  been  shown,  however,  to  enable  the  most  crude  searcher 
after  truth  to  see  that  the  great  laws  that  govern  the  mighty 
works  of  nature  are  immutable  and  unchangeable.  That  they 
always  have  been,  and  always  will  be  the  same  while  time  en- 
dures ;  and  that  all  instruction  tending  to  darken  the  truth  of 
these  well-known  laws,  and  endeavoring  to  account  for  such 

Ehenomena  of  the  heavens  through  supernatural  agencies,  Is 
at  the  false  teachings  of  ignorance  and  design. 


Scenes  in  India. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

Says  a  delightful  writer :  We  crossed  the  Ganges  at 
midnight.  Moonlight  rested  on  the  Sacred  River,  but 
no  spice-lamp,  set  afloat  by  Hindoo  maidens,  starred 
the  silvery  tide.  There  was  no  sound  during  our  passage 
save  the  light  dip  of  our  oars,  and  the  shores,  shaded 
rather  than  brightened  by  the  light  of  the  setting  moon, 
seemed  hushed  in  slumberous  repose.  Once  across  day- 
light showed  the  country.  It  first  was  mostly  bare  of 
trees ;  but  ere  long  a  warmer  and  richer  scene  opened 
before  us.  The  brab  palm  spoke  of  the  neighborhood 
of  the  tropics.  Villages  appeared  shaded  by  banyans 
and  other  umbrageous  trees,  while  a  range  of  mountains 
lay  blue  and  distant  in  the  far  south-west.  Here,  as  in 
Egypt,  appeared  the  same  rich  foliage  of  the  trees,  the 
same  green  fields  of  wheat  and  barley,  and  the  luxuriant 
patches  of  blooming  poppies.  But  the  atmosphere  was 
different.  Here,  a  glowing  vapor,  softened  by  a  filmy 
veil,  suggested  langor  and  repose. 

Approaching  the  Saone  River  we  found  its  waters  roll- 
ing over  a  royal  bed,  but  the  season  of  drouth  was  now 
upon  it  and  only  blue  ribbons  of  water  threaded  the 
waste  of  yellow  sand. 

Nearing  tii>i  hilly  province  of  Belior,  we  found  an  un- 
dulating, uncultivated  country ;  and  a  chain  of  moun- 
tains in  front  began  to  enclose  us  in  their  jungles  which 
grew  to  tneir  vory  summits.  The  people  were  wild  and 
squalid,  and  different  from  the  races  of  the  plains. 

The  beautiful  sunset  among  these  woody  ranges  allow- 
ed the  mellow  rioonlight  to  melt  so  gradually  into  it, 
that  there  was  the  30othinf^  influence  of  continuous  twi- 
light. The  air  was  balmy  r.iid  delicious  beyond  descrip- 
tion, and  after  enjoviag  it  for  hours,  I  was  far  from 
being  satiated  with  tue  scene. 

In  Egypt  the  plains  were  level  with  mango  and  tama- 
rind trees  ;  here  were  the  gorgeous  West  Indian  growths. 
In  the  gardens  of  the  Europeans  the  Foinsettis  hung  its 
long  blue  streamers  from  the  trees,  and  the  Bowgaivillia 
raised  its  fiery  purple  blooms ;  the  streets  were  arched 
with  the  peepul  tree  and  the  feathery  cocoa  palm.  The 
bamboo  in  thickets  grew  around  the  native  huts,  above 
which  towered  the  bare  bough  and  scarlet  lily-cups  of 
the  cotton  tree. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Barrackpore  I  came  up  to  the  parade 
ground,  where  four  or  five  thousand  Sepoys  were  going 
through  the  morning  drill. 

And  now  speeding  down  the  grand  avenue  of  banyans 


and  peepuls  we  neared  Calcutta.  On  either  side  of  the 
road  appeared  gorgeous  gardens  surrounding  palatial 
residences ;  beyond  these  came  the  bamboo  huts  with 
thatched  roofs.  Presently  a  muddy  moat  appeared, 
which  having  safely  crossed,  I  felt  that  forebodings  and 
actual  perils  were  alike  past,  for  safe  inside  "  Mahratta 
Ditch,"  in  a  short  half  hour's  time  I  was  comfortably 
quartered  at  the  hotel. 


Straits  of  Magellan. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKB. 

As  these  straits  are  navigated  a  great  deal  by  out 
vessels  to  California,  a  description  of  them  may  be  in- 
teresting  to  some. 

The  straits  are  about  875  miles  in  length — their  couref^ 
forming  an  elbow,  or  two  sides  of  a  right  angle  triangle. 
The  distance  across  the  land  is  about  190  miles  ;  Cape 
Forward  being  the  southernmost  point  of  the  South 
American  Continent ;  the  Island  of  Cape  Horn  being 
over  100  miles  further  south.  The  straits  at  the  eastern 
entrance  are  between  six  and  seven  leagues  wide,  and 
have  from  sixteen  to  thirty  fathoms  water.  The  tide 
on  the  Atlantic  rises  about  sixteen  feet,  and  on  the  Pa- 
cific about  eight  feet.  The  passage  is  safe  for  vessels  of 
any  size,  and  the  navigation  pleasant  and  easy.  There 
are  many  safe  and  commodious  harbors  all  the  way 
through.  Wood  and  water  can  be  procured  with  ease, 
and  an  abundance  of  fish,  and  anti-scorbutic  vegetables, 
and  birds  and  deer  at  the  eastern  entrance.  The  land  is 
low  on  both  sides  like  a  rolling  prairie.  Towards  the 
middle  and  west  it  becomes  hilly  and  mountainous, 
some  part  of  it  resembling  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson 
river. 

The  country  is  well  peopled.  Near  the  eastern  end  of 
the  straits,  we  saw  about  200  Indians  on  horseback ;  and  to- 
wards the  western  end  we  were  visited  by  more  than  a 
thousand,  who  were  very  peaceable  and  friendly.  About 
120  miles  from  the  eastern  entrance  is  Port  Famine,  so 
named  by  the  English  navigator,  Cavendish,  who  in 
1585  rescued  the  only  survivor  of  a  colony  of  400 
Spaniards,  who  had  settled  here  in  1581  to  form  a  nu- 
cleus to  protect  the  Spanish  commerce.  The  place  was 
called  Phillipville,  in  honor  of  the  reigning  monarch  of 
Spain.  The  unfortunate  settlers  were  left  without  suf- 
ficient provisions,  and  did  not  pay  suflBcient  attention 
to  their  crops.  When  the  place  was  visited  by  Caven- 
dish he  found  only  one  individual  alive,  whom  he  car- 
ried to  England.  All  the  rest  had  perished  by  famine, 
but  twenty-three,  who  set  saU  for  Rio  de  Plata  and  were 
never  again  heard  of. 

Had  this  colony  been  composed  of  such  men  as  emi- 
grated from  Old  England  to  our  wUderaesses,  so  far 
from  suffering  famine,  they  would  have  converted  Pata- 
gonia into  a  fruitful  country,  and  Phillipville  would 
have  in  time  become  a  large  city.  It  has  a  fine  harbor, 
abundance  of  fish,  game,  of  celery,  and  the  finest  trees 
I  ever  saw :  oak,  beach  and  cedar,  five  or  seven  feet  in 
diameter.  Some  of  them  would  make  fine  masts  for 
line  of  battle  ships.  The  valleys  are  clothed  in  luxuri- 
ant verdure.  The  clover  fields  of  Pennsylvania,  if  suf- 
fered to  go  unmowed  for  a  few  seasons,  would  alone 
furnish  a  parallel. 

I  visited  the  ruins  of  Phillipville  in  1845,  and  found 
the  fort  erected  by  the  Spaniards ;  it  was  but  slightly 
decayed,  and  with  little  labor  could  be  repaired,  and 
would  command  the  straits.  We  also  made  an  excur- 
sion into  the  coaintry  which  was  very  interesting.  In 
the  night  I  was  aroused  by  a  loud  roaring,  which  we 
afterwards  discovered  to  be  a  South  American  lion. 


Force  of  Imagination. — At  a  large  dinner  party 
once,  the  poet  Rogers  was  speaking  of  the  inconvenience 
of  having  windows  formed  of  one  sheet  of  glass.  They 
look  as  if  there  is  no  glass,  he  said.  A  short  time  ago, 
as  I  sat  at  the  table  with  my  back  to  one  of  those  panes, 
it  appeared  to  me  that  the  window  was  open,  and  such 
was  the  force  of  imagination  that  I  actually  took  cold. 
Dear  me,  said  Babbage,  who  sat  opposite,  how  odd  it  is, 
Mr.  Rogers,  that  you  and  I  should  make  such  a  different 
use  of  the  faculty  of  imagination.  When  I  sleep  unex- 
pectedly away  from  home,  and  consequently  have  no 
nightcap,  I  should  naturally  take  cold.  But  by  tying  a 
piece  of  black  thread  tightly  around  my  head,  I  go  to 
sleep  imagining  I  have  a  nightcap  on,  and  catch  no  cold 
at  all. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD,  47 


The  Whale  and  the  Whale  Fishery. 


As  the  sea  or  ocean  covers  about  three-fourths  of  the 
earth's  surface,  we  naturally  look  within  its  depths  foi' 
the  largest  of  animated  beings.  Of  the  whole  circle  of 
the  known  animal  creation  there  is  nothing  that  can 
compare  in  size  with  the  whale.  There  are  several 
species,  prominent  among  which  may  be  mentioned  the 
Little  Beaked  whale,  20  or  30  feet  in  length  ,  the  Broad- 
Nosed  whale,  from  50  to  80  feet  long;  the  common 
Greenland  whale,  60  or  70  feet  long  ;  the  Sperm  whale, 
about  80  feet  in  length,  and  the  great  Rorqual  or  Razor- 
Backed  whale,  the  largest  inhabitant  of  our  planet; 
specimens  of  which  have  been  known  to  measure  35  or 
40  feet  in  circumference  and  over  100  feet  in  length. 
The  Greenland  whale  is  the  kind  most  sought  for,  as  it 
yields  more  oil,  and  is,  therefore,  in  a  commercial  point 
of  view,  more  valuable. 

The  head  of  the  Greenland  whale  is  from  15  to  20  feet 
in  length  and  10  or  12  feet  wide.  Its  enormous  mouth 
10  or  12  feet  high  in  front  and  from  13  to  16  feet  long, 
resembles  a  capacious  cavern,  large  enough,  when 
thrown  open,  to  contain  a  small  sized  dwelling  house. 
They  have  no  teeth,  but  in  their  place  are  fringes  of  a 
tough  elastic  substance  known  as  whale-bone.  Of  this 
they  have  about  300  blades  on  each  side,  about  12  inches 
wide  where  they  enter  the  gum,  and  often  15  feet  in 
length.  The  eyes,  which  are  scarcely  larger  than  those 
of  an  ox,  are  situated  just  above  the  corners  of  the 
mouth.  The  ears  are  not  visible  until  the  skin  is  re- 
moved, and  hence  its  hearing  is  very  imperfect.  On  the 
top  of  the  head  are  the  two  nostrils  or  blow-lioles. 
Through  these  columns  of  damp  vapor  are  sent  up  at 
every  breath.  Sometimes  two  columns  of  water  are 
spouted  forth  in  the  form  of  immense  jets  with  a  noise 
like  thunder,  which  can  be  heard  at  the  distance  of  sev- 
eral miles. 

The  color  of  the  whale  is  blackish  gray  ;  though  the 
throat  and  belly  are  generally  white.  The  skin  is  about 
an  inch  thick,  smooth,  and  free  from  scales.  The  tail, 
unlike  that  of  fishes,  is  horizontal  or  flat  upon  the 
water.  It  often  measures  25  feet  across.  This  huge  in- 
habitant of  the  Polar  Seas  is  popularly  spoken  of  as  a 
fish  ;  but  in  reality  there  is  nothing  about  it  resembling  a 
fish,  excepting  its  outward  form.  Its  blood  is  warm, 
which  is  unlike  that  of  fishes,  it  breathes  by  means  of 
lungs,  like  the  land  animals,  and  it  brings  forth  its 
young  alive  and  suckles  them  with  milk.. 

In  the  regions  where  the  whale  is  found,  shoals  of 
minute  fishes,  molluscous  and  crustaceous  animals, 
swarm  in  innumerable  hosts,  often  discoloring  the  water 
with  their  numbers.  Upon  these  the  whale  feeds.  He 
moves  among  them  with  wide  open  mouth,  and  millions 
of  the  tiny  multitudes  are  engulphed  between  his  pon- 
derous jaws  at  a  single  mouthful.  The  whale-bone  fringes 
Act  like  a  seive,  draining  olf  the  water,  and  he  swallows 
his  unresisting  prey. 

Directly  under  the  skin  is  the  blubber  or  fat,  which  is 
from  8  or  9  to  18  inches  in  thickness.  From  this  the  oil 
is  obtained ;  sometimes  to  the  amount  of  150  tons  from 
a  single  individual. 

Before  the  discovery  of  gas  and  petroleum  the  whale 
fishery  was  carried  on  more  or  less  extensively  by  almost 
every  civilized  nation  on  the  globe.  It  was  practiced  by 
the  people  of  Norway  as  early  as  the  ninth  century. 
About  the  twelfth  century  the  people  living  along  the 
shores  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay  entered  the  business  with  a 
view  to  commercial  profit.  They  may  therefore  be 
justly  styled  as  the  originators  of  the  whale  fishery.  The 
whales  which  at  that  time  abounded  in  those  waters 
were  of  a  small  species ;  and  not  only  was  it  captured 
for  its  oil,  but  for  its  flesh  also,  which  was  used  for  food. 
The  first  English  whaling  voyage  took  place  in  1594. 
Shortly  after  this  the  Dutch,  French,  and  Danes  took 
the  work  in  hand,  and  it  soon  became  a  business  of  no 
mean  pretentions.  In  1850  the  United  States  alone  em- 
ployed 600  vessels  and  about  16,000  men  in  the  whale 
fishery,  some  of  which  were  absent  in  the  South  Pacific 
Ocean  two  and  even  three  years  at  a  time. 

Whale  vessels  are  generally  built  of  from  three  to  four 
hundred  tons  burden  ;  and  if  they  are  bound  for  Bafiin's 
Bay  and  the  North  Atlantic  they  commonly  leave  this 
CQuntry  so  as  to  reach  the  field  of  operations  about  the 
Iftt  of  June.   The  crew  comprises  forty  or  fifty  men,  be- 


sides the  master  and  surgeon.  Among  these  are  founa 
coopers,  carpenters,  steerers,  line-managers,  harpooners, 
etc.  Six  or  seven  boats  hang  from  the  side,  each  ol 
which  is  provided  with  at  least  two  harpoons  and  six  or 
eight  lances.  None  but  men  of  sound  health,  giant 
strength  and  iron  nerve  dare  face  the  hardships,  perils 
and  dangers  of  the  whale  fishery.  Its  pursuit  and  cap- 
tfjre  form  an  exciting  scene,  not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 

As  soon  as  one  is  discovered  the  boats  are  quickly  let 
down,  and  the  men  taking  their  appointed  places  pull 
silently  though  swiftly  forward.  Carefully  one  of  the 
boats  approach  to  its  enormous  sides,  rising  like  a  huge 
wall  before  them.  Slowly  and  without  noise  the  har- 
pooner  rises  from  his  seat  and  takes  the  weapon  in  his 
hand.  This  consists  of  a  shank  with  a  strong  barbed 
head,  each  of  the  two  barbs  being  armed  on  the  inside 
with  other  barbs  in  a  reverse  position.  Attached  to  the 
shank  is  a  coil  of  rope  about  three-quarters  of  an  inch  in 
diameter  and  over  seven  hundred  feet  in  length.  A 
single  instant  he  balances  the  harpoon  in  his  hand,  and 
then  with  all  his  might  he  strikes  the  mighty  monster  oi 
the  seas.  This  is  a  dangerous  moment.  Surprised  and 
wounded,  Le  makes  a  r  ad,  convulsive  effort  to  escape. 
The  oars  are  plied,  anc'  the  boat  moves  quickly  back- 
ward ;  and  if  they  are  quick  enough  to  escape  being 
thrown  into  the  air  or  dashed  in  pieces  they  are  lucky. 
A  moment  he  dashes  the  water  right  and  left  in  his 
angry  writhings,  and  then  he  plunges  suddenly  down 
into  the  dark  waters  of  the  briny  deep.  The  rope  un- 
winds and  runs  over  the  side  of  the  boat  with  such  amaz- 
ing velocity  that  oftentimes  the  harpooner  is  enveloped 
in  a  cloud  of  smoke.  This  is  caused  by  friction,  and  to 
prevent  the  sides  of  the  boat  from  taking  fire,  buckets  of 
water  are  dashed  upon  it  and  upon  the  running  rope. 

Every  man  must  now  understand  his  business,  and  be 
ready  and  quick.  As  the  line  nears  the  end  another  is 
instantly  attached,  and  this  too  speeds  away  like  that 
before.  Great  care  must  be  taken  to  keep  clear  of  the 
running  rope ;  for  should  one  happen  to  become  en- 
tangled within  it  he  would  perhaps  meet  with  a  terrible 
and  untimely  fate.  Captain  Scoresby,  who  has  made  his 
name  famous  in  connection  with  the  whale  fishery,  men- 
tions several  instances  of  this  kind.  At  one  time  one  ot 
his  men  incautiously  slipped  his  foot  through  a  coil  of 
the  running  line.  It  fastened  around  his  ankle,  and 
dragging  him  quickly  to  the  boat's  stem,  snapped  his 
foot  off  in  an  instant.  At  another  time  a  harpooner  en- 
gaged in  lancing  a  whale,  thoughtlessly  cast  a  portion  of 
the  line  upon  the  bottom  of  the  boat  beneath  his  feet. 
Being  severely  wounded  by  a  weU  directed  lance,  the 
huge  animal  darted  suddenly  downward.  The  rope  be- 
neath his  feet  began  to  whirl  and  spin  out  with  amazing 
velocity.  AlA  at  once  it  caught  him  by  a  turn  around 
his  body,  and  like  lightning  he  was  hauled  to  the  edge 
of  the  boat.  "Clear  away  the  line,"  he  gasped;  "  Oh, 
dear !"  A  hatchet  was  seized  and  the  line  quickly  cut; 
but  it  was  of  no  avail.  The  poor  man  was  almost  cut 
asunder,  and  the  mangled  parts  of  his  body  were  hurled 
overboard  by  the  departing  line,  to  find  a  watery  grava 

Sometimes  the  whale  descends  to  the  depth  of  four  or 
five  thousand  feet ;  but  he  generally  rises  to  the  surface 
again  in  about  half  an  hour  to  breathe.  The  other  boats 
which  have  been  on  the  lookout  hurriedly  gather  about 
the  spot,  and  three  or  four  harpoons  are  quickly  hurled 
into  its  back.  Again  he  descends,  but  this  time  only  for 
a  few  minutes.  As  he  reappears  the  men  seize  their 
glittering  lances  and  close  around  their  victim.  The 
sharp,  glittering  steel  blades  are  wielded  by  powerful 
hands  and  with  deadly  aim,  and  they  are  plunged  deep 
to  the  seat  of  the  monster's  life.  Great  streams  of  blood 
spirt  forth  from  his  numerous  wounds,  and  the  sea  for  a 
great  distance  around  is  dyed  to  a  crimson  hue.  He 
writhes  in  agony,  and  his  contortions  are  awful.  His 
ponderous  taU  lashes  the  ocean  into  foam,  and  woe  to 
the  boat  that  is  unfortunately  struck  by  this  mighty 
animal  when  racked  by  the  convulsions  of  its  djing 
struggles.  Sometimes  they  are  smashed  into  a  thousand 
pieces,  and  again  they  are  hurled  into  the  air  15  or  20 
feet,  descending  perhaps  bottom  upwards,  while  the  men 
fall  into  the  sea,  to  buffet  wiih  the  cold  waves  for  exist- 
ence. Then  they  reaiiz-^  +he  perils  of  the  whale  fishery. 
The  shivering  men  are  geneially  picked  up  by  the  other 
boats,  and  the  batt>  is  continued.  Its  tail  is  now 
reared  aloft,  and,  violently  whirling,  descends  upon  the 
water  with  an  overwhelming  force,  with  a  sound  like  the 
discharge  of  a  regiment  of  musketry.   As  he  approaches 


48 


THE  GROlri-NG  WORLD. 


dissolution  water  and  blood  are  blown  forth  in  immense 
iets  from  his  blow-holes,  and  the  oil  that  exudes  from 
Lis  fatal  wounds  rises  upon  the  surface  of  the  bloody 
water.  The  ropes,  the  boats,  and  the  men  themselves 
are  drenched  with  blood.  The  struggle  has  perhaps 
continued  for  hours,  and  the  men  feel  weary  and  ex- 
hausted. But  the  contest  approaches  the  end.  Grad- 
ually the  whale's  power  weakens,  and  at  length  rolling 
upon  his  side  he  breathes  his  last  and  succumbs  to  the 
power  of  man.  The  flags  are  struck,  and  lifting  their 
caps  the  brave  whalers  give  three  lively  huzzas  that  ring 
lorth  over  the  ocean,  proclaiming  the  victory. 

It  is  now  towed  to  the  ship  and  lifted  up  in  the  water 
as  much  as  can  conveniently  be  done  by  heavy  tackles. 
The  men  now  put  sharp  spurs  upon  their  feet  to  prevent 
Shem  from  slipping,  and  walking  out  upon  the  vast  car- 
cass, with  enormous  knives  in  their  hands,  proceed  to 
cut  the  blubber  into  great  chunks  of  a  ton  or  more  in 
weight,  which  are  hoisted  on  board  by  means  of  hooks 
and  tackles.  Here  it  is  cut  up  into  pieces  of  about  a 
cubic  foot  in  size,  and  stowed  away  in  piles,  like  ranks 
of  wood  or  bark,  to  await  the  sickening  process  of 
"  trying  out,"  as  it  is  termed,  or  extracting  the  oil.  The 
Whale  is  turned  over  from  time  to  time  as  occasion  re- 
quires by  means  of  a  heavy  tackle  attached  to  the  mast 
and  worked  by  a  powerful  capstan.  When  all  the  blub- 
ber has  been  cut  away  and  the  whale-bone  taken  out 
and  hoisted  on  board,  the  "kreng"  or  skeleton  is  cut 
loose  and  allowed  to  sink.  As  soon  as  it  begins  to 
putrefy  the  mass  rises  to  the  surface,  and  floating  among 
the  icebergs  and  floes  furnishes  food  in  abundance  for 
birds,  bears,  and  wolves. 

Whales  have  been  captured  and  killed  in  less  than 
thirty  minutes ;  while  at  other  times  the  conflict  has 
lasted  forty  or  fifty  hours.  The  average  time  is  probably 
from  two  to  three  hours.  If  he  be  near  an  ice  floe  when 
first  discovered,  he  will  probably  make  for  it  as  soon  as 
surprised,  often  drawing  a  boat  after  him  through  the 
water  at  an  astonishing  rate  of  speed.  If  he  succeeds  in 
getting  under  the  ice  floe  he  is  probably  safe  from  his 
pursuers.  A  case  of  the  most  determined  resistance  on 
the  part  of  the  whale  is  related  by  Captain  Scoresby.  It 
was  struck  by  the  harpooners  of  the  "Resolution,"  of 
Whitby,  June  25th,  1812;  and  after  a  long  >,^hase  broke 
off,  taking  with  it  a  boat  and  twenty-eight  lines,  the 
aggregate  length  of  which  was  20,160  feet,  or  upwards 
of  three  and  three-quarter  miles.  They  soon  discovered 
the  animal  about  two  miles  away,  and  straining  every 
nerve  they  pulled  rapidly  forward  in  pursuit.  They  at 
length  came  up  with  it,  about  nine  miles  from  where  it 
was  first  harpooned,  and  the  attack  was  again  renewed. 
Again  it  fled ;  but  when  it  came  up  to  breathe,  a  mile 
further  on,  the  men  were  ready  to  meet  it.  Two  or  three 
more  harpoons  were  hurled  into  its  back,  and  then  the 
lances  were  seized  with  strong  hands  and  plunged  into 
the  vital  parts.  The  struggle  was  soon  over,  and  their 
victim,  which,  after  all,  was  not  very  large,  turned  upon 
its  side  and  floated  upon  the  water  a  lifeless  mass. 
Eight  boats  had  been  engaged  in  the  pursuit,  one  of 
which  had  been  lost,  together  with  thirteen  new  lines. 
The  whole  amount  of  line  withdrawn  from  the  different 
boats  was  no  less  than  31,320  feet,  or  nearly  six  miles. 


Two  BKOTHERS  named  Gaff  have  established  a  mam- 
moth hennery  in  Colorado,  ten  miles  from  Denver.  It 
covers  about  four  acres,  which  is  laid  out  like  a  village, 
with  streets  and  avenues,  along  which  are  built  long 
rows  of  houses  of  various  designs.  Regular  families  of 
hens  are  assigned  to  these  houses,  and  it  is  found  that 
they  quickly  domesticate  themselves  without  troubling 
their  neighbors.  The  population  of  the  village  is  about 
2,000,  divided  closely  into  social  cliques  of  Brahmas, 
Cochins,  Shanghaes,  and  Dorkings,  and  the  chief  pro- 
ducts are  eggs  and  spring  chickens.  Sundays  included, 
the  industrious  matrons  of  the  village  turn  out  daily 
from  forty  to  fifty  dozen  eggs,  which  are  sold  in  Denver 
for  from  forty  to  fifty  cents  a  dozen.  The  brothers  Gaff 
express  but  a  single  regret,  and  that  is  that  they  did  not 
found  their  colony  fifteen  years  ago,  when  eggs  brought 
$5  a  dozen,  and  a  spring  chicken  was  worth  a  penny- 
weight of  gold  dust. 

When  the  million  applaud  you,  seriously  ask 
yourself  what  harm  you  have  done :  when  they  censure 
you,  what  good.  Colton. 


Sponges. 

The  fine,  soft  Syrian  sponge  is  distinguished  by  its 
lightness,  its  fine  flaxen  color,  its  form,  which  is  that  of 
a  cup,  its  surface  convex,  voluted,  pierced  with  innum- 
erable small  orifices,  the  concave  part  of  which  presents 
canals  of  much  greater  diameter  ;  which  are  prolonged 
to  the  exterior  surface  in  such  a  manner  that  the  sunt 
mit  is  nearly  always  pierced  throughout  in  many  places. 
This  sponge  is  sometimes  blanched  by  the  aid  of  caustic 
alkalies  ;  but  this  preparation  not  only  helps  to  destroy 
its  texture,  but  also  changes  its  color.  This  sponge  is 
specially  employed  for  the  toilet,  and  its  price  is  high. 
Specimens  which  are  round  shaped,  large  and  soft, 
sometimes  produce  very  high  prices.  The  fine  sponge 
of  the  Grecian  Archipelago  is  scarcely  distinguishable 
from  that  of  Syria,  either  before  or  after  being  cleansed ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  weightier,  its  texture  is  not  so  fine, 
and  the  holes  with  which  it  is  pierced  are  at  once  larger 
and  less  in  number,  it  is  nearly  of  the  same  country  as 
the  former— in  fact,  the  fishing  for  it  extends  along  the 
Syrian  coast  as  well  as  the  littoral  zone  of  the  Archipel- 
ago and  Barbary.  The  fine,  hard  sponge,  called  Greek, 
is  less  sought  for  than  either  of  the  preceding ;  it  is, 
however,  most  useful  for  domestic  and  for  certain  indus- 
trial purposes.  Its  mass  is  irregular ;  it  is  of  a  yellow- 
ish color ;  it  is  hard  and  compact,  and  pierced  with 
small  holes.  The  white  sponge  of  Syria,  called  Vene- 
tian, is  esteemed  for  its  lightness,  the  regularity  of  its- 
form,  and  its  solidity.  In  its  rough  state  it  is  brown  in 
color,  and  of  a  fine  texture,  compact  and  firm.  When 
cleansed  it  becomes  flaxen  colored,  and  of  a  looser  tex- 
ture. The  orifice  of  the  great  channels  which  traverse 
it  are  rough  and  bristly.  The  brown  Barbary  sponge, 
when  first  taken  out  of  the  water,  presents  itself  as  an 
elongated  flattened  body,  gelatinous,  and  charged  with 
blackish  mud.  It  is  then  hard,  heavy,  coarse,  and  of  a 
reddish  color.  When  well  washed  in  water  it  becomes 
round  in  shape,  still  remaining  heavy  and  reddish.  It 
presents  many  gaps,  the  intervals  of  which  are  occupied 
by  a  sinuous  and  tenacious  network.  It  is  valuable  for 
domestic  use,  because  of  the  facility  with  which  it  ab- 
sorbs water,  and  its  great  strength.  Other  sorts  of 
sponges  are  very  abundant.  The  blonde  sponge  of  the 
Archipelago,  often  confounded  with  the  Venetian  ;  the 
hard  Barbary  sponge  called  gelina,  which  only  comes  by 
accident  into  France  ;  the  Salonica  sponge  is  of  mid- 
dling quality  ;  finally,  the  Bahama  sponge,  from  the  An- 
tilles, IS  wanting  in  flexibility,  and  is  a  little  harsh,  and 

I  so  is  sold  at  a  low  price,  having  few  useful  properties  to- 

'  recommend  it.  _ 

Telescopic  Views  of  the  Moon. 

By  means  of  a  good  telescope  a  very  distinct  view  may 
be  obtained  of  the  moon.  With  a  power  of  1,000  we 
are,  as  it  were,  brought  to  within  239  miles  of  its  sur- 
face, and  on  very  favorable  occasions  a  power  even  high- 
er than  this  has  been  applied.  With  the  highest  power, 
however,  yet  employed,  no  trace  of  any  inhabitants  has 
been  discovered,  though  any  large  towns  must  have 
been  seen,  did  such  exist  on  the  visible  side.  Even  to 
the  naked  eye  the  moon  presents  the  appearance  of  a 
rugged  and  uneven  surface,  and  telescopic  observation 
confirms  this  opinion.  We  find  that  in  many  parts  of  its 
surface  very  high  mountains  exist,  and  the  elevation  of 
many  of  these  have  been  measured  by  observing  the 
shadows  cast  by  them  when  the  sun  shines  obliquely. 
At  the  time  of  full  moon  these  shadows,  that  have 
hitherto  been  so  conspicuous,  disappear,  as  the  sun  then 
shines  vertically  upon  them.  Very  accurate  maps  have 
now  been  drawn  of  the  moon's  surface  on  a  large  scale, 
and  the  principal  mountains  have  received  names,  usual- 
ly those  of  celebrated  astronomers.  One  peak,  named 
Newton,  is  found  to  have  an  elevation  of  nearly  24,000 
feet,  and  several  others  are  very  lofty. 

There  are  few  defects  in  our  nature  so  glaring  as  not 
to  be  veUed  from  observation  by  politeness  and  good- 
breeduag.  Stanislaus. 

Melancholy  sees  the  "  latter  end"  of  things — things  as  they 
will  be,  and  not  as  they  are.  It  looks  upon  a  beautiful  f ace» 
and  sees  hut  a  grinning  skull. 

Do  not  be  frightened  away  from  any  pursuit  because  you 
have  only  a  little  time  to  devote  to  it.  If  you  can  have  notuing, 
more,  a  smattering  is  infinitely  better  than  nothing. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


49 


THE  ESCULENT  SWALLOW 

ob; 

BIBBS'  NESTS  AS  FOOD. 

In  Canton,  China,  whole  streets  are  occupied  by  vend- 
ers of  birds'  nests,  a  dainty  which,  rendered  in  soup  and 
jelly,  is  regarded  a  most  delectable  morsel.  This  nest  is 
the  size  of  a  small  tea-cup,  and  weighs  scarcely  a  half- 


I  its  family.    A  million  and  a  half  dollars  are  an- 
"  nually  expended  by  the  Chinese  for  this  luxury,  and 
hundreds  of  men  spend  their  lives  in  the  perilous 
work  of  collecting  the  nests  from  the  deep  caverns, 
frightful  cliffs,  and  overhanging  rocks. 

Edible  birds'  nests  are  found  for  the  most  part  m 
the  Southern  Archipelago.  The  chief  region  of  sup- 
ply is  that  comprising  Java,  Borneo,  Celebes,  and  the 
Sulu  Islands.  The  bird  which  produces  the  nests  is 
a  little  swallow,  hirundo  esculenta.  This  esculent 
swallow,  as  it  is  called,  is  slightly  bigger  than  a  blue 


THE  ESCULENT  SWALLOW  AND  ITS  NEST. 


ounce.  It  is  of  creamjr  whiteness,  and  fetches  twice  its 
weight  in  silver.  This  is  the  first  nest,  and  is  made  of  a 
gelatine  produced  from  the  body  of  the  bird.  When 
the  rapacious  hunter  turns  o^t  the  homeless  bird  and 
bears  ofE  the  prize,  the  little  architect,  being  unable 
to  secrete  sufficient  gluten  for  another,  mixes  in 
sticks,  feathers,  and  dried  grass.  These  also  find  a 
market  at  a  much  lower  price.  The  third  and  last 
nest  being  comparatively  worthless  for  food,  the  poor 
little  builder  is  allowed  to  retain  possession  and  rear 


tit ;  it  has  a  brown  back  ;  but  the  under  surface  oi 
its  body,  as  also  the  extremities  of  the  feathers  in  its 
forked  tail,  are  white.  Our  illustration  gives  a  very 
correct  idea  of  the  swallow  and  its  nest.  It  flies  with 
wonderful  speed  and  precision  ;  and  on  the  Java 
coast,  where  the  surge  breaks  wildly  against  the 
precipitous  and  cavemed  walls  of  rock,  the  little 
birds  may  be  seen  in  swarms  darting  hither  and 
thither  through  the  spray.  They  probably  feed 
on  fragments  of  molluscs  and  other  small  animal* 


50 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


which  abound  on  those  coasts.  As  you  watch  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  rising  and  falling,  you  notice  how  the 
holes  in  the  rock  are  now  concealed,  now  open  again ; 
and  the  little  creatures,  watching  their  opportunity,  dart 
in  and  out  with  lightning  speed.  Their  nests  are  fixed 
to  the  arched  roof  of  these  caverns. 

What  sort  of  a  thing,  then,  is  the  edible  bird's  nest 
that  ministers  to  the  taste  of  the  luxurious  Chinese  ?  It 
is  that  portion  of  the  fabric  which  serves  as  a  sort  of 
bracket  on  which  the  nest  itself  (made  of  grass,  seaweed, 
fibers,  small  leaves,  etc.)  is  built.  There  are  two  forms 
of  this  support,  one  flat  like  an  oyster  shell,  the  other 
deep  and  spoon-shaped.  It  is  a  transparent  mass,  some- 
what like  isinglass,  mother-of-pearl,  or  white  horn,  and 
is  of  animal  origin.  It  was  formerly  supposed  that  this 
gelatin-like  mass  might  be  prepared  in  the  bird's  crop, 
from  seaweed  and  other  marine  plants.  This,  however, 
is  a  mistake.  If  one  opens  the  animal's  stomach  about 
the  time  of  building,  it  is  found  to  contain  insects,  but 
no  vegetable  matter;  moreover,  in  all  species  of  the 
family  of  swifts,  the  crop  is  wanting.  Dr.  Bernstein  has 
found  that  at  that  season  the  salivary  glands  under  the 
tongue  are  enormously  developed.  On  opening  the  bill, 
they  are  seen  as  two  large  swellings,  one  on  either  side, 
and  these  chiefly  supply  the  material  in  question.  They 
secrete  a  viscid  mucous  substance,  like  a  concentrated 
solution  of  gum  arable,  which  can  be  drawn  out  of  the 
mouth  in  long  threads  ;  and  in  the  air,  it  soon  dries,  and 
^  found  to  be  the  same  as  the  bracket  material. 

When  one  of  the  little  birds  wishes  to  begin  building, 
it  flies  repeatedly  against  the  selected  spot,  pressing  each 
time  a  little  saliva  against  the  rock  with  the  tip  of  its 
tongue.  This  it  will  do  from  ten  to  twenty  times,  moving 
away  not  more  than  a  few  yards  in  the  intervals.  It 
then  alights,  and  arranges  the  material  in  semicircular 
or  horseshoe  form  on  the  rock,  continuing  to  add  saliva ; 
and  by  the  motions  of  its  body  from  side  to  side,  the  yet 
soft  saliva  is  forced  out  over  the  harder  parts,  producing 
those  peculiar  undulatory  bands  which  give  the  nest  a 
stratified  appearance.  It  is  thought  not  unlikely  that 
part  of  the  secretion  used  by  the  bird  comes  from  the 
largely  developed  glands  in  its  stomach  ,  also,  that  gela- 
tinous matter  picked  up  in  the  surge  ai'e  employed  in 
the  construction  of  its  nest.  The  Esculent  Swallow 
Dever  uses  the  same  nest  more  than  once,  and  that  for 
only  a  month ;  and  after  the  young  brood  is  flown  the 
aest  soon  decays  and  falls  to  pieces. 

We  have  now  to  consider  the  adventurous  work  of 
gathering  the  nests.  Crawford  states  that  none  but 
%ose  accustomed  to  the  dangers  it  offers  can  pursue  the 
occupation  of  collecting  these  nests  ;  for  they  are  only 
approachable  by  a  perpendicular  descent  of  many  hun- 
dred feet,  over  a  sea  rolling  violently  against  the  rocks. 
When  the  mouth  of  the  cave  is  reached,  the  perilous 
task  of  taking  the  nests  must  be  performed  by  torch 
light,  by  penetrating  into  the  recesses  of  the  rock,  where 
the  sMghtest  slip  would  instantly  prove  fatal  to  the 
adventurers,  who  can  see  nothing  below  them  but  the 
turbulent  surf,  making  its  way  into  the  chasms  ot 
the  rocks.  The  high  price  given  for  these  delicacies 
is,  however,  a  sufficient  inducement  for  the  gatherers 
to  follow  this  dreadful  trade. 

The  plucker,  with  nothing  on  but  a  cloth  round  his 
loins,  and  with  a  knife  and  a  netted  bag  at  his  side, 
takes  his  place  on  a  stage  (of  two  crossbars)  fastened 
to  the  end  of  a  rope,  and  is  let  down  against  the  face 
of  the  precipitous  rock.  With  the  left  hand  he 
graspc  the  rope  ;  in  the  right  he  has  a  rod,  with 
which  he  holds  himself  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
rock.  Thus  he  descends,  often  several  hundred  feet, 
amid  the  roar  of  the  breakers  and  the  swarming  of 
innumerable  birds.  When  he  has  come  opposite  a 
swrllow  hole,  he  makes  a  signal,  and  the  lowering  is 
stopped.  He  now  sets  himself  swinging — and  here 
frllows  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  operation — 
43,Tadually  increasing  his  width  of  swing,  till  he 
thinks  he  will  be  able  to  leap  off  into  the  hole,  and 
find  foothold  on  a  part  of  the  rock  which  he  has  pre- 
viously noted. — Should  the  venture  fail,  death  is 
certain.  The  man  has  generally  a  thin  cord  fastened 
round  his  body,  connected  with  the  rope,  so  as  to 
enable  him  to  pull  the  stage  to  himself  again. 
Sometimes,  though  rarely,  this  breaks,  and  then 


there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  a  bold  spring 
out  towards  the  dangling  stage.  But  so  fear- 
less and  practiced  are  the  men  that  they  gen- 
erally accomplish  this  fearful  leap  successfully, 
even  when  laden  with  their  booty.  When  the 
plucker  has  got  safely  into  the  hole,  he  cuts  off  the  nest 
with  his  knife,  and  puts  them  in  his  bag ;  for  those  high 
up,  he  uses  the  rod  with  the  knife  fixed  to  the  end  of  it. 
The  operation  demands  great  address ,  the  slippery 
rock,  perhaps,  hardly  affords  standing  ground,  and  the 
man  will  cling  with  hand  and  feet  to  the  little  cracks  or 
projections,  while  the  alarmed  birds  flit  to  and  fro  in 
the  gloom,  and  the  tumultuous  water  beneath  flashes 
with  phosphorescence.  The  plucker,  however,  knows 
his  work ;  and  when  he  is  sufficiently  laden,  he  draws 
the  stage  towards  himself,  mounts  it,  and  is  pulled  up 
by  his  companions.  Thereupon,  another  repeats  the 
operation. 

As  the  method  just  described  is  both  a  dangerous  and 
a  slow  one,  the  natives  adopt,  when  possible,  another, 
which  consists  in  fixing  a  rope  ladder  from  the  top  of 
the  rock  down  to  the  cavern,  and  also  a  sort  of  hanging 
bridge  of  rope  within  the  cavern,  either  running  round 
the  waU  or  passing  across.  The  internal  surface  of  the 
cavern  is  often  greatly  pitted  by  the  action  of  the 
weather,  presenting  a  spongy  appearance,  so  that  it  is 
not  difficult  to  find  points  for  attachment  of  the  ropes. 
AH  the  young  birds  and  eggs  found  are  crueUy  thrown 
into  the  sea.  The  best  harvest  is  in  the  months  of  July 
and  August ;  the  next  best,  in  November  and  Decem- 
ber ;  the  worst,  in  April  and  May.  After  they  are  pro- 
cured, they  are  separated  from  feathers  and  dirt,  are 
carefully  dried  and  packed,  and  are  then  fit  for  the 
market.  The  best  sort  in  China  are  sent  to  Pekin,  for 
the  use  of  the  Emperor.  The  labor  bestowed  upon 
them  to  fit  them  for  the  table  is  enormous  ;  every  stick, 
every  feather,  every  impurity,  whatever  is  its  Kind,  is 
carefully  removed,  and  then,  after  undergoing  many 
washings  and  preparations,  they  are  first  packed  in  bags 
of  bamboo  fiber  or  palm  bast,  and  the  merchants  again 
pack  them  for  the  market  (after  a  second  assortment)  in 
cases  containing  a  half  picul,  or  seventy  pounds.  China 
is  the  only  considerable  recipient  of  these  cases;  the 
cases  which  are  brought  as  a  curiosity  to  Europe  and 
America  are  hardly  worth  mention.  The  greatest  trade 
in  birds'  nests  is  done  with  Canton,  the  entire  import 
there  being  reckoned  at  168,000  pounds.  We  may  reckon 
on  fifty  nests  to  the  pound,  so  that  altogether  8,400,000 
nests,  or,  from  three  pluckings,  the  products  of  2,800,000 
pair  of  birds,  are  annually  introduced  into  China.  There 
are,  principally,  two  kinds  of  nests  distinguished  in 
Canton — the  mandarin  nests,  and  the  ordinary;  of  the 
former  or  perfectly  white  kind,  each  pound  costs  in 
China  twenty  to  thirty  doUars,  a  quite  exorbitant  price, 
compared  with  that  which  the  nest  pluckers  themselves 
receive  for  the  dangerous  work,  and  which  is,  at  the 
most,  only  ten  to  twelve  per  cent,  of  the  market  value. 
The  second  quality  of  nests  are  sold  at  half  that  price. 
The  nests  are  dissolved  in  water  or  broth,  and  so  taken 
as  soup,  or  are  made  into  a  soft,  delicious  jelly.  It  is 
highly  spiced  with  minor  substances.  This  forms  an 
entree  which  is  rarely  wanting  on  the  tables  of  the  wealthy 
Chinese,  and  never  from  that  of  the  imperial  court  of 
Pekin.  The  Chinpe  set  a  high  value  upon  it,  consider- 
ing it  one  of  the  best  stimulants ;  but  for  this  opinion 
there  seems  to  be  little  or  no  ground.  The  most  recent 
analysis  of  the  nests  we  owe  to  Professor  Troschel  of 
Bonn.  He  finds  that  the  material  does  not  consist  of 
specially  nourishing  or  stimulating  substances,  but  is 
quite  similar  in  constitution  to  any  animal  saliva.  Thus 
the  Chinese  pay  dearly  for  what  has  really  no  intrinsic 
value.  

Elies  are  nature's  little  scavengers.  Annoying  as  they 
are,  their  functions  are  essential.  A  few  would  not  an- 
swer— millions  are  required.  When  dead  carcasses  of 
animals  are  decomposing,  then  the  flies  are  busy  and 
prevent  the  atmosphere  from  becoming  pestilential. 


The  surface  of  our  bodies  is  covered  with  scales  like 
a  fish.  A  single  grain  of  sand  would  cover  one  hundred 
and  fifty  of  these  scales,  and  yet  a  scale  covers  five  hun- 
dred pores.  Through  these  narrow  openings  the  per- 
spiration forces  itself  like  water  through  a  sieve. 

EteAK  one  side,  and  you  will  be  in  the  dark;  hear  both 
sides,  and  all  will  be  clear.  Halibubton. 


THE  GRO IRVING  WORLD. 


Fall  of  Carthage. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKE. 

Carthage  was  a  most  beautiful  city,  full  of  magnificent 
temples  and  buildings,  and  altogether  one  of  the  richest 
places  in  the  world  at  the  time. 

Rome  had  long  been  jealous  of  it,  and  would  have 
gone  to  war  with  it  long  before  this,  but  that  the  sena- 
tors could  not  agree  about  it.  Now,  however,  the  Car- 
thagenians  having  made  war  on  one  of  Rome's  allies, 
the  Romans  resolved  to  destroy  the  town  altogether,  and 
to  make  the  people  remove  to  a  greater  distance  from 
the  sea. 

Much  caution  was  necessary  to  bring  this  about,  so 
they  agreed  to  weaken  Carthage  by  degrees,  and  when 
it  was  quite  helpless,  to  make  the  poor  people  leave 
their  comfortable  homes  and  go  and  build  themselves  a 
new  town. 

Xhe  Romans  at  first  expressed  no  violent  anger ;  but 
required  to  have  three  hundred  hostages  sent  to  Rome, 
who  should  be  the  children  of  the  senators  and  principal 
families  of  Carthage. 

When  this  was  made  known,  the  greatest  grief  was 
spread  through  the  town ;  but  the  deputies  had  promised 
to  submit  to  this  demand,  and  three  hundred  children 
were  torn  from  their  parents  and  sent  away  in  ships  to 
Sicily  ;  there  they  were  given  to  the  Roman  consuls. 

The  next  thing  that  was  heard  was,  that  a  Roman 
fleet  was  coming  towards  the  shores  of  Africa. 

Messengers  were  again  sent  to  Utica,  a  place  in  Africa, 
not  very  far  from  Carthage,  and  then  they  were  told  that 
they  must  give  up  all  their  ships,  their  arms,  and  every- 
thing that  had  been  useful  to  them  in  war.  This  terrible 
order  they  implored  to  be  excused  from ;  but  at  last, 
thinking  that  nothing  more  would  be  asked  for,  they 
a,greed  to  submit  even  to  this.  Commissioners  were  ac- 
cordingly sent  to  Carthage,  who  received  forty  thousand 
suits  of  armor,  twenty  thousand  large  engines  of  war, 
and  quantities  of  arrows,  darts,  and  other  weapons. 

When  all  these  means  of  defence  were  taken  away,  the 
Romans  thought  they  might  safely  declare  their  cruel 
intentions.  Then  they  told  the  deputies  that  it  was 
their  determination  to  destroy  Carthage  ;  that  the  Car- 
thagenians  should  leave  their  town ;  but  that  they  might 
go  and  build  on  any  other  part  of  their  lands,  provided 
the  place  was  ten  miles  from  the  sea.  Nothing  could 
exceed  the  surprise  and  grief  of  the  deputies  on  hearing 
such  a  harsh  sentence. 

They  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  and  tried,  both 
by  pity  and  by  reason,  to  move  the  tyrants.  They  bade 
them  remember  the  submission  of  Carthage,  its  weak- 
ness, and  how  unable  it  was  ever  again  to  ofEend,  or  be 
dangerous  to  Rome;  having  given  up  three  hundred 
children,  the  most  precious  blood  of  the  country  ;  they 
claimed  the  protection  which  had  been  promised  to 
them  ;  spoke  of  the  love  which  all  nations  bore  to  their 
homes,  and  to  the  temples  of  their  gods  ;  and,  in  short, 
used  every  endeavor  to  soften  the  hearts  of  their  mas- 
ters ;  but  the  Romans  refused  their  appeal,  and  ordered 
them  to  abandon  their  city  and  leave  the  shores  of  the 
sea. 

When  the  Carthagenians  heard  this  message  they  re- 
solved to  defend  their  city  to  the  last. 

They  pulled  down  their  houses  to  give  the  wood  to 
repair  the  docks  ;  brought  all  their  brass  and  iron  do- 
mestic utensils  to  make  armor  and  weapons  ;  and  even 
gave  up  gold  and  silver  to  make  up  for  the  want  of  other 
metals.  We  are  also  told  that  where  materials  for  ropes 
were  wanted,  the  women  cut  off  their  hair,  that  it  might 
be  spun  into  cordage  for  their  shipping. 

After  a  siege  of  three  years,  Scipio,  the  Roman  general, 
forced  a  way  into  the  town.  Even  thon  the  inhabitants 
would  not  yield,  but  defended  every  house  and  passage 
way  for  six  days  with  the  fury  of  despair,  setting  fire  to 
the  buildings  as  they  left  them. 

After  the  citadel  surrendered  the  temple  stili  remained 
to  be  taken.  This  was  defended  by  nine  hundred  de- 
serters of  the  Roman  army,  who  knew  they  hr.'i  no  mercy 
to  hope  for  ;  therefore,  when  they  found  they  could  hold 
out  no  longer,  they  set  fire  to  the  building  and  all 
perished  in  the  flames. 

When  the  temple  was  going  to  be  burnt,  Asdrubal, 
the  Carthagenian  general,  gave  himself  up  a  prisoner ; 
but  his  wife  would  not  submit,  and  carried  her  courage 
to  such  a  barbarous  length,  that  she  killed  her  children 
with  her  own  hand,  and  then  flung  herself  into  the  burn- 
ing ruin  along  with  their  dead  bodies. 


All  that  remained  of  the  once  magnificent  City  ut  Car. 
thage  was  then  set  on  fire  by  the  merciless  conquerors, 
and  the  soldiers  were  allowed  to  plunder  whatever  they 
could  find  or  take  away  from  the  wretched  inhabitants. 

The  city,  which  measured  twenty  miles  round,  burned 
for  seventeen  days,  and  was  so  entirely  destroyed  that 
not  a  stone  now  remains  to  show  where  the  great 
Carthage  stood.    We  know,  however,  from  a  description 
of  its  situation,  that  it  was  within  a  few  miles  from  where 
Tunis  now  stands. 
The  Romans  ended  by  being  much  more  cruel  and  un- 
enerous  to  Carthage  than  they  first  intended  ;  but  they 
ad  been  rivals  for  a  hundred  years,  and  all  their  bad 
passions  were  roused  against  i... 

Curiosities  of  Natural  History. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKE. 

Nature  is  full  of  wonders.  The  commonest  process  of 
reproduction  and  of  growth  comprise  mysteries  which  the 
human  mind  has  never  fathomed.  The  sprouting  of  a 
single  weed,  the  tints  of  the  most  humble  flowers,  the 
rugged  bark  which  clothes  the  oak  and  the  delicate 
vein  which  intersects  its  leaves,  fail  only  to  fill  uc  with 
astonishment  because  we  are  so  accustomed  to  phenom- 
ena, which  we  are  nevertheless  incapable  of  compre* 
bending.  Even  in  ourselves  how  many  mysteries  lie 
hidden  in  our  corporeal  being,  how  many  fathomless 
secrets  are  contained !  Few  reflect  as  they  cross  a  crowd- 
ed street  and  thread  their  way  between  the  hurrying 
vehicles,  that  the  failure  of  a  single  muscle  to  fulfill  its 
appointed  work  would  instantly  arrest  the  motion  of  the 
body,  and  expose  it  to  be  trampled  under  foot  or  crushed 
and  mangled  by  the  impetuous  animals  which  are  so 
confidently  disregarded  !  Few  are  aware  that  the  slight- 
est prick  of  a  pin  upon  one  point,  no  larger  than  a  pin's 
head,  of  the  spinal  marrow,  will  produce  death  more  in- 
stantaneous than  the  piercing  of  the  heart  or  of  the 
brain.  But  we  might  multiply  instances  of  marvellous 
provisions  in  our  own  system  without  lessening  percepti- 
bly the  number  of  instances  in  which  the  wonders  of 
Nature  are  to  be  seen.  We  prefer  to  illustrate  them  by 
one  or  two  simple  phenomena  in  different  walks  of  the 
animal  kingdom,  accessible  to  the  notice  of  every  one, 
and  therefore  very  generally  overlooked. 

The  aquaria  which  during  the  last  few  years  have 
familiarized  us  all  with  the  habits  and  appearance  of 
some  species  of  fish,  have  contributed  largely  to  a  re- 
moval of  the  ignorance  which  so  generally  prevailed 
upon  this  subject,  and  have  enabled  the  curious  to  wit- 
ness the  processes  of  nest-making  and  fecundating  which 
are  peculiar  to  different  varieties.  It  is  only  of  late 
years  that  anything  certain  has  been  known  concerning 
the  reproduction  of  fish,  and  nearly  all  our  knowledge 
on  the  subject  may  be  traced  to  a  poor  fisherman  in 
France,  whose  patient  investigations  resulted  in  discov- 
eries of  immense  value  to  his  country,  though  no  re- 
ward awaited  his  obscure  exertions. 

Some  score  of  years  ago  Remy,  a  peasant,  who  earned 
a  precarious  living  by  fishing  in  the  Vosges,  found  that 
every  year  the  stock  of  trout  was  sensibly  diminished, 
and  that  his  earnings  consequently  grew  less  and  less. 
He  determined,  with  a  resolute  intelligence  not  com- 
mon among  men  of  his  class,  to  investigate  the  habits 
of  the  fish,  and  for  years  he  devoted  himself  to  a  study, 
the  object  of  which  was  to  discover  some  means  of  ar- 
tificially propagating  fish  in  streams  where  they  had 
become  extinct  or  scarce.  All  night  long,  and  every 
night  through  many  a  weary  month,  he  lay  silent  beside 
the  quiet  pools  watching  the  movements  of  trout,  and 
perch,  and  sticklebacks,  and  a  dozen  other  species.  At 
length  he  grasped  the  entire  process,  from  the  making 
of  the  nest  to  the  final  hatching  of  the  young  fry  ;  ana 
his  discoveries  came  to  the  ears  of  men  of  science— 
Coste,  Millet,  De  Quatrefages  and  others — who  speedily 
turned  his  practical  experience  to  account  and  inaugu- 
rated the  science  of  pisiculture  in  France. 

Remy  died  poor ;  but  his  investigations  have  resulted 
in  the  foundation  of  great  establishments  for  the  propa- 

fation  of  fish,  by  means  of  which  the  rivers  and  lakes  of 
ranee  are  re-stocked  with  all  those  varied  species  which 
centuries  of  indiscriminate  havoc  had  rendered  nearly 
extinct. 

The  stickleback  frequents  pools  and  ponds  in  which 
aquatic  plants  are  to  be  found,  and  constructs  its  neat, 
with  mud,  small  stones,  sticks  and  other  material  among 
the  roots  of  the  plants. 


52 


THE  GROWING  IVORLL 


Manners  and  Customs  in  Mascat. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKE. 

I  had  taken  passage  at  Bombay  on  the  Indo-British 
mail  steamer,  Penang,  which  plied  semi-monthly  between 
Bombay  (India)  and  Bassora  (Lower  Mesopotamia), 
calling  at  the  intermediate  ports  of  Mascat  (on  the 
northeast  coast  of  Arabia),  Bundas  Abbas,  Linga  or 
Congoon,  and  Bundas  Abusheher  (three  seaports  on  the 
northern  or  Persian  coast  of  the  Persian  Gulf).  No 
sooner  had  the  steamer  reached  her  anchorage,  and  the 
chain  cable  rattled  down  into  the  deep  with  deafening 
noise,  that  echoed  loudly  through  the  narrow,  cliff- 
bound,  romantically  picturesque  harbor  of  Mascat,  than 
the  vessel  was  already  surrounded  by  a  shoal  of  balaams 
(long  but  very  narrow  canoes  hewn  out  of  a  solid  log  of 
teak  wood)  manned  almost  exclusively  by  athletic 
negroes,  clad  only  in  short  gaudily-colored  tights  (just 
like  our  bathing  drawers),  and  scarlet-colored,  coarse 
woollen  caps,  resembling  those  worn  by  the  Venetian 
and  Neapolitan  gondoliers. 

Nearly  every  canoe  contained  a  small  stock  of  indi- 
genous fruit  and  vegetables,  such  as  pomegranates, 
oranges,  lemons,  bananas,  figs,  dates,  cucumbers, 
onions,  leek,  egg-plant,  etc.,  which  these  negroes  tried 
to  dispose  of  to  the  passengers  of  the  steamer — fully 
three  hundred  in  number,  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages, 
all  natives  of  Asia  and  Africa  with  the  exception  of  the 
writer  and  another  cabin  passenger. 

Though  not  allowed  to  come  on  board,  the  fruit  ven- 
ders did  a  "roaring"  business,  and  those  who  had  dis- 
posed of  their  stock  offered  to  take  passengers  ashore 
for  a  mere  trifle. 

It  was  really  amusing  to  witness  the  eagerness  of 
these  negroes  for  business.  Each  one  wanted  to  be 
nearest  to  the  gang-way  of  the  steamer,  and  in  their  ef- 
forts to  accomplish  this  end  they  kept  up  a  terrible 
noisy  war  of  words,  occasionally  came  to  blows,  and 
every  now  or  then  one  or  the  other  of  the  darkies  would 
splash  into  the  water,  either  through  a  false  step, 
through  the  capsizing  of  his  canoe,  or  through  being 
knocked  overboard  by  an  opponent ;  b^lt  with  monkey- 
like agility  they  righted  their  canoes  and  climbed  aboard 
again.  Greatly  to  our  astonishment,  the  sharks,  which 
abounded  in  the  harbor— for  we  could  see  every  now 
and  then  one  of  these  monsters  quite  distinctly  from  the 
deck  of  the  steamer,  darting  through  the  limpid  water, 
and  almost  in  every  direction  did  we  spy  the  huge  dor- 
sal fins  of  these  hyenas  of  the  sea  sticking  out  of  the 
watery  mirror  and  glistening  in  the  morning  sun — did 
not  interfere  with  the  negroes  floundering  in  the  water, 
but  actually  kept  aloof  from  the  noisy  rabble. 

Aftfer  awhile  a  sail  boat  came  alongside,  and  a  well- 
dressed  Arab  stepped  aboard  the  steamer  to  receive  the 
mails. 

My  fellow  cabin  passenger— a  young  Englishman— and 
I  were  anxious  to  go  ashore  for  the  purpose  of  having  a 
look  at  the  interior  of  the  town ;  seldom  visited  by  Euro- 
peans and  Americans,  except,  perhaps,  the  captain  and 
the  crew  (always  well-armed)  of  an  occasional  European 
or  American  vessel ;  but  as  neither  the  captain  nor  the 
oflScers  made  any  preparations  to  go  ashore,  we  were 
loath  to  leave  the  vessel  at  the  risk  of  being  left  behind 
in  that  horrid  hole ;  notorious  not  only  as  the  filthiest 
hole  in  the  Orient,  but  also  as  one  of  the  hottest,  if  not 
the  hottest,  of  human  abodes  upon  earth. 

Luckily  for  us,  however,  the  steward  and  provision 
master — an  Englishman — made  the  timely  discovery 
that  he  was  short  of  fresh  provisions,  and  aware  of  our 
desire  to  go  ashore,  invited  us  to  accompany  him  to  the 
bazaar  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  requisite  pur- 
chases. Seizing  the  opportunity,  we  slipped  our  pis- 
tols into  our  pockets,  because  it  is  unsafe  for  a  Euro- 
pean or  American  to  venture  unarmed  among  the  wildly 
fanatic  population  of  Mascat,  which  to  this  day  is  in 
bad  odor  throughout  the  East,  as  being  composed 
chiefly  of  pirates,  slavers  and  slaves,  and  thereupon 
stepped  nimbly  into  one  of  the  numerous  balaams  still 
hovering  around  the  steamer.  But  we  came  very  near 
upsetting  the  treacherous  little  craft  in  getting  into  it. 

These  balaams  are  excessively  unsafe  boats,  fully 
twenty-five  feet  in  length  by  scarc^'y  two  and  one-half 
feet  in  width,  even  in  the  centre,  tneir  widest  part,  and 
perfectly  round-bottomed,  which  renders  them  so  cranky 
that  the  slightest  displacement  of  weight  from  the  cen- 


tre or  keel-line  of  the  boat  is  almost  sure  to  capsize  it. 

Sitting  down  with  extreme  caution  upon  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe,  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  are  neither 
seats  or  benches  of  any  kind  therein,  and  taking  scru- 
pulous care  to  deposit  yourself  exactly  in  the  centre,  is 
the  only  means  to  avoid  a  ducking. 

Although  not  afraid  of  an  involuntary  bath,  we  sat  as 
immovably  as  statues  in  the  canoe,  because  whenever 
we  cast  a  glance  upon  the  water,  we  saw  those  ugly 
sharks'  fins  plow  silently  alongside  of  us  through  the 
watery  mirror.  After  awhile,  however,  we  felt  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canoe  grating  against  the  sand,  and  found 
ourselves,  much  to  our  relief,  safely  landed  upon  the 
white,  sandy  beach,  but  breathing  an  atmosphere  highly 
suggestive  of  decomposing  animal  matter  in  our  imme- 
diate vicinity. 

We  had  no  sooner  stepped  out  of  the  canoe  than  we 
Were  literally  covered  with  the  well-known  carrion-flies, 
called  blue-bottles,  and  a  glance  over  the  beach  revealed 
to  us  large  heaps  of  fish-heads  from  the  size  of  an 
almond  to  that  of  a  bullock's  head.  In  fact,  the  entire 
refuse  of  the  extensive  fisheries  of  Mascat  lay  there  rot- 
ting in  almost  every  stage  of  decay  in  the  broiling  sun, 
while  clouds  of  flies  and  myriads  of  maggots  held  high 
revel  over  the  putrid  mass. 

Almost  fainting  from  the  appalling  stench,  we  rushed 
up  the  beach,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  tattered  and 
naked  loungers,  whom  apparently  nothing  but  their  in- 
tense curiosity  to  see  what  the  strangers  were  going  ta 
do  on  shore  could  induce  them  to  temporarily  abandon 
the  pestilential  eflaiuvia  of  the  beach,  which  seemed  noft'. 
to  incommode  them  in  the  least. 

We  entered  the  gloomy,  musty,  slovenly  town  through 
the  street,  or  rather  lane— for  a  passage  scarcely  eight 
feet  wide  cannot  well  be  called  a  street— which  separates 
the  Imaum's  palace,  a  very  plain,  oblong,  flat-roofed 
building  three  stories  high,  of  yellowish-gray  stone, 
facing  toward  the  ofling  and  lookhig  but  for  its  scanty 
iron-barred  windows,  like  any  ordinary  cotton-mill  or 
factory ;  and  the  Zenana^  or  edifice  where  the  ruler's 
harem  is  domiciled  ;  a  stnicture  similar  in  size  and  ap- 
pearance to  the  former,  though  not  quite  so  long. 
These  two  buildings,  divided  as  already  stated,  from 
each  other  by  the  narrow,  gloomy  lane  mentioned,  are 
by  far  the  largest  and  best  edifices  in  the  town  with  the 
exception,  perhaps,  of  the  residence  of  the  British  con- 
sul, or  as  he  is  officially  called  Her  Britannic  Majesty's 
Consul  and  Political  Resident  of  Mascat,  the  only  white 
or  civilized  man  in  the  town,  who  dwells  in  an  oblong, 
two  storied  flat-roofed  stone  building,  furnished  with 
large  windows,  piazza  and  balcony  facing  toward  the 
lamum's  palace,  from  which  it  is  separated  by  a  luxuri- 
ant, beautifully  kept  garden,  belonging  to  the  consul- 
ate, and  surrounded  together  with  the  latter  by  a  stone 
wall  about  twelve  feet  high,  nicely  whitewashed  like  the 
consul's  residence,  both  inside  and  outside. 

These  three  buildings,  namely :  the  Imaum's  palace  in 
the  centre,  the  Zenana  to  the  right,  and  the  British  Con- 
late  to  the  left  of  it,  form  the  entire  front  of  the  town  of 
Mascat,  toward  the  harbor,  and  undeniably  its  principle 
and  most  attractive  portion,  though  both  of  the 
imaum's  buildings  Took  intensely  bleak  and  gloomy 
along  the  snow-white  consulate,  faced  by  the  beautifii 
garden. 

The  entrance  to  the  Imaum's  palace  and  to  his 
zenana,  we  found  closely  guarded  by  small  bands  of 
mongrel  soldiery,  composed  of  Arabs,  Persians,  East 
Indians,  Malays  and  Negroes,  heterogeneously  armed 
"free  lances,"  some  of  them  so  profusely  weaponed  as 
to  approach  the  ludicrous,  and  to  cause  us  to  burst  out 
laughing  outright.  Although  fairly  groaning  under  the 
weight  of  their  multifarious  ornament,  most  of  them^ 
were  wretchedly  clad,  some  of  them  in  tatters,  and 
many  all  but  stark  naked.  In  one  respect,  howevei^ 
they  were  well  matched,  namely,  in  bearing  without  ex- 
ception the  facial  expression  of  the  genuine  ruflGian. 

The  suburbs  of  Mascat  are  inhabited  chiefly  by  negroes, 
Arabs  and  Persians  of  the  poorest  class,  who  live  in  the 
frailest  and  most  simple  huts  I  ever  saw,  as  they  are 
composed  merely  of  coarse,  stiff  mats  about  ten  feet 
long  by  seven  feet  in  width,  manufactured  from  the 
leaves  of  the  date  tree.  Two  of  these  mats  are  simply 
stood  upon  their  ends  slanting  edgewise  toward  each 
other,  and  in  that  position  sewn  together  along  the  ridge 
of  the  roof  thus  formed.  The  front  and  back  of  the 
hut,  composed  of  the  same  material,  is  thus  sewed  on 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


53 


the  same  manner — a  hole  left  for  the  entrance,  and  the 
hut,  ten  feet  long,  about  eight  feet  wide  at  the  base  and 
five  feet  high  at  the  apex,  is  ready  for  occupancy. 

The  bottom  or  floor  of  the  majority  of  these  huts  is 
the  soft,  dry  sand  of  the  desert.  In  fastidiously  gotten- 
tip  huts  a  piece  of  matting  is  laid  on  the  floor.  The 
furniture  of  even  the  best  of  these  huts  consists  of  a 
"sherba"  (water  urn,  of  common  sun-dried  clay)  and 
a  few  earthen  pots. 

In  and  around  these  wretched  dwellings  live  human 
beings — male  and  female,  old  and  young — the  adults 
scantily  clad,  the  minors  either  nearly  or  totally  nude, 
In  perfect  harmony  with  mangy  curs,  donkeys,  goats, 
sheep,  poultry,  etc.,  and  live  on  fresh  and  sun-dried 
fish  and  locusts,  as  well  as  on  the  scanty  fruit  and  vege- 
tables which  the  arid  country  produces. 

Fully  satisfied  with  this  population's  capacity  of  liv- 
ing cheap,  we  returned  through  the  gloomy  back-gate 
to  the  town,  where  all  the  dwellings  are  considerable 
better  than  those  just  described,  being  at  least  capable 
of  standing  a  slight  breeze,  if  such  a  thing  should  ever 
visit  Mascat,  so  effectually  pent  up  between  towering, 
perpendicular  rocks  which  form  a  natural  fortress  and 
almost  insurmountable  barrier  all  but  entirely  around  the 
town.  The  majority  of  the  buildings  of  the  town  are 
built  of  sun-dried  bricks  and  adobe,  flat-roofed,  and  be- 
tween ten  and  twenty-five  feet  high — those  along  the 
thoroughfare  of  the  bazar  being  generally  composed  of 
a  ground  floor,  or  rather  a  floor  about  three  feet  from 
the  ground,  with  one  story  built  above  it.  The  former 
is  used  as  a  store,  shop  or  magazine,  the  latter  as  a 
dwelling  for  the  occupants  of  the  house  during  the  short 
"monsoon"  or  rainy  season,  as  well  as  during  the  inter- 
val between  sunrise  and  sunset,  the  intense  heat  of  the 
day  rendering  it  impossible  to  live  upon  the  flat  roofs  of 
the  houses,  where  they  all  spend  the  nights,  and  whither 
they  retire  every  evening  as  soon  as  the  sun  is  near  setting. 

The  scantiness  of  windows  in  all  these  houses,  all  of 
them  iron-barred,  the  rude  masonry,  the  dull  color 
of  the  wall  and  the  narrow,  sinuous  and  filthy  thorough- 
fare, give  them  that  notoriously  sinister  aspect  charac- 
teristic of  the  majority  of  all  Oriental  tovms,  which  is 
only  partially  neutralized  by  the  glaring  colors  incident 
more  or  less  to  all  Oriental  costumes. 

Arrived  in  the  bazar,  our  steward  began  to  attend  to 
the  business  that  brought  him  hither  in  right  good 
earnest,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  bartered  for  the 
provisions  he  required,  and  the  quickness  with  which  he 
discovered  the  tricks  of  the  rascally  dealers  in  trying  to 
palm  upon  him  inferior  goods  or  cheat  him  by  short 
weight  and  in  the  exchange  of  money,  and  the  business- 
like way  in  which  he  dispatched  his  purchased  goods  to 
the  steamer  proved  him  to  be  "the  right  man  in  the 
right  place." 


The  Diamond. 

BT  FEBD.  N.  CARPENTEB. 

Forming  as  it  does  a  striking  contrast  with  the  im- 
menfie  amount  of  carbon  in  the  form  of  coal,  this  ele- 
ment is  found  here  and  there,  being  distributed  spar- 
ingly and  in  very  small  quantities,  equally  for  the  use  of 
man,  in  the  most  expensive  and  splendid  of  gems.  That 
the  diamond  is  pure  carbon  is  proven  by  burning  it  in 
oxygen,  the  residum  being  carbonic  acic,  a  compound 
of  oxygen  and  carbon,  the  same  as  when  charcoal  is 
burned  in  a  common  furnace. 

Pure  charcoal  and  anthracite,  consisting,  as  they  do, 
of  carbon  alone,  the  dissimilarity  existing  between  them 
and  the  diamond  is  found  merely  in  the  arrangement  of 
their  atoms ;  and  from  this  fact  wholly,  is  given  rise  to 
their  characteristics  being  chemically  of  the  same  sub- 
stance. 

Of  those  diamonds  which  are  colored,  the  coloring 
matter  is  mixed  thoroughly  with  the  carbon  in  the  same 
way  that  glass  is  made  of  various  tints  by  adding  some- 
thing to  it.  What  the  substance  is  that  produces  their 
color  has  never  been  positively  ascertained ;  it  being 
r)resent  in  quantities  so  small  as  not  to  be  detected  un- 
ess  a  considerable  amount  of  stone  were  burned,  which, 
from  its  scarcity  would  be  a  costly  experiment. 

Noticing  the  qualities  of  the  diamond  we  find  it  to  be 
the  hardest  of  known  substances,  and  an  exceedingly^ 
brilliant  reflector  of  light.  Its  lustre  is  peculiar.  Pre- 
tious  stones  which  are  inferior  to  it  in  this  respect  are 
«aid  to  have  an  adamantine  lustre. 


^  It  Is  commonly  colorless ;  but  sometimes  found  of 
red,  green,  black,  orange  and  yellowish  tints.  The  rose 
and  green  varieties  are  very  highly  prized  on  account  of 
their  color.  The  black  diamond  is  valued,  and  brings  a 
high  price,  because  of  its  rarity,  but  has  no  beauty. 

In  speaking  of  the  size  of  diamonds  the  term  carat 
is  used.  This  is  a  bean  found  in  Africa,  and  after  being 
dried  is  used  by  the  natives  in  weighing  gold,  and  in  In- 
dia in  weighing  diamonds.  Though  the  bean  is  not 
used  at  present  the  name  is  still  retained,  and  the  carat 
is  nearly  four  grains  Troy. 

The  largest  diamond  ever  found  is  in  the  possession  of 
the  Great  Mogul— in  shape  being  uniform,  and  resem- 
bling half  of  a  hen's  egg  in  size.  Its  weight  was  origin- 
ally 900  carats,  or  2,769  grains,  but  was  reduced  in  cut- 
ting to  861  grains.  Another  noted  stone  is  the  Pitt,  or 
Regent,  the  weight  of  which  is  419  grains.  Also  the 
famous  Kohinoor,  weighing  186  grains,  having  been  re- 
duced one  third  by  cutting. 

As  may  readily  be  inferred,  the  prices  of  these  pre- 
cious stones  are  enormous,  depending  on  the  weight, 
purity  and  color.  The  price  of  an  average  stone,  weigh- 
ing one  carat  after  being  cut,  is  about  $40,  and  for  one 
weighing  four  carats  $640.  The  Regent  is  valued  at 
$625,000. 

The  discovery  of  cutting  and  polishing  the  diamond 
is  accredited  to  Louis  Bergen,  of  Bruges,  in  the  year 
1456,  before  which  the  art  was  unknown.  Prof.  Dana 
gives  a  description  of  the  process  as  follows : — 

The  diamond  is  cut  by  taking  advantage  of  its  cleav- 
age, and  also  by  abrasion  with  its  own  powder,  and  by 
friction  with  another  diamond.  The  flaws  are  removed 
by  cleaning  it,  or  else  by  sawing  it  with  an  iron  wire 
which  is  covered  with  diamond  powder — a  tedious  pro- 
cess, as  the  wire  is  cut  through  s^ter  drawing  across  five 
or  six  times.  After  the  portion  containing  the  flaws 
has  been  cut  off  the  crystal  is  fixed  to  the  end  of  a  stick 
in  a  strong  cement,  leaving  the  part  projecting  which  ia 
to  be  cut,  and  then  another  being  prepared  in  the  same 
manner  the  two  are  rubbed  together  until  a  facet  is  pro- 
duced. By  changing  the  positions  other  facets  are 
added  until  the  required  form  is  obtained.  A  circular 
plate  of  soft  iron  is  then  charged  with  the  powder  pro- 
duced, and  this  by  its  revolution  finally  polishes  the 
stone.  To  complete  a  single  facet  often  requires  the 
!  work  of  hours.  The  expense  of  cutting  the  Regent 
diamond  was  estimated  at  $25,000,  and  the  filings  at 
$35,000  sterling. 

The  most  familiar  use  made  of  the  diamond  is  in  cut- 
ting glass.  It  is  also  used  for  lenses  in  microscopes. 
Those  stones  which  will  not  work  are  called  &ori,  and 
are  used  for  various  purposes — being  sometimes  splin- 
tered and  then  made  into  drills.  These  crystals  are 
foimd  in  some  parts  of  Africa,  India,  the  Island  of  Bor- 
neo, Brazil,  and  the  Urals  of  Russia.  Their  native  rock 
seems  to  be  quartz  limestone,  but  are  more  prevalent 
I  among  the  pebbles,  sands  and  washings  scattered  by  the 
brooks  and  rivers.  In  Brazil  these  sands  and  pebbles 
are  subjected  to  a  washing  through  a  system  of  boxes, 
and  the  diamonds  are  discovered  and  obtained  in  this 
way.  If  a  native  be  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  diamond 
weighing  seventeen  and  a  half  carats,  he  gaios  a  boon 
above  the  price  of  gems — the  boon  of  liberty. 


fe 


A  Natural  Phenomenon. 

,  On  the  banks  of  the  Castleman  River,  about  two  and 
I  a  half  miles  above  Confluence,  is  a  sight  which  is  well 
worth  the  trouble  of  going  to  see.  A  short  distance 
from  the  river,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  six  poplars 
are  growing,  the  place  enclosed  being  in  the  shape  of 
a  coffin.  For  about  six  feet  from  the  ground  the  six 
trees  have  a  common  trunk,  or  rather  root,  as  it  seems 
as  if  the  six  trees  in  the  enclosed  space  had  all  united 
solidly,  and  had  grown  out  of  the  ground,  carrying  the 
earth  above  them  up  along  to  the  height  named.  On 
climbing  on  the  top  of  this  common  trunk,  it  is  found  that 
these  poplars  must  have  been  planted  around  a  child's 
grave.  The  enclosed  space  is  about  four  feet  long,  and 
the  green  grass  is  growing  in  the  earth  there.  At  one 
end  is  a  grave  stone  witn  an  inscription  on  it,  which, 
however,  is  worn  by  time.  A  part  of  it  is  broken  off  by 
the  wear  and  tear  of  time,  although  it  would  be  thought 
that  those  sturdy  poplars  would  be  able  to  protect  Uiis 
small  charge  of  theirs.  No  one  knows  by  whom  tbd 
grave  was  made. 


54 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


How  the  Surface  of  the  Earth  Cnim- 
bles  Away. 

FOR   THE  BOYS. 

BY  W.  p.  BENNETT. 

Some  days  ago  I  was  in  the  oldest  cemetery  in  Ohio. 
The  headstones,  some  at  least,  had  been  standing  say  six- 
ty-five years,  and  indicated  decay.  The  sandstones  were 
much  worn  by  rain  and  storm.  Some  of  the  lettering 
was  gone ;  many  inscriptions  were  not  readable,  and 
designs  were  so  injured  I  could  hardly  tell  what  they 
were  intended  to  represent.  The  water  had  entered 
many  a  little  seam  and  crack  and  pushed  off  chips  and 
spalls.  The  iron  fences  were  deep  scarred  with  rust, 
and  the  marble  posts  had  lost  their  smoothness  and  were 
deeply  stained. 

I  passed  down  street  bv  a  church  with  stone  founda- 
tion and  brick  walls.  A  wild  vine  had  attached  itself 
to  the  wall  and  run  to  the  height  of  forty  feet  or  more. 
A  man's  weight  could  not  displace  it.  On  examination 
there  were  hundreds  of  wiry  tendrils  shot  out  from  the 
vine,  and  each  one  had  divided  into  four  or  a  dozen  fin- 
gers, and  the  end  of  each  finger  had  embedded  itself  be- 
tween the  grains  of  the  rock. 

I  passed  through  town,  and  over  the  hill  into  a  gorge  that 
had  been  cut  by  a  "run."  On  the  left  was  a  rocky  per- 
pendicular blun.  At  its  base  were  many  broken  stones. 
The  ledge  was  full  of  seams,  and  other  pieces  were  ready 
to  fall.  I  walked  out  a  country  road  and  halted  on  a 
bridge,  under  which  a  small  river  ran  quite  swiftly.  The 
water  was  real  muddy,  and  there  were  weeds,  and  old 
sticks,  and  chips,  and  limbs  of  trees,  and  here  and  there 
a  large  log  and  a  complete  tree,  with  root  and  branch. 
A  recent  rain  had  enlarged  the  river,  and  this  debris  had 
been  collected  along  the  banks  and  margin,  and  the  clay 
washed  from  the  hills  had  made  the  water  dirty. 

What  does  this  all  mean  ?  The  muddy  river,  the  bro- 
ken gravestone,  the  rusty  iron,  the  vine  on  the  church, 
and  the  falling  bluff  ?  It  means  decay  and  waste ;  it 
means  continual  change. 

There  are  powers  in  the  air,  in  the  water,  and  in  the 
plants  that  never  cease  their  work.  They  have  been  at 
work  thousands  of  years,  and  they  still  continue,  and 
will,  day  and  night,  winter  and  summer.  They  work 
not  only  in  Ohio,  but  throughout  the  whole  continent — 
all  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  over  every  plain,  on  every 
mountain,  and  in  every  valley. 

Some  of  these /orces,  boys  cannot  fail  to  notice  if  they 
open  their  eyes.  I  have  seen  boys  pass  by  very  wonder- 
ful things  in  Nature,  which  they  did  not  notice  more 
than  the  ox:  but  I  trust  the  young  people  who  read  the 
Growing  Wokld  see  many  beautiful  things  in  he'-  do- 
minions. 

Moving  waters — rain,  rivers  and  falls — are  great  work- 
ers on  the  earth.  The  rain,  falling  on  the  hills  and 
plowed  valleys  of  the  Missouri,  Mississippi  and  Ohio, 
gathers  immense  quantities  of  the  clay,  soil  and  sand, 
salt  and  lime.  The  rivers  themselves  have  cut  deep  pas- 
sages, and  their  waves  are  continuaUy  making  wider 
their  beds  by  undermining  the  banks  and  washing  away 
the  earth.  Thousands  of  acres  of  the  best  farming  land 
in  the  country  are  taken  away  yearly  by  the  Ohio  River. 
A  well  formerly  used  at  Fort  Harmar  in  early  times — say 
eighty  years  ago — is  now  many  rods  out  in  the  river  bed. 

In  other  countries,  mountainous  and  rocky,  where 
there  is  less  soil  to  absorb  the  rains,  the  waters  gather 
more  rapidly,  and  the  rivers,  having  a  greater  fall,  go 
rushing  and  tearing  along  their  beds.  In  such  rivers 
the /orce  of  the  moving  water  is  so  great,  large  rocks  are 
carried  forward,  rolling,  and  tumbling,  and  grinding 
against  each  other  with  a  thundering  sound.  This  mo- 
tion of  the  rocks  cause  a  continual  waste,  and  the  big 
ones  become  small,  and  the  small  ones  are  crushed  into 
sand,  and  the  fine  sand  and  silt  are  carried  into  the  bot- 
toms or  intervals  to  make  soil<,  or  into  some  lake,  or 
the  ocean. 

In  some  rivers  with  rocky  beds  and  banks,  like  the 
Mohawk,  a  rolling  stone  finds  a  cavity  into  which  it  falls, 
and  the  waters  set  it  to  whirling  and  wearing  itself 
away,  and  the  hole  larger  and  larger.  And  in  a  diy  sea- 
son numerous  such  cavities  can  be  seen,  holding  from 
a  single  quart  to  many  gallons,  and  contaiBing.a  highly 
polished  stone  that  done  the  work.  N 

The  falls  of  rivers  are  continually  wearing  <iway  the 
bank  over  which  they  roU.  At  the  base  of  the  £aLi  there 


is  often  a  softer  stratum  of  rock,  and  being  continually 
struck  by  the  ever  falling  water,  crumbles  out  and  under- 
mines the  ledge  above,  so  that  its  own  weight  and  the 
water  above  it  breaks  it  off.  In  this  way  the  fall— it  may 
be  but  a  few  feet  in  a  hundred  years — moves  up  the 
river.  In  the  last  estimate  that  has  been  made,  the 
Niagara  Falls  are  eating  back  through  the  ledge  of  shale 
and  limestone  about  six  inches  in  a  year. 

I  have  never  seen  the  sea  or  the  great  ocean,  but  have 
read  and  been  told  wonderful  things  of  its  power.  I 
can,  in  imagination,  see  its  mighty  waves,  and  hear 
their  everlasting  roar.  The  waters  thundering  in  its 
rocky  caverns  are  almost  a  reality.  The  beetled  rock,  the 
smooth-worn  ledge,  the  wrecked  vessel,  the  retreating 
tide,  the  white-capped  waves,  and  the  dashing  spray 
form  a  sublime  picture  in  my  mind.  What  a  fearful 
waste  and  destruction  must  always  be  going  on  along  th^ 
coast  line  of  the  sea  ?  The  moving  waters  roll  heavy 
stones  back  and  forth  with  a  grinding  motion  ;  wash  the 
dirt  from  every  crevice  in  the  ledgy  shore  ;  drill  cavernsr 
in  the  solid  wall,  and  bore  tunnels  through  some  pro- 
jecting head-land.  This  motion  is  not  only  for  a  stormy 
day  or  night ;  for  weeks,  and  years,  and  centuries  the 
waves  roll  on,  and  on,  and  never  cease  ! 

"  On  some  parts  of  the  coast-line  of  England,  where 
the  rock  is  easily  worn  away,  the  sea  advances  on  the 
land  at  the  rate  of  two  or  three  feet  every  year.  Towns 
and  villages  which  existed  but  a  few  centuries  ago,  have 
one  by  one  disappeared,  and  their  sites  are  now  a  long 
way  out  underneath  the  restless  waters  of  the  NortS 
Sea.  On  the  west  coast  of  Ireland  and  Scotland,  how- 
ever, where  the  rocks  are  usually  hard  and  resisting,  the 
rate  of  waste  has  been  comparatively  small." — Geikie. 

Other  forces  more  secret  than  the  waters,  but  as  effec- 
tual* will  be  considered  in  a  future  paper. 


The  Oldest  Human  Remains. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

In  the  Etruscan  Vase  Room  of  the  British  Museum  is 
to  be  seen  the  oldest  human  skeleton  in  existence,  ex- 
cepting, perhaps,  a  few  fragments  of  that  ancient  people 
known  to  modern  science  as  "  cave  dwellers,"  the  age  of 
which  is  a  matter  of  conjecture.  It  is  the  skeleton  of 
one  Pharaoh  Mykerinus.  It  is  decently  encased  in  its 
original  burial  clothes,  and  upon  the  fragments  of  the 
coflBn  which  encloses  it,  is  an  inscription  which  may 
easily  be  read  by  Egyptologists,  affording  conclusive 
evidence  that  it  once  contained  the  body  of  a  king  who 
reigned  in  Egypt  more  than  one  hundred  years  before 
the  time  of  Abraham. 

The  proof  of  this  statement  is  this  :  In  the  year  1864, 
Herr  Dumichen,  a  noted  German  archaeologist,  discov- 
ered a  large  tablet  on  which  was  a  list  of  all  the  Egyp- 
tian kings,  from  the  time  of  Mirraim,  the  founder  of  the 
Egyptian  monarchy,  to  that  of  Pharaoh  Seti  I.,  the 
father  of  the  weU-known  Rameses  the  Great.  This  tab- 
let gave  us  a  chronology  of  nine  centuries,  viz. :  from 
B.  C.  2300,  to  B.  C.  1400.  It  also  informs  us  that  the 
Pharaoh  Mykerinus,  referred  to  above,  succeeded  the 
builder  of  the  great  Pyramid  of  Ghizeh,  with  only  the 
reigns  of  two  intervening  kings. 

The  dates  of  several  important  epochs  in  the  history 
of  Egypt  are  accurately  determined  by  astronomical 
evidence.  One  of  these  is  the  time  when  the  Great  Py- 
ramid was  built.  Sir  John  Hershel  has  fixed  the  date 
of  this  at  B.  C.  2257,  or  forty-one  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  years  ago.  Thus  it  is  proved  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  that  we  have  the  remains  of  a  king  who  ruled 
a  large  empire  more  than  four  thousand  years  before 
any  one  now  living  was  bom. 

It  may  be,  as  we  have  before  hinted,  that  the  remains 
of  the  cave-dwellers,  or  possibly,  of  some  other  Egyp- 
tian mummies  which  we  possess,  are  older  than  this  ; 
but  it  would  be  a  very  difficult  task  to  prove  them  so. 
Were  such  an  attempt  to  be  made,  there  would  not  be 
the  slightest  basis  upon  which  to  build  a  theory.  Con- 
sequently we  are  justified  in  assuming  that  the  skeleton 
of  Pharaoh  Mykerinus  is  the  oldest  human  remains  in 
existence.   


1^"  The  last  census  of  the  Japanese  Empire  make* 
the  population  33,300,675,  an  increase  of  189,850  since 
the  previous  census  was  taken,  three  years  ago. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


55 


Birds  of  Tennessee. 

There  are  many  varieties  of  birds  in  this  latitude  (West 
Tennessee);  some  belonging  to  more  northern  or  southern 
climes,  whose  visits  are  occasional  or  periodical,  while 
others  are  to  the  "  manor  bom,"  or  rather  hatched. 
Among  this  large  and  numerous  tribe,  or  family,  we  can 
mention  but  few  which  might  be  considered  leaders  of  so- 
ciety, in  an  article  like  this  which  we  purpose  to  contri- 
bute to  the  readers  of  the  Growing  World.  Promi- 
nent among  this  few  is  that  splendid  songster,  the 
mocking  bird,  who  is  a  real  aristocrat  in  every  par- 
ticular— shunning  the  society  of  his  less  gifted  fellow- 
Bongsters  of  the  forest.  He  takes  up  his  abode  near  the 
habitation  of  man,  either  in  the  town  or  near  some  farm 
house  in  the  country.  The  older  the  plantation,  and  the 
more  aristocratic  the  surroundings,  the  more  he  seems 
to  delight  in  selecting  such  places  for  his  summer  re- 
treat ;  where  perched  upon  some  old  apple  tree  or  tall 
cedar,  or  in  some  thick  hedge  or  copse,  he  will  pour  out 
his  thrilling  song  for  ten  or  twenty  minutes,  rapidly 
varying  the  notes  which  imitate  almost  every  bird  in  the 
forest,  from  the  plaintive  cooing  of  the  turtle  dove  to 
the  shrill  cry  of  the  partridge,  whlppoorwill,  or  blue 
Jay,  interspersed  with  various  warbles  and  rich  musical 
sounds,  when  he  suddenly  breaks  off  his  song,  flies 
rapidly  away  to  some  neighboring  farm  house,  perhaps 
a  mile  off,  to  renew  it ;  like  some  fastidious  prima-donna 
who  thinks  one  song  for  an  audience  is  suflacient. 

The  mocking  bird  also  sometimes  favors  us  with  a 
song  in  the  night,  and  in  this  respect  resembles  the  En- 
glish nightingale.  I  have  frequently,  on  bright,  beauti- 
ful moonlight  nights,  in  the  months  of  May  and  June, 
on  awakening  from  slumbers,  listened  to  the  thrilling 
notes  of  this  delightful  songster,  perched  in  some  dis- 
tant tree  as  he  whiled  away  the  gloomy  hours  of  night. 
He  is  a  constant  visitor  with  us  here  m  the  summer,  and 
occasionally,  when  the  winters  are  mild,  remains  over 
during  the  season  ;  but  usually  seeks  a  more  genial  cli- 
mate farther  south. 

Another  splendid  songster  we  have  here  as  a  summer 
visitor,  is  a  species  of  small  wood  thrush — ^the  mavis  of 
Bums— quite  a  homely,  shy  bird,  that  in  his  habits  is 
much  the  reverse  of  the  mocking  bird,  as  he  prefers  the 
deep  solitude  of  the  forest  and  avoids  the  haunts  of 
men.  He  is  a  small  russet-brown  bird,  makes  his  ap- 
pearance with  us  usually  in  April,  and  a  delightful 
songster. 

In  the  early  morning  of  a  balmy  spring  day,  before  the 
sun  comes  forth  from  his  chamber  as  a  "  bridegroom,  and 
as  a  strong  man  rejoicing  in  a  race,"  the  plaintive,  mel- 
ancholy, yet  Bweet  and  delightful  notes  of  this  little 
homely  bird  may  be  heard  as  he  offers  his  morning  hymn 
to  the  God  of  all  creation,  much  resembling  the  word 
ju-bi-lee,  long  drawn  out ;  and  1  have  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  when  listening  to  his  moming  and  evening 
hymn,  just  before  some  glorious  sunrise  or  sunset,  al- 
most imagined  that  1  heard  the  chant  of  an  angel  band 
in  the  far  distant  ether,  sent  to  waft  the  spirit  of  some 
good  Christian  to  his  eternal  rest  above. 

We  have  many  other  birds  in  our  state  too  tedious  to 
mention  in  an  article  like  this — some  respectable  song- 
sters among  them  ;  among  which  we  might  mention  the 
robin,  the  loug-tailed  thrash,  or  thrasher,  the  red  bird, 
blue  bird,  cat  bird,  blue  jay,  partridge,  whippoorwill, 
wren,  oriole,  etc. ;  but  we  will  close  our  article  by  add- 
ing that  birds  are  doubtless  given  to  us  by  an  all-wise 
Creator  for  our  happiness  and  pleasure,  and  we  might 
do  well  to  appreciate  the  blessing  more  by  encouraging 
their  breed  and  growth  among  us  rather  than  to  declare 
a  war  of  extermination  against  the  harmless  creatures, 

-    ,  J.  F,  T, 

Wonders  of  the  Tide. 

BY  CORA  BELLE. 

There  is  something  wonderful  in  the  daily  coming  and 
going  of  the  tide,  however  familiar  it  may  be  to  us. 
Eight  years  familiarity  with  it  did  not  make  it  seem  less 
■wonderful  to  me.  One  cannot  b'Ct  '-ecall  the  remarks  of 
the  astonished  Western  man  on  his  first  visit  to  the  sea- 
board :    "  Two  freshets  a  day  and  not  a  drop  of  rain." 

But  in  some  regions  they  have  tides  that  would  make 
any  of  us  open  our  eyes  in  amazement.  Indeed  there 
seems  to  be  at  times  strange  spasmodic  commotions 

fomg  on  in  old  ocean  in  her  efforts  to  bring  to  time  all 
er  working  powers,  and  carry  on  all  the  many  offices 
^aid  upon  her. 


Near  the  equator,  vessels  crossing  the  Atlantic  fre- 
quently encounter  what  the  seamen  call  "tide  rips."  A 
great  commotion  goes  on  in  the  water,  even  at  a  time  of 
dead  calm.  A  great  wave  of  alarming  height  will  be 
seen  bearing  down  on  the  ship,  whose  idle  sails  are  flap- 
ping against  the  masts.  Its  roaring  noise  and  foaming 
crest  often  excite  the  fears  of  the  inexperienced ;  but 
with  a  momentary  jar  and  strain  against  the  ship's  side 
it  has  passed  on  and  out  of  sight. 

Similar  to  these  are  the  great  tidal  waves  of  India, 
which  occur  with  considerable  regularity  at  the  fall  and 
spring  equinoxes.  Such  occurrences  also  take  place  at 
the  Bay  of  Fundy  and  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon, 
where  the  sea  at  stated  times  comes  rolling  in  with  such 
rapidity  that  swine  feeding  on  mussels  by  the  shore  are 
often  overtaken  and  drowned  ;  and  even  the  fleet  deer, 
which  comes  down  to  the  banks  for  salt,  cannot  always 
escape. 

An  observer  thus  describes  this  remarkable  wave  as  it 
appeared  at  the  mouth  of  a  Chinese  river.  The  time  was 
known  and  the  busy  city  was  on  the  lookout  for  it. 
"  As  the  hour  of  flood  tide  approached,  crowds  gathered 
in  the  streets.  On  a  sudden  all  traffic  ceased  in  the 
thronged  mart  fronting  the  river.  Porters  cleared  the 
street  of  every  description  of  merchandise ;  boatmen 
ceased  loading  and  unloading  their  vessels,  and  put  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  stream ;  so  that  a  few  minutes 
sufficed  to  give  a  deserted  appearance  to  the  busiest 
part  of  one  of  the  busiest  cities  of  Asia.  The  centre  of 
the  river  teemed  with  crafts  of  all  sizes.  Loud  shouts 
from  the  fleet  announced  the  approach  of  the  flood, 
which  seemed  like  a  glistening  white  cable  stretched 
athwart  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  advanced  with  great 
velocity  and  a  thundering  sound,  assuming  the  appear- 
ance of  a  cataract  thirty  feet  high  and  four  or  five  miles 
across.  It  seemed  impossible  that  the  fleet  could  escape 
destraction ;  but  all  were  employed  in  keeping  their 
prows  to  the  wall  of  water,  and  when  the  fearful  mo- 
ment came  all  vaulted  it  with  the  skill  of  salmon.  The 
grand  and  exciting  scene  was  of  but  a  moment's  dura- 
tion. It  passed  on  its  way  up  the  river  with  ever  lessen- 
ing power  until  it  was  finally  lost  in  the  ordinary  current. 

"  A  few  minutes  more  and  the  usual  traffic  was  re- 
sumed in  the  wet  streets.  Women  and  children  hurry- 
ing about  to  pick  up  any  articles  dropped  in  the  confu- 
sion." ^  

SnbterraneoTis  "Walls. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

Antiqtiurians  and  historians  have  long  endeavored  to 
discover  who  first  inhabited  North  America.  But  the 
deeper  their  investigations  are  carried  the  more  distant 
appears  the  solution  of  their  problem.  In  almost  every 
state  are  found  evidences  of  an  ancient  civilization. 
Those  of  which  we  shall  speak  in  this  article  are  found 
in  the  central  part  of  North  Carolina.  They  consist  of 
two  stone  walls,  built  in  a  manner  which  might  put  to 
shame  the  work  of  any  mason,  and  with  a  mathematical 
precision  which  our  best  engineers  would  be  unable  to 
surpass.  Both  of  these  were  evidently  built  in  a  deep 
trench,  dug  for  the  purpose,  into  which  dirt  has  been 
washed,  completely  filling  it,  so  that  the  earth  must  be 
removed  in  order  to  obtain  a  view  of  them. 

The  largest  is  three  hundred  feet  in  length,  twelve  feet 
high,  and  twenty-two  inches  thick.  The  other  is  six  or 
seven  miles  distant,  and  is  forty  feet  long,  four  or  five 
feet  high,  and  seven  inches  thick.  They  are  built  of 
small,  irregular  stones,  weighing  from  four  to  six 

Eounds,  and  neatly  cemented  together ;  the  whole 
eing  covered  with  the  same  kind  of  cement,  which, 
when  wet,  has  the  fine  oily  feeling  of  putty.  Both  walls 
run  nearly  parallel  with  the  surface  of  the  ground  ;  the 
larger  being  about  twelve  inches  and  the  smaller  about 
eight  below  the  top  of  the  ground. 

These  walls  differ  in  many  respects  from  those  found 
in  Ohio  and  other  parts  of  the  country,  and  evidently 
were  made  by  a  different  nation ;  but  by  whom,  or  for 
what  purpose,  is  a  matter  of  conjecture.  It  is  possible 
that  the  largest  was  built  for  the  foundation  of  some  edi- 
fice which  was  never  completed  or  which  has  long  since 
been  totally  destroyed.  If  this  be  true,  a  trench  dug  at 
right  angles  to  this  wall  might  discover  another  similai 
to  it ;  but  this  supposition  cannot  apply  to  the  smallest, 
which  is  only  seven  inches  thick,  and,  consequently,  un* 
fit  for  the  foundation  of  any  building  which  would 
quire  a  wall  four  feet  in  height  and  forty  feet  in  length 
to  support  it. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THE  OLD-FOGY  MAN. 

He  was  a  queer  old-fogy  man, 

Aud  loved  old-fogy  ways : 
And  railed  against  ttie  reckless  speed 

Of  these  fast  modem  days. 
He  once  could  travel  leisurely. 

And  stop  his  friends  to  hail ; 
But  now  they  rushed  him  through  by  steam. 

And  rode  him  on  a  rail. 

That  good  old  coach  was  fast  enough 

For  prudent  folk  to  go ; 
Impatient  men  now  laugh  at  it, 

And  say  'twas  rather  slow ; 
And  so  they  rush  upon  the  train. 

And  speed  like  thought  away, 
Until  a  smash-up  breaks  their  bones ; 

He  thinks  it  doesn't  pay. 

He  loved  old  housewives'  spinning  wheels ; 

The  music  of  their  hum 
Was  far  more  dear  to  his  old  ear 

Than  grand-piano  thrum. 
But  ah  I  he  sighs,  those  wheels  are  gone 

Since  Whitney  made  his  gin : 
No  more  we  hear  their  thrifty  hum— 

No  more  the  sisters  spin  ! 

The  rosy  girls  of  olden  time. 

Sunburnt,  were  firmer  made 
Than  these,  the  late  tender  shoots 

That  grow  up  in  the  shade ; 
They  did  their  mother's  heavy  work. 

And  eased  her  weary  hands ; 
And  sometimes,  too,  if  brothers  failed 

Could  help  to  do  a  man's. 

Their  dresses,  made  with  easy  fit. 

Gave  not  a  pain  beneath ; 
Their  hearts  had  ample  room  to  beat. 

Their  lungs  had  room  to  breathe — 
Unlike  our  present  girls,  with  waists 

Too  much  compressed  and  slight, 
Who,  if  they  do  not  dissipate, 

Are  very  often  i '"  ' ' 


They  let  not  Fashion  dwarf  their  forms, 

But  grew  to  comely  size, 
And  health  shone  ever  on  their  brows 

And  sparkled  from  tbeir  eyes  ; 
They  thanked  kind  Heaven  for  all  its  gifts 

And  thought,  with  secret  pride. 
That  they  were  beautiful  enough. 

And  they  were  satisfied. 

But  now,  our  modern  girls,  alas  I 

Think  Providence  unkind 
For  putting  too  much  in  the  midst. 

And  not  enough  behind ; 


And  so  they  bustle  round,  and  lace, 

To  mend  such  clumsy  ways. 
And  think  they  far  outshine  the  girla 

Of  good  old-fogy  days. 

He  wished,  he  said,  for  their  sweet  sakea, 

That  Fashion's  torturing  vise 
Would  ease  them  up  a  little,  and 

Less  pinching  would  suflice ; 
That  they  might  feel  the  bounding  health 

Around  the  heart  that  plays. 
When  all  unfettered  as  it  was 

In  good  old-fogy  days. 

Carnivorous  Plants. 

There  is  a  plant  indigenous  to  our  Southern  States, 
known  as  Dioncea  mvscipvla,  or  Venus's  fly-trap,  that  has 
each  of  its  leaves  terminated  by  a  two-lobed  appendage 
about  half  an  inch  long  and  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
wide.  The  edge  of  each  lobe  is  furnished  with  stout 
fimbriae,  or,  perhaps  more  properly  speaking,  a  set  of 
claws.  On  the  face  of  each  lobe  are  also  three  minute 
bristles  triangularly  arranged.  These  lobes  lie  open  and 
flat,  and  then  the  appendage  closely  resembles  an  old- 
fashioned  spring  rat-trap.  Whenever  a  fly  or  other  in- 
sect lights  upon  this  trap  it  immediately  closes  upon  it, 
and  remains  shut  for  a  few  days,  and  then  gradually 
opens,  when  nothing  of  the  fly  will  be  found  but  its 
skeleton,  all  the  soft  parts  having  disappeared,  being 
absorbed  or  digested  by  the  plant. 

Why  this  should  be  was  a  mystery  to  botanists,  but 
some  recent  investigations  show  that  the  plant  will  also 
absorb  or  digest  the  juices  of  raw  meat  in  the  same 
manner,  rejecting  the  fibrine  as  it  does  the  skeleton  of 
the  fly.  It  is  also  found  that  the  points  of  the  bristles 
are  analogous  to  those  of  the  tips  of  the  nerves  found 
under  the  skin  of  animals,  and  furt,her,  that  there  is  an 
electric  or  galvanic  action  takes  place  similar  to  that 
which  ensues  in  animals  when  action  on  the  muscles  is 
produced  through  the  nerves.  As  there  is  no  spring  or 
mechanical  arrangement  which  would  account  for  the 
closing  and  opening  of  the  trap,  we  are  led  to  infer  that 
this  action  must  be  produced  by  the  irritability  of  the 
nerves,  and  if  the  analogy  be  correct,  there  must  also  be 
something  equivalent  to  muscular  action  and  the  diges- 
tive powers  of  the  stomach  in  animals,  and  the  plant 
must  be  endowed  with  some  low  form  of  sentient  me. 

Akin  to  this  plant  are  the  Broseras,  or  sundews,  com- 
mon in  boggy  places  in  our  Northern  and  Western 
States.  These  plants  have  their  leaves  furnished  with 
small,  delicate,  reddish  bristles,  on  the  apex  of  each  of 
which  is  a  gland  that  exudes  a  clear  liquid  like  dew, 
hence  the  name.  These  plants  also  appear  to  be  carnivo- 
rous, for  if  an  insect  or  piece  of  meat  is  placed  on  them, 
the  bristles  close  upon  it,  like  the  clasped  fingers  on  the 
palm  of  the  hand,  when  similar  action  takes  place  as 
in  the  Dioncea:  but  if  a  small  pebble  or  piece  of  wood  is 
placed  upon  the  leaf,  the  bristles  do  not  clasp  it,  and  no 
motion  or  other  action  takes  place. 

In  another  genus — viz.,  the  Sarracenia,  side-saddle 
flower,  huntsman  cup,  or  American  pitcher-plant,  as  it 
is  variously  called — the  leaves  are  from  six  to  ten  inches 
long,  tubiilar  and  pitcher-shaped,  with  an  erect  open 
hood  or  lid  at  the  apex  of  the  leaf,  the  inner  face  of  the 
hood  being  clothed  with  stiff  bristles,  and  the  upper 
part  of  the  tubular  leaf  also  being  furnished  with  bris- 
tles that  point  downward.  The  leaf  secretes  a  fluid  into 
this  pitcher-like  cavity,  which  is  tasteless,  and  appears 
to  be  nothing  different  from  clear  water ;  but  the  lid  on 
its  inner  face  exudes  a  sweetish  viscid  fluid,  which  at- 
tracts insects  and  appears  to  have  intoxicating  effects  ; 
for  if  a  fly  sips  it  he  seems  to  lose  his  muscular  power, 
and  drops  down  into  the  water  contained  in  the  leaf, 
and  is  drowned.  If  he  is  not  suflaciently  paralyzed,  and 
attempts  to  crawl  out,  the  downward-pointing  bristles 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  cup  prevent  his  egress.  These 
cup-like  leaves  may  frequently  be  found  more  than  half 
full  of  flies  and  other  insects,  and  it  appears  probable, 
although  it  is  not  yet  fully  determined  to  be  so,  that  the 
plant  absorbs  the  liquid  or  water  after  it  has  become 
charged  with  the  fluids  in  the  bodies  of  the  insects. 
There  is  also  reason  to  believe  that  some  other  plants, 
are  endowed  with  siuiilar  powers. 


OuB  own  heart,  and  not  other  men's  opinions,  forms 
our  true  honor.  Coleridgb. 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD. 


57 


The  Wonders  of  the  Heavens. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  we  read  :  "  God  created 
Ahe  heavens  and  the  earth;"  and  in  this  work-a-day 
world  of  ours,  we  find  so  much  to  absorb  our  attention  on 
earth  that  we  think  little  of  the  wonders  of  the  heavens, 
though  they  form  by  far  the  greater  part  of  God's 
dominions. 

In  Psalms,  8th  chapter,  3d  and  4th  verses,  we  read: 
"When  we  consider  Thy  heavens  the  work  of  Thy  fingers, 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  Thou  hast  ordained,  what 
Is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?"  The  Psalmist 
Beems  inspired  to  look  far  beyond  this  world. 

In  Isaiah,  40th  chapter,  15th  and  17th  verses  :  "  Behold 
the  nations  before  Him  are  as  a  drop  of  a  bucket,  and 
counted  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance,  and  are  less 
-than  nothing  and  vanity."  If  man  is  the  principal  in- 
habitant of  creation,  then  there  is  no  wonder  at  God's 
minute,  superintending  care  over  him ;  but  if  the 
immensity  of  space  is  diversified  with  10,000  times 
10,000  worlds,  inhabited,  as  science  and  reason  teach.  If 
Adam's  race  are  as  but  a  drop  of  the  ocean,  then  the 
Divine  condescension  is  truly  wonderful  and  astonish- 
ing, that  from  the  heights  of  His  glory  in  the  heavens, 
the  Most  High  should  look  down  upon  us  with  an  eye 
of  complacency,  and  regard  us  with  a  Father's  tender 
care.  This  is  evidently  the  Psalmist's  idea  in  the  verse 
above  quoted,  and  would  be  inconsistent  if  this  earth 
were  the  principal  abode  of  rational  beings.  It  also 
teaches  that  the  Almighty  has  diversified  the  fields  of 
Immensity  with  innumerable  worlds  ;  and  while  He  sits 
enthroned  on  the  magnificence  of  His  works  in  the  dis- 
tant regions  of  His  creation,  and  governs  the  affairs  of 
all,  He  also  superintends  minutely  the  affairs  of  every 
world  He  has  created,  however  small. 

His  eye  rests  on  the  smallest  object  of  His  creation ;  His 
Spirit  watches  it  carefully.  Man,  and  even  microscopic 
animalculee,  are  not  overlooked.  This  is  an  attribute 
belonging  only  to  Jehovah,  which  comes  from  the  im- 
mensity of  his  nature,  and  his  boundless  knowledge  of 
all  his  works. 

To  contemplate  all  this  gives  us  a  grander  and  more 
sublime  idea  of  His  character.  By  overlooking  it  our 
views  of  the  Eternal  God  are  narrower  and  more  con- 
tracted. He  is  declared  by  the  prophet  as  "that 
Almighty  Being  who  measures  the  ocean  in  the  hollow 
of  His  hand."  "Who  meteth  out  the  heavens  with  a 
flpan ;  Wlio  comprellkndeth  the  dust  of  the  earth,  in  a 
measure :"  "  Who  weigheth  the  mountains  in  scales, 
and  the  nills  in  a  balance."  "  He  stretched  out  the 
heavens  as  a  curtain,  and  bringeth  forth  their  host  by 
number."  "He  calleth  them  by  their  names,  by  the 
greatness  of  His  might,  for  that  He  is  strong  in  power, 
and  there  is  no  searching  of  His  understanding."  In 
Psalms,  103d  chapt^,  19th  verse,  we  read :  "  The  Lord 
hath  prepared  His  throne  in  the  heavens,  and  His  king- 
dom ruleth  over  all."  Such  declarations  would  be 
scarcely  proper  if  no  other  world  were  inhabited. 

The  heavens  form  the  principal  part  of  the  divine 
empire,  and  ihe  earth  is  but  a  speck  in  comparison 
^'He  doeth  as  He  will  in  the  army  of  heaven  and  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  earth."  Now,  if  there  were  no 
Intellectual  beings  there,  there  would  be  no  moral 
icvemment,  therefore  the  heavens  must  be  inhabited 
Dy  beings  endowed  morally  and  intellectually. 

*'  Who  is  like  unto  our  God,  who  dwelleth  on  high  ? 
Who  humbleth  himself  to  behold  the  things  that  are 
Jn  heaven  and  in  the  earth,  and  whose  glory  is  above 
the  heavens." — Psalms  113th,  4th  and  6th  verses. 

We  can  get  some  idea  of  the  vastness  of  God's 
creation,  by  commencing  a  train  of  thought,  at  these 
objects  right  about  us,  with  which  we  are  familiar,  and 
gradually  ascend  to  those  objects  and  scenes  more  dis- 
tant and  expanded. 

An  ordinary  landscape  Is  but  a  speck  in  comparison 
with  all  the  lakes,  mountains,  etc.,  on  the  globe  ;  there 
would  be  more  than  900,000  such  landscapes,  and  if 
twenty  minutes  were  allotted  to  each  one.  ten  hours  a 
day — it  would  require  90  years  constant  observation  be- 
fore all  the  prominent  objects  on  the  surface  of  the 
globe  could  be  thtis  surveyed.  Then  compare  this  with 
other  globes  which  far  excel  this  in  extent,  it  would  re- 
quu-e  more  than  55,000  years  to  contemplate  all  the 
variety  of  scenery  on  the  sun,  if  a  landscape  of  5,000 
eqnare  miles  passed  before  our  eyes  every  hour. 

^ut  the  sun  and  its  surrounding  planets  dwindle 


down  to  a  mere  speck  as  we  wing  our  flight  toward  the 
starry  firmament. 

Before  we  could  arrive  at  the  nearest  object  In  this 
firmament  we  must  travel  at  least  20,000,000,000  miles. 
It  would  take  a  cannon-ball,  at  its  greatest  speed,  4,000,- 
000  years  to  cross  it. 

On  a  clear  winter's  night  we  can  see  about  a  thousand 
shining  orbs  with  the  naked  eye,  most  of  them  sending 
their  light  from  spaces  immeasurably  distant,  and, 
therefore,  they  are  of  immense  magnitude.  We  have 
reason  to  believe  that  many  of  them  may  be  vastly 

greater  than  the  sun,  and  we  cannot  suppose  them  to 
avebeen  created  in  vain,  or  merely  to  diffuse  light  over 
the  wilds  of  immensity.  It  is  inconsistent  with  God's 
greatness  to  create  anything  useless.  These  thousand 
stars  may  be  considered  as  connected  with  at  least 
50,000  worlds ;  and  if  all  are  Inhabited,  our  population 
is  meagre  enough  in  comparison. 

After  surveying  all  this,  we  would  still  stand  on  the 
outskirts,  or  extreme  verge  of  creation. 

There  are  20,000  times  more  stars  visible  through  the 
telescope  than  with  it.  Ascending  from  the  Milky  Way, 
with  its  thousand  stars,  we  perceive  several  thousand 
dim  specks,  which  powerful  telescopes  resolve  into  im- 
mense clusters  of  stars,  which  may  be  so  many  Milky 
Ways,  and  perhaps  outvieing  ours  in  grandeur.  We 
cannot  form  even  an  approximate  idea  of  the  magnifi- 
cence of  such  a  scene. 

Still  this  is  not  the  universe.  Could  we  range  through 
It  on  the  wings  of  a  seraph,  we  would  still  find  our- 
selves on  the  verge  of  creation,  with  a  boundless  pros- 
pect stretching  toward  infinity  on  every  side. 

Other  intelligences  may  have  larger  powers  of  vision 
to  penetrate  into  space.  We  shall  never  be  able  to 
penetrate  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  the  universe. 

It  will  be  part  of  our  happiness  ever  to  have  some- 
thing new  to  learn,  for  at  every  period  of  future 
existence  there  will  still  be  a  boundless  prospect 
stretched  out  before  us,  with  new  objects  continually 
rising  to  view.  And  innumerable  ages  may  pass  without 
the  least  fear  of  ever  arriving  at  the  termination  of  the 
scene.  Were  some  superior  intelligence  ever  to  arrive 
at  such  a  point,  from  that  point  his  happiness  would 
begin  to  diminish  ;  he  would  feel  that  nothing  new  and 
transporting  were  to  be  added  to  his  enjoyments  through- 
out his  future  existence.  But  the  vastness  of  God's 
universe  will  forever  prevent  this  from  occurring. 

We  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  attained  a  full  idea  of 
the  universe  without  considering  the  sensitive  and  in- 
tellectual beings  it  contains,  as  we  cannot  suppose  all 
these  worlds  are  uninhabited  and  useless,  but  created 
for  a  useful  purpose. 

But  we  cannot  begin  to  estimate  this,  and  so  leave 
it  for  your  thoughts  to  range  at  will.  But  to  overlook 
all  the  astonishiug  scenes  oi  the  universe,  or  to  view  it 
with  indifference  is  to  disregard  the  works  of  Jehovah, 
and  to  refuse  to  consider  the  works  of  His  hands. 

Those  Thrones  and  Dominions,  and  Prmcipalities  and 
Powers,  may  be  able  to  comprehend  such  scenes,  but 
they  baffle  our  efforts.  Beyond  all  these  objects  that 
we  have  been  contemplating,  a  boundless  region  exists, 
of  which  no  human  eye  has  yet  caught  a  glimpse,  and 
no  finite  intelligence  has  yet  explored.  What  scenes  of 
grandeur  and  power  and  goodness  and  magnificence 
may  be  displayed  in  this  unapproachable  and  infinite 
expanse,  neither  men  nor  angels  can  describe  nor  form 
the  most  rude  idea  of. 

Here  may  be  that  splendid  region  so  frequently  alluded 
to  in  the  Scriptures  as  the  Heaven  of  Heavens.  Evidently 
showing  that  it  is  the  most  glorious  and  magnificent  de- 
partment of  creation. 

Countless  myriads  of  beings,  standing  at  the  highest 
point  of  intelligence,  and  invested  with  faculties  of 
which  we  have  no  idea,  must  inhabit  these  regions,  for 
we  are  positively  told  that  hosts  of  intelligent  beings  re- 
side in  such  abodes,  and  those  hosts  of  the  Heaven  of 
Heavens  worship  God. 

But  we  cannot  penetrate  farther  into  the  dominion  of 
Him  who  sits  on  the  Throne  of  Immensity  ;  but,  in  the 
deepest  adoration,  we  can  unite  with  the  inhabitants  of 
the  eternal  world,  in  saying,  as  they  are  represented  to 
say:  "Great  and  marvellous  are  Thy  works.  Lord  God 
Almighty.  Thou  art  worthy  to  receive  all  glory,  and 
honor,  and  power,  for  Thou  hast  created  all  worlds,  and 
for  Thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were  created." 

M.  B.  A. 


58 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Vatican. 

This  word  is  often  used,  but  there  are  many  who  do 
not  understand  its  import.  The  term  refers  to  a  collec- 
tion of  buildings  on  one  of  the  seven  hills  of  Rome, 
which  covers  a  space  of  1,200  feet  in  length,  and  1,000 
feet  in  breadth.  It  is  built  on  the  spot  once  occupied  by 
the  garden  of  cruel  Nero.  It  owes  its  origin  to  the 
Bishop  of  Rome,  who,  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, erected  a  humble  residence  on  its  site.  About  the 
year  1160,  Pope  Eugenius  rebuilt  it  on  a  magnificent  scale. 
Innocent  II.,  a  few  years  afterwards,  gave  it  up  as  a 
lodging  to  Peter  II.,  King  of  Arragon.  In  1305,  Clement 
v.,  at  the  instigation  of  the  King  of  France,  removed 
the  Papal  See  from  Rome  to  Avignon,  when  the  Vatican 
remained  in  a  condition  of  obscurity  and  neglect  for 
more  than  seventy  years. 

But  soon  after  the  return  of  the  Pontifical  Court  to 
Rome,  an  event  which  had  been  so  earnestly  prayed  for 
by  poor  Petrarch,  and  which  finally  took  place  in  1276, 
the  Vatican  was  put  into  a  state  of  repair,  again  enlarge«r\, 
and  it  was  thenceforward  considered  as  the  regular  pal- 
ace and  residence  of  the  Popes,  who,  one  after  the  other, 
added  fresh  buildings  to  it,  and  gradually  encircled  it 
with  antiquities,  statues,  pictures  and  books,  until  it  be- 
came the  richest  depository  in  the  world. 

The  library  of  the  Vatican  was  commenced  1,400  years 
ago.  It  contains  40,000  manuscripts,  among  which  are 
some  by  Pliny,  St.  Charles  Boromeo,  and  many  Hebrew, 
Syrian,  Arabian,  and  Armenian  Bibles. 

The  whole  of  the  immense  buildings,  composing  the 
Vatican,  are  filled  with  statues  found  beneath  the  ruins 
of  ancient  Rome ;  with  paintings  by  the  masters,  and 
with  curious  medals  and  antiquities  of  almost  every 
description. 

When  it  is  known  that  there  have  been  exhumed  more 
than  70,000  statues  from  the  ruined  temples  and  palaces 
of  Rome,  the  reader  can  form  some  idea  of  the  richness 
of  the  Vatican. 


The  Taking  of  Food  by  Fish. 

When  a  fish  snaps  up  an  object  it  first  opens  its  mouth 
and  closes  its  gill  flaps  ;  and  opens  the  gills  when  it 
closes  the  mouth.  When  it  wishes  to  reject  a  disagreea- 
ble morsel,  on  the  other  hand,  it  first,  with  closed  mouth, 
opens  the  gill  slits,  and  enlarges  the  mouth  cavity,  then 
shuts  the  gill  slits  and  simultaneously  opens  the  mouth. 
By  narrowing  the  mouth-cavity  throughout  its  length,  it 
now  forces  out  the  contents  ;  and  in  doing  so,  it  is 
driven  a  little  backward  by  the  reaction,  like  a  cannon 
when  it  is  fired.  If  we  think  of  it  a  little  more  closely, 
we  shall  see  that,  without  the  gill  slits,  the  fish  could 
not  snap  up  any  object,  and  so  could  not  eat,  because 
the  morsel,  if  it  got  into  the  mouth-cavity,  would,  on 
closing  the  mouth,  be  ejected.  The  reason  is  simply 
this :  On  opening,  the  mouth-cavity  fills  with  water 
after  the  manner  of  a  pump,  and  the  morsel  is  taken  in 
through  suction  of  the  portion  of  water  in  which  it 
floats.  It  can  now  be  held  fast  in  the  mouth  only  if  the 
water  finds  a  mode  of  exit  so  narrow  that  the  morsel 
cannot  escape  along  with  it.  For  this  the  mouth  slit  is 
nowise  fitted,  for  if  it  be  closed,  so  that  a  small  morsel 
cannot  escape  by  it,  it  affords  no  easy  outflow  for  the 
water.  But  the  want  is  fully  met  by  its  gill  apparatus, 
which  presents  a  double  row  of  long  narrow  slits,  each 
of  which  is  generally  a  good  deal  longer  than  the  mouth 
slit,  so  that  the  water  can  readily  flow  away  without  the 
morsel  being  carried  off  along  with  it.  But,  again,  if  a 
fish  were  obliged  to  eject  by  its  mouth  the  water  it  had 
taken  up,  it  would  be  driven  backward  at  each  bite,  and 
have  to  expend  force  wastefully  in  recovering  its  ground 
by  swimming,  which  would  be  specially  disadvantageous 
in  flowing  water.  On  the  contrary,  however,  as  the 
water  flows  out  backward  through  the  gill  slits,  the  fish 
receives  each  time  an  impulse  which  drives  it  forward, 
and  the  maintenance  of  its  position  in  rapid  water  is 
thus  rendered  more  easy.  From  these  considerations  it 
becomes  possible  to  explain  a  number  of  the  arrange- 
ments found  in  aquatic  animals,  as  compared  with  those 
th-at  live  in  air.  Still  regarding  the  finny  tribes,  we  find 
remarkably  large  gill  slits  in  fishes  of  prey  ;  and  any  one 
who  has  watched  a  pike  or  trout  in  pursuit  of  its  prey, 
will  have  noticed  how  widely  it  has  stretched  its  gUl 
flits,  so  as  to  let  the  water  flow  off  as  freely  as  possible 


on  all  sides.  If  this  were  at  any  moment  to  acctimulate 
In  the  mouth-cavity,  the  fish's  motion  would  be  seriously 
compromised.  It  may  with  certainty  be  said  that  all 
fishes  with  remarkably  wide  gill  slits  hunt  their  prey  in 
long  pursuit.  Thus,  among  our  fresh-water  predaceous 
fishes,  the  pike  makes  the  longest  pursuit  and  has  the 
widest  gills.  As  a  contrast  we  might  take  the  gently 
feeding  and  nibbling  plant-fishes,  such  as  barbel,  carp, 
etc.,  which  have  narrow  gill  slits.  A  similar  difference 
is  associated  with  the  streaming  of  water.  As  fish 
always  snap  with  the  mouth  against  the  current,  it  re- 
ceives more  water  into  the  mouth  the  more  rapid  the 
current;  and,  therefore  river-fishes  have,  in  general, 
larger  gill  slits  than  fishes  which  live  in  still  water. 
Thus  too  may  be  explained  the  remarkable  correlation 
between  the  width  of  the  mouth  slit  and  that  of  the  gill 
slits,  in-^smuch  as  narrow-mouthed  fishes  have  narrow 
gill  slits,  and  wide-mouthed  fishes  wide  gill  slits. 


Fossils. 

BT  CAPT.  OARNBS. 

So  gii3at  was  the  demand  for  fossil  ivory  more  than  a 
century  ago,  that  the  Russian  government  fitted  out  ex- 
peditions to  gather  it  in  the  far  north. 

In  1770,  a  merchant  named  Lachow,  while  in  the  vici- 
nity of  Cape  Sviatoinoss,  saw  a  large  herd  of  deer  com- 
ing over  the  ice,  and  with  great  courage  and  resolute- 
ness he  pursued  them,  and  passing  over  a  distance  of 
several  miles  he  came  to  an  island ;  farther  on  he  came 
to  another,  both  of  which  appeared  so  rich  in  mammoth 
bones  that  he  obtained  permission  of  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment to  dig  for  ivory  on  the  islands  which  he  had 
discovered.  While  at  work  about  that  region  he  dis- 
covered still  another  island,  mountainous  and  covered 
with  drift  stuff. 

Fossil  ivory — this  wonderful  article  oi  commerce — is 
found  in  North  Siberia,  along  the  Obi,  the  Jenissei,  the 
Lena,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  Polar  Ocean,  as  far  as 
the  American  side  of  Behring  Strait.  Here  are  deposited 
the  remains  of  an  immense  nnmber  of  elephants.  Doz- 
ens of  tusks  are  often  found  together ;  but  in  the  La- 
chow Islands  they  have  accumulated  in  such  vast  quan- 
tities as  to  form  the  chief  material  of  the  soil.  Year 
after  year  the  ivory  hunters  work  away  upon  the  thaw- 
ing ice  banks  without  seeming  in  the  least  to  lessen  the 
deposit  of  mammoth  bones. 

In  1821,  20,000  pounds  of  fossil  ivory  were  procured 
on  the  one  island  of  New  Siberia.  Occasionally  the  ice 
preserves  entire  bodies  of  non-extinct  species  of  ani- 
mals. In  St.  Petersburg  they  have  preserved  one  ol 
these  skeletons,  with  specimens  of  its  woolly  hair,  prov- 
ing without  doubt  that  the  climate  of  Siberia  in  those 
remote  and  unknown  ages  was  rigorous  enough  to  de- 
mand a  shaggy  covering  for  its  animal  population. 

The  remains  of  a  rhinoceros,  of  the  kind  found  in  the 
Indies,  are  deposited  in  immense  numbers  along  the 
shores  and  steeps  of  Northern  Siberia,  together  with 
fossil  bones  of  the  horse,  musk  ox  and  bison,  animals 
which  are  not  now  found  in  the  Arctic  regions. 

The  Archipelago  of  New  Siberia,  situated  north  of 
Lachow  Islands,  is  remarkable  for  the  vast  quantities  of 
horse,  buffalo,  oxen  and  sheep  bones,  and  also  for  the 
immense  amount  of  fossil-wood  imbedded  on  the  barren 
and  desolate  shores.  The  hills,  which  rise  to  a  consid- 
erable altitude,  consist  of  horizontal  beds  of  sandstone, 
alternating  with  bituminous  trunks  of  trees.  Ascend- 
ing them,  fossilized  charcoal  is  everywhere  met  with^ 
encrusted  with  an  ash-colored  matter  which  is  so  hard 
as  to  be  scarcely  scarred  with  a  knife.  On  the  summit 
of  these  hills  are  rows  of  beams  standing  perpendicularly 
in  the  sandstone  ;  the  broken  projecting  ends  have  the 
appearance  of  a  ruined  dike.  So  it  appears  that  a 
primeval  forest  once  flourished  here  in  robust  life,  where 
now  only  hardy  lichens  are  seen  ;  and  many  herbivorous 
animals  feasted  upon  rank  grasses,  where  now  the  sturdy 
reindeer  finds  only  a  scant  supply  of  moss,  and  where 
roams  the  Polar  bear,  sole  monarch  of  the  scene. 

But  when  time  shall  crumble  these  stony  and  icy  walls 
of  the  frigid  zones,  or  science  shall  have  opened  their 
dumb  lips  with  intelligible  language,  we  may  learn 
much  concerning  that  age  lying  so  far  back  in  the  past, 
that  antediluvian  history  makes  no  mention  of  it.  and 
which  to  day  is  a  sealed  book  to  us. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


59 


Plants  that  Eat  Animals. 

BY  MART  TREAT. 

The  Bladderwort  is  a  common  plant,  growing  in  shal- 
\ow  ponds  and  swamps ;  Dr.  Gray  in  his  Manual  of  the 
Northern  United  States,  describes  twelve  species  found 
within  this  range,  and  almost  every  muddy  pond  con- 
tains one  or  more  of  them.  Some  grow  wholly  or  nearly 
out  of  water ;  but  the  species  which  I  am  a^out  to  de- 
scribe are  immersed,  with  finely  dissected  leaves  on  long 
stems  floating  in  the  water.  Scattered  among  the  leaves 
or  along  the  stems  which  are  destitute  of  leaves,  are 
numerous  little  bladders. 

About  three  year  ago  (in  December,  1873,)  a  young  man 
then  at  Cornell  University  and  myself,  on  placing  some 
of  the  bladders  under  the  microscope,  noticed  animal- 
cules— dead  entomostraca,  &c.,  apparently  imprisoned 
therein.  My  curiosity  was  aroused.  I  soon  found 
larger  animals  in  the  bladders — dead  larva  of  some 
acquatic  insect— large  enough  to  be  seen  distinctly  with 
the  naked  eye.  But  1  was  not  aroused  to  earnest  work 
until  I  watched  the  movements  of  an  imprisoned  living 
larva,  and  saw  its  struggles  and  final  death.  This  was 
in  October,  1874.  I  now  visited  the  ponds  and  procured 
abundant  material. 

The  plant  that  1  experimented  mostly  with  was  the 
one  known  to  botanists  as  Utricularia  clandestina.  The 
animal  that  I  found  most  commonly  entrapped  was  a 
snake-like  larva,  about  the  length  of  the  mosquito  larva, 
but  more  slender  and  of  lighter  color.  1  worked  with 
this  larva  for  several  days,  determined,  if  possible,  to 
see  him  walk  into  the  trap.  I  repeatedly  took  individ- 
uals from  the  water  and  placed  them  in  the  live-box 
with  a  spray  of  plant  containing  bladders ;  but  it  was  of 
no  use,  the  obstinate  things  would  not  accommodate 
me.  The  light  or  unnatural  position,  or  both  combined, 
made  them  fairly  frantic,  and  they  dashed  about,  paying 
no  attention  to  the  bladders. 

Forced  to  give  up  this  plan  of  seeing  the  larva  enter 
the  bladder,  I  now  directed  my  attention  to  the  smaller 
ones— animalcules  proper.  I  placed  the  bladders  in 
water  inhabited  by  numerous  tiny  creatures,  and  soon 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  modus  operandi  by 
which  the  victim  was  caught.  The  entrance  into  the 
bladder  has  the  appearance  of  a  tunnel-net,  always  open 
at  the  large  end,  but  closed  at  the  other  extremity.  The 
little  animals  seemed  to  be  attracted  into  this  inviting 
retreat.  They  would  sometimes  dally  about  the  open 
entrance  for  a  short  time,  but  would  sooner  or  later  ven- 
ture in,  and  easily  open  or  push  apart  the  closed  entrance 
at  the  other  extremity.  As  soon  as  the  animal  was  fairly 
in,  the  forced  entrance  closed,  making  it  a  secure 
prisoner. 

I  was  very  much  amused  in  watching  a  water-bear 
(Tardigrada)  entrapped.  It  went  slowly  walking  around 
the  bladder,  as  if  reconnoitering — very  much  like  its 
larger  namesake — finally  it  ventured  in  at  the  entrance, 
and  easily  opened  the  inner  door  and  walked  in.  The 
bladder  was  transparent  and  quite  empty,  so  that  I  could 
see  the  movements  of  the  little  animal  very  distinctly, 
and  it  seemed  to  look  around  as  if  surprised  to  find  it- 
self in  so  elegant  a  chamber ;  but  it  was  soon  quiet,  and 
on  the  morning  following  it  was  entirely  motionless, 
with  its  little  feet  and  claws  standing  out  as  if  stiff  and 
rigid.  The  wicked  plant  had  killed  it  very  much  quicker 
than  it  killed  the  snake-like  larva. 

Entomostraca,  too,  were  often  captured — Daphnia 
CyelopSf  and  Cypris.  These  little  animals  are  just  visible 
to  the  naked  eye,  but  under  the  microscope  are  beautiful 
and  interesting  objects.  The  lively  little  Cypris  is  en- 
cased in  a  bivalve  shell,  which  it  opens  at  pleasure,  and 
thrusts  out  its  feet  and  two  pairs  of  antennae,  with  tufts 
of  feathery-like  filaments.  This  little  animal  was  quite 
wary,  but  nevertheless  was  often  caught.  Coming  to 
the  entrance  of  a  bladder  it  would  sometimes  pause  a 
moment  and  then  dash  away;  at  other  times  it  would 
come  close  up,  and  even  venture  part  way  into  the  en- 
trance and  back  out  as  if  afraid.  Another,  more  heed- 
less, would  open  the  door  and  walk  in;  but  it  was  no 
sooner  in  than  it  manifested  alarm,  drew  in  its  feet  and 
antennae  and  closed  its  shell.  But  after  its  death  the 
shell  unclosed  again,  displaying  its  feet  and  antennae.  I 
never  saw  even  the  smallest  animalcule  escape  after  it 
was  once  fairly  inside  the  bladder. 

The  next  step  was  to  see  how  many  of  the  bladders 
contained  animals,  and  I  found  almost  every  one  that 


was  well  developed  contained  one  or  more,  or  their  re- 
mains, in  various  stages  of  digestion.  The  snake-like 
larva  above  mentioned  was  the  largest  and  most  con- 
stant animal  found.  On  some  of  the  stems  that  I  ex- 
amined, fully  nine  out  of  every  ten  of  the  bladders  con- 
tained this  larva  or  its  remains.  When  first  caught  it 
was  fierce,  thrusting  out  its  horns  and  feet  and  drawing 
them  back,  bnt  otherwise  it  seemed  partly  paralyzed, 
moving  its  body  but  very  little ;  even  small  larva  of 
this  species  that  had  plenty  of  room  to  swim  about  were 
soon  very  quiet,  although  they  showed  signs  of  life 
from  twenty  four  to  thirty-six  hours  after  they  were  im- 
prisoned. In  about  twelve  hours,  as  nearly  as  I  could 
make  out,  they  lost  the  power  of  drawing  their  feet 
back,  and  could  only  move  the  brush-like  appendages. 
There  was  some  variation  with  different  bladders  as  to 
the  time  when  maceration  or  digestion  began  to  take 
place,  but  usually,  on  a  growing  spray  in  less  than  two 
days  after  a  large  larva  was  captured,  the  fluid  contents 
of  the  bladders  began  to  assume  a  cloudy  or  muddy  ap- 
pearance, and  often  became  so  dense  that  the  outline 
of  the  animal  was  lost  to  view. 

Nothing  yet  in  the  history  of  carnivorous  plants  comes 
so  near  to  the  animal  as  this.  I  was  forced  to  the  con- 
clusion that  these  little  bladders,  are  in  truth  like  so 
many  stomachs,  digesting  and  assimilating  animal  food. 

Since  writing  the  foregoing  I  have  frequently  trapped 
the  snake-like  larvae  and  seen  them  enter  the  bladders. 
They  seem  to  be  wholly  vegetable  feeders,  and  specially 
to  have  a  liking  for  the  long  hairs  at  the  entrance  of  the 
bladders.  When  a  larva  is  feeding  near  the  entrance  it 
is  pretty  certain  to  run  its  head  into  the  net,  whence 
there  is  no  retreat.  A  large  larva  is  sometimes  three  or 
four  hours  in  being  swallowed,  the  process  bringing  to 
mind  what  I  have  witnessed  when  a  small  snake  m&ee 
a  large  frog  its  victim. 


Dorrilism. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

Of  the  strange  religious  creeds,  which  have  ever  pre- 
vailed in  a  civilized  country,  "  Dorrilism  "  bears  off  the 
palm  for  being  the  strangest  of  all.  Some  persons  may, 
perhaps,  be  inclined  to  disbelieve  the  fact  that  such  a 
sect  ever  existed,  yet  its  truth  is  vouched  for  by  all 
historians. 

This  creed  was  originated  in  1797,  by  a  man  named 
Dorril,  one  of  the  refugees  of  Burgoyne's  army,  who 
began  to  preach  and  advocate  his  doctrines  about  that 
time  in  the  town  of  Leyden,  Mass.  He  pretended  to  be 
gifted  with  supernatural  powers,  and  promised  his  fol' 
lowers  that  if  they  obeyed  his  precepts  they  should 
never  die.  They  discarded  all  revelation  except  that 
which  Dorril  had  received,  and  set  at  defiance  all  laws, 
being  governed,  as  they  explained  it,  "  by  the  light  of 
nature." 

They  abstained  from  animal  food,  and  made  use  of 
nothing  which  had  been  obtained  at  the  expense  of  life. 
Leather  shoes  were  thrown  aside,  and  those  made  of 
cloth  or  wood  were  substituted.  A  blacksmith  procured 
and  used  a  pair  of  cloth  bellows,  and  all  subsisted  upon 
a  diet  of  milk  and  vegetables. 

Meetings  were  held  once  a  week,  at  which  the  exer-» 
cises  consisted  of  eating,  drinking,  singing  and  dancing, 
and  hearing  lectures  from  Dorril,  who  was  well  qualified 
for  his  position.  These  meetings  were  attended  by  great 
numbers  of  people,  who  came  from  far  and  near  to  hear 
him,  and  the  number  of  converts  increased  every  day. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1798,  one  of  the  meetings  was 
attended  by  Captain  Ezekiel  Foster,  a  man  of  gigantic 
stature  and  sound  understanding.  In  his  lecture  on  that 
occasion,  Dorril  said,  *'No  mortal  arm  can  hurt  my 
fiesh."  No  sooner  had  he  uttered  those  words  than 
Foster  knocked  him  down.  He  attempted  to  rise  and 
received  a  second  blow,  upon  which  he  cried  for  mercy. 
Foster  promised  to  forbear  on  condition  that  he  would 
renounce  his  doctrines.  After  a  short  parley  he  con- 
sented, and  did  renounce  his  doctrines  before  his  aston- 
ished followers. 

He  also  told  them  that  his  object  was  to  see  what  fool& 
he  could  make  of  mankind. 


China  possesses  coal  fields  to  the  extent  of  400,000 
square  miles  ;  one  province  (Shausi)  having  no  less  thaxt 
31,000  square  miles,  with  veins  from  12  to  30  feet  thick. 


6o 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Pompeii. 

Pompeii,  that  beautiful  and  ill-fated  city,  buried  undep- 
tteath  the  shower  of  ashes,  pumice  and  stone  cast  forth 
frem  Vesuvius,  A.  D.  79,  and  first  re-discovered  in  1649, 
and  now  a  ruin  of  world-wide  interest,  is  saia  to  have  de 
rived  its  name  from  the  word  pompe^  with  reference  to 
the  pomp  with  which  Hercules,  its  founder,  celebrated 
his  victories.  The  frescoes,  which  have  outlived  1769 
years  concealment,  are  brilliant  yet  in  the  forum  and  the 
temples.  The  art  of  fresco  painting  is  still  with  us  in 
practice,  but  the  records  of  a  medium  of  preservation  so 
durable  as  tu  withstand  the  fire  and  damp  of  centuries  is 
lost  with  the  people,  cunning  and  rich,  whose  hands 
wrought  the  beauties  of  Pompeii.  In  the  houses  of  this 
excavated  city,  the  dining  hall  Is  always  found  most 
beautifully  decorated.  In  these  noble  rooms  the  Romans 
reclined  at  feasts,  at  which  small  fortunes  were  ex- 
pended. It  is  said  of  Lucullus  that  once,  wishing  to  de- 
ceive Pompey  or  Cicero  when  they  insisted  upon  dining 
with  him  m  famiUej  he  simply  sent  word  home  that  he 
would  dine  in  the  room  called  "The  Apollo,"  where  it 
was  said  he  never  gave  a  supper  for  less  than  a  sum 
amounting  to  $9,000  of  our  money.  In  the  house  of 
Qcaurus,  the  most  marvellously  rich  frescoes  adorned  its 
walls,  and  lamps  of  bronze  gave  brilliant  light.  The 
tables  were  of  citron  wood,  resting  on  ivory  feet,  and 
were  covered  with  a  plateau  of  solid  silver,  chased  and 
«arved,  weighing  five  hundred  pounds.  The  three 
couches  were  of  bronze,  overlaid  with  ornaments  of  sil- 
ver, gold  and  tortoise-shell ;  the  feather  cushions  were 
■ot  stuff  of  silk  and  threads  of  gold.  Pliny  says  of  the 
tables  of  citron  wood  that  they  were  made  of  the  roots 
and  knots,  and  prized  for  their  veins  and  marks,  which 
resembled  a  tiger's  skin  or  peacock's  tail.  In  a  further 
description  of  this  dining  hall  of  Scaurus,  in  Pompeii,  it 
is  stated  that  the  floor  was  finished  in  mosaics  represent- 
ing the  fragments  of  a  feast,  as  though  just  fallen  from 
the  table— -nence  it  was  called  the  "  unswept  saloon." 


The  Monkey. 

BY  B.  SMITH. 

Monkeys  are  very  vivacious  and  amusing,  but  they  are 
often  bad;  tearing  up  clothing,  breaking  bottles  and  cut- 
ting various  capers  is  a  monkey's  delight.  They  will 
Btand  and  mimic  as  long  as  they  have  anything  to  mimic; 
they  are  also  inveterate  imitators.  A  lady  had  one, 
whom  she  found  dressed  up  in  her  clothes  and  admiring 
himself  before  the  glass ;  he  also  had  her  ribbons  and 
things  scattered  over  the  floor  in  a  very  confused  man- 
ner ;  that  is,  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  a  vivacious  little 
monkey.  They  also  are  very  sensible ;  we  will  give 
the  case  of  some  ring-tailed  monkeys  bridging  a  stream. 
Sooner  than  go  into  water  a  monkey  will  put  his  head 
Into  the  fire.  When  they  cannot  leap  a  stream  they  will 
bridge  it.  My  readers  will  perhaps  wonder  how  a  mon- 
key can  bridge  a  stream,  but  they  will  soon  see.  An  eye- 
witness of  the  following,  says :  One,  an  aid-de-camp,  or 
chief  pioneer,  perhaps,  ran  out  upon  a  projecting  rock ; 
and  after  looking  across  the  stream,  as  if  calculating 
the  distance,  scampered  back  and  appeared  to  communi- 
cate with  the  leader.  This  produced  a  movement  in  the 
troop.  Commands  were  issued  and  fatigue  parties  were 
detailed  and  marched  to  the  front.  Meanwhile  several, 
engineers  no  doubt,  ran  along  the  bank,  examining  the 
trees  on  both  sides  of  the  arroyo.  At  length  they  all 
<;ollected  around  a  tall  Cottonwood  that  grew  over  a  nar- 
row part  of  the  stream,  and  twenty  or  thirty  of  them 
scampered  up  its  trunk.  On  reaching  a  high  point,  the 
foremost  ran  out  upon  a  limb,  and  taking  several  turns 
of  his  tail  around  it,  he  slipped  down  and  hung  his  head 
downward.  The  next  on  the  limb,  also  a  stout  one, 
climbed  down  the  body  of  the  first,  and  whipping  his 
tail  tightly  aroimd  the  neck  and  forearm  of  the  latter, 
dropped  off  in  his  turn,  and  hung  head  down.  The 
third  repeated  the  manoeuvre  upon  the  second,  and  the 
fourth  upon  the  third,  and  so  on  until  the  last  upon  the 
fitring  rested  his  forepaws  on  the  ground.  The  living 
chain  now  commenced  swinging  backward  and  forward, 
like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock.  The  motion  was  slight 
at  first,  but  gradually  increased,  the  lowermost  monkey 
striking  his  hands  violently  on  the  earth  as  he  passed  the 
tangent  of  the  oscillating  curve.  Several  others  upon 
the  limbs  above  aided  the  movement.   This  continued 


until  the  monkey  at  the  end  of  the  chain  was  thrown 
among  the  branches  of  a  tree  on  the  opposite  bank ; 
here,  after  two  or  three  vibrations,  he  clutched  a  limb 
and  held  fast.  This  movement  was  adroitly  executed 
just  at  the  culminating  point  of  the  oscillation,  in  order 
to  save  the  intermediate  links  from  the  violence  of  a  too 
sudden  jerk !  The  chain  was  now  fast  at  both  ends, 
forming  a  complete  suspension  bridge,  over  which  the 
whole  troop  to  the  number  of  four  or  five  hundred  passed 
with  the  rapidity  of  thought.  It  was  a  very  comical 
sight  to  witness  the  quizzical  expression  of  countenances 
along  that  living  chain !  The  troop  was  now  on  the 
other  side,  but  how  were  the  animals  forming  the  bridge 
to  get  themselves  over  ?  Manifestly,  by  number  one  let- 
ting go  his  tail.  But  then  the  poi7it  (Vappui  on  the  other 
side  was  much  lower  down,  and  number  one,  with  half 
a  dozen  of  his  neighbors,  would  be  dashed  against  the 
opposite  bank  or  soused  into  the  water.  Here  was  a 
problem,  but  it  was  soon  solved.  A  monkey  attached  his 
tail  to  the  lowest  on  the  bridge,  another  girded  himself 
in  a  similar  manner,  and  another,  and  so  on  till  a  dozen 
more  were  added  to  the  string!  These  last  were  all 
powerful  fellows ;  and  running  up  to  a  high  limb,  they 
lifted  the  bridge  to  a  position  almost  horizontal.  Then 
a  scream  from  the  last  warned  the  tail-end  that  all  was 
ready,  and  the  next  moment  the  whole  chain  was  swung 
over  and  landed  safely  on  the  opposite  bank.  The  whole 
troop  then  scampered  off  and  disappeared.  Now  in  this 
instance  there  was  reason  almost  human.  Indeed,  the 
celebrated  Dr.  Darwin  says  that  men  came  from  monkeys, 
and  I  do  not  dispute  it,  but  I  do  not  say  it  is  true ;  my 
readers  will  be  left  to  judge  for  themselves.  Of  the 
many  readers  of  the  Growing  World,  both  young  and 
old,  some  one  perhaps  may  be  able  to  give  us  a  correct 
opinion. 

There  are  very  many  species  of  monkey,  some  so 
much  like  man  that  were  it  not  for  his  coating  of  hair 
the  casual  observer  could  hardly  distinguish  the  monkey 
from  a  man.  Nearly  every  species  is  found  in  South 
America  and  the  West  Indies ;  in  South  America  there 
are  preaching  monkeys,  weeping  monkeys  and  howling 
monkeys,  and  many  other  kinds  too  numerous  by  far  to 
be  mentioned  here.  There  are  many  kinds  also  in  the 
East  Indies  and  Africa;  neither  is  India  wanting  in 
monkeys.  I  will  give  an  anecdote  of  some  monkeys  in 
India.  A  gentleman  who  was  spending  a  short  time 
with  a  friend  in  India,  had  been  out  shooting,  and  re- 
turning had  reached  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  bunga- 
low, when,  passing  by  a  pleasant  river,  he  thought  a 
bath  would  be  a  most  renovating  luxury;  he  sent  home 
his  servants  with  an  intimation  that  he  would  shortly 
follow.  So  stripping,  and  placing  his  clothes  very  care- 
fully on  a  stone,  he  began  to  luxuriate  in  the  water.  He 
was  a  capital  swimmer,  and  had  swam  to  some  distance, 
when,  to  his  horror  and  dismay,  on  looking  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  habiliments,  he  perceived  a  dozen 
monkeys  overhauling  his  entire  wardrobe.  One  was 
putting  his  legs  through  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt,  another 
was  cramming  its  head  into  his  trowsers,  a  third  was 
trying  to  find  whether  any  treasures  were  concealed  in 
his  boots,  while  the  hat  was  f  oimd  a  source  of  wonder- 
ment and  amusement  to  some  two  or  three  others  who 
were  endeavoring  to  unravel  its  mystery  by  ripping  the 
lining  and  taking  a  few  bites  out  of  the  brim.  As  soon 
as  he  had  regained  his  mental  equilibrium  (for  the  thing 
was  BO  ridiculous  that  it  made  him  laugh  heartily,)  he 
made  with  all  haste  toward  the  shore;  but  judge  oi  his 
perplexity  when  he  saw  these  mischievous  creatures 
each  catch  up  what  he  could  lay  hold  of  and  rattle  off 
at  full  speed  into  the  jungle.  All  he  heard  was  a  great 
chattering  as  they,  one  by  one,  disappeared,  the  last  one 
lugging  off  his  shirt,  which  being  rather  awkward  to 
carry,  was  continually  tripping  it  up  by  getting  between 
its  legs.  And  here  he  staid  till  the  inmates  of  the  bun- 
galow, Ueginning  to  suspect  some  accident,  came  out 
in  search  and  found  the  gentleman  sitting  in  the  water 
up  to  his  neck,  in  a  frame  of  body  and  mind  which  we 
may  conceive  to  be  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 

A  certain  family  once  had  a  common  monkey  for  a 
pet.  On  one  occasion  the  footman  had  been  shaving 
himself,  the  monkey  watching  him  during  the  process; 
when  he  carelessly  left  his  apparatus  within  reach  of  the 
creature.  As  soon  as  the  man  was  gone  out  of  the  room, 
to  try  his  imitatorial  powers  the  monkey  got  the  razor 
and  began  to  scrape  away  at  his  throat,  as  he  had  seen 
the  footman  do,  when^  alas  !  not  understanding  the  nar 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  6i 


tare  of  the  Instrument  he  was  using,  the  animal  cut  ita 
own  throat,  and  before  it  was  discovered  bled  to  death. 

Monkeys  are  very  sagacious,  and  they  often  under- 
take robberies  with  surprising  skill  and  regularity. 
Their  robberies  seem  to  be  the  result  of  well-concerted 
plans.  If  about  to  rob  an  orchard  or  a  vineyard,  they 
set  to  work  in  a  body.  A  part  enter  the  enclosure  while 
one  is  set  to  watch.  The  rest  stand  without  the  en- 
closure and  form  a  line  reaching  all  the  way  from  their 
companions  within  to  their  rendezvous  without,  which 
is  generally  some  craggy  mountain.  Everything  thus 
disposed,  the  plunderers  within  throw  the  fruit  to  those 
that  are  without  as  fast  as  they  can  gather  it,  or,  if  the 
wall  or  fence  be  high,  to  those  that  sit  on  top,  and  these 
hand  the  plunder  to  those  next  them  on  the  other  side. 
Thus  the  fruit  is  pitched  from  one  to  another  all  along 
the  line,  till  it  is  securely  deposited  at  headquarters. 
During  the  proceedings  they  maintain  the  most  profound 
silence;  their  sentinel  continues  on  the  watch  extremely 
anxious  and  attentive.  But,  if  he  perceives  any  one 
coming  he  instantly  sets  up  a  loud  cry,  and  at  this  signal 
the  whole  company  scamper  off.  Nor  yet  are  they  at 
any  time  willing  to  leave  the  place  empty-handed  ;  for, 
If  they  be  plundering  a  bed  of  melons,  for  instance, 
they  go  off  with  one  in  their  mouths,  one  in  their  hands, 
and  one  under  their  arm.  If  the  pursuit  is  hot,  they 
will  drop  first  that  from  under  the  arm,  and  then  that 
from  their  hand;  and  if  it  be  continued,  they  at  last  let 
fall  that  which  they  had  hitherto  kept  in  their  mouths. 
A  tribe  of  monkeys  called  mottled  baboons  mostly  rob 
in  this  way;  they  appear  to  be  under  a  sort  of  natural 
discipline. 

Monkeys  watch  over  their  young  with  great  assiduity, 
'  and  appear  to  educate  and  train  them  upon  a  general 
plan.  Their  parents  procure  for  them  every  possible 
comfort,  and  they  preserve  among  them  a  due  share  of 
discipline,  and  seem  even  to  hold  them  in  subjection; 
they  appear  to  watch  their  antics  with  great  delight. 


The  First  American  Locomotive. 

JuBt  beyond  the  west  end  of  Machinery  Hall,  at  the  Cen- 
tennial Exhibition  in  Philadelphia,  in  the  open  air,  is  the  first 
locomotive  ever  run  in  America,  and  which  Is  attached  to  two 
passenger  cars  such  as  were  used  in  1833.  Both  the  locomotive, 
cars,  and  the  track  upon  which  they  stand,  are  such  curiosities 
in  their  way,  in  comparison  to  those  used  to-day,  that  we  will 
give  our  readers  a  description  of  them.  The  rails  are  not 
attached  to  wooden  cross-ties,  but  to  great  square  stones,  upon 
which  are  placed  thin  blocks  of  wood,  as  it  was  considered  un- 
safe in  those  days  to  run  an  engine  which  weighed  nine  tons 
on  rails  affixed  to  anything  so  frail  as  wood.  The  rails  are 
much  lighter  than  those  used  to-day,  were  roUed  in  England, 
and  then  shipped  to  America  at  great  expense.  The  locomo- 
tive, "  John  Bull,"  was  built  in  England  in  1831,  and  then 
Bhipped  to  America.  On  the  arrival  of  this  locomotive  at 
Bordentown,  N.  J.,  it  was  transferred  from  the  sloop  on  which 
it  had  been  brought  from  Philadelphia,  by  means  of  wagons  to 
the  only  permanent  track  of  the  Camden  and  Amboy  Railroad 
Company  then  completed,  about  three-fourths  of  a  mile  in 
length,  and  about  one  mile  from  Bordentown.  The  machinery 
was  then  put  together,  and  a  tender  constructed  from  a  whis- 
key hogshead  placed  on  a  smaU  four-wheeled  platform  car, 
which  had  been  used  by  the  contractor  in  the  construction  of 
the  road.  The  connection  between  the  pump  of  the  locomo- 
tive and  the  water  tank  was  made  by  means  of  a  leather  hose 
made  by  a  shoemaker.  This  engine  first  began  to  run  in  1833, 
and  took  the  place  of  horses,  which  had  been  used  up  to  that 
time.  The  cylinders  are  nine  inches  in  diameter,  have  twenty- 
inch  stroke,  and  are  placed  underreath  the  front  end  of  the 
boiler,  in  between  the  two  front  driving  wheels  There  are 
two  pairs  of  these  driving  wheels,  four  feet  six  inches  in  di- 
ameter, which  are  not  coupled  together,  so  that  the  force  of 
the  steam  on  the  piston  is  exerted  on  the  rear  pair  alone  The 
cow-catcher  consists  of  two  long  wooden  beams,  which  have 
their  rear  ends  pivoted  to  the  outside  ends  of  the  shaft  of  the 
front  pair  of  driving  wheels,  while  the  front  ends  of  the  beams 
»re  supported  upon  a  special  pair  of  wheels  three  feet  in  diam. 
Iter,  In  order  to  prevent  this  catcher  from  rising  too  high,  it 
is  held  down  upon  the  rails  by  a  coiled  spring.  There  is 
no  cab  for  the  engineer  and  fireman,  and  the  only  protection 
whatever  given  to  them  from  the  cold,  heat,  wind,  rain  and 


snow,  is  that  the  front  end  of  the  roof  of  the  little  tender  pro- 
jects slightly  over  the  rear  end  of  the  locomotive.  The  funni- 
est feature  is  a  covered  seat,  such  as  are  used  on  wagons,  but 
only  large  enough  for  one  person,  which  is  placed  on  the  top 
of  the  big  covered  box  that  forms  the  tender,  and  which  seat 
is  turned  so  that  the  person  sitting  in  it  looks  back  over  the 
train.  The  two  cars  are  each  about  thirty  feet  long,  and  look 
more  like  the  "  Black  Marias  "  that  are  used  to  convey  prison- 
ers from  the  diff"erent  stations  than  passenger  cars.  The  win- 
dows  are  about  twelve  inches  high  by  six  inches  wide ;  are  not 
made  to  be  raised  or  opened,  and  are  furnished  with  sliding 
curtains.  Above  each  seat  is  a  ventilator  two  feet  long  by  six 
inches  wide,  so  that  each  one  can  ventilate  for  himself. 

In  Machinery  Hall  there  are  about  a  dozen  of  locomotives  of 
all  kinds  and  sizes,  one  of  which  is  one  of  sixteen  purchased 
by  Dom  Pedro  to  be  sent  to  Brazil,  and  is  named  after  him. 
The  locomotives  built  in  England  and  America  differ  princi- 
pally in  two  particulars.  The  Americans  place  their  cylinders 
outside  of  the  driving  wheels,  while  the  English  place  theirs 
in  between  them,  under  the  front  end  of  the  boiler.  The 
Americans  never  use  driving  wheels  larger  than  about  five 
feet  in  diameter,  while  the  English  have  always  made  them 
from  six  and  a-half  to  eight  and  a-half  feet  in  diameter.  As 
long  as  the  track  is  perfectly  level  these  immense  wheels  are 
just  what  is  needed,  but  as  soon  as  grades  are  encountered, 
they  only  impede  the  progress  of  the  train,  and  the  English 
are  now  beginmng  to  realize  this,  and  are  discarding  these  im. 
mense  drivers,  and  adopting  the  American  plan  of  never  hav- 
ing them  over  about  five  feet.  To  the  Americans  are  due  some 
of  the  finest  and  best  improvements  in  the  locomotive. 
America  has  built  the  largest  passenger  engine  ever  made,  also 
the  largest  coupled  engine,  but  the  latter  was  a  failure,  owing 
to  the  false  theory  on  which  it  was  built.  As  a  general  thing, 
the  English  run  their  cars  faster  than  the  Americans,  but  this 
is  owing  to  better  ballasted  roads  and  more  uniform  levels 


Ball  Lightning. 

BY  OEOBGB  ELLIS. 

Fireworks  are  very  fine  things  In  their  way,  and  we 
always  did  admire  the  vivid  flashes  of  a  dark  summer 
thunder  storm.  But  there  are  certain  displays  of  the 
sort  which  have  occasioned  more  alarm  than  admira- 
tion. 

During  severe  storms,  electricity  sometimes  takes  a 
fancy  to  play  around  in  the  shape  of  huge  fire-balls, 
which  waver  about  above  ground  in  an  easy  way,  much 
like  the  little  red  balloons  in  which  the  children  so  de- 
light. But  woe  to  any  person  or  anything  that  comes  in 
the  way  when  these  fire-balls  "light." 

A  laboring  man,  going  home  from  his  work  one  even- 
ing, in  a  summer  shower,  saw  just  before  him  a  large, 
glowing  ball  hovering  a  few  feet  above  the  earth,  and 
his  surprise  was  not  unmixed  with  alarm.  He  was  walk- 
ing on  haunted  ground,  for  hard  by  was  an  Indian 
mound,  where  some  old  bones  and  hatchets  had  been 
disturbed,  and  it  was  naturally  supposed  that  the  old 
braves  to  whom  they  once  belonged  felt  mad  about  it, 
and  came  back  occasionally  to  make  a  fuss.  This  fire- 
ball might  have  something  to  do  with  their  ire.  How- 
ever it  might  be,  he  resolved  to  give  it  a  wide  berth.  It 
was  well  he  did,  for  the  next  minute  it  came  in  contact 
with  a  tree,  splintering  it  into  kindling  wood  and  mak- 
ing a  great  explosion. 

A  gentleman  was  once  sitting  in  his  room,  by  a  table, 
when  a  ball  come  down  the  chimney  and  entered  the 
room,  floating  about  quite  at  its  ease,  and  approaching 
in  a  playful  way  the  gentleman's  feet.  He  was  not 
pleased  with  such  a  suspicious  visitor,  and  gently  moved 
to  one  side  to  see  what  it  would  do  next.  It  hovered 
up  and  down  and  finally  went  straight  for  a  pipe  hole 
that  was  above  the  mantel. 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  man,  "it  could  not  see  the  pipe- 
hole  as  it  was  covered  by  the  wall  papering." 

However,  it  cut  its  way  neatly  through,  and  ascended 
the  cLimney  again  in  safety  ;  but  at  the  top  of  it,  it  must 
have  touched  the  rim,  demolishing  the  chimney  and 
sending  down  a  rattling  shower  of  bricks  and  mortar. 

Such  cases  of  ball-lightning  have  been  frequently 
seen  at  sea,  and  have  proved  very  destructive  to  ships' 
masts  and  rigging. 


62 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD, 


Lapis  Lazuli. 

This  mineral,  which  is  called  azure  stone  by  the  vul- 
gar, is  of  a  niagnificent  blue  color,  sometimes  spangled 
with  beautiful  gold  spots,  from  flakes  of  sulphuret  of  iron 
throughout  its  mass.  It  occurs  in  shapeless  blocks,  or 
rounded  pebbles,  or,  at  times,  in  prismatic  forms,  hav- 
ing sides,  obliquely  set.  It  is  of  a  compact  grain, 
opaque  and  hard ;  will  cut  glass,  and  strike  fire  from 
steel.  It  is  found  principally  in  Persia  and  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Lake  Baikal  in  Siberia,  and  is  highly  prized  for 
jewelry  and  ornamental  work.  The  purest  specimens 
are  reserved  to  cut  for  gems,  and  to  make  those  rare 
Florentine  mosaics  so  much  admired.  A  quality  less 
rich  goes  to  the  decoration  of  the  houses  of  the  wealthy. 
The  halls  of  the  Orloff  Palace,  at  St.  Petersburg,  are 
papered  throughout  with  lapis  lazuli  from  the  Grand 
Bankharrle.  The  coloring  matter  of  this  stone  gives 
that  beautiful  blue  which  is  called  ultramarine,  not  be* 
cause  it  is  beyond  a  sky  blue,  but  because  it  was  brought 
from  beyond  the  sea,  namely,  the  Levant.  It  is  pro- 
cured in  a  sort  of  soap-making  process,  by  the  use  ol 
chemical  agents.  Exposed  to  a  strong  fire,  the  mineral 
mass  melts  to  a  yellowish-black  paste.  Simply  calcined, 
it  is  deprived  of  its  color  by  strong  chemicals,  and  leaves 
a  pot  of  jelly.  There  exist  some  massive  fragments  of 
lazulite,  but  the  mineral  is  usually  combined  with  for- 
eign matters,  so  that  a  specimen  quite  pure  and  bulky 
attains  a  high  price.  The  French  treasury  has  a  magni- 
ficent lazulite  cup,  shaped  like  a  sea  shell,  and  worth 
two  hundred  thousand  francs,  or  forty  thousand  dollars. 

There  is  also  a  bowl,  or  hand  dish,  valued  at  sixteen 
thousand  dollars,  which  were  cheap  if  it  gave  French 
rulers  clean  hands ;  and  there,  too,  you  may  see  a  saber, 
with  a  lazulite  hilt,  worth  twelve  thousand  dollars,  the 
gift  of  Tippoo  Saib  to  Louis  XVI. ;  and  three  chaplets, 
of  a  thousand  francs  each,  on  whose  beads  of  luzuli  the 
royal  nobs  said  their  prayers  lazily  when  the  Red  Re- 
publicans were  not  after  them. 


First  Steamboat  on  the  Hudson. 

The  steamboat  itself  is  a  romance  of  the  Hudson.  Its 
birth  was  on  the  waters,  where  the  rude  conceptions  of 
Evans  and  Fitch  on  the  Schuylkill  and  Delaware  were 
perfected  by  Fulton  and  his  successors.  How  strange  is 
the  story  of  its  advent,  growth  and  achievements  !  Liv- 
ing men  remember  when  the  idea  of  steam  navigation 
was  ridiculed.  They  remember,  too,  that  when  the 
Clermont  went  from  New  York  to  Albany  without  the 
use  of  sails,  against  vsrind  and  tide,  in  thirty-two  hours, 
ridicule  was  changed  into  amazement.  That  voyage  did 
more.  It  spread  terror  over  the  surface  of  the  river,  and 
created  wide  alarm  along  its  borders.  The  steamboat 
was  an  awful  revelation  to  the  fishermen,  the  farmers, 
and  the  villagers.  It  came  upon  them  unheralded.  It 
seemed  like  a  weird  craft  from  Pluto's  realm — a  transfig- 
uration of  Charon's  boat  into  a  living  fiend  from  the  in- 
fernal regions.  Its  huge  black  pipe,  vomiting  fire  and 
smoke,  the  hoarse  breathing  of  its  engine,  and  the  great 
splash  of  its  uncovered  paddle-wheels,  filled  the  imagin- 
ation with  all  the  dark  pictures  of  goblins  that  romancers 
have  invented  since  the  foundation  of  the  world.  Some 
thought  it  was  an  unheard-of  monster  of  the  sea  ravag- 
ing the  fresh  water;  others  regarded  it  as  a  herald  of  the 
final  conflagration  at  the  day  of  doom.  Managers  of 
river  craft  who  saw  it  at  night  believed  that  the  great 
red  dragon  of  the  Apocalypse  was  loose  upon  the  waters. 
Seme  prayed  for  deliverance;  some  fled  in  terror  to  the 
shore  and  hid  in  the  recesses  of  the  rocks,  and  some 
crouched  in  mortal  dread  beneath  their  decks  and  aban- 
doned their  vessels  and  themselves  to  the  mercy  of  the 
winds  and  waves  or  the  jaws  of  the  demon.  The  Cler- 
mont was  the  author  of  some  of  the  most  wonderful  ro- 
mances of  the  Hudson,  and  for  years  she  was  the  victim 
and  enmity  of  the  fishermen,  who  believed  that  her  noise 
and  agitation  of  the  waters  would  drive  the  shad  and 
sturgeon  from  the  river. 


A  Roman  Tunnel  in  Algiers. 

Several  civil  engineers,  engaged  with  the  surveys  for  a 
water  conduit  from  Touja  to  Bougie,  have  made  a  very 
interesting  and  important  discovery.  A  mountain,  which 
was  situated  in  the  proposed  line  of  the  conduit,  was  to 
be  tunneled  for  a  length  of  500  yards;  and,  in  searching 


for  the  most  suitable  place,  the  engineers  discovered  an. 
ancient  tunnel,  six  feet  eight  inches  in  height,  and  nine- 
teen feet  seven  inches  in  circumference,  ft  is  supposed 
that  this  is  the  same  tunnel  mentioned  in  an  epigraph 
found  at  Lambeoc,  according  to  which  the  tunnel  was 
built  in  the  reign  of  Antonius  Pius,  the  plans  being  pro- 
posed by  a  veteran  of  the  Third  Legion,  named  Nominus 
Dutus.  Finding  works  like  this  after*  a  time  of  2,000 
years,  we  cannot  but  be  greatly  astonished  at  the  power, 
energy,  and  genius  of  a  nation  which  produced,  v/ith  the 
limited  means  available  at  those  times,  such  gigantic 
structures. 


Everlasting  Fire. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Baku,  on  the  Caspian  Sea, 
there  is  a  phenomenon  of  a  very  extraordinary  nature 
called  the  everlasting  fire,  to  which  a  sect  of  Indians  and 
Persians  called  Gaurs  pay  religious  worship,  ft  is  situa- 
ted about  ten  miles  from  the  city  of  Baku,  in  the  pro 
vince  of  Shirvan,  on  a  dry,  rocky  piece  of  ground. 

On  it  there  are  several  ancient  temples,  built  of  stone, 
and  supposed  to  be  all  dedicated  to  fire,  there  being  one 
among  them  in  which  fire-worship  is  now  carried  on. 
Near  the  altar  there  is  a  large,  hollow  cane  from  the  end 
of  which  issues  a  blue  flame.  The  worshippers  aflBrm 
that  this  flame  has  continued  ever  since  the  deluge,  and 
they  believe  if  it  were  suppressed  in  that  place  it  would 
break  out  in  another. 

At  a  short  distance  from  this  temple  there  is  a  horizon 
tal  gap,  two  feet  from  the  ground,  about  six  feet  long 
and  three  broad,  out  of  which  comes  a  constant  flame 
of  the  color  of  that  in  the  temple.  When  there  is  a 
strong  wind  it  rises  to  the  height  of  eight  feet,  but  is 
much  lower  in  calmer  weather. 

The  earth  around,  for  more  than  two  miles,  has  this 
extraordinary  property,  that  by  taking  up  two  or  three 
inches  of  the  surface  and  applying  a  lighted  lamp,  the 
part  uncovered  immediately  takes  fire,  even  before  the 
flame  touches  it.  The  flames  make  the  soil  hot,  but  do 
not  consume  it  nor  affect  what  is  near  with  any  degree 
of  heat. 

It  is  said  that  eight  horses  were  once  consumed  by  this 
fire  under  a  roof  where  the  surface  of  the  ground  hac* 
been  turned  up  and  by  some  accident  had  ignited.  If  a 
cane  or  tube  of  paper  be  set  about  two  inches  into  the 
ground,  closed  with  earth  below,  and  the  top  of  it  touch- 
ed with  a  live  coal,  a  flame  will  immediately  issue  forth 
without  consuming  the  tube,  provided  the  edges  be  cov- 
ered with  clay.  Three  or  four  lighted  canes  wiU  boil 
water  in  a  pot,  and  are  sometimes  used  to  cook  victuals. 
The  flames  have  a  sulphurous  smell  but  are  inoffensive. 


The  Natives  of  Ceylon. 

The  entire  population  of  Ceylon  is  two  and  one-quarter 
millions,  the  native  portion  of  which  is  divided  into 
three  classes  :  the  Cinghalese,  or  original  inhabitants  of 
the  island  ;  the  Tamils,  of  the  same  race,  and  speaking 
the  same  language  with  the  people  of  Madras,  and  the 
Mohammedans,  from  northern  India.  The  Cinghalese 
are  a  handsome  people,  well  formed  and  graceftil,  but 
effeminate,  and  as  utterly  unreliable  as  other  Asiatic 
races.  Men  and  women  alike  wear  the  hair  long,  and 
fastened  in  a  knot  at  the  back  of  the  head,  while  the  top 
of  the  head  is  invariably  ornamented  with  a  circular 
tortoise-shell  comb.  Both  sexes  wear  short  jackets,  and 
a  long  strip  of  cotton  or  silk  fastened  by  a  belt  to  the 
waist,  and  falling  to  the  feet.  The  dress  of  the  children, 
jp  to  eight  or  ten  years,  consists  of  a  silver  band  about 
..he  neck,  and  a  silver  or  coral  ring  on  each  ankle  and 
tvrist — "  merely  this  and  nothing  more  " — a  costume 
easily  kept  in  order,  and  remarkably  well  adapted  to  the 
climate.  These  children  are  the  prettiest  and  most  agUe 
little  creatures  imaginable,  and  as  full  of  mischief  and 
sprightly  tricks  as  so  many  monkeys.  The  natives  are 
remarkably  cleanly  in  person  and  dress,  usually  bathing 
twice  and  thrice  each  day ;  but  the  habit  of  chewing  the 
betel  leaf  and  areca  nut,  indulged  in  by  the  young  and 
old  alike,  gives  an  appearance  to  the  teeth  and  lips  very 
disgusting  to  the  foreigner.  The  houses  of  the  natives 
are  mere  palm-leaf  or  mud  huts,  but  quite  sufficient  for 
their  wants,  as  they  live  mostly  out  of  doors,  leading  an 
idle,  careless  life,  satisfied  if  the  wants  of  to-day  are 
supplied,  and  most  literally  "  taking  no  thought  for  the 
morrow,  for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  it«elf." 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


63 


CACTI  AND  AGAVES, 

After  fighting  the  world  of  business  and  amassing 


The  well-to-do  individual  depicted  by  our  artist 
has  bent  his  mind  in  the  direction  of  cacti-growing, 
and  is  making  his  daily  round  of  inspection.  Pro- 
bably no  class  of  plants  require  more  heat  and  less 


THE  ENTHUSIASTIC  BOTANIST. 


a  fortune,  the  merchant,  who  retires  to  a  house  in 
the  country,  feels  the  time  hang  heavy  upon  his 
hands,  and  usually  finds  a  solace  in  some  such  hobby 
as  botany  or  natural  history. 


moisture  than  these,  and  many  persons  liave  failed 
in  cultivating  them  simply  through  drenching  the 
structures  with  water. 

The  cactus  is  almost  an  air-tight  plant,  a  provision 


64 


THE  GROWjNG  JVORLD. 


of  nature  to  prevent  the  sun  from  drying  them  up. 
In  the  rocky  homes  of  this  plant  there  is  sometimes 
for  months  together  a  dearth  of  rain  or  dew,  yet  the 
plants  are  not  materially  affected,  and  even  when 
sickly  heal  again. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  sharp  thorn  with  which  they 
are  provided  the  plants  would  soon  be  eaten  off  the 
face  of  the  earth. 

In  a  cold  climate  their  growth  may  be  indefinitely 
retarded;  but  subjected  to  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun, 
they  assume  their  natural  proportions.  Some  years 
ago  a  West  Indian  merchant  happening  to  be  in 
Covent  Garden,  London,  saw  exposed  for  sale  very 
diminutive  cacti;  each  plant  was  in  a  tiny  pot,  about 
an  inch  in  height,  and  he  noticed  with  great  delight 
that  one  of  them  was  a  well-known  West  Indian 
species,  famous  for  its  immense  proportions  and 
gigantic  growth.  ' '  Are  these  dwarfed  by  any  means  ?  " 
he  inquired  of  the  black-eyed  deity  who  presided  at 
the  stall.  "Oh,  no>  sir  !"  she  replied,  "them's  quite 
grown.  They'll  never  grow  any  bigger."  Fortified 
with  this  assurance  he  purchased  one,  placed  it  in  a 
box,  and  took  it  to  his  hotel  and  placed  it  among  his 
effects.  In  due  time  he  started  for  home,  and  on  the 
way — I  being  a  fellow  passenger — he  exhibited  his 
diminutive  plant.  Two  years  after  the  time  he  landed 
at  Saint  Thomas,  I  visited  him,  and  happening  to  in- 
quire about  his  minature  cactus,  was  taken  into  the 
veranda  of  his  house.  Pointing  to  an  immense 
candle-cacti,  like  the  mast  of  a  sloop-of-war,  he  said: 
"  That's  the  minature  plant.  It  no  sooner  felt  the 
warmth  of  its  natural  climate  than  it  started  grow- 
ing; outgrew  the  house  and  was  banished  to  the  ver- 
anda. One  day  a  hurricane  blew  it  from  the  rail  into 
the  garden,  where  it  took  root  as  readily  as  a  duck 
takes  to  the  water.  It's  now  forty  feet  in  height, 
and  if  it  continues  to  grow  will  double  its  present 
proportions. 

The  cactacea,  comprising  numerous  species,  are  all 
natives  of  the  American  continent.  Their  branching 
stems  present  the  most  varied,  often  the  most 
grotesque  forms.  Sometimes  they  are  erect,  like  a 
tall  fluted  column  ;  at  others  they  are  massed  to- 
gether like  a  solid  sphere,  tapering  off  into  cylindrical 
branches,  or  flattened  after  the  manner  of  the  Indian 
Fig  In  short,  nothing  is  more  varied  than  the  as- 
pect of  the  numberless  cactuses,  which  grow  natu- 
ally  in  strange  profusion  in  America,  and  which  art 
has  brought  together  in  great  quantities  for  the  pur- 
poses of  study  and  gratification  both  in  this  and 
foreign  countries. 

Their  appearance  is  interesting  by  reason  of  the 
roughness  of  the  stalks  and  the  beauty  of  the  flowers. 
Found  chiefly  in  the  hot  stony  places  of  tropical 
America ;  their  stems  are  filled  with  an  abundant 
juice,  which,  being  enclosed  within  a  tough  and  im- 
permeable skin,  enables  them  to  support  a  sluggish 
vital  action  without  inconvenience  in  a  parched  soil. 
They  vary  in  stature  from  creeping  stems  to  angular 
ascending  trunks,  sometimes  thirty  feet  in  height. 
The  flowers,  varying  from  pure  white  to  rich  scarlet 
and  purple,  are  much  increased  in  size  and  brilliancy 
by  cultivation  in  gardens  and  greenhouses.  They 
thrive,  however,  only  in  the  poorest  soil.  More  than 
sixty  species  of  cacti  have  been  described. 

The  C.  melocactus,  the  great  melon  thistle,  or  Turk's 
cap  (a  specimen  of  which  our  enthusiastic  botanist 
is  examining)  grows  from  the  apertures  of  rocks  in 
the  dry  est  and  hottest  parts  of  America;  it  appears 
like  a  green  melon,  with  deep  ribs,  set  all  over  with 
sharp  thorns,  and  was  likened  by  Linnaeus  to  a  hedge- 
hog. It  attains  a  height  of  four  or  five  feet  in  the 
West  Indies,  and  has  been  brought  to  more  than 
half  the  size  in  the  New  England  states.  In  times 
of  drought  in  their  native  soil  they  are  ripped  up  by 
the  cattle,  and  their  moist  internal  part  greedily  de- 
voured. 


The  C.  Opuntra,  prickly  pear,  or  Indian  Fig,  de- 
rives its  name  from  Opus,  in  Greece,  where  it  was 
indigenous,  although  like  the  others,  a  native  of 
America;  it  also  grows  wild  in  Italy,  and  flourishes 
in  the  lava  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Etna;  it  is  cultivated  in 
England  and  America  for  its  fruit,  upon  which  the 
Indians  of  Florida  lived  almost  exclusively  for  three 
months  of  the  year. 

The  C.  Tuna  is  used  for  hedging;  three  rows  of  it 
were  planted  as  a  boundary  when  the  island  of  St. 
Christopher  was  divided  between  the  English  and 
French. 

The  C.  Gochinillifer  is  the  chief  nourishment  of  the 
cochineal  insect. 

All  the  species  of  cactus  are  best  cultivated  in  a 
sandy  loam  mixed  with  brick  tubbish. 

The  other  plants  shown  in  the  collection  of 
the  enthusiastic  botanist  are  American  agaves  or 
aloes,  which  have  a  short  cylindrical  stem,  ter- 
minating in  a  circular  cluster  of  hard,  fleshy, 
spiny,  sharp-pointed,  bluish-green  leaves,  each  of 
which  leaves  continues  to  exist  for  many  years,  so 
that  but  few  have  withered  when  the  plant  has  ar- 
rived at  maturity.  It  is  a  popular  error,  that  this  only 
occurs  at  the  expiration  of  a  hundred  years,  when  the 
tree  flowers  and  again  lies  dormant,  so  far  as  its  efllorescence 
is  concerned,  for  another  century,  and  again  produces  its  cen- 
tennial floral  tribute.  The  American  aloe  varies  according  to 
the  region  in  which  it  grows,  in  the  period  or  its  coming  to 
maturity,  from  ten  to  seventy  years.  In  hot  climates  it  grows 
quickly.  In  colder  countries,  where  it  is  cultivated  as  an  ex- 
otic, it  often  requires  the  full  period  assigned  to  it  before  it 
has  attained  its  maturity.  So  soon  as  it  does  so,  it  sends  fortli 
a  stem  forty  feet  in  height,  which  puts  out  numerous  branches; 
forming  a  cylindrical  pyramid  of  perfect  symmetry,  each 
crowned  with  a  cluster  jf  greenish-yellow  flowers,  which  con- 
tinue  in  perfect  bloom  during  a  period  of  several  months  in 
succession.  .    ,      -  i    •  ^  ^     •  i 

The  natural  country  of  the  aloe  is  the  wiiole  intertropicaJ 
region  of  America,  in  which  it  flourishes  from  the  sandy  plains 
on  the  level  of  the  sea,  to  the  table  lands  of  the  mountains,  at 
a  height  of  nine  to  ten  thousand  feet.  From  these  regions  it 
has  been  transported  to  almost  every  temperate  region.  In  the 
United  States,  England  and  France,  it  is  a  tender  green-house 
plant:  but  in  Spain,  Italy,  Sicily,  and  the  Barbary  States,  it  i» 
perfectly  naturalized,  and  gives  to  those  beautiful  countries  a 
picture  of  tropical  vegetation,  mingled  with  the  foliage  and 
scenery  of  temperate  Europe.  It  is  applied  to  many  uses  by 
the  natives  of  the  lands  in  which  it  grows.  From  its  sap,  drawa 
from  incisions  in  its  stem,  is  made  pulque— a.  fermented  liquor. 
A  coarse  sort  of  thread  is  made  from  the  fibers  of  the  leaves^ 
known  as  the  petal  flax.  The  dried  flower  stems  constitute  » 
thatch  perfectly  impervious  and  proof  against  weather;  whUe 
from  an  extract  of  the  leaves  bolls  are  manufactured,  which 
can  be  made  to  lather  like  soap;  and  from  the  center  of  the 
stem,  split  longitudinally,  a  substitute  is  obtained  for  a  hone  or 
razor  strop,  which,  owing  to  the  particles  of  silicia  which  form 
one  of  its  constituents,  has  the  property  of  speedily  bringing^ 

St/Bcl  to  3i  1^116  G(iffG. 

In  one  sense,  and  in  only  one,  is  it  true  that  the  American 
aloe  flowers  but  once  in  a  hundred  years.  For  this  plant— like 
some  of  the  ephemeral  insects,  whose  whole  business  appears 
to  be  once  to  procreate  their  species  and  then  to  die— no  sooner 
has  it  flowered— at  whatever  period  of  its  existence  that  fact 
may  occur— and  thus  discharged  its  duty  of  regeneration,  than 
it  at  once  withers  and  dies,  like  the  Phoenix,  that  "  secular  bird 
of  ages,"  which  never  lived  to  look  upon  its  offspring  and  suc- 
cessor. .       ,    ,  . 

The  juice  of  the  leaves  of  different  species  of  aloe  forms  the 
aloes  of  commerce.  The  processes  of  preparing  the  drug  are 
various.  Sometimes  the  leaves  are  cut  off  at  the  stem,  thwi 
cut  in  pieces,  and  the  juice  drained  off  in  iron  vessels.  It  is 
then  suffered  to  stand  forty-eight  hours,  during  which  time  the 
dregs  are  deposited,  and  the  remaining  p9rtion  is  poured  off 
into  broad  flat  vessels  and  becomes  inspissated.  In  other 
places  the  leaves  are  pulled,  and  after  being  cut  in  pieces,  the 
juice  is  extracted  by  pressure.  a  f  ^ 

Of  all  the  wonders  that  have  been  gathered  from  every 
quarter  of  the  globe  to  grace  our  hundredth  birthday  at  the- 
Centennial  Exhibition,  there  is  nothing  more  rarely  beautiful 
than  the  wealth  of  plants  and  flowers  that  AH  the  gracefm 
Moorish  structure  erected  for  their  display.  Those  of  oi^ 
readers  who  visit  the  Exhibition  will  find  many  fine  and 
curious  specimens  of  both  Cacti  and  Agave  plants  m  the 
tr.pical  department  of  this  building  known  as  Hortic^tural 
Hail;  besides  many  other  strange  growths  unfamiliar  to  North- 
eni  eyes,  the  sight  of  which  alone  is  well  worth  a  visit  to  Phila- 

^""i^French  journalist  says  thatM.  Thiers  is  an  enthusiastic  hoi- 
ticnlturist.  He  possesses  a  fine  assortment  of  Cacti  and  Agavee 
(among  his  collection  of  rare  plants.  He  knows  each  flower  m 
his  garden  and  treats  it  as  a  personal  friend.  The  semi-circuUr 
pleasure  ground  at  the  back  of  his  mansi  ^n  m  Pans,  is  tended 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


65 


by  two  gardeners.  The  master's  ideal  is  so  '"igh  that  they 
scarcely  suffice  for  the  work.  There  is  no  fresher  or  more  deli- 
cious spot  in  Paris  than  this  oasis.  Birds  are  encouraged  to 
settle  in  it.  The  Commune  did  not  destroy  the  old  tree:, 
but  a  fine  poplar  and  mountain  ash  were  killed  by  the  demo- 
lition dust.  ,  ^ 

No  true  American,  says  a  correspondent,  will  ever  allow  that 
we  have  not  the  best  country  in  the  world,  taking  everything 
into  consideration;  but  I  must  confess  that  there  are  countries 
more  beautiful.  In  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  that  we 
travel  in  going  from  Havre  to  Paris,  there  is  scarcely  an  acre  of 
uncultivated  ground,  with  the  exception  of  the  parks  belong- 
ing to  large  estates.  The  villages  all  look  very  old;  the  houses 
are  of  gray  stone,  with  sharp-pointed  roofs  rising  one  above 
the  other,  with  a  little  church  half  fallen  to  decay  in  their 
midst. 

Every  house  has  a  flower  garden,  even  to  the  railway  sta- 
tions. The  people  are  all  enthusiastic  about  plants  and  flowers. 
The  little  gardens  were  one  mass  of  color— purple  heliotrope, 
tea  roses,  ?:arlet  geraniums,  red  roses  and  pinks;  always 
framed  in  with  the  dark,  glossy,  green  leaves  of  the  ivy  that 
grows  everywhere  with  the  greatest  luxuriance. 

Leigh  Hunt  must  have  seen  such  before  he  wrote — 
"  See— and  scorn  all  duller 
Taste— how  Heaven  loves  color  1 
How  great  Nature  clearly  joys  in  red  and  green; 
What  sweet  thoughts  she  thinks 
Of  violets  and  pinks, 
And  a  thousand  flashing  hues  born  solely  to  be  seen; 
How  her  silver  lilies 

Chill  the  whitest  showers 
And  what  a  red  mouth  is  her  rose, 
The  woman  of  her  flower sP'' 

There  are  no  fences  around  the  fields;  they  are  simi)lylaid 
out  in  very  straight  rows,  and  planted  with  different  kinds  of 
vegetables,  with  occasionally  a  grass  plot  or  small  field  of  grain 
between.  The  different  shades  of  green  give  a  most  beautiful 
effect  to  the  landscape.  I  remember  many  a  controversy  in 
America,  when  a  man  has  been  obliged  to  build  a  new  fence, 
and  in  digging  a  larger  post-hole  has  perhaps  encroached  an 
inch  or  so  upon  the  domain  of  his  neighbor;  but  I  have  never 
heard  of  the  different  owners  here  having  any  trouble,  even 
with  no  fences  at  all.  There  is  not  a  stone  or  a  stick  to  mar 
the  perfect  smoothness  and  beauty  of  those  fields,  nor  an  inch 
of  ground  uncared  for.  They  are  intersected  at  intervals  by 
roads,  bordered  on  either  side  by  rows  of  tall  poplars— roads  so 
smooth,  so  hard  and  white,  that  one  longs  to  gallop  over 
them. 

Occasionally  as  we  rush  along  we  see  a  little  stone  house  and 
out-buildings,  all  with  thatched  roofs,  and  with  the  inevitable 
flower-garden  attached;  then  on  yonder  hill  we  see  a  magnifi- 
ent  chateau,  with  the  long  shady  avenues  leading  to  it;  then  a 
ruined  monastery;  then  a  green  field,  with  a  little  boy  and  a  dog 
to  guard  him.  Then  coming  down  the  white  road  we  see  an 
old  peasant  woman,  with  her  quaint  white  cap,  in  a  funny  little 
donkey-cart;  and  over  all,  the  glorious  sunny  sky  of  Prance. 
No  wonder  they  call  it  la  belle,  or  that  every  Frenchman  loves 
his  country. 


The  Great  Earthquake. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

The  most  destructive  earthquake  which  history  records 
occurred  on  the  first  day  of  November,  1755.  It  agitated 
the  whole  of  Europe  and  a  part  of  Africa.  It  even  ex- 
tended across  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  America,  causing 
the  waters  in  the  harbor  of  Boston  to  rise  to  the  height 
of  thirty  feet ;  but  nowhere  did  it  do  any  great  amount 
of  damage,  save  in  the  city  of  Lisbon,  in  Portugal. 
There  over  eighty  thousand  people  perished.  The 
whole  city  was  destroyed,  and  ruin  and  devastation 
spread  for  miles  around. 

It  was  All-Saint's  Day,  and  every  church  was  crowded 
with  people  who  had  come  from  far  and  near  to  attend 
the  festival.  At  twenty  minutes  before  ten  that  morn- 
ing a  low  rumbling  noise,  sounding  like  the  mutterings 
of  distant  thunder,  was  heard.  Soon  a  slight  shock  was 
felt,  then  a  heavier  one,  then  a  number  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, and  in  six  minutes,  more  than  thirty  thousand  peo- 
ple were  buried  under  the  ruins  of  the  churches.  Fifty 
thousand  more  perished  before  the  close  of  the  disaster. 

A  broad  marble  quay  had  just  been  built  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tagus,  and  here  three  thousand  persons  sought 
refuge  from  the  falling  buildings.    A  huge  wave,  more 
than  forty  feet  high,  swept  over  them  and  immediately 
receded,  carrying  them  far  out  to  sea.    After  the  earth- 
quake had  spent  itself,  water  covered  the  quay  to  the  1 
depth  of  several  hundred  feet.    Fires  now  kindled  in  I 
the  fallen  buildings  and  aided  in  the  work  of  devasta-  i 
tion.   The  ground  continued  to  be  agitated  for  several 
weeks,  and  in  December  following  another  severe  shock 
was  ex].  erienced. 


The  most  remarkable  circumstance  connected  with 
this  earthquake  was  the  great  amount  of  territory  over 
which  it  extended.  According  to  Humboldt,  it  was  felt 
over  a  surface  equaling  in  area  four  times  the  size  of 
Europe,  or  fourteen  million  two  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  and  eight  hundred  square  miles. 


Depths  of  the  Ocean. 

It  has  been  ascertained  by  soundings  that  the  roaring 
waves  and  the  mightiest  billow  of  the  ocean  repose,  not 
upon  hard  and  troubled  beds,  but  upon  cushions  of  stil 
water  ;  that  everywhere  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep  sea, 
the  solid  ribs  of  the  earth  are  protected,  as  with  a  gar- 
ment, from  the  abrading  action  of  its  currents  ;  that  the 
cradle  of  its  restless  waves  is  lined  by  a  stratum  of 
water  at  rest,  or  so  nearly  at  rest  that  it  can  neither  wear 
nor  move  the  lightest  bit  of  drift-stuff  that  once  lodges 
there. 

The  uniform  appearance  of  the  microscopic  sheUs, 
and  the  almost  total  absence  among  them  of  any  sedi- 
ment from  the  sea  or  foreign  matter,  suggests  most 
forcibly  the  idea  of  perfect  repose  at  the  bottom  of  the 
deep.  Some  of  the  specimens  are  as  pure  and  as  free 
from  sand  as  the  fresh  fallen  snow-flake  is  from  the  dust 
of  earth. 

Soundings  seem  to  prove  that  showers  of  these  beauti- 
ful shells  are  constantly  falling  down  upon  the  ocean 
floor,  and  the  wrecks  which  strew  the  sea-bottom  are,  in 
the  lapse  of  ages,  encrusted  over  with  these  tiny,  fleecy 
things,  until  they  present  the  rounded  outlines  of  bodies 
buried  beneath  the  snow-fall. 

The  ocean,  especially  near  and  within  the  tropics, 
swarms  with  life.  The  remains  of  its  myriads  of  moving 
things  are  conveyed  by  currents,  and  scattered  and 
lodged  in  the  course  of  tune,  all  over  the  bottom.  This 
process,  continued  for  ages,  has  covered  the  depths  ol 
the  ocean  as  with  a  mantle,  consisting  of  organisms  as 
delicate  as  hoar-frost,  and  as  light  in  the  water  as  down 
in  the  air.  Captain  Carnes. 


Trout  in  Wells. 

Few  people  are  aware  of  the  quantity  of  dirt  that  falls 
into  a  well  and  increases  the  impurity  of  the  water. 
This  filth  comes  in  the  form  of  worms,  flies,  bugs,  grass- 
hoppers, and  everything  in  the  insect  tribe  that  flies  or 
crawls  about  the  yard.  Nine-tenths  of  this  insect  filth 
would  be  eaten  by  a  good  sized  trout,  and  when  once 
put  in  a  well  a  trout  requires  but  little  attention  other 
than  to  give  him  a  few  bread  crumbs  in  winter  and  flies 
and  grasshoppers  in  the  summer,  for  in  eating  habits  a 
trout  is  as  voracious  as  a  crow,  or,  like  him,  can  subsist 
on  a  very  small  quantity  of  food.  In  my  well  a  common 
brook  trout  had  nothing  to  eat  save  what  fell  into  the 
well  by  accident,  and  a  few  grasshoppers  in  summer,  for 
five  years,  yet,  in  the  aquarium  a  trout  six  inches  long 
will  eat  two  or  three  minnows  in  a  day,  and  when  first 
taken  from  the  brook  he  will  eat  double  that  number  of 
minnows  two  inches  long.  Yet  in  the  well  tended  aqua- 
rium this  speckled  member  of  the  finny  tribe  excel* 
the  trout  in  his  native  haunts  as  much  as  the  high  gar- 
ade  or  full-blood  short-horn  the  ordinary  native  steer. 
In  fact,  I  think  this  a  truthful  comparison,  and  any  one 
who  is  familiar  with  the  trout  in  the  shaded  pool  of 
sparkling  water  and  in  the  aquarium  will  indorse  this 
assertion.  Although  a  trout  has  a  large  mouth  and  can 
"eat  his  bigness"  for  breakfast,  dinner  and  supper,  I 
would  not  put  a  smaller  than  a  six  inch  trout  in  a  well, 
and  only  one,  unless  great  care  can  be  exercised  to  feed 
them  regularly,  for  the  larger  will  devour  the  smaller. 
Considerable  pleasure  can  be  derived  from  seeing  a  trout 
in  the  well  come  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  some- 
time out  of  the  water,  to  take  a  fly  or  grasshopper 
thrown  to  him.  Aside  from  the  pleasure,  the  greatest 
argument  in  favor  of  putting  him  in  our  wells  is  that  of 
cleanliness.  The  measure  of  dirt  we  must  eat  in  a  life- 
time has  been  fixed  at  one  peck,  yet  our  ancestors  wisely 
kept  from  settling  the  quantity  we  should  drink,  for 
open  coverings  and  untight  curbs  make  a  wide  variation 
in  the  circumstances  attending  our  draughts.  Let  ns 
divide  with  the  trout,  who  is  better  entitled  from  hlfl 
cleanly  habits  to  share  the  undesirable.  m.  g. 

A  single  codfish  produces  more  than  a  million  of  eggs 
la  a  season. 


66 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Another  Sea  Monster. 

In  the  month  of  October  last,  the  British  steamship 
Nestor  arrived  at  Shanghai  from  the  Straits  of  Malacca. 
Shortly  after  the  anchoring  of  the  vessel  at  Shanghai, 
John  K.  Webster,  the  master,  and  James  Anderson,  the 
ship's  surgeon,  appeared  before  Mr.  Donald  Spence, 
Law  Secretary  in  herBrittanic  Majesty's  Supreme  Court, 
and  made  affidavit  to  the  following  marvelous  statement 
of  facts  : 

We,  John  Keiller  Webster,  of  Liverpool,  and  James 
Anderson,  surgeon,  of  Liverpool,  do  solemnly  and  sin- 
cerely depose  as  follov/s :  And  first,  I,  the  said  John 
Keiller  Webster,  in  command  of  the  steamship  Nestor, 
do  declare  that  on  Monday,  the  11th  day  of  September, 
at  10:30  A.  M.,  fifteen  miles  northwest  of  North  Sand 
Lighthouse,  in  the  Malacca  Straits,  the  weather  being 
fine  and  the  sea  smooth,  the  air  also  perfectly  clear,  I 
saw,  a  little  forward  of  the  beam,  on  the  starboard  side, 
about  300  yards  distant  from  the  ship,  an  object  first 
pointed  out  to  me  by  my  third  officer,  who  remarked, 
"There  is  a  shoal."  Surprised  at  finding  a  shoal  in 
such  a  well-known  track,  I  watched  the  object  and  found 
that  it  was  in  movement,  keeping  up  the  same  speed 
with  the  ship,  and  retaining  about  the  same  distance  as 
when  first  seen.  The  speed  of  the  ship  was  nine  and 
three-quarter  knots,  and  the  animal  was  moving  parallel 
with  us  during  six  minutes.  Just  after  I  observed  it  the 
Chinese  deck  passengers  discovered  it  and  raised  a  great 
outcry,  and  about  the  same  moment  it  was  descried  by 
three  saloon  passengers  and  the  surgeon.  The  shape  of 
the  creature — for  tbat  it  was  alive  there  is  no  doubt — I 
would  compare  to  that  of  a  gigantic  frog.  Referring  to 
the  head  and  body,  as  far  as  they  were  apparent  above 
the  water,  the  head,  of  a  pale,  yellowish  color,  was 
about  twelve  feet  in  length,  and  six  feet  of  the  crown 
was  above  the  water ;  occasionally  the  head  subsided  un- 
til only  a  foot  or  a  foot  and  a  half  remained  above  the 
water.  I  tried  in  vain  to  make  out  the  eyes  and  mouth  ; 
the  mouth,  however,  might  have  been  below  water. 
The  head  was  immediately  connected  with  the  body, 
without  any  indication  of  a  neck.  The  body  was  about 
forty-five  or  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  of  an  oval  shape, 
perfectly  smooth,  but  there  may  have  been  a  slight  ridge 
about  the  spine.  The  back  rose  some  five  feet  above  the 
surface.  An  immense  tail,  fully  150  feet  in  length,  rose 
a  few  inches  above  the  water.  This  tail  I  saw  distinctly 
frcHn  its  junction  with  the  body  to  its  extremity;  it 
seemed  cylindrical,  with  a  very  slight  taper,  and  I  esti- 
mate its  diameter  at  four  feat.  The  body  and  tail  were 
marked  with  alternate  bands  of  stripes,  black  and  pale 
yellow  in  color.  The  stripes  were  distinct  to  the  very 
extremity  of  the  taU.  I  cannot  say  whether  the  tail  ter- 
minated in  a  fin  or  not.  I  examined  it  carefully  at  the 
above-mentioned  distance,  but  could  not  satisfy  myself 
how  the  tail  terminated.  The  creature  possessed  no 
fins  or  paddles  as  far  as  we  could  perceive,  never  having 
seen  any  part  of  its  belly.  I  cannot  say  if  it  had  legs. 
It  is  very  possible  that  the  creature  was  much  broader 
and  more  massive  than  the  dimensions  above  given,  for 
the  greater  part  of  it  was  evidently  under  water,  and  we 
never  caught  a  glimpse  of  any  but  the  extreme  upper 
parts.  It  appeared  to  me  to  progress  by  means  of  an 
undulatory  motion  of  the  tail  in  a  vertical  plane.  The 
taU  seemed  to  have  an  independent  motion — that  is  to 
say,  a  quicker  and  a  different  one  from  the  body.  The 
head  would  rise  slowly  and  the  body  become  simulta- 
neously lower,  and  vice  versa.  The  undulations  of  the 
tail  were  brisker  and  very  distinct,  and  I  closely  watched 
them  through  good  glasses.  I  had  for  some  moments 
the  idea  of  running  the  creature  down,  but  I  shortly  dis- 
missed the  intention  on  account  of  the  danger  of  break- 
ing the  screw  blades.  The  creature  showed  no  sign  of 
fear.  I  cannot  even  say  if  it  was  conscious  of  our  pres- 
ence. It  finally  dropped  under  our  stem  and  passed  over 
to  the  port  side,  somewhat  slackening  its  speed.  Some 
time  afterward,  however,  it  increased  its  pace,  and  when 
last  seen  was  on  our  port  beam,  at  about  one  and  one- 
half  to  two  miles  distance.  The  creature  formed  a  dis- 
tinct wake,  and  seemed  to  exude  an  oily  matter  as  he 
moved. 

And  secondly,  I,  the  said  James  Anderson,  do  sol- 
emnly and  sincerely  declare  as  follows,  namely :  That 
the  shape  and  color  of  as  much  as  was  distinguishable  of 
the  creature  bore  an  almost  exact  resemblance  to  the 
upper  part  of  a  salamanders  the  stripes,  however,  were 


ratner  more  definite,  yellow  (the  peculiar  yellow  of  a 
salamander)  alternating  with  deep  black.  There  were 
eight  to  ten  stripes  on  the  back.  I  almost  immediately 
said,  "It  is  an  enormous  salamander; "  and  the  more  I 
examined  it  the  more  I  was  satisfied  of  the  resemblance. 
The  back  was  much  larger,  some  eight  or  ten  feet  at 
times,  than  the  head  and  tail.  I  was  standing  on  the 
deck,  and  from  my  position  I  could  not  form  any  opinion 
of  its  mode  of  progression.  It  was  apparently  of  a 
gelatinous  (i.  e.  flabby)  substance.  Though  keeping  up 
with  us,  its  movements  seemed  lethargic.  I  saw  no  eyes 
or  fins,  and  am  certain  that  the  creature  did  not  blow  or 
spout  in  the  manner  of  a  whale.  I  should  not  for  a  mo- 
ment compare  it  to  a  snake.  The  only  creatures  it  could 
be  compared  with  are  the  newt  or  frog  tribe. 


I      How  the  Pyramids  were  Built. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

The  Egyptian  Pyramids  are  justly  considered  as  one 
of  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the  world,  not  only  for  the 
enduring  manner  with  which  they  have  survived  the 
lapse  of  ages,  but  for  the  immense  amount  of  labor  ex- 
pended on  them.  No  enterprise  of  the  present  century 
approaches  it  in  magnitude.  Even  the  tunneling  of  the 
English  Channel,  now  so  seriously  contemplated  by 
Great  Britain  and  ¥  ance,  is  but  a  trifle  in  comparison. 

The  largest  of  the  pyramids  is  four  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  height,  and  seven  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
square  at  the  base.  It  contains  over  two  million  five 
hundred  thousand  cubic  yards  of  stone.  The  stones 
were  all  brought  from  a  quarry  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles  distant,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Nile. 
The  first  work  was  to  build  a  great  causeway  or  road  on 
which  to  transport  the  stones  from  the  quarry. 
Herodotus  says  that  one  hundred  thousand  men  were 
employed  for  ten  years  on  this  part  of  the  work. 

After  this  preparatory  work  came  the  leveling  of  the 
rocky  foundation,  the  cutting  out  of  the  subterranean 
chambers,  and  the  transporting  and  elevating  of  the 
huge  masses  of  stone.  Gunpowder  and  other  powerful 
explosives  were  unknovvn;  consequently  they  were 
obliged  to  make  use  of  an  ingenious,  though  laborious, 
and  often  ineffective  method  of  splitting  the  rock  from 
its  bed.  Large  holes  were  drilled  into  the  rock,  and 
wooden  wedges  were  inserted;  the  holes  were  then 
filled  with  water,  and,  as  the  wedges  became  soaked, 
they  swelled,  and  thus  the  rock  was  rent  asunder. 

The  stones  were  shaped  and  hewed  at  the  quarries,  and 
then  drawn  by  hand  to  the  pyramids.  This  work  occu- 
pied three  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  men  twenty 
years.  How  many  men  were  employed  upon  the  erection 
of  the  pyramids,  is  unknown. 

Authorities  differ  in  regard  to  the  men  employed; 
some  affirm  that  they  were  captives  taken  from  other 
nations  with  whom  the  Egyptians  were  at  war,  while 
others  present  just  as  strong  arguments  to  prove  that 
they  were  Egyptians,  raised  by  draft,  each  levy  serving  a 
certain  number  of  months,  then  others  filling  their  places. 


Number  of  Eggs  in  the  Sturgeon. 

Mr,  Frank  Buckland  states  that  he  has  lately  had  the 
opportunity  of  examining  the  viscera  of  a  sturgeon 
caught  at  Selby  in  Yorkshire.  The  following  la  an  ex- 
tract from  his  article  on  the  subject :  "The  eggs  filled  a 
very  large  iron  pail ;  they  were  surrounded  by  a  white, 
milky  substance,  the  exact  nature  of  which  I  do  not  un- 
derstand. Each  egg  is  perfectly  round,  and  about  the 
size  of  ordinary  partridge  shot.  The  fish  weighed  one 
hundred  and  seventy-one  pounds  1  The  length  was  seven 
feet  nine,  girth  five  feet  three.  Mr.  Searle,  my  secretary, 
and  myself  have  carefully  weighed  the  eggs,  and  the 
result  is  that  there  were  forty-five  pounds'  weight  ot 
eggs.  By  boiling  them  and  spreading  them  out  on  paper, 
we  found  that  there  were  1,380  eggs  to  the  ounce  ;  thus 
the  total  number  of  eggs  contained  in  this  one  sturgeon 
amounted  to  the  vast  number  of  nine  hundred  and  twen- 
ty-one thousand  six  hundred.  When  the  reader  is  eating 
caviare  he  will  have  some  idea  of  the  number  of  young 
sturgeons  that  are  thus  destroyed  at  a  single  mouthful 
in  the  form  of  eggs.  It  is  a  most  remarkable  thing  that 
a  creature  of  such  a  gigantic  size  as  a  sturgeon  should 
germinate  originally  fiom  an  egg  no  bigger  than  a  part* 
ridge  shot.  It  is  a  greater  wonder  than  an  oak  from  m 
acorn." 


THE  GEO  IV I NG  WORLD. 


67 


Canton. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

As  there  is  no  part  of  the  world  so  densely  populated 
as  China,  so  there  is  no  part  of  that  empire  as  crowded 
with  people  as  Canton.  The  streets  are  too  narrow  for 
any  comfort  in  passing.  There  are  no  wheel  carriages 
in  use  The  traveler  moving  through  the  streets  i>j  con- 
fcinualiy  jostled  by  the  chair-bearers  of  the  mandai  ins 
or  wealthy  merchants.  Recovering  from  such  a  shock, 
down  comes  a  coolie  with  a  burden  and  knocks  him  into 
the  wall ;  and  when  he  recovers  from  this  thrust,  a  por- 
ter with  a  heavy  load  also  shoves  him  in  another  direc- 
tion. The  English  eye  curiously  looks  over  the  live 
stock  which  is  offered  for  sale  in  the  narrow  streets. 
Kittens  mew,  puppies  yelp  in  bamboo  cages,  rats  squeak 
viciously,  ducks,  cocks,  and  geese  cackling,  quackmg, 
and  crowing,  all  mingle  in  with  the  grunting  of  pigs. 
Besides  these,  fish,  earth-worms,  slugs,  etc.,  are  exhibited 
in  tubs,  pans,  and  buckets,  each  and  all  awaiting  pur- 
chasers. _  X  * 

Close  by  a  barber  hangs  his  iron  tweezers,  to  attract 
attention  to  his  particular  trade  and  calling.  Just  be- 
yond is  a  traveling  vender  of  cooked  food.    His  fat 

Eork  and  stews,  swimming  in  oil,  he  serves  out  in  small 
owls,  and  haggles  and  bargains  with  his  customers  as 
they  hungrily  devour  the  mess.  Close  by  this  merchant 
is  a  vender  of  sweetmeats.  To  the  right  is  a  book-seller, 
to  the  left  a  fortune-teller,  and  in  front  a  doctor,  adver 
vertising  his  wares.  Under  an  umbrella,  an  old  woman 
having  feet  only  three  inches  long,  is  mending  old 
clothes,  and  a  passer-by,  needmg  a  button  sewed  on, 
gives  her  the  job,  and  remunerates  her  with  "cash." 
Not  far  distant  a  leprous  beggar  exhibits  his  sickening 
Bores,  and  rattles  two  bamboo  sticks  to  attract  attention. 

Imagine  all  these  people  and  animals  of  which  we 
have  spoken  vociferating,  crying,  yelling  in  concert,  and 
the  clatter  and  bustle  of  ever-changing  throngs,  and  a 
slight  conception  of  Canton  may  be  conveyed  to  the 
reader's  mind. 

In  the  lowest  quarters  of  the  city  there  are  many 
spirit-shops,  which  are  frequented  by  sailors  and  ruf- 
fians of  the  most  depraved  sort,  and  robberies,  bleeding 
noses,  and  free  fights  conspire  to  make  an  indescribable 
babel  of  devilish  sounds. 

Baffin's  Bay  by  Moonlight. 

The  cold,  silent  moon  looks  down  on  a  sea-like  Day, 
the  dark  waters  dotted  by  gigantic  icebergs  and  an  im- 
mense ice-pack,  which  lies  like  a  barrier,  menacing  the 
daring  mortal  who  would  penetrate  to  the  secrets  of  the 
North. 

No  cities  wUl  ever  dot  its^hores,  no  busy  hum  of  cul- 
tivation, trade  or  factory. 

The  discoverer  of  this  bay,  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world,  was  William  BaflBn. 

In  1612  he  had  made  a  voyage  with  Hall,  one  of  the 
men  who  had  been  employed  in  the  Danish  expedition  ; 
and  that  voyage  is  remarkable  as  the  first  on  record  in 
which,  by  an  observation  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  a 
method  was  adopted  for  taking  the  longitude  at  sea. 
Baffin  had  also  made  a  voyage  to  Greenland  previous  to 
Ms  employment  by  the  Company. 

It  was  in  1615  that  the  command  of  the  Bisccmery  was 
given  to  Bylot,  and  Baflin  appointed  as  his  mate.  Being 
far  the  better  educated  of  the  two,  he  seems  to  have  real- 
ly directed  the  course  of  the  expedition ;  and  some  of 
his  lunar  observations  on  the  occasion  were  made  with 
so  much  accuracy,  that,  two  centuries  later,  they  called 
forth  the  praise  of  Captain  Parry,  who  always  held  Bafiin 
in  great  respect. 

No  very  particular  discovery  is  recorded  as  the  result 
of  this  voyage,  though  it  added,  perhaps,  a  good  deal  to 
the  general  Knowledge  of  those  parts.  But  next  year 
the  same  ship  and  officers  were  again  sent  out,  and  with 
such  confident  anticipation  of  success  that  they  were  or- 
dered to  bring  back  a  Japanese  on  their  return. 

They  sailed  direct  for  Davis's  Strait,  up  which  they 
continued  in  at  northerly  direction  until  they  came  to 
Cape  Dudley  Digges,  Whale  Sound  and  Cary's  Isles,  in 
the  very  north  of  what  has  since  been  called  Baflin's 
Bay,  but  which  they  supposed,  as  it  now  proves  truly,  to 
be  open  sea.  Under  that  idea  they  were  constantly 
trying  to  make  their  way  westward,  though  fruitlessly, 
on  account  of  the  ice. 


In  July,  however,  this  b(!gau  to  melt  very  fast,  and 
they  continued  coasting  along  to  the  north  until  they 
came  to  an  island  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  Hack- 
luyt,  after  Sir  Richard  llackluyt,  the  first  compiler  of  a 
volume  of  voyages  ;  then  on  to  Smith's  Sound,  at  the 
extreme  end  of  the  bay  ;  and  next  round  by  the  western 
side  to  Jones's  Sound,  to  both  of  which  they  gave  the 
names. 

At  length  they  began  to  suspect  that  they  were  in  a 
great  bay,  and  not  in  the  open  sea  at  all,  and  their  hopes 
became  daily  less  and  less.  But  in  their  southward 
course  they  passed  another  great  inlet.  Sir  James  Lan- 
caster's Sound,  little  thinking  that  it  led  into  an  open 
strait,  for  it  was  barred  by  ice ;  nor  was  it  until  Parry's 
time  that  this  barrier  was  passed,  and  the  passage  to  the 
open  ocean  this  way  discovered.  Coasting  along  as  close 
to  the  shore  as  they  could,  they  now  pursued  their  way 
down  the  western  side,  until,  arrived  once  again  in 
Davis's  Strait,  they  came  to  Cumberland's  Island,  where 
a  consultation  was  held,  in  which  it  was  decided,  "  that 
having  come  to  an  end  of  their  discovery,  they  should 
cross  to  the  coast  of  Greenland,  to  see  if  they  could  get 
some  refreshments  for  their  men." 

Accordingly  they  anchored  in  Cockin  Sound,  so  named 
by  that  Hall  who  had  accompanied  the  Danish  Admiral 
Lindenau,  and  thence,  on  the  1st  of  August,  they  steered 
their  way  home. 

Little  more  is  known  of  the  afterlife  of  Baffin,  except 
that  he  joined  in  the  British  attempt  to  expel  the  Portu- 
guese from  the  Persian  Gulf,  and  that  at  the  siege  of  a 
small  fort  near  Ormuz  he  was  killed. 

In  a  letter  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  sent  him  out, 
Baffin  speaks  of  the  "worst  being  now  known  concern- 
ing the  passage,"  and  declares  that  "there  is  no  passage 
or  hope  of  a  passage  in  the  norm  01  uavis's  Strait;" 
but  he  dwells  on  the  advantages  of  the  discoveries 
which  had  been  made  thereabouts,  and  of  the  vast  num- 
bers of  whales  to  be  caught  in  those  seas. 


Arctic  Night. 

Dr.  Hayes,  in  his  remarks  about  the  Arctic  Winter, 
says  : — 

The  darkness  of  the  long  night  cannot  be  appreciated 
unless  a  person  experiences  it.  It  is  a  darkness  that  can 
be  felt.  Although  no  effect  seemea  10  ue  produced  on 
the  physical  faculties,  it  was  a  severe  strain  upon  the 
xnind.  Repose  is  withdrawn.  The  desire  for  sleep 
gives  place  to  an  intense  longing  for  light.  The  heart 
longs  for  something  beside  the  stern  darkness.  The 
scene,  by  times,  is  grand  beyond  description,  with 
mountain  peaks  standing  up  in  cold,  weird  distinctness, 
aiid  the  stars  seeming  to  pierce  the  clear  sky.  Even  the 
moon's  silvery  li^ht  seems  to  send  an  icy  chill  of  discom- 
fort along  the  veins.  No  shadows  or  outlines  appear  to 
blend;  everything  stands  out  clearly  and  with  abrupt 
angles.  But  by  times  this  terrible  tension  of  the  nerves 
yields  and  is  reconciled  to  the  inevitable.  The  Esqui- 
maux, with  his  sleage,  is  seen  coursing  under  the  full 
moon  and  the  monotony  is  broken.  And  the  Northern 
Lights  are  a  grand  feature  of  the  scene.  They  dance,  they 
flicker ;  their  color  and  form  vary,  and  they  give  a  rest- 
less, moving,  ghostly  appearance  to  the  gleaming  ice- 
bergs which  act  as  the  frozen  sentinels  to  the  beyond 
where  the  daring  explorer  has  not  yet  penetrated. 

Flying  Fish, 

iTie  so-called  flight  of  the  flying  fish  has  been  asserted 
by  some  naturalists  to  be  onlj^  a  long  leap,  the  fish  pro- 
jecting itself  from  the  water  by  a  vigorous  action  of  the 
tail,  just  as  the  salmon  does  in  ascending  falls,  the  large 
fins  acting  as  a  parachute,  but  never  as  winffs.  after  the 
manner  of  birds.  A  few  observers  have  deciarea  tnat 
they  really  flew.  These  fishes  leave  the  water  at  a  very 
low  angle  of  only  five  or  six  degrees,  and  during  their 
flight  change  their  direction  so  as  to  rise  over  crests 
and  descend  into  the  hollows  of  the  waves.  The  motion 
of  the  fins  is  not  constant,  but  intermittant,  though  kept 
up  during  the  whole  flight.  The  extent  of  the  vibrations 
are  quite  small,  and  is  indicated  by  a  gfllmmenng  which 
corresponds  with  the  arc  through  which  they  move.  In 
some  instances  they  flew  to  the  distance  of  seventy-five 
I  or  a  hundred  yards,  barely  touching  the  water  from  time 
time,  and  at  other  times  thirty  or  forty  yards  without- 
•touching  at  all 


68 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


STAR-GAZING. 

BY  CHAKLES  MORRIS. 

Say,  was  it  a  fantasy  olden, 
A  dream  by  the  dreamers  of  eld. 

That  in  those  profundities  golden 
Our  home  of  the  future  beheld, 
As  the  magi  our  destinies  spelled? 

For  what  is  the  influence,  dearest, 
O'er-crossing  time's  shadowy  bar. 

That  fills  us  with  pleasure  sincerest, 
To  gaze  on  yon  luminous  star. 
Just  as  though  on  our  homestead  afar? 

Sure  it  may  be  as  radiancy  stellar 

Suffuses  the  awe-stricken  soul. 
These  messengers  shining  can  tell  her, 
Although  not  the  glorious  whole. 
Yet  some  secrets  beyond  the  bright  goal. 

Tell  her  some  of  the  wonderful  story. 

The  marvelous  legend  of  grace; 
How  changing  from  glory  to  glory. 
Till  standing  before  God's  own  face, 
Every  soul,  like  each  star,  finds  its  place. 

As  we  gaze  on  the  shining  one  yonder 
Our  spirits  are  lost  in  amaze. 

And  we  picture  in  love  and  in  wonder 
The  calm  of  eternity's  days, 
When  the  life  of  the  blest  shall  be  praise. 

For  as  star  excels  star  in  its  brightness, 
So,  sweetest,  thy  exquisite  face 

Surpasses  all  others  in  whiteness. 
And  up  in  that  passionless  place 
It  shall  still  make  me  glad  with  its  grace. 

Yes,  I  know  it.   His  mercy  hath  told  us. 
That  when  life's  brief  journey  is  past. 

Earth's  holiest  bond  still  shall  fold  us 
In  ties  than  all  other's  more  fast — 
Those  who  loved  shall  love  on  till  the  last. 


The  union  between  England  and  Scotland  took  place 
on  the  1st  of  May,  1707. 


A  Pacific  Coast  Meteor. 

AN  ZEOLITE  FALLS  INTO  THE  OCEAN. 

The  large  number  of  meteors  lately  observed  in  the 
rfiy  has  attracted  considerable  attention,  especially 
among  scientific  men,  who  are  of  the  opinion  that  the 
earth  is  passing  through  a  belt  of  these  vagrant  ultra- 
terrestrial  brickbats  whose  orbit  intersects  that  of  the 
earth.   There  is  some  diversity  of  opinion  regarding  the 


nature  and  origin  of  these  stones,  of  which  it  is  calcu- 
lated that  at  least  5,000  fall  upon  the  earth's  surface 
yearly.  The  theory  most  widely  accepted  is  that  they 
ire  bodies  of  our  planetary  system  that  have  come  near 
3nough  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  earth's  gravitation,  and 
thus  drawn  out  of  their  orbits.  A  great  many  aerolites 
tiave  been  found,  and  nearly  every  scientific  institution 
in  the  world  is  possessed  of  one  or  more.  The  largest 
of  which  there  is  any  authenticated  record,  was  found 
an  a  Swedish  Arctic  expedition  on  the  west  coast  of 
Greenland.  It  weighs  twenty-five  tons,  and  is  now  in  the 
Royal  Academy  at  Stockton.  An  gerolite  of  probably 
much  greater  size  was  seen  lately  by  a  correspondent  in 
San  Francisco,  who  was  belated  on  the  Ocean  House 
road.  At  about  12:45  he  noticed  a  peculiar  light  on  the 
sand  and  sea  around  him,  and,  upon  looking  upward^ 
iiscovered  what  appeared  to  be  an  immense  ball  of  fire 
descending  toward  the  earth.  Its  course  was  so  rapid, 
that  before  he  had  fairly  recovered  from  his  astonish- 
ment the  mass  fell  into  the  sea,  apparently  about  half  a 
mile  from  shore.  A  loud  hissing  noise,  followed  by  a 
sharp  explosion,  accompanied  the  fall,  and  so  frightened 
his  horse  that  his  whole  attention  for  the  next  five  min- 
utes was  directed  toward  the  unruly  animal.  But  he 
noticed  that  the  ball  of  the  meteor,  as  it  is  called,  or_, 
more  properly,  the  combustion  occasioned  by  the  im- 
mense velocity  with  which  the  stone  traveled  through 
our  atmosphere,  remained  visible  for  about  two  minutes. 
From  the  brilliancy  and  area  of  the  fire  surrounding  the 
falling  stone,  and  the  splash  occasioned  by  its  sudden 
emersion,  it  is  certain  that  the  aerolite  must  have  been  of 
immense  size,  although,  of  course,  no  estimate  could  be 
made  with  any  accuracy  during  the  few  seconds  the 
aerolite  was  visible.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  stone 
did  not  fall  on  the  land,  as  in  that  case  an  unequaled  op- 
portunity to  study  meteoric  formation  would  have  been 
afforded  to  the  scientists  of  San  Francisco ;  but,  as  the 
water  is  comparatively  shallow  at  half  a  mUe  from  shore, 
it  is  barely  possible  that  careful  dredging  might  recover 
the  stone.  The  resistance  of  the  water  would  probably 
check  the  violence  of  the  falling  body  suflficiently  ta 
prevent  its  embedding  itself  in  the  bottom  to  any  great 
extent,  and  possibly  the  stone  is  simply  resting  on  the 
bed  of  the  ocean.  It  is  a  good  opportunity  for  scientific 
investigation,  and,  if  recovered,  the  aerolite  would  be  a 

treat  acquisition  to  the  collection  of  the  Academy  of 
ciences.   

The  Banyan  Tree,  and  the  Ceiba  Tree 
of  Yucatan. 

The  Banyan  tree  is  a  grove  within  itself,  and  as  they  are 
continually  increasing,  many  of  them  reach  an  astonishing 
size,  and  they  seem  exempted  from  decay.  Every  branchy 
from  the  main  body  throughout  its  own  roots,  are  first  only 
small,  tender  fibres,  several  yards  from  the  ground,  which  grow 
thicker  and  thicker,  and  gradually  descend  until  they  reach  the 
surface  where,  striking  in,  they  grow  to  a  large  trunk,  in  turn 
sending  out  new  branches,  and  so  on  almost  inimitably.  This 
tree  is  a  peculiar  favorite  with  the  Hindoos ;  they  consider  its 
long  duration,  its  extensive  overshadowing  beneficence,  as  em- 
blematical of  the  Deity;  therefore  they  plant  it  near  their 
temples,  and  in  their  villages  there  is  no  structure  for  public 
worship  without  its  banyan  tree  close  by  where  are  performed 
the  morning  and  evening  sacrifices. 

Some  of  these  trees  have  acquired  historic  fame.  One,  grow- 
ing on  the  banks  of  the  Nerbuddah,  is  capable  of  sheltering  an 
army  under  its  wonderful  wide-spread  shade.  The  larger 
trunks  of  this  colossal  tree  are  near  400,  while  the  smaller 
ones  exceed  8,000,  each  constantly  throwing  out  fresh 
shoots  to  become  ere  long  trunks  themselves.  History  testi- 
aes  that  it  can— that  it  has  sheltered  an  army  of  7,000  men. 
The  banyan  tree  is  more  wonderful  and  infinitely  superior  ta 
the  temples  and  palaces  of  the  vain,  proud  Moguls. 

The  Ceiba  tree  rises  to  the  moderate  height  of  sixty  feet,  but 
the  trunk  swells  to  marvelous  dimensions,  so  that  a  thousand 
people  could  find  shade  and  shelter  'neath  its  branches.  The 
leaves  fall  in  January,  and  then  at  the  end  of  every  branch 
clusters  of  glossy,  purple-red  large  flowers  make  their  ap- 
pearance, affording  a  magificent  picture  of  tropical  glory. 

In  Guiana,  the  savages  take  refuge  in  this  tree  during  the 
season  of  floods.  The  young,  mucilaginous  leaves  are  eatable^ 
as  are  also  the  seeds,  upon  which  the  natives  subsist  until  the 
subsiding  of  the  floods  allows  their  descent  to  terra  firmor 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


69 


Seth  Boyden,  the  Inventor. 

BY  M.  J.  CUMMINGS. 

Away  from  warrior  heroes  and  political  great  men, 
whose  statues  here  and  there  adorn  the  public  places 
about  our  populous  cities,  we  turn  to  less  conspicuous, 
but  equally  honorable  names,  coming  up  through  the 
calmer  ways  and  walks  of  life,  and  it  is  not  unlike  the 
sensation  one  feels  when,  after  a  grand,  triumphant 
burst  of  martial  music,  the  soft,  sweet,  soothing  tones 
of  the  songsters  in  the  forest  at  the  twilight  hour  comes 
stealing  into  the  listening  ear. 

True  greatness  and  worth  are  found  in  every  walk  in 
life,  and  the  aims  and  achievements  of  the  masses  are 
so  intimately  connected  together,  that  happily  each,  in  a 
measure,  is  dependent  upon  the  other. 

Seth  Boyden  was  bom  at  Foxboro,  Mass.,  on  the  17th 
of  November,  1788.  His  early  occupation  was  tilling 
the  soil,  and  occasionally  working  in  a  smith's  shop,  re- 
pairing the  agricultural  implements  for  the  farm.  In 
1803,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  repaired  watches. 

In  1809,  when  he  was  twenty-one,  he  was  manufactur- 
ing wrought  nails.  In  1810  he  made  a  machine  that 
would  facilitate  his  nail-making  business.  In  1813  he 
invented  machines  for  the  different  purposes  of  cutting 
files,  brads  of  different  sizes,  and  for  the  cutting  and 
heading  of  tacks. 

In  1815  he  came  to  Newark,  N.  J.,  with  a  machine  of 
his  own  invention  for  splitting  leather.  His  machines 
for  cutting  and  heading  tacks  were  a  marvel  of  speed. 
In  1818  he  was  in  the  silver-plating  business,  and  com- 
menced experiments  to  produce  a  varnish  for  what  is  now 
known  as  patent  leather.  In  1819  he  succeeded  in 
making  the  varnish,  but  the  novelty  of  the  article  at 
first  debarred  it  from  general  use  ;  but  in  1823  he  com- 
menced the  manufacturing  of  patent  leather  as  an 
article  of  merchandise.  For  a  time  his  sales  were 
limited,  as  is  usual  with  new  inventions,  but,  ere  long, 
the  leather  began  to  be  appreciated,  so  that  in  less  than 
half  a  century  more  than  four  millions  of  dollars  worth  is 
used  in  a  year  in  the  one  city  of  Newark. 

While  Mr.  Boyden  was  interested  in  the  patent  leather 
business,  he  experimented  to  convert  cast  iron  into  soft 
malleable  iron.  He  succeeded  in  his  experiment  here 
also.  During  the  period  from  1826  to  1831,  he  gave  con- 
siderable attention  to  astronomy  and  electricity  and  to 
natural  laws.  He  made  his  own  telescope  and  electri- 
cal machine.  These  were  specimens  of  superior  me- 
chanical skill,  and  his  telescope  was  of  great  power. 
His  malleable  iron  was  introduced  into  all  manner  of  im- 
plements and  machinery,  and  its  ease  of  manipulation 
and  cheapness  maue  mm  in  this  respect,  an  invaluable 
public  benefactor. 

With  some  persons  a  princely  fortune  would  have 
been  the  result  of  all  these  inventions ;  but  with  Mr. 
Boyden  gain  was  not  the  impelling  power.  His  mind, 
restless  with  Divine  stimulus,  would  not  allow  of  his 
being  an  idle  spectator  of  the  march  of  progression,  and 
while  the  public  mind  was  excited  in  building  railways 
and  engines,  he  furnished  a  shop  with  proper  machinery 
and  commenced  the  manufacturing  of  steam  engines 
and  other  machinery.  He  made  great  and  wonderful 
improvements  in  steam  engines,  even  in  those  respects 
where  unprincipled  persons  saw  and  seized  upon  the 
opportunity  to  make  fortunes,  using  in  their  patents  al- 
most wholly  Mr.  Boyden's  suggestions  and  arrange- 
ments. 

In  1840  he  made  a  speculum  for  a  daguerrean  machine, 
iaking  the  first  daguerrian  likeness  in  this  country.  He 
iidvanced  the  idea,  afterwards  proven  correct,  that  in 
case  of  a  thunder  shower  many  bolts  strike  up  from  the 
«arth  as  well  as  down  towards  it. 

He  also  invented  a  furnace  for  smelting  zinc.  Other 
useful  inventions  owe  their  parentage  to  this  man's  mas- 
ter mind ;  but  with  that  strange  fate  that  often,  in  fact 
-almost  always  follows  genius,  those  comming  after 
reaped  what  he  had  sown.  His  was  a  gentle,  quiet, 
lovcable  nature.  He  was  never  wealthy,  but  none  need 
pity  him ;  his  wants  were  simple ;  he  never  was  in  debt, 
and  *»a8  loved  by  those  who-  knew  him,  and  reverenced 
by  persons  of  culture  and  mind.  Blessed  of  God  with 
extraordinary  talents,  yet  he  was  humble  and  content, 
and  what  more,  vain  man,  would  you  ask  or  have  ?  It 
was  enough.  Mr.  Boyden  interested  himself  in  agricul- 
ture. He  produced  and  exhibited  some  of  the'  most 
wonderful  strawberries  of  which  we  have  record.  In 


the  wonderful  production  of  these  berries  he  left 
nothing  to  chance  or  insects,  but  with  his  own  hand 
shook  the  fertilizing  pollen  into  the  strawberry  flower 
and  thus  perfected  the  species.  His  success  was  an  a*- 
tounding  revelation  in  horticulture. 

He  was  fond  of  pets.  In  his  last  sickness  some  one 
proposed  shooting  a  bird  to  tempt  his  palate.  "  What 
bird?"  he  inquired.  "A  robin ;  they  have  come."  How 
promptly  he  forbade  it.  He  made  a  fish-pond  and 
stocked  it,  simply  to  make  pets  of  the  fish.  They  would 
eat  from  his  hand. 

If  he  exhibited  a  favorite  animal  at  the  State  Fair,  he 
made  his  couch  upon  the  hay  in  the  stable  to  see  that 
no  harm  came  to  his  pet.  Seeeming  to  understand 
chemistry  in  all  its  branches,  he  knew  what  sort  of  fer- 
tilizers to  apply  to  the  different  soils  of  his  strawberry 
beds  to  feed  the  enormous  growth  which  he  sometimes 
obtained.  It  is  on  record  that  his  first  exhibit  of  his 
new  variety  of  this  most  delicious  berry  silenced  all 
competitors.  The  plant  had  a  hundred  berries  in  dif- 
ferent stages  of  ripeness,  and  the  green  leaves  were  like 
a  miniature  cabbage.  While  experimenting  to  pcocure 
new  varieties,  after  he  had  shaken  the  pollen  upon  the 
flowers,  he  protected  them  from  invading  insects  by 
gauze  coverings. 

But  Seth  Boyden  was  so  simple,  so  kind  and  re- 
tiring in  his  habits  that  justice  was  never  done  him ; 
yet  one  whose  inventions  have  been  so  useful  to  mankind 
and  whose  life  has  been  so  blameless,  should  be  held  up 
as  a  pattern  worthy  of  imitation. 

The  relative  wealth  and  income  of  the  three  most 
opulent  men  living — the  Duke  of  Westminster,  Roths- 
child, and  ivir.  Mackey  the  Bonanza  King — have  been  re- 
duced to  figures,  as  follows  : 

Duke  of  Westrainster,      Rothschild.  Mackey. 

Capital  £16,000,000  00         £40,000,00b  £55,000,000 

Per  year   800,000  00  2,000,000  2,750.000 

Per  month   60,000  00  170,000  200,000 

Per  day   2,000  00  5,000  7,000 

Per  hour   90  00  200  800 

Per  minute   1  10  4  5 


The  Frost  Flowers  of  Russia. 

A  correspondent  describes  an  extraordinary  frost- 
flower  of  Russia,  which  has  been  produced,  it  is  said,  in 
Boston  in  a  temperature  of  artificial  cold.  This  wonder- 
ful plant,  or  rather  flower,  is  found  only  on  the  northern 
boundaries  of  Siberia,  where  the  snow  is  eternal.  It 
was  discovered  in  1863  by  Count  Swinoskoff,  the  eminent 
Russian  botanist,  who  was  ennobled  by  the  Czar  for  his 
discovery.  Bursting  from  the  frozen  snow  on  the  first 
day  of  the  year,  it  grows  to  the  height  of  three  feet,  and 
flowers  on  the  third  day,  remains  in  flower  twenty-four 
hours,  and  then  dissolves  itself  into  its  original  element 
— stem,  leaves  and  flowers  being  of  the  finest  snow. 

The  stalk  is  one  inch  in  diameter ;  the  leaves — three 
in  number — in  the  broadest  part  are  one  inch  and  a  half 
in  width,  and  are  covered  with  infinitesimal  cones  of 
snow ;  they  grow  only  on  one  side  of  the  stalk,  to  the 
north,  curving  gracefully  in  the  same  direction.  The 
flower,  when  fully  expanded,  is  in  shape  a  perfect  star; 
the  petals  are  three  inches  in  length,  half  an  inch  wide 
in  the  broadest  parts,  and  tapering  sharply  to  the  pionf. 
These  are  also  interlaced  one  with  the  other  in  a  beautiful 
manner,  forming  the  most  delicate  basket  of  frost  work, 
the  most  wonderful.  The  anthers  are  five  in  numbers 
and  on  the  third  day  after  the  birth  of  the  flower  of 
snow  are  to  be  seen  on  the  extremities  thereof,  trembling 
and  glittering  like  diamonds,  the  seeds  of  this  wonder- 
ful flower,  about  as  large  as  a  pin's  head. 

The  old  botanist  says,  when  he  first  beheld  the  flower, 
*'I  was  dumb  with  astonishment;  filled  with  wonder- 
ment, which  gave  way  to  joy  the  most  ecstatic  on  be- 
holding this  wonderful  phenomenon  of  snow — to  see  this 
flower  springing  from  the  snowy  desert,  bom  of  its  own 
composite  atoms.  I  touched  the  stem  of  one  lightly, 
but  it  fell  at  my  touch,  and  a  morsel  of  snow  only  re- 
mained  in  my  hand."  Gathering  some  flowers  in  snow 
in  order  to  preserve  the  little  diamond-like  seeds,  he 
hied  to  St.  Petersburg  with,  to  him,  the  greatest  prize 
of  his  life-time.  All  through  the  year  they  were  kept  in 
enow,  and  on  the  first  day  of  the  year  following,  the 
Court  of  St.  Petersburg  were  delighted  with  the  Dursb- 
ing  forth  of  the  wonderful  frost-flower. 


70 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


CEI.EBRATED  TUNNELS, 

OR  GREAT  WORKS  UNDERGROUND. 


Without  taking  faith  and  perseverance  into  consideration, 
man  knows  not  what  wonders  he  may  perform.  Many  of 
the  greatest  works  he  has  wrought  have  required  years  of 
presistent  toil,  and  unswerving  endurance,  with  an  eye  fixed 
steadily  on  the  object  the  completion  will  attain,  and  unyield- 
ing labor  and  patience  have  in  nearly  every  case  finally  crowned 
their  efforts  with  the  golden  diadem  of  complete  success. 

One  great  reason  why  so  many  fail  in  what  they  undertake  to 
perform  is,  that  they  do  not  continue  to  the  end.  They  prob- 
ably have  a  work  in  hand  which  they  intend  to  accomplish,  but 
hard  times  come  on,  and  they  look  to  the  right  and  left  where 
they  can  perhaps  obtain  more  money  for  the  present,  and  their 
well  laid  out  undertaking  drags  heavily  on,  and  at  times  ceases 
altogether.  They  fly  from  one  thing  to  another,  because  for 
the  moment  the  inducements  seem  oetter ;  but  they,  too,  at 
length  fail  to  bring  the  rich  reward  they  seemed  to  hold  out, 
ana  they  leave  the  fickle-minded  experimenter  no  better  than 
when  he  commenced. 

Young  man,  beware  how  you  scatter  your  forces.  With  calm 
gtudy  and  reflection  map  out  the  course  you  really  desire  to 

Eursue  through  life;  concentrate  your  mind  firmly  upon  it,  acfd 
st  come  what  may  keep  straight  ahead,  through  sunshine  and 
the  dark  storms  of  adversity,  always  paying  as  you  go,  and 
though  your  progress  be  slow  have  nothing  to  fear  as  long  as  it 
tends  upward,  for  patience  and  perseverance  will  in  the  end 
aceomplish  what  you  desire,  and  bring  you  happiness  and  in- 
dependence. 

The  mighty  ruins  of  Thebes  and  Babylon,  and  the  pyramids 
of  Egypt,  attest  the  perseverance  of  the  ancient  world;  and 
the  stupendous  churches,  cathedrals  and  railroads,  appear  as 
enduring  monuments  of  the  perseverance  of  to-day.  In  such 
works  as  these  all  the  ingenuity  and  inventive  skill  of  man  will 
avail  him  nothing  unless  he  presses  steadily  onward  until  the 
the  end  is  reached.  He  must  know  he  is  right,  and  then  with- 
out regard  to  what  the  outward  world  around  him  may  say  he 
must  toil  on,  and  ever  be  patient  and  willing  to  labor  and  to 
wait. 

It  is  said  if  we  have  faith,  like  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  we 
may  remove  mountains,  and  who  that  has  viewed  the  great 
works  along  some  of  our  railway  lines  can  doubt  the  fact. 
Huge  embankments  are  thrown  across  deep  valleys,  hills  leveled 
down  for  the  road-bed,  and  though  the  entire  mass  of  the  larger 
mduntains  be  not  wholly  removed,  it  is  oftentimes  pierced 
through  and  through  by  a  long  dark  underground  passage, 
along  which  the  train  thunders  with  heavy  hollow  reverbra- 
tions,  impressing  the  mind  of  the  traveler  or  tourist,  so  sud- 
denly buried  from  the  golden  sunshine  of  day  to  the  depths  of 
the  cold  rock-cased  dungeon,  with  feelings  of  strange  emotion, 
altogetlier  different  from  those  produced  by  viewing  almost 
any  of  the  other  wonderful  works  of  man.  We  now  propose 
to  call  the  attention  of  the  indulgent  reader  to  a  brief  de- 
scription of  a  few  of  the  more  noted  works  of  this  class. 

At  the  time  of  its  construction,  the  Thames  tunnel  under  the 
Thames  River,  London,  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest 
works  of  its  kind  ever  attempted.  The  project  was  set  on  foot  in 
1802,  and  thousands  of  dollars  and  years  of  time  were  speat  in 
digging  through  quicksands  and  running  earth  and  gravel,  all 
to  no  purpose.  Early  in  1824  a  permanent  company  was  in- 
corporated by  Act  of  Parliament,  and  in  March,  1825,  the  work 
was  commenced  under  the  very  able  superintendence  of  Mr, 
Bruael.  A  strong  shaft  was  constructed  50  feet  in  diameter 
and  42  in  height,  and  as  the  earth  was  excavated  and  thrown 
out  from  the  inside,  by  the  help  of  a  30-horse  power  steam  en- 
gine, the  entire  structure,  weighing  no  less  than  1,200  tons, 
sank  gradually  to  the  depth  of  40  feet.  A  shield  was  now 
erected,  composed  of  36  compartments  and  three  stories  in 
height,  that  the  whole  space  might  be  filled  by  a  busy  throng  of 
industrious  workmen,  and  about  the  1st  of  January,  1826,  active 
work  in  the  great  tunnel  commenced. 

As  the  work  progressed  the  shield  was  moved  forward,  and 
an  army  of  masons  and  bricklayers  followed,  shaping  the  dark 
passage,  and  forming  a  beautiful  and  substantial  double  arch- 
way 38  feet  in  width  and  22  feet  6  inches  in  height.  They  had 
proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  they  entered  soft  earth 
and  treacherous  quicksand,  and  for  thirty-two  days  their  pro- 
gress was  extremely  slow.  On  the  14th  of  March  they  came  to 
more  solid  ground,  and  the  excavation  was  pushed  ahead  more 
rapidly.  By  the  14th  of  September,  260  feet  had  been  com- 
pleted. At  times  the  workmen  were  for  the  moment  startled 
by  hearing  the  river  deposits  suddenly  falling  over  the  head  of 
the  shield,  accompanied  by  slight  bursts  of  sand  and  water; 
but,  as  everything  had  been  prepared  for  such  emergencies, 
they  soon  learned  to  look  upon  them  with  no  more  alarm  than 
we  do  the  sudden  settling  of  the  snow  crust  on  a  winter's 
evening. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year  they  had  penetrated  350  feet.  It 
now  became  necessary  to  work  with  the  utmost  precision,  as 
the  ground  was  found  to  consist  of  masses  of  loose  round  peb- 
bles and  streaks  of  fluid  sand.  On  the  22d  of  April  a  divmg- 
bell  was  procured,  and  an  examination  made  of  the  bottom  of 
the  river.  Several  depressions  were  found,  and  means  at  once 
taken  to  make  them  secure.  During  one  of  these  trips  under 
water  a  shovel  and  hammer  were  left  upon  the  bottom,  which 


could  not  be  found  upon  a  second  visit.   On  the  12th  of  MOT^ 

they  were  dug  out  by  the  workmen  engaged  in  excavating  the 
tunnel  below,  having  worked  their  way  through  at  least  18  feet 
of  ground. 

On  the  18th  of  May  a  burst  of  water  came  In  from  overhead, 
like  a  broad  transparent  curtain  between  the  brickwork  ana 
shield.  The  men  rushed  to  the  spot  and  put  forth  every  energy 
to  oppose  it,  but  their  efforts  were  made  in  vain.  The  stream 
increased,  and  soon  broke  through  in  great  force  and  filled  the 
tunnel.  The  diving  bell  was  again  entered  and  the  work  ex- 
amined. It  was  found  to  be  perfectly  sound,  and  work  was  at 
once  commenced  to  fill  up  the  great  chasm,  over  38  feet  in 
depth.  Three  thousand  tons  of  clay  in  bags  armed  with  hazel 
rods,  and  a  large  quantity  of  earth  and  stone  were  used,  and  at 
length  the  river  resumed  its  original  course.  The  tunnel  was 
again  entered  on  the  21st  of  June,  when  it  was  found  in  some 
places  nearly  full  of  earth  and  detritus  washed  in  by  the  river, 
which  it  required  nearly  two  months  to  remove.  Heavy  pieces 
of  casting  had  been  wrenched  from  the  shield  and  driven  inta 
the  ground  as  though  by  the  power  of  some  monster  pile  driver. 
The  unequal  settling  of  the  new  made  ground  filling  the  chasm- 
overhead,  caused  the  solid  frames  to  rupture  and  splinter  with 
a  crash  like  that  of  artillery.  But  the  men  stood  unflaunted, 
repaired  the  damage  and  advanced  the  work. 

On  the  12th  of  January,  1828,  the  superintendent,  who  had 
watched  every  movement  with  a  vigilant  eye,  warned  the  men 
of  danger.  With  the  exception  of  Mr.  Brunei  and  a  few  others- 
who  remained  till  the  last  moment  to  do  what  they  could  to 
avert  the  threatening  catastrophe,  the  workmen  fled  from  the 
tunnel.  The  danger  now  became  imminent.  The  ground 
seemed  to  tremble  and  vibrate,  and  then  to  swell  and  roll  in- 
ward. Mr.  Brunei  saw  that  the  last  moment  had  come.  Direct- 
ing the  men  to  save  themselves,  he  stepped  back  towards  the 
shaft.  At  that  moment  the  ground  burst  in  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  and  every  light  was  instantly  extinguished.  Mr.  Brunei 
rushed  for  the  shaft,  the  flood  of  waters  rolling  in  upon  him, 
and  reaching  the  top  before  him.  He,  however,  escaped,  though 
several  others  lost  their  lives. 

Four  thousand  tons  of  earth  and  clay  were  required  to  fill 
this  new  chasm,  and  a  long  time  elapsed  before  the  tunnel 
could  again  be  entered.  On  re-entering  it,  however,  the  work 
was  found  to  be  perfectly  sound,  and  clearing  out  the  debris, 
its  advancement  was  again  resumed.  The  funds  of  the  com- 
pany ran  low,  and  for  weary  years  the  work  dragged  slowly, 
but  continued  perseverance  finally  carried  the  stupendous  un- 
dertaking through  to  completion.  It  was  a  grand  success,  and 
the  Thames  tunnel  connecting  the  busy  worlds  of  London  was 
stamped  among  the  greatest  engineering  achievements  of  the- 
nineteenth  century. 

One  of  the  first  tunnels  constructed  for  the  purpose  of  facili- 
tating inland  navigation  was  constructed  by  M.  Regnet,  an 
eminent  French  engineer,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 
carrying  the  Languedoc  canal  throuo^h  an  inconsiderable  moun- 
tain barrier.  The  first  tunnel  excavated  in  England  was  the 
work  of  Mr.  Brindley.  It  was  executed  for  the  Duke  of 
Bridgewater's  canal,  near  Manchester,  about  130  years  ago. 
Some  years  later  he  excavated  a  grand  tunnel  through  Hare- 
castle  Hill,  in  Staffordshire,  for  the  purpose  of  uniting  the  Trent 
with  the  Mersey.  This  great  work  was  8,640  feet  in  length,  and 
in  places  240  feet  underground. 

The  great  Sapperton  tunnel,  connecting  the  waters  of  the 
Thames  and  Severn,  is  another  instance  of  English  enterprise. 
It  is  two  miles  and  three-quarters  in  length,  most  of  the  dis- 
tance being  through  the  solid  rock.  The  Great  Drift,  or 
Newcastle  tunnel,  is  one  of  the  most  stupendous  undertakings 
of  the  kind  ever  executed  in  England.  It  was  completed 
in  1797. 

The  celebrated  Liverpool  tunnel,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  railway,  is  6,750  feet  in  length,  22  feet  wide,  and  16  feet 
high.  A  double  track  extends  throughout,  and  a  row  of  bril- 
liant  gaslights  hang  from  the  center  of  the  arched  roof  over- 
head at  regular  distances  of  75  feet  from  each  other.  "The 
effect,''  says  Mr.  Stephenson,  the  able  engineer  who  executed 
this  splendid  work,  "is  strikingly  beautiful,  for  the  rays  of 
light  from  each  lamp  throw  a  distant  luminous  arch  on  the  roof, 
and  the  series  diminishing  according  to  the  laws  of  perspective, 
•gives  the  appearance  of  a  number  of  distinct  arches,  instead  of 
one  continued  vault. 

The  noted  tunnel  on  the  Thames  and  Medway  Canal,  be- 
tween Gravesend  and  Rochester,  England,  is  well  worthy  of 
tflention.  It  is  two  miles  and  a  quarter  in  length,  and  excavated 
so  straight  and  true  that  the  light  from  one  extremity  can  be 
seen  from  near  the  other.  At  first  the  far  distant  opening  ap- 
pears little  larger  than  a  finger  ring,  and  as  the  traveler  ap- 
proaches the  middle  it  seems  as  though  it  would  be  impossible 
for  him  to  crawl  out  at  either  extremity.  Says  an  English 
writer,  "  the  sensations  produced  on  the  mind  of  a  stranger  in 
exploring  this  vast  and  dusky  passage,  are  powerful  and  im- 
pressive, and  increase  with  each  succeeding  step,  as  the  cheer- 
ful light  of  day  is  left  behind;  the  reflection  of  the  chalk  upon 
the  clear  surface  of  the  ■  ater,  more  distinctly  visible  as  you 
approach  either  end,  apparently  doubling  the  magnitude,  and 
the  entire  absence  of  every  soflnd  but  that  of  the  slow  and 
measured  footsteps  of  the  quadrupeds  employed  in  towing  the 
craft,  stealing  on  the  ear  at  a  distance,  and  becoming  gradually 
louder  and  louder  as  it  reverbrates  through  the  tunnel,  combine 
to  produce  an  emotion  of  sublimity  which  enhances  not  a 
little  the  interest  with  which  the  work  will  be  contemplated  by 
the  intelligent  passenger."  The  width  of  the  excavation  is  au 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


71 


fteet,  34  being  occupied  by  tbe  canal,  and  the  height  15  feet 
above  the  towing-path.  It  was  more  than  20  years  in  building, 
ana  cost  nearly  a  million  of  dollars 

Tbe  Primrose  Hill  Tunnel,  on  the  line  of  the  great  North- 
western Railway,  England,  is  decidedly  one  of  the  most 
elegantly  finished  works  of  the  kind  ever  attempted.  The  rail- 
road itself  is  a  monument  of  engineering  skill,  in  usefulness, 
ma«-nitude  and  splendor,  exceeding  the  wonderful  pyramids  of 
Egypt,  and  requiring  a  removal  of  more  than  15,000,000  cubic 
feet  of  earth,  and  the  labor  of  20,000  men,  with  all  the  modern 
appliances  of  machinery,  for  nearly  five  years.  The  entire  cost 
could  not  have  been  less  than  $90,000,000.  The  tunnel  is  3,750 
feet  in  length,  25  feet  high,  and  22  feet  wide.  It  is  ventilated 
by  five  shafts,  each  eight  feet  in  diameter.  It  was  executed 
by  Mr.  Stephenson,  England's  great  engineer,  at  a  cost  of 
$2,000,000. 

American  engineering  skill  is  exemplified  by  hundreds  of 
tunnels  and  other  vast  works  to  be  met  with  in  every  direction 
where  her  immense  railway  lines  extend.  The  celebrated 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway  is  particularly  conspicuous  for  its 
numerous  tunnels  or  underground  passages,  amon»  which  may 
be  mentioned  the  Doe  Gully  Tunnel,  the  Paw  Paw  Ridge  Tunnel, 
excavated  through  asoft  slate  rock  and  curved  horizontally  with 
a  radius  of  750  feet;  the  Everett  Tunnel;  the  McGuire  Tunnel, 
500  feel  in  length;  the  Rodemer  Tunnel,  400  feet  long,  secured 
by  substantial  arcbes  of  brick  and  stone;  and  the  well-known 
Kingwood  Tunnel,  4,100  feet  long.  The  latter  is  the  work  of 
Benjamin  H.  Latrobe;  was  nearly  three  years  in  progress  of 
excavation,  and  a  year  and  a  half  more  in  being  shielded  with 
brick  and  iron,  and  cost  a  million  of  dollars.  At  the  time 
It  was  the  longest  finished  tunnel  in  America.  Only  two  miles 
from  this  remarkable  work  is  Murray's  Tunnel,  250  feet  long, 
resting  on  a  bed  of  coal  six  feet  in  thickness.  The  Welling 
Tunnel,  28  miles  from  Wheeling,  is  1,250  feet  long,  cut  through 
slate  rock  and  beautifully  arched. 

The  famous  Hoosic  Tunnel  in  Massachusetts,  which  required 
so  many  years  to  excavate,  is  the  grandest  work  of  its  kind 
east  of  the  Atlantic,  and  may  be  classed  with  the  most  gigantic 
works  of  the  Old  World.  This  and  the  celebrated  Bergen 
Tunnel  are  perhaps  too  well  known  to  require  description. 

At  the  head  of  all  the  vast  works  of  this  class  the  far-famed 
Mount  Cenis  Tunnel  stands  alone  and  without  a  rival,  the  won- 


order  to  gratify  his  son-in-law,  Praetus,  senclB  him  against 
the  Chimeras.  But  Bellerophon,  by  the  aid  of  Minerva, 
and  the  winged  horse  Pegassus,  instead  of  perishing 
himself,  destroyed  the  monster. 

The  Centauri  were  said  to  be  half  man  and  half  horse. 
Some  make  them  the  offspring  of  Ixion  and  the  cloud ; 
others  refer  their  origin  to  the  beastiality  of  Centaurus, 
the  son  of  Apollo.   They  were  said  to  dwell  in  Thessaly. 

The  principal  incidents  related  of  them  are  their  rude 
attempts  upon  the  women  at  the  marriage  of  Pirithous 
and  Hippodamia,  and  the  consequent  Ibattle  with  the 
Lapithaxe,  who  drove  them  into  Arcadia.  Here,  they 
were  afterwards  chiefly  destroyed  by  Hercules. 

Some  have  imagined  this  fable  to  allude  to  the  drain- 
ing of  the  low  parts  of  Thessaly,  as  the  horse  is  in 
general  symbolical  of  water. 

Geryon  was  a  monster  said  to  be  the  offspring  of 
Chrysaor  and  Callishoe,  and  to  have  three  bodies  and 
three  heads.  His  residence  was  in  the  island  of  Gadis, 
where  his  numerous  flocks  were  kept  by  the  herdsman 
Eurythion,  and  guarded  by  a  two-headed  dog  called 
Orthos. 

The  destruction  of  this  monster  formed  one  of  the 
twelve  labors  of  Hercules. 

The  Hydra  was  a  monstrous  serpent  in  the  lake  Lema, 
with  numerous  heads.  Nine,  according  to  common 
account.  When  one  of  these  heads  was  removed, 
another  or  two  others  immediately  grew  in  its  place, 
unless  the  blood  of  the  wound  was  stopped  by  fire. 

The  destruction  of  this  Hydra  was  another  labor 
assigned  to  Hercules,  which  he  accomplished  by  the  aid 
of  lolus,  who  applied  lighted  brands  or  a  heated  iron  as 
each  head  was  removed.  The  arrows  of  Hercules  being 
dipped  in  the  Hydra's  blood,  caused  incurable  wounds. 

Pegasus  was  not  so  much  a  monster  as  a  prodigy, 
being  a  winged  horse,  said  to  have  sprung  from  the  blood 


der  of  the  modern  world.  It  pierces  the  rugged  Alps,  andjwhich  fell  on  the  ground  when  Perseus  cut  off  the  head 
•pens  uninteriupted  railway  communication  from  France  into  pf  Medusa.    He  fixed  his  residence  on  Mount  Helicon, 


Italy.  The  excavation  was  commenced  In  1859,  and  for  years 
advanced  through  the  hardest  of  flinty  rock,  until  the  workmen 
s^tood  under  the  heart  of  the  Alpine  range,  in  the  narrow  rock 
cased  passage,  with  nearly  8,000  feet,  or  a  mile  and  a  half,  of 
solid  rock  above  their  heads.  No  shafts  could  be  sunk  through 
this  immense  distance  for  different  gangs  of  workmen  to  work 
from,  and  the  whole  had  to  be  excavated  from  the  two  ex 
tremities.  For  some  time  the  enterprise  progressed  extremely 
slow,  but  in  1861  one  of  the  leading  engineers  invented  a  won 
derfiil  machine,  termed  an  Affusto,  containing  nine  perforators 
or  drills,  striking  altogether  1,800  times  per  minute,  and  worked 
by  compressed  air  brought  up  in  a  pipe  from  miles  away.  The 
drilling  and  blasting  operation  was  now  pushed  forward  with 
more  rapidity,  and  at  length,  on  Christmas  afternoon,  1870, 
greetings  and  hurrahs  were  exchanged  by  the  two  parties 
through  the  dividing  width  of  rock.  When  completed,  its  en- 
tire length  was  40,731  feet,  or  about  seven  and  seven-tenth 
miles.  The  tunnel  and  railway,  42  miles  in  all,  traversing  a 
region  of  almost  unparalleled  wild  Alpine  scenery,  cost,  ac- 
cording to  our  prices  and  currency,  nearly  one  hundred  mil- 
lions of  dollars.  Probably,  according  to  its  length,  it  is  the 
costliest  railway  in  the  world. 

So  much  for  the  modern  works  of  man  in  this  course.  And 
now  a  project  is  said  to  be  on  foot  for  tunneling  under  the 
English  Channel  or  Strait  of  Dover,  21  miles  across,  and  thus 
connecting  England  wilh  the  continent  of  Europe.  This,  of 
course,  would  eclipse  everything  ever  attempted  in  this  line. 
It  is  a  giant  undertaking,  and  the  mind  of  man  is  hardly  ripe 
for  the  work;  but  for  all  that,  the  thing  is,  probably,  possible; 
and  the  genius  and  enterprise  of  the  generation  just  coming 
upon  the  stage  of  action  will,  without  doubt,  accomplish  the 
mighty  work. 


The  Minotaur, 

In  ancient  mythology  the  Minotaur  was  said  to  be  hai^ 
man  and  half  bull.  The  story  is,  that  Minos,  King  of 
Crete,  refused  to  sacrifice  to  Neptune  a  beautiful  white 
bull  which  was  demanded  by  the  god.  The  angry  god 
Bhowed  his  displeasure  by  causing  Pasiphae,  the  wife  of 
Minos,  to  defile  herself  with  this  bull  through  the  aid  of 
Daedalus,  and  give  birth  to  the  monster.  Minos  con- 
fined the  Minotaur  in  the  famous  labyrinth.  Here  the 
monster  devoured  the  seven  young  men  and  the  seven 
maidens  annually  required  from  the  Athenians  by  Minos. 

The  Chimera  was  said  to  be  composed  of  dragon,  goat 
and  lion  united  ;  the  middle  of  the  body  was  that  of  a 
goat,  the  hinder  parts  those  of  a  dragon,  and  the  fore- 
parts those  of  a  lion  ;  and  it  had  the  heads  of  all  three. 


where  he  opened  the  fountain  called  Hippocrene.  He 
was  a  favorite  of  the  muses,  and  is  called  the  muses' 
horse."  The  horse  having  come  into  the  possession  of 
Bellerophon,  enabled  him  to  overcome  the  Chimaera. 
Afterwards  Pegasus,  under  an  impulse  from  Jupiter, 
threw  off  Bellerophon  to  wander  on  the  earth,  and  him 
self  ascended  to  a  place  among  the  stars. 

Honduras 

Honduras  is  one  of  the  discoveries  of  Columbus.  It 

has  a  low  coast,  studded  with  numerous  islands.  From 
the  coast  the  land  rises  into  bold  heights  and  is  deversi- 
fied  with  rivers  and  lagoons,  rapids  and  waterfalls,  amid 
the  most  vigorous  verdure  and  the  most  gigantic  forests. 
This  excess  of  v£getable  life  but  typefies  the  animal 
kingdom  there.  The  juguar,  capybora,  armadillo,  large 
weasel,  opossum,  deer,  wild-turkeys,  pheasants, 
pigeons  and  plovers  abound,  and  Insects  swarm  in 
myriads.  Sea-fowl  hover  over  the  waters  and  the  coast. 
In  the  deep,  fish  are  abundant,  turtles  are  animal  or 
reptile  aldermen,  and  alligators  roam  whithersoever 
they  will. 

The  fruits  are  oranges,  shaddocks,  limes,  mangoes, 
melons,  pine-apples,  watermelons,  arocata  pears,  cocoa- 
nuts,  and  many  others.  The  soil  is  unsurpassed  in  the 
world,  the  climate  tropical,  and  it  might  yield  the  most 
abundant  crops,  but  the  people  choose,  instead  of  culti- 
vating the  soil,  to  cut  and  export  mahogany  and  log- 
-wood,  and  import  much  of  their  food. 
(  Mahogany  is  best  grown  on  elevated  situations,  where 
it  is  conspicuous  from  its  yellow  foliage.  Its  boughs, 
afford  the  finest  wood,  but  size  is  a  matter  of  prime  im- 
portance. The  log-wood  is  found  at  the  water's  edge, 
its  spreading  roots  producing  the  most  valuable  dye- 
stufE.  Pine  containing  an  immense  amount  of  turpen- 
tine, is  also  found  here.  The  other  exports,  besides 
these  woods,  are  trifling,  but  they  include  rosewood, 
hides,  tortoise  shells,  fustic,  cochineal,  indigo,  sarsa- 
parilla  and  cocoanuts — all  of  the  latter  are  not  produced 
in  this  province,  but  are  procured  by  trafllic  with  Yucatan. 

Since  the  war  of  the  rebellion  a  few  Americans  have 
settled  here  and  cultivate  rice  and  tobacco.  Cotton, 
owing  to  worms  and  too  heavy  rain  falls,  cannot  be  suc- 
cessfully cultivated.    But  the  great  drawback  to  the 


and  was  continually  vomiting  forth  flames.  This  monster  prosperity  of  this  country  is  the  climate  ;  the  natives  are 
lived  in  Lycia,  in  the  reign  of  Jobater,  king  of  that  too  indolent  to  labor^  and  the  white  race  cannot  endu 
country.   This  king  wishing  to  punish  Bellerophon  in  i  the  enervating  heat. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Discovery  of  a  Lost  Plant. 

There  have  been  a  number  of  authenticated  instances 
where  the  vitality  of  seeds  has  been  preserved  for  a  long 
period  of  years.  There  has  lately  come  to  light  a  fresh 
case,  which  will  rank  among  the  most  curious  on  record. 
The  mines  of  Laurium,  in  Greece,  which  were  worked 
about  1,600  years  ago,  are  in  a  great  measure  composed 
of  scoria,  or  the  refuse  of  ancient  mines,  which  still 
yields  a  high  per  centage  of  silver.  In  clearing  away  a 
mass  of  this  refuse  a  quantity  of  seeds  were  discovefed 
which  must  have  been  buried  for  at  least  iifteen  centu- 
ries. Restored  to  conditions  favorable  for  germination, 
to  the  heat  of  the  sun  and  contact  with  the  air,  the  seeds 
gave  signs  of  life,  burst  their  buds,  sent  down  roots  into 
the  earth,  and  threw  up  stems  into  the  light.  When  the 
last  had  budded  and  blossomed,  lo !  a  lost  species  of 
the  genus  Olancium  (homed  poppy)  of  the  order  Papav- 
eracK  was  revealed.  Pliny  and  Dioscorides  frequently 
describe  the  flower  in  their  writings  with  great  particu- 
larity, as  its  golden  corolla  is  very  beautiful ;  but  it  has 
hitherto  been  unknown  to  modem  science.  Now,  the 
plant  which  had  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  globe 
for  1,500  years  or  more,  is  resuscitated  by  a  strange  and 
happy  accident. 

Tajke  time,  boys  ;  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  Are  you  learn- 
ing a  trade  ?  Determine  to  be  a  good  workman.  Never 
slight  your  work.  Deserve  success,  and  it  will  come. 
As  you  prove  worthy,  so  will  your  success  be. 

An  Esquimaux  Fish  Trap. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

The  Esquimaux  Indians,  although  they  do  not  rank 
high  as  mechanicians,  are  the  inventors  of  many  very 
curious  implements  for  hunting  and  fishing,  which  show 
considerable  ingenuity  as  well  as  a  thorough  know- 
ledge of  the  habits  of  the  animals  they  are  intended  to 
entrap.  As  a  mle  it  is  evident  that  they  have  carefully 
studied  how  to  make  all  their  implements  as  simple  and 
as  efEective  as  possible— a  custom  v/hich  our  inventors 
would  do  well  to  f  oUow. 

Along  the  banks  of  the  Kwichpak  and  Yukon  Elvers, 
in  the  territory  of  Alaska,  fish  forms  the  principle  article 
of  food,  as  weU  as  of  commerce,  and  the  chief  employ- 
ment of  the  natives  is  catching  them  and  preparing 
them  for  transportation  to  market.  Many  very  in- 
genious contrivances  are  used  to  ensnare  the  fishes  ;  but 
the  most  curious,  if,  indeed,  not  the  most  ingenious,  is 
called  In  their  language  talpiakniat,  or,  literally,  fish- 
trap."  It  is  called  by  the  Russians,  morda,  and  by  that 
name  is  generally  known  along  the  Alaska  coast.  The 
ingenuity  of  a  civilized  nation  would  be  able  to  devise  a 
simpler  and  an  easier  method  of  making  such  traps,  but 
the  principle  would  be  difficult  to  improve. 

A  steep  bank,  where  the  current  is  slow,  and  the  water 
still  and  deep,  is  the  most  favorable  locality  for  a  trap 
of  this  kind,  and  the  fisherman  considers  himself  as  for- 
tunate if  he  can  find  such  a  place,  of  which  possession 
has  not  already  been  taken  by  some  one  more  fortunate 
in  first  discovering  it.  Having  found  a  suitable  loca- 
tion, the  next  step  is  to  make  the  trap.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  selects  several  spruce  trees  from  which  he  can 
cut  a  stick  from  six  to  twelve  feet  in  length,  according 
to  the  size  of  his  trap.  For  greater  elasticity  the  trees 
should  not  be  more  than  six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter, 
.and  it  is  necessary  that  they  be  straight  grained,  and 
perfectly  free  from  knots  and  all  other  imperfections. 

Such  a  stick  being  procured,  he  first  splits  it,  then 
divides  and  sub-divides  each  piece,  until  he  has  reduced 
them  all  to  the  size  of  a  pipe-stem.  He  then  weaves  them 
together  so  as  to  form  a  net-work,  which  he  secures  in 
tb«  river  at  right  angles  to  the  shore  and  perpendicular 
k)  the  surface  of  the  water.  Another  similar  net  is 
plfteed  at  the  end  of  and  at  right  angles  to  the  first.  At 
each  end  of  this  cross-piece,  and  pointing  towards  the 
shore,  is  another  small  net,  in  which  there  is  a  small 
opening  leading  into  an  enclosure  made  of  the  same 
material,  and  of  which  there  is  no  other  opening.  A  fish 
ewimming  along  by  the  side  of  the  bank  meets  the  first 
net;  turning,  he  follows  it  along  until  he  meets  the 
cross-piece ;  then  turning  again,  he  meets  the  end-piece. 
"Becoming  confused,  he  dashes  through  the  opening 
Into  the  inclosure  and  is  a  prisoner,  as  elastic  sticks 
are  placed  around  the  entrance  at  such  an  angle  that  he 
cannot  pass  out  by  the  same  way  that  he  came  in  :  and 
there  are  no  other  means  of  egress. 


The  principal  kinds  of  fish  in  these  waters  are  the 
salmon  and  salmon  trout,  both  of  which  are  sold  by  the 
Esquimaux  at  the  rate  of  six  musket  balls  per  ukali ; 
an  ukali  is  about  sixteen  pounds.  The  white  traders 
sell  them  on  an  average  of  five  cents  a  pound.  In  endb. 
numbers  do  these  fish  abound  in  Alaska,  that,  in  1870, 
no  less  than  two  million  eight  hundred  thousand  pounds 
were  exported.  An  active  trade  has  been  kept  up  for 
years,  and  the  supply,  so  far  from  becoming  exhausted, 
is  on  the  increase. 

A  very  curious  fish  known  as  "kennel-fish"  (doubt- 
less, a  corraption  of  "  candle-fish  "),  is  found  in  some 
of  the  ponds  in  this  region.  It  is  seldom  used  as  an 
article  of  food,  as  its  flavor  is  very  strong  and  disagree- 
able, and  even  the  dogs  refuse  to  touch  it  unless  com- 
pelled by  hunger  to  do  so.  It  is  a  small  fish,  not  more 
than  eight  or  nine  inches  in  length,  and  its  only 
peculiarity  is  the  excessive  amount  of  oily  substance  in 
its  body,  which  is  so  great  that  it  is  used  as  a  torch  or 
candle  with  no  other  preparation  than  a  wick  being 
drawn  through  its  body  from  head  to  tail,  and  the  skin 
remove'! 

Books. 

Deprived  of  books,  the  world  would  be  without  one  of  its 
most  substantial  joys.  How  much  more  hollow  life  would  be 
without  them !  They  are  one  of  the  few  profitable  pursuits 
that  afford  unalloyed  pleasure.  I  confess  that  I  am  not  im- 
pervious to  the  temptations  of  more  shallow  pastimes,  and 
suffer  them  to  engage  much  of  my  time  to  the  prejudice  of  my 
literary  progress ;  but  with  regret  do  I,  returning  from  their 
unfruitful  allurements,  look  back  upon  the  wasted  opportunity, 
and  with  increased  and  grateful  ardor  relapse  into  the  refresh, 
ing  and  mild,  but  none  the  less  sound  entertainment  of 
letters. 

With  what  pleasure  we  review  the  hours  spent  in  this  man- 
ner ?  No  bitterness  is  there  to  sting  with  regret ;  these  reflec- 
tions come  not  to  chastise.  In  books  the  mind  had  scope.  It 
was  not  confined  to  an  empty,  mechanical  formula ;  it  had 
something,  as  it  were,  metaphysically  substantial  with  which 
to  exercise  itself;  something  which  developed  its  powers; 
something  congenial,  that  did  not  mockingly  elude  its  longing 
clutches ;  something  that  pierced  the  surrounding  mists,  and 
opened  its  aspiring  perceptions  to  greater  objects  ;  something 
that  aided  it  to  mount  above  the  common,  earth-bounded  view 
to  a  bi-oader  vista ;  something  that  fed,  but  never  sated,  its 
yearning. 

Those  hours  we  recount  as  steps  by  which  we  gained  our 
present  elevation  of  improvement,  whose  exact  altitude  being 
hid  in  pleasing  uncertainty,  the  mind,  curious  concerning  her 
treasured  possessions,  recapitulates  them  with  ever-renewed 
joy. 

What  more  pleasant  picture— in  the  long  winter  evenings, 
when  everything  is  dreary  without  doors,  the  weather  bleak, 
raw  and  uncomfortable,  the  rain,  "  the  cold  November  rain," 
pattering  from  leaden-gray  skies,  when  the  cows  low,  and  the 
blatant  calves  bleat  for  very  dreariness— than  a  snug  figure 
ensconced  in  an  easy  chair,  choice  books  in  hand,  sitting  before 
a  roaring,  blazing,  sputtering,  singing  wood-fire,  that  reddens 
all  the  room  with  its  rosy  laughter,  and  chases  the  shadows 
along  the  walls  and  back  into  their  holes— what  more  com- 
fortably "contented  picture  than  this  figure,  amid  these  circum- 
stances, while  the  mind  is  engrossed  with  the  pleasing  sur- 
prises inspired  by  genius'  deep,  wondrous  emanations. 

But  books  have  charms  independent  of  circumstances.  The 
mental,  as  well  as  the  physical  being  requires  sustenance. 
Nature  is  the  great  caterer  to  both.  On  her  more  gross  pro- 
ductions the  physical  being  feeds.  On  her  more  refined  and 
metaphysical,  the  mental.  Man  in  a  wild,  uncultivated  state 
consumes  his  food,  both  mental  and  physical,  in  a  raw  condi- 
tion. Civilized  man  artificially  prepares  it  in  its  most  service- 
able and  delectable  forms.  Thus,  as  his  dishes  are  dressed  to 
his  taste  from  nature's  raw  fruits,  so  are  books  the  dishes 
dressed  to  his  intellectual  taste  from  her  crude  mental  fare. 
As  such,  therefore,  we  ought  to  take  pleasure  in  them.  So  the 
learned,  and  those  who  can  appreciate  their  beauties,  do.  But 
they  have  first  to  be  educated  to  their  comprehension  ;  for  as 
savages  cannot,  at  first,  like  civilized  fare,  neither  can  we,  at 
the  outset,  like  our  mental  fare  in  its  advanced  state  of  im- 
provement, but  have  to  be  gradually  educated  to  it. 

J.  H.  Moors 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


73 


Peruvian  Sepulchres. 

At  the  foot  of  a  high  mountain  which  rises  from  the 
flhore  of  a  small  bay  called  Chaeota,  to  the  south  of 
Arica  are  a  great  number  of  ancient  sepulchres.  These 
are  covered  over  like  the  adjacent  soil  with  a  species  of 
earth  very  much  impregnated  with  salt ;  and  to  this  may 
be  doubtless  attributed  the  preservation  of  this  memen- 
to of  the  unhappy  aborigines  of  the  country.  In  1700, 
several  of  these  sepulchres  were  examined  by  Don 
Felipe  Bauza,  a  captain  in  the  Spanish  navy,  who  found 
the  greater  part  of  the  bodies  in  an  entire  condition,  but 
withered  to  a  skeleton,  covered  with  a  dark  brown  skin, 
and  the  hair  of  some  quite  of  a  red  color.  The  niches 
in  which  they  were  deposited  were  generally  cut  out  of 
the  stone  from  four  to  five  feet  in  lenert-h,  some  being 
rudely  carved  and  having  at  the  bottom  a  mat  made  of 
rushes.  The  bodies  were  placed  on  this  mat,  the  same 
attitude  being  generally  observed  in  all.  They  were 
seated  cross-legged,  with  the  hands  placed  over  the 
breast,  and  so  contracted  as  to  occupy  the  least  possible 
space.  Others  were  seated  with  their  knees  bent  up 
near  the  mouth,  the  hands  likewise  being  crossed  over 
the  breast,  and  all  placed  with  their  faces  toward  the 
west.  The  body  of  a  young  man  was  taken  out  that 
had  been  wrapped  in  cloth,  and  his  features  were  still 
distinct ;  that  of  a  woman  was  also  examined,  whose 
hair  was  in  perfect  preservation.  It  was  half  a  yard  in 
length  and  divided  into  two  parts.  Some  of  the  bodies 
were  wrapped  in  a  sort  of  coarse  woolen  cloth  from  the 
iead  to  the  feet,  the  mouth  being  tied  up  ;  others  were 
wrapped  in  coarse  nets  made  of  "  pita,"  and  all  of  them 
had  a  small  bag  hung  around  the  neck,  which  was  found 
at  the  time  to  contain  nothing  but  earth  and  dust,  what- 
ever it  might  originally  have  been.  Various  little  pots 
made  of  clay  were  found  around  the  bodies,  and  some 
larger  ones  of  curious  form.  In  addition  to  these,  some 
fragments,  apparently  of  plates,  an  ear  of  com,  some 
pita,  and  other  trifling  articles  were  found ;  also  some 
small  pieces  of  copper  cut  in  the  shape  of  coins.  In 
Ylo,  and  other  parts  of  this  coast,  the  sepulchres  are 
-common. 

Benares,  India. 

The  Benares  of  the  present  time  is  a  stronghold  of 
idolatry.  It  is  situated  on  the  Ganges  and  is  immensely 
populated.  There  are  thousands  of  houses  of  brick  and 
stone,  and  thousands  also  built  of  mud.  Many  of  these 
buildings  are  six  stories  high.  This  is  the  Hindoo 
Athens,  and  contains  many  Sanscrit  colleges  and 
hundreds  of  heathen  temples. 

Benares  is  held  in  such  high  esteem  by  the  Hindoos 
that  pilgrims  go  thousands  of  mUes  for  the  sake  of  dip- 
ping up  water  from  the  sacred  Ganges  at  this  place. 
In  this  city  is  the  temple  of  Gunesh.  The  idol  Gunesh 
is  regarded  as  the  god  of  wisdom.  It  is  worshiped  by 
most  of  the  shopmen  of  Bengal.  They  keep  a  small 
image  of  this  god  in  their  places  of  business.  It  is  a 
sort  of  mongrel  image,  representing  a  boy's  body  with 
an  elephant^s  head.  Formerly,  children  were  slain  in 
this  temple  as  sacrifices  to  the  god.  Gongs  were  beaten 
to  drown  the  dying  cries  of  the  helpless  victims.  How- 
ever, Christianity  has  penetrated  here  with  its  blessed 
light,  and  these  human  sacrifices  are  no  longer  per- 
mitted. CUj>tain  Carnbs. 


The  Sand  Darter, 

In  the  sandy  bottoms  of  clear  streams  in  Ohio  and 
Indiana,  there  is  common  a  little  fish  (Fleurolepis  pellv^ 
cidus,  Agassiz),  with  a  slim,  cylindrical  body,  measuring 
two  or  three  inches  in  length.  The  diminutive  creature 
is  of  a  pinkish  hue,  with  a  line  of  steel-blue  spots  along 
the  sides  and  back,  but  it  has  no  more  consistency  or 
opacity  than  a  mold  of  jelly.  Not  much  of  it  is  known 
among  naturalists,  but  J ordan  and  Copeland  have  lately 
<}ontributed  some  observations  upon  its  habits.  A  speci- 
men was  placed  in  an  aquarium,  to  which  it  easily 
accommodated  itself ;  but,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days 
it  was  missing.  After  a  careful  search  in  the  shingle 
at  the  bottom,  the  upper  edge  of  its  caudal  fin  and  its 
little  black  eyes  were  discovered  peeping  out  of  the 
sand.  Pleurolepis  was  buried  I  Was  he  dead  ?  Slowly 
one  eye  w&a  closed  in  a  darter's  inimitable  way,  for  they 
outwink  all  auiuals  in  creation  except  owls ;  and 


the  touch  of  a  finger  on  its  tail  showed  that  it  had  lofl| 
none  of  its  activity. 

Many  days  elapsed  before  the  little  burro wer  waa 
observed  in  the  act  of  entering  the  sand,  but  finally  th^ 
process  was  watched  by  a  vigilant  spectator.  The  tiny 
darter  pressed  its  homy  nose  against  the  bottom,  stand- 
ing meanwhile  almost  on  its  head,  and,  with  a  rapid 
motion  of  its  tail  from  side  to  side,  completely  buried 
itself  within  five  seconds.  The  sand  was  stirred  violently 
by  the  action  ;  but  as  it  had  nearly  settled  in  the  course 
of  half  a  minute,  the  darter  thmst  its  nose  out,  and, 
quietly  drawing  it  back,  left  the  twinkling  eyes  and  nar- 
row forehead  alone  visible. 

The  study  of  scores  of  different  individuals  ha^ 
demonstrated  that  the  Pleurolepis  remain  buried  whil*^ 
the  water  In  the  aquarium  is  pure  and  cool ;  but  when  tt 
needs  changing,  they  leave  their  burrow  and  lie  on  tkt 
bottom  panting  violently.  The  motive  which  the  darter 
has  for  burrowing  is  not  yet  explained.  It  seems  to 
be  wholly  unpremeditated,  testify  the  observers.  A 
number  of  them  in  confinement  lie  helplessly  on  the 
bottom,  motionless  and  slowly  breathing,  when  one 
suddenly  starts  and  buries  its  head  and  neck  in  the  now 
whirling  sand,  by  a  motion  as  quick  as  thought ;  a 
headless  tail  beats  frantically  about ;  and  when  the 
quicksand  lies  smoothly  on  the  bottom  again,  the  little 
eyes  are  looking  at  you  like  two  glistening  beads,  as  if 
to  witness  your  applause  at  so  clever  a  trick. 

A  Boleosoma  {B,  hrevipirine,  Cope),  in  the  same  aqua- 
rium with  the  sand-darters,  has  been  noticed  burrowing 
in  the  sand  quite  as  persistently  and  in  the  same  manner 
as  its  companions.  The  habit  is  possibly  catching,  as  it 
has  not  before  been  observed  in  an  individual  of  this 
species.  The  food  of  the  Pleurolepis  is  mintite,  if  not 
microscopic. 

No  Night- 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

Nothing  strikes  a  stranger  more  forcibly,  if  he  visits 
Sweden  at  the  season  of  the  year  when  the  days  are  the 
longest,  than  the  absence  of  night.  A  traveler  relates 
these  interesting  facts  : 

WhUe  he  tarried  in  Stockholm  he  retumed  at  midnight 
from  visiting  some  friends,  and  it  was  as  light  as  in 
England  half  an  hour  before  sundown.  You  could  see 
distinctly,  but  all  was  quiet  in  the  streets  as  if  the  in- 
habitants were  dead  or  gone  away.    The  sun  in  June 

foes  down  in  Stockholm  a  little  before  ten  o'clock, 
here  is  a  great  illumination  all  night  as  the  sun  passes 
around  the  earth  towards  the  North  Pole,  and  the  re- 
fraction of  its  rays  is  such  that  one  can  see  to  read  at 
midnight  without  artificial  light.  This  writer  says  that 
the  first  time  he  awoke  in  Stockholm  he  was  surprised 
to  see  the  sun  shining  into  his  room.  He  looked  at  his 
watch  and  found  that  it  was  but  three  o'clock.  The 
next  time  that  he  awoke  it  was  five,  but  there  were  no 
persons  in  the  streets,  for  the  Swedish  citizen  is  indolent. 

There  is  a  mountain  at  the  head  of  the  Gulf  of 
Bothnia,  where,  on  the  21st  of  June,  the  sun  does  not 
appear  to  go  down  at  all.  A  steamer  goes  up  from 
Stockholm  purposely  to  carry  up  those  people  who  wish 
to  view  this  phenomenon.  It  occurs  only  one  night. 
The  sun  reaches  the  horizon,  you  can  see  the  whole 
,  disc,  and  in  five  minutes  more  it  begins  to  rise.  At  the 
North  Cape,  latitude  seventy-two  degrees,  the  sun  does 
not  go  down  for  several  weeks.  In  June  it  is  twenty- 
five  degrees  above  the  horizon  at  midnight.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  winter,  the  sun  is  not  seen  for  weeks  ; 
then  it  appears  for  ten,  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  after 
which  it  descends,  and,  finally,  up  it  comes  and  does 
not  set  at  all,  but  makes  a  circle  around  the  heavens. 
Birds  and  animals,  however,  take  their  accustomed  rest 
at  the  usual  hour  whether  the  sun  goes  down  or  not. 


The  extent  to  which  the  ancients  enjoyed  the  perfume 
of  roses  seems  hardly  credible  to  us.  They  covered 
their  banquet  tables  with  them,  and  by  some  mechanical 
contrivance,  roses  were  showered  upon  the  guests  as 
they  sat  at  their  meals.  They  reclined  on  cushions 
stuffed  with  rose  leaves,  or  on  couches  composed  entirely 
of  roses.  The  fioor  too  was  strewn  with  roses.  Cleo- 
patra, at  an  enormous  expense,  caused  roses,  two  cubits 
deep,  to  be  laid  on  the  floor  of  the  banquet  hall  when 
Antony  was  her  guest,  and  then  had  netting  spread 
above  this  elastic  carpet. 


74 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Ancient  Earthworks  in  Tennessee. 

BY  B.    G.  BRAZELTON. 

Tennessee  abounds  in  these  ancient  works.  They  are 
scattered  along  the  Tennessee  Kiver  from  its  mouth  to 
its  source  ;  and  over  the  western  part  of  the  State,  along 
the  tributaries  of  the  Doe  River,  are  great  numbers  of 
mounds  and  walls  of  earth.  Some  of  these  works,  from 
their  arrangements,  were  doubtless  erected  for  purpose 
Oii  ccli-defence.  On  the  east  side  of  Middleton's  Creek, 
a  iittlo  north  of  Barham's  mills,  in  Hardin  County,  are 
some  remarkable  earthworks.  At  this  place  a  wall  of 
earth  lour  hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  length  commences 
at  tiiQ  creek,  near  the  mill,  and  curves  around  northward 
to  the  creek  again,  taking  in  about  four  acres  of  ground, 
on  which  stands  a  mound  covering  about  half  an  acre  of 
ground,  and  rising  eighteen  feet  above  the  common 
level.  Between  the  wall  and  the  creek  is  a  trench, 
lainly  to  be  seen,  from  whence  the  earth  was  taken  to 
uild  the  mound  and  wall.  The  wall  at  its  northern  ter- 
minus is  about  fifteen  feet  in  height,  but  it  diminishes 
in  elevation  as  it  approaches  the  creek  near  the  mill, 
where  it  is  barely  traceable. 


Near  the  Mobile  and  Ohio  Railroad,  in  Madison 
County,  are  several  large  mounds — the  largest  being 
about  eighty  feet  high,  and  on  its  top  is  a  beautiful 
plateau  of  about  one  acre,  which  is  cultivated  for  a 
garden.  But  the  most  remarkable  fabrics  of  the 
^'^Aucient  Builders  "  in  this  State  are  on  the  east  bank 
of  Tennessee  River,  in  Hardin  County,  where  the  town 
of  Savannah  now  stands.  At  this  place  a  ridge  of  high 
land  makes  to  the  river  between  two  creeks,  the  mouths 
or  which  are  about  one  mile  apart.  A  line  of  fourteen 
large  mounds  run  parallel  with  the  river  from  creek  to 
Creole  ,•  some  of  them  covering  half  an  acre  of  ground, 
and  rising  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  above  the  common 
lovsl.  These  mounds  stand  back  on  the  level  about 
Ge73ii  hundred  feet  from  the  turn  of  the  blutf,  and  they 
aro  or  different  sizes,  the  largest  and  tallest  occupying  a 
position  near  the  middle  of  the  line.  A  ziz-zag  wall  of 
earth,  accompanied  by  a  deep  trench,  which  is  still 
plainly  traceable,  commences  at  the  mouth  of  one  creek 
and  curves  around  to  the  mouth  of  the  other,  taking  in 
the  raounds  and  a  considerable  amount  of  country  back 
of  tiiem.  Here,  doubtless,  was  a  city  of  the  "Mound 
Builders. "  The  wall  was  certainly  erected  for  pur- 
IDOse  of  self-defense,  and  the  mounds  were,  perhaps, 
used  for  watch-towers. 

From  one  of  these  mounds  a  copper  wedge  and  eight 
copper  pullies  were  taken  a  few  years  ago  by  Mr.  Rufe 
liussell,  a  citizen  of  the  town.  The  wedge  is  about  four 
inches  long,  two  inches  broad,  and  half  an  inch  thick  at 
the  thickest  end,  and  the  wheels  of  the  pullies  are  about 
an  inch  and  a  Half  in  diameter  and  one  inch  thick. 
Several  years  previous  to  Mr.  Russell's  diaeovery,  a 


small  camion,  nearly  eaten  up  with  rust,  wae  taken  ouit 
of  the  river  bank  at  this  place  by  persons  making  a 
wharf.  It  has  been  asserted  by  some  wise  heads  that 
here,  doubtless,  was  the  Indian  town  on  a  large  river,  at 
which  place  De  Soto  stopped  for  several  months  on  his 
way  to  discover  the  Father  of  Waters,"  and  where  he 
left  the  heaviest  of  his  baggage.  If  such  was  the  case, 
he  certainly  left  the  wedge  and  pullies,  and  the  Indians 
buried  them  where  they  were  found. 

I  have  known  several  mounds  in  this  State  to  be  ex- 
amined; some  contain  plenty  of  human  bones,  others 
Indian  pottery,  iron  ore,  and  very  often  plenty  of  ashes 
and  charcoal  are  found  in  the  centre  and  near  the  base 
of  the  mound.  I  have  in  my  possession  a  piece  of  lode 
stone,  about  one  inch  and  a  half  long,  and  is  of  an  oval 
shape,  possessing  great  polarity.  It  was  found  by  an 
old  farmer  about  forty  years  ago.  While  plowing  over 
a  mound,  something  adhered  to  his  plow ;  by  some  exer- 
tion he  pulled  it  loose  and  found  it  to  be  a  powerful 
magnet. 

This  piece  of  lode  stone  is  nicely  dressed,  and  when 
suspended  by  a  string,  one  of  its  ends  point  north,  the 
other  south.  Considering  this  as  cotemporary  with  the 
mounds,  of  which  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  we  can 
easily  see  that  the  ancient  settlers  were  not  without 
something  to  guide  them  in  their  travels. 

The  question  has  been  often  asked,  who  were  the 
"Mound  Builders?"  but  no  definite  answer  has  ever 
been  given. 

For  what  purpose  were  these  mounds  erected  ?  This  is 
another  question  for  those  who  are  wise  in  years  to- 
answer.  That  they  were  thrown  up  for  burial  places  I 
cannot  believe,  as  the  bones  found  in  them  are  in  too 
good  a  state  of  preservation  to  be  regarded  as  cotem- 
porary with  the  mounds.  My  opinion  is,  that  thousands 
of  years  must  have  elapsed  since  the  desertion  of  these 
fabrics,  and  the  extinction  of  the  people  by  whom  they 
were  erected.  Ask  the  oldest  Indian  and  he  will  teU- 
you  that  he  knows  nothing  of  their  history. 

These  mounds  were  not  in  existence  previous  to  the 
Ancient  Ocean,  whose  waters  once  covered  the  great, 
valley  of  the  Mississippi ;  but  by  the  upheaval  of  the 
land,  the  waters  receded  southward  ;  the  dry  land  ap- 
pearing destitute  of  vegetation  was,  doubtless,  first 
inhabited  by  the  "Mound  Builders,"  who  as  they  tra- 
veled southward,  erected  their  monuments,  which  are^ 
destined  to  last  for  centuries  to  come. 


Flowors  in  the  Tropics. 

A  lady  writer  from  ftie  Isle  of  Singapore  gives  the 
following  glowing  picture  of  tropical  flowers. 

"  We  gathered  whole  handsful  of  the  lotus  or  water 
lily,  with  its  pale  blue,  golden,  or  rose-tinted  blooms 
gleaming  up  from  the  sparkling  waters.  There  are 
many  varieties  of  this  exquisite  flower,  blue,  pink,  car- 
nation, bright  yellow,  royal  purple  fringed  with  gold, 
and  more  beautiful  than  all,  pure  virgin  white,  with  the 
faintest  possible  rose  tinge  in  the  centre  of  each  section 
of  the  corolla,  a  just  perceptible  blush,  as  of  its  own 
conscious  loveliness.  The  last  is  the  royal  flower  of 
Siam  ;  borne  before  the  king  at  weddings,  funerals,  and 
all  state  festivals,  and  the  royal  reception  rooms  are 
always  beautifully  decorated  with  the  young  buds 
arranged  in  costly  vases  of  exquisite  workmanship.  In 
moist  portions  of  the  jungle  were  whole  groves  of 
fragrant  pandanus,  ferns  of  infinite  variety,  a  species  of 
wild  mignonette,  spotless  japoniea,  fragrant  tuberose, 
Cape  jessamine,  wild  passion  flower,  the  Calla  Indica, 
with  its  five  long  petals  of  heavenly  blue,  then  the  innu- 
merable company  of  roses,  tea,  moss,  perpetual,  cluster, 
climbing,  variegated,  and  a  score  of  others,  queenly  stiM 
even  amid  such  a  gorgeous  array.  The  Victoria  Regia 
and  Raflaesia  Arnoldi,  the  two  largest  flowers  in  the 
world,  we  saw  in  Dr.  A.'s  garden— the  flower  of  each 
two  feet  in  diameter.  Rarest  of  all  was  the  night- 
blooming  cereus.  TJiere  were  six  Wooms  in  full 
maturity,  creamy  waxen  flowers  of  exquisite  form,  the 
leaves  of  the  corolla  of  a  pale  golden  hue,  and  the  petals 
intensely  white.  Its  wondrous  perfume  is  exhaled  just 
at  nightfall,  and  readily  discernible  for  a  mile.  The 
odor  partakes  largely  of  that  of  lilies,  violets,  tuberose 
and  vanilla.  It  reaches  perfect  maturity  about  an  hour 
before  midnight ;  at  three  o'clock  its  glory  is  beginning 
to  wane  ;  at  dawn  it  is  fading  rapidly  ;  and  by  sunriee 
®nly  a  wilted,  worthless  wreck  remains." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


75 


ARTESIAN  WELLS. 


Tiiey  are  so  named  from  the  province  of  Artois,  in 


them  at  an  early  peri(xl.  Artesi-au  wells  are  small 
holes  sunk  in  the  earth  by  boring,  through  which 
currents  of  water,  struck  at  great  depths,  rise  to  tiie 


surface,  and  sometimes  How  over. 


ARTESIAN  WELL  AT  GRENELLE,  PARIS,  FRANCE. 

Water  thus  pressed  up  must  have  its  soorce  in 
some  more  elevated  lands,  and  be  confined  in  the 
strata  of  the  rock,  through  which  it  has  percolated  ,* 
precisely  as  water  is  conveyed  in  pipes  below  the 


France,  anciently  called  Artesium.  in  which  they  have 
a  long  time  been  in  use.  They  appear  to  have  been 
known  to  the  ancients,  being  occasionally  alluded  to 
by  some  of  their  writers.    The  Chinese  also  used 


76     '  THE  GROIVING  l^FORLD. 


surface,  and  is  pressed  up  into  our  houses  to  a  height 
nearly  equal  to  that  at  which  the  pipes  commenced. 

Water  finds  its  way  down  into  the  earth  by  flowing 
into  the  crevices  and  chasms  of  the  rocks,  and  by 
percolating  through  the  porous  strata.  In  a  region 
of  limestone  rocks  it  hollows  out  /or  itself  its  own 
bed,  by  dissolving  the  limestone  and  even  in  this 
way  produces  great  caves.  The  large  streams  that  flow 
through  these,  and  the  innumerable  little  subterranean 
rivulets,  circulate  between  the  layers  of  rock,  seeking 
constantly  lower  levels.  When  forced  by  |the  pres- 
sure behind  they  are  pushed  up  through  any  apertures 
they  meet,  or  that  are  opened  for  them,  and  flow  out 
as  springs  or  as  artesian  wells. 

Underground  currents  are  met  with  frequently  at 
different  depths,  confined  between  different  strata  of 
rock,  and  having  no  connection  with  each  other.  If 
the  first  supplies  struck  do  not  rise  to  the  desired 
height,  the  boring  is  continued  in  search  of  others 
below  that  well.  It  is  sometimes  the  case  that  the 
head  of  water  is  at  so  high  an  elevation  the  column 
bursts  forth  from  the  ground  as  a  fountain  ;  throw- 
ing up  a  continual  jet  d'eau.  The  principle  is  pre- 
cisely that  of  our  artificial  fountains.  By  raising  the 
water  above  the  surface  in  a  pipe,  and  letting  it  flow 
over,  convenient  water  power  is  obtained.  Artesian 
wells  are  applied  to  this  purpose  at  many  localities  in 
France ;  the  quantity  of  water  they  supply  being 
found  suflBcient  to  run  heavy  machinery.  These 
wells  are  particularly  valuable  in  a  region  where 
water  is  difficult  to  be  obtained.  Upon  arid  plains 
and  prairies,  or  limestone  formations,  through  which 
the  surface  water  soon  finds  its  way  and  is  lost,  they 
are  of  great  importance.  The  natives  of  some  parts 
oi  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  have  sunk  them  with  success 
to  the  depth  of  1,200  feet.  Their  successful  intro- 
duction in  the  dry  limestone  region  of  Alabama,  will, 
no  doubt,  be  followed  by  their  general  use  in  similar 
localities  throughout  the  western  states.  From  the 
great  depth  at  which  the  currents  of  water  are 
reached,  their  supplies  may  be  regarded  as  permanent, 
provided  so  many  wells  are  not  sunk  in  the  same 
neighborhood  as  to  endanger  exhausting  the  largest 
reservoirs.  In  the  vicinity  of  London  it  is  observed 
that  the  height  to  which  the  waters  rise,  diminishes 
as  the  number  of  wells  is  increased.  In  1838,  the 
supply  of  water  from  them  was  estimated  at  6,000,- 
000  gallons  daily,  and  in  1851  at  nearly  double  the 
amount,  and  the  average  annual  fall  of  the  height  of 
the  water  is  about  two  feet.  But  in  cases  of  single 
wells,  the  supply  of  water,  or  the  height  to  which  it 
rises,  is  seldom  known  to  vary.  One  at  Lillers  (pas 
de  Calais)  has  been  in  steady  operation  since  the  year 
1126.  By  their  depth,  also,  the  water  brought  up  is 
warmer  than  that  found  near  the  surface. 

The  hot  springs  that  flow  out  to  the  surface  in 
many  parts  of  the  world  are  natural,  artesian  wells, 
rising  from  great  depths.  Warm  waters  obtained  by 
artesian  wells  have  been  applied  to  useful  purposes 
connected  with  manufacturing.  In  Wurtemberg, 
large  manufactories  are  warmed  by  the  water  being 
Bent  through  them  in  metallic  pipes.  A  constant  tem- 
perature of  47**  is  thus  maintained  when  the  temper- 
ature without  is  at  zero.  Hospitals  and  greenhouses 
are  also  kept  warm  in  the  same  manner. 

The  strata  of  clays,  sands  and  limestones,  which 
form  the  tertiary  basins  of  London  and  Paris,  are 
particularly  well  arranged  for  furnishing  water  by 
artesian  wells.  In  these  basins  are  concentrated 
the  greatest  number  and  the  most  expensive  of  these 
wells. 

The  engraving  given  herewith  represents  the  arte- 
sian well  of  Grenelle,  in  the  Paris  basin,  which  is 
famous  as  the  deepest  among  them.  Seven  years  and 
two  months  of  constant  labor  were  devoted  to  tl:c 
boring — the  rock  being  extremely  difficult  to  pierce 


'  At  the  depth  of  1,254  feet,  the  tubing  broke  off,  and 
fell  with  270  feet  of  rods  to  the  bottom  of  the  hole. 
Fifteen  months  were  spent  in  breaking  these  and  ex- 
tracting them  in  pieces.  At  1,500  feet  the  govern- 
ment would  have  abandoned  the  enterprise  but  for 
the  urgent  appeals  of  M.  Arago.  It  was  continued. 
On  Feb?:jmry  26,  1841,  at  the  depth  of  1,792  feet,  the 
boring  ra&  suddenly  penetrated  the  arch  of  rock  over 
the  subterranean  waters  and  fell  several  yards.  In  a 
few  hours  the  water  rose  to  the  surface  in  an  immense 
volume,  and  with  great  violence,  bringing  up  sand  and 
mud.  To  check  this  supply  it  has  been  found  neces- 
sary to  raise  a  verticle  pipe  many  feet  into  the  air,  in 
which  the  water  rises  and  flows  over.  Its  tempera- 
ture is  uniformly  82*^  F.  The  extreme  depth  is  1,806 
feet.  The  water  is  perfectly  limpid,  and  flows  at  the 
rate  of  50,000  gallons  in  twenty-four  hours.  This  is 
the  well  that  is  made  use  of  for  warming  the  hospitals 
at  Grenelle. 

Artesian  wells,  sunk  for  bringing  up  salt  water,  are 
common  in  the  United  States,  especially  in  New  York, 
Pennsylvania  and  Virginia.  The  deepest  well  in  this 
country  is  that  sunk  at  St.  Louis,  Mo.  This  has  reached 
the  enormous  depth  of  3,843  feet,  or  in  that  locality, 
3,000  feet  below  the  sea  level.  This  would  give  a  water 
pressure  at  the  bottom  of  1,293  pounds  to  the  square 
inch.  The  deepest  bore  in  the  world  is  one  begun  as  a 
salt  mine  and  yet  incompleted,  at  the  village  of  Speren- 
burg,  some  twenty  miles  from  Berlin.  Its  present  depth 
is  4,194  feet.  Some  seventy-five  shafts  have  been  sunk 
in  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  which  yield  an  aggregate  of 
600,000  gallons  an  hour.  The  effect  of  this  supply  of 
water  is  said  to  be  plainly  apparent  upon  the  once  bar- 
ren soil  of  the  desert.  Two  new  villages  have  been 
built,  and  15,000  palm  trees  have  been  planted  in  more 
than  1,000  new  gardens. 

Of  all  the  wells  sunk  in  the  United  States,  none  are  so 
remarkable  for  the  difficulties  encountered  and  succesg- 
fully  overcome  as  that  at  Charleston,  S.  C.  Since  the 
year  1824  no  less  than  five  attempts  have  been  made  by 
the  city  government  to  obtain  good  water  by  this 
means.  In  1848  the  last  operation  was  commenced 
under  the  directio^x  of  Major  Welton,  who  had  had 
much  experience  in  sinking  artesian  wells  in  Alabama. 
The  strata  first  penetrated  were  alluvial  sands,  saturated 
with  water,  which  caused  them  to  run  as  quicksand. 
These  were  shut  out  by  cast  iron  tubing  of  six  inches 
diameter,  which  penetrated  the  clays  and  marls  of  the 
postpleiocene  formation,  and  finally  reached  the  depth 
of  230  feet,  where  it  rested  upon  a  rock  of  the  eocene 
formation.  From  this  point  down  alternations  of  hard 
rock  and  loose  sands  were  met  with  ;  the  latter  causing 
the  same  trouble  as  those  above,  running  in  and  filling 
the  well,  sometimes  even  to  the  height  of  140  feet  up 
from  the  bottom  in  a  single  night.  When  it  was  found 
impossible  to  draw  out  the  sands  from  these  beds,  the 
plan  was  adopted  of  shutting  them  out  by  tubing.  The 
sinking  was  extended  to  1,250  feet ;  the  last  strata  being 
sandstones,  sand  and  marls,  probably  of  the  cretaceous 
formation.  The  discharge,  ten  feet  above  the  surface, 
is  about  1,200  gallons  an  hour.  The  water  is  saline  and 
disagreeable  to  the  taste,  but  soft.  Its  temperature  is 
87''.  It  is  used  for  steamboats,  and  the  demand  is  such 
that  another  well,  thirty  feet  distant,  was  commenced 
in  February,  1856. 

In  New  York  city,  artesian  wells  were  sunk  years  ago 
by  Mr.  Levi  Disbrow,  and  the  business  has  since  been 
continued  to  the  present  time  by  his  son,  Mr.  J ohn  Dis- 
brow. The  structure  of  the  island  is  exceedingly  un- 
favorable for  very  successful  results  to  be  expected  from 
these  enterprises,  the  strata  being  nearly  vertical,  and 
separated  from  all  more  elevated  districts  by  deep  salt 
water  channels.  The  supply  of  fresh  water  likely  to  be 
met  with  below  the  surface  cannot,  therefore,  be  very 
large  ;  nor  can  it,  for  want  of  sufficient  head,  rise  to  any 
great  height  in  the  wells.  One  of  the  oldest  and  deepest 
of  these  wells  is  at  the  United  States  Hotel,  known,  when 
the  well  was  sunk,  as  Holt's,  between  Pearl  and  Water 
streets. 

Numerous  artesian  wells  are  being  sunk  along  the 
line  of  the  Pacific  Railroad,  in  order  to  obtain  water  for 
the  workmen  laboring  in  the  coal  mines  along  the  route. 
The  first  well  is  at  Separation,  724  miles  from  Omaha» 
and  the  last  one  is  at  Rock  Spring,  832  miles. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


11 


It  is  believed  that  for  agricultural  purposes  the  min- 
eral salts  could  be  washed  out  of  the  water  obtained 
from  wells  in  the  above  vicinity,  so  that  soil  irrigated 
therewith  would  probably  prove  remarkably  productive. 

A  flowing  well,  furnishing  1,000  gallons  per  hour,  will 
water  a  section  of  640  acres,  fi  bored  1,000  feet  in 
depth,  the  cost  would  be  about  $10,000.  Out  on  the 
plains  this  outlay  would  make  a  most  productive  farm, 
which  might  be  made  the  nucleus  of  a  stock  range  of 
thousands  of  acres,  having,  besides,  an  ample  s'^Dply 
for  human  consumption. 

The  process  of  boring  artesian  wells  is  conducted  by 
augers  or  drills  attached  to  an  iron  rod,  and  this  con- 
nects by  screws  to  another  rod,  and  so  on  to  any  length 
required.  To  the  upper  end  of  the  rod  a  transverse 
handle  is  attached,  by  which  the  instrument  is  partly 
turned  round  by  two  men  at  each  time  it  is  raised  and 
dropped.  The  cutting  edge  of  the  auger  or  drill  thus 
clips  a  fresh  line  across  the  bottom  of  the  hole  at  each 
blow.  The  blow  is  given  by  the  rod  falling  by  its  own 
weight  after  it  is  lifted  a  few  inches.  The  lifting  is  done 
by  men  at  the  handle,  assisted  by  another  one  at  a 
higher  elevation,  who  vibrates  a  long  horizontal  pole, 
fastened  at  one  end  in  a  pile  of  stones,  to  the  middle  of 
which  the  rod  is  suspended  by  a  chain.  The  vibration 
of  this  elastic  pole  lifts  and  drops  the  rod,  and  the  work- 
men turn  it  by  the  transverse  handle.  But  the  weight 
of  the  rods  become  at  last  too  heavy  to  be  raised  by 
men,  and  machines  are  contrived  to  be  worked  by  horse 
power.  At  the  well  of  Grenelle  it  required  eight  to  work 
the  whim  or  machine  for  lifting  out  the  rods. 

The  various  kinds  of  instruments  employed  for  sink- 
ing the  hole,  enlarging  it,  and  raising  out  the  material 
as  it  accumulates,  and  for  breaking  up  the  instruments 
themselves,  or  the  rods  that  may  become  detached  and 
drop  in,  are  too  numerous  and  of  too  complicated  forms 
to  be  described  without  drawings ;  and  the  same  may  be 
said  of  the  various  operations  connected  with  the  sink- 
ing of  the  holes. 

The  well-known  slow  process  of  the  work  is  owing  to 
the  time  required  for  drawing  out  the  whole  length  of 
rods  to  discharge  the  ground-up  fragments  that  collect 
in  the  bottom  of  the  hole.  This  must  be  done  with 
every  few  inches  sunk,  or  even  oftener  than  this  ;  and 
as  the  work  used  to  be  done,  it  was  necessary,  after 
drawing  out  all  the  rods  to  which  the  drill  was  attached, 
to  send  them  down  again  with  a  cylindrical  spoon, 
gathering  up  the  fine  fragments.  This  was  then  lifted 
out,  each  length  of  the  rod  unscrewed  as  it  came  up, 
and  then  the  whole  returned  with  the  drill  to  recom- 
mence sinking. 

An  improved  and  more  simple  process  has  been  intpo- 
duced,  taken  from  the  Chinese,  by  whom  it  has  beef  in 
practice  from  time  immemorial.  Their  artesian  wells 
are  wonderful  for  their  depth  and  numbers. 

The  missionary,  Imbert,  stated  in  1827  that  in  the 
province  of  Ou  Tong  Kiao,  in  a  district  ten  leagues  long 
and  four  leagues  wide,  these  wells  may  be  counted  by 
"tens  of  thousands,"  sunk  at  very  remote  periods  for 
the  salt  water  and  bituminous  matters  which  come  out 
with  the  waters.  These  products  are  met  with  at  the 
depth  of  nearly  1,800  feet ;  and  some  of  the  wells  that 
had  lost  them  have  been  carried  down  even  to  3,000  feet. 

Instead  of  using  rods  to  sink  these  wells,  the  Chinese 
suspend  the  cutting  drill,  which  is  attached  to  a  heavy 
metallic  rod  six  feet  long  and  four  inches  in  diameter, 
by  a  rope  or  chain,  which  passes  over  a  wheel.  Around 
the  drill  is  a  cylindrical  chamber,  which  by  means  of 
simple  valves  takes  up  and  holds  the  broken  fragments. 
As  the  rope  is  raised  and  dropped  it  gives  by  its  tension 
a  turn  to  the  drill,  causing  it  to  vary  itfc  position  at  each 
stroke.  When  the  cylinder  requires  to  be  discharged,  it 
is  easily  wound  out  by  a  windlass  or  horse  whim.  The 
rope  is  protected  from  wear  by  knobs  of  wood  attached 
to  it  at  inter  v^als. 

This  principle  has  been  successfully  applied  in  Ger- 
many to  sinking  holes  for  ventilating  mines.  With  large 
drills,  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  a  hole  of  this  size 
has  been  carried  down  several  hundred  feet  deep. 

We  have  authentic  accounts  that  in  France,  by  this 
new  method,  an  operator,  M.  Collet,  contracts  to  sink 
wells  in  the  chalk  formation  as  deep  as  desired  at  nine 
francs  the  running  metre,  which  is  fifty-one  cents  the 
foot.  His  apparatus  costs  only  one  hundred  dollars. 
With  the  aid  of  two  workmen  he  sinks  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  to  thirty-five  feet  a  day  in  the  chalk.  He, 


has  already  sunk  near  one  hundred  wells,  each  of  which 
has  furnished  pure  water,  at  an  expense  not  exceeding 
sixty  dollars. 

With  such  results  it  may  well  be  regarded  as  extraor- 
dinary that  the  old  process  still  continues  in  use. 


Ancient  Musical  Instruments. 

Some  years  ago  Capt.  Willock,  when  engaged  in  his 
researches  among  the  supposed  ruins  of  Babylon,  found 
a  pipe  of  baked  clay  about  three  inches  long,  which,  by 
common  agreement  of  antiquities,  is  of  Assyrian  work- 
manship. This  little  object  can  hardly  be  less  than 
2,600  years  old,  and  is  probably  the  most  ancient  musical 
instrument  in  existence.  It  has  two  finger-holes,  and 
when  both  of  these  are  closed,  and  the  mouth-piece  is 
blown  into,  the  note  C  is  produced.  If  only  one  hole  is 
Closed,  the  sound  emitted  is  E,  and  if  both  are  open  G 
is  produced.  Thus  the  notes  of  this  instrument,  which 
is  believed  to  be  the  very  oldest  yet  discovered,  produces 
the  tonic,  the  third,  and  the  fifth— that  is,  the  intervals 
of  the  common  chord,  the  notes  which,  sounded  to- 
gether, form  what  is  termed  by  musicians  the  harmonic 
triad.  Here  is  at  once  established  a  certain  coincidence 
between  our  music  and  that  which  must  have  existed 
during  the  Babylonian  captivity — a  coincidence  which, 
to  be  sure  a  priori  reasoning  might  go  far  to  establish, 
but  never  so  convincingly  to  non-scientific  understand- 
ings as  does  the  evidence  of  this  insignificant  pipe.  The 
least  observant  student  of  the  art-remains  found  among 
the  ruined  cities  of  the  Assyrian  and  Babylonian  plains 
cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  evidence  which  they 
afford  of  a  strong  and  widely-diffused  musical  culture 
among  the  kindred  races  who  inhabited  them.  The 
frequent  introduction  in  mural  paintings  and  bas-reliefs 
of  instruments  of  music,  the  representations  of  con- 
certs and  long  processions  of  musicians,  the  repeated 
allusions  in  the  Bible  to  the  musical  habits  and  skill  of 
the  people  of  Babylon,  all  point  to  a  singular  develop- 
ment of  the  art  of  music.  In  the  opinion  of  Rawlinson, 
the  Assyrians  were  superior  in  musical  skill,  as  they 
were  in  every  form  of  culture,  to  the  Egyptains  them- 
selves, and  the  Assyrio-Babylonian  music  was,  there  is 
little  reason  to  doubt,  an  early  and  yet  a  highly  de- 
veloped form  of  the  Asiatic  type  of  music — a  type  which 
possesses  to  this  day  most  extensive  and  most  character- 
istic developments  among  the  slow-changing  nations  of 
Asia.  If  we  are  asked  for  more  positive  proofs  of  the 
advance  of  music  among  this  nation,  we  point  to  the 
unmistakable  evidence  afforded  by  the  constructional 
complication  of  many  of  their  instruments.  We  have 
from  among  the  ruins  of  Nineveh  countless  representa- 
tions of  the  harp,  with  strings  varying  in  number  from 
ten  to  twenty-six ;  of  the  lyre,  identical  in  structure, 
though  not  in  shape,  with  the  lyre  of  Greece  ;  and  of  an 
instrument  differing  from  any  known  to  modem  musici- 
ans. It  was  harp-shaped,  was  held  horizontally,  and 
the  strings,  six  to  ten  in  number,  were  struck  by  a 
plectrum  held  in  the  right  hand  ;  it  has  been  called  the 
asor,  from  its  resemblance  to  the  Hebrew  instrument  of 
that  name.  We  find  frequent  representations  of  a  guitar- 
shaped  instrument,  and  of  a  double  pipe  with  a  single 
mouthpiece,  and  finger-holes  on  each  pipe.  Besides 
these,  the  Assyrians  had  musical  bells,  trumpets,  flutes, 
drums,  cymbals,  and  tambourines.  Almost  every  one  of 
these  instruments,  either  in  its  original  form  or  slightly 
modified,  is  in  use  to  this  day  by  some  one  Asiatic  or 
African  nation.  The  ancient  Greeks  adopted  the  lyre 
and  the  double-pipe;  the  former  is  still  used  by  the 
Abyssinians  under  the  name  of  kissar  (Greek,  kithara). 
The  double-pipe  the  present  writer  has  himself  seen  in 
use  by  the  boatmen  of  the  Nile.  The  guitar  of  the 
Abyssinians  is  probably  identical  with  the  long-necked 
guitar  or  tamboura  depicted  on  both  Assyrian  and 
Egyptian  monuments,  and  still  in  use  all  over  the  East, 
and  even  in  Hindoostan.  The  ancient  Assyrian  harp  is 
remarkable  for  not  having  the  "front  pillar"  which  com- 
pletes the  triangle  in  the  European  harp,  and  this  appar- 
ent defect  of  construction  is  characteristic  of  every  sort 
of  harp  employed  in  Asia  at  this  day.  On  Assyrian  bas- 
reliefs  we  find  representations  of  concerts,  in  which 
several  of  these  instruments  are  taking  part.  In  one, 
for  instance,  we  see  seven  harps,  two  double-pipes,  a 
clrum,  and  the  above-mentioned  asor. 


78 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Great  Wall  of  China. 

The  great  wall  of  China  was  measured  in  many  places 
by  Mr.  Unthank,  an  American  engineer  lately  engaged 
3u  a  survey  for  a  Chinese  railway.  His  measurements 
give  the  height  at  18  feet,  and  a  width  on  top  of  15  feet. 
Every  few  hundred  yards  there  is  a  tower  24  feet  square 
and  from  20  to  45  feet  high.  The  foundation  of  the  wall 
is  of  solid  granite.  Mr.  Unthank  brought  with  him  a 
brick  from  the  wall,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been 
made  two  hundred  years  before  the  time  of  Christ.  In 
building  this  immense  stone  fence  to  keep  out  the 
Tartars,  the  builders  never  attempted  to  avoid  moun- 
tains or  chasms  to  save  expense.  For  1,300  miles  the 
wall  goes  over  plain  and  mountain,  and  every  foot  of 
the  foundation  is  in  solid  granite  and  the  rest  of  the 
structure  solid  masonry.  In  some  places  the  wall  is 
built  smooth  up  against  the  bank  or  canons  or  pre«i- 
pices,  where  there  is  a  sheer  descent  of  1,000  feet. 
Small  streams  are  arched  over,  but  in  the  larger  streams 
the  wall  runs  to  the  water's  edge  and  a  tower  is  built  on 
«ach  side.  On  the  top  of  the  wall  there  are  breast- 
works or  defenses  facing  in  and  out  so  the  defending 
force  can  pass  from  one  tower  to  the  other  without  being 
exposed  to  any  enemy  from  either  side.  To  calculate 
the  time  of  building  or  cost  of  this  wall  is  beyond 
human  skill.  So  far  as  the  magnitude  of  the  work  is 
concerned,  it  surpasses  everything  in  ancient  or  modem 
times  of  which  there  is  any  trace  The  py-r.'^c^t'S  of 
Egypt  are  nothing  compared  to  it. 


Queen  Elizabeth's  Cup. 

This  costly  example  of  olden  taste,  is  in  the  js^^sses- 
Bion  of  Colonel  Gwatkin,  whose  mother  (a  niece  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,)  obtained  it  from  her  sister,  who 
married  the  Marquis  of  Thomond,  in  whose  family  it 
had  been  preserved  for  a  long  period  of  time.  The  cup 
is  of  silver  gilt ;  the  rim  around  the  cover  is  engraved 
with  an  arabesque,  and  bears  traces  of  colored  enamels 
and  stones  which  have  decorated  the  leaves  and  flowers 
of  which  it  consists.  This  is  the  only  piece  of  engraved 
work  upon  the  cup,  for  the  cover,  sides,  and  knob  are 
completely  covered  with  precious  stones,  many  hun- 
dreds in  number,  secured  in  separate  cells,  and  ranged 
closely  together  in  rows  entirely  round  the  vessel.  These 
stones  are  amethysts  of  various  tints  ;  the  intersectures 
of  the  setting  of  each  being  filled  with  turquoises,  which 
are,  in  some  instances,  as  minute  as  seed  pearls,  to 
allow  every  part  of  the  cup  to  be  encrusted  with  precious 
stones.  The  knob  on  the  top  of  the  cover,  and  the 
three  upon  which  it  stands,  are  similarly  covered  with 
jewels.  Those  which  form  the  feet  unscrew,  a  hollow 
tube  affixed  to  the  bottom  of  the  cup  passes  partially 
through  each,  and  a  screw,  the  head  of  which  contains 
an  amethyst,  fits  into  this  tube  from  beneath,  and  com- 
pletely conceals  the  mode  of  securinar  them.  A  false 
bottom  of  thin  silver  is  held  on  by  these  screws,  and 
covers  a  cipher ;  the  letters  being  "  E.  R.,"  conjoined  m 
a  scroll,  characteristic  of  the  reign  of  the  sovereign 
whose  ownership  has  thus  been  carefully  stamped  upon 
ft. 

The  weight  of  the  cup  is  considerable  j  it  holds  about 
half  a  pint.  It  exhibits  more  barbaric  magnificence 
than  real  taste ;  yet  is  characteristic  of  the  time  in  which 
it  was  made. 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  a  superstitious  belief  in  the 
hidden  virtues  of  precious  stones  was  current,  which 
gave  them  a  value  independent  of  their  rarity  and 
beauty.  The  amethyst  in  particular,  was  believed  to 
possess  the  power  of  repelling  intoxication,  and  it, 
therefore,  became  a  fitting  incrustation  for  the  cup  of  a 
female  sovereign  ;  hence,  this  gift  was  liberally  deco- 
rated with  so  valued  a  stone. 

The  belief  in  the  medical  and  magical  virtues  of 
precious  stones,  was  a  doctrine  much  inculcated  by  the 
Arabian  naturalists,  who  believed  that  the  amethyst 
prevented  inebriation,  and  the  turquoise  strengthened 
the  eyes  and  was  a  remedy  against  passion  ;  and  it  was 
from  the  East  that  we  obtained  our  belief  in  their 
hidden  efficacy.  During  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  it  is  not 
likely  that  much  faith  was  placed  in  such  mysticism ; 
but  the  afifectation  which  characterized  her  court,  might 
have  induced  the  maker  of  this  cup  to  resort  to  the 
quaint  conceit  of  an  older  faith  to  render  his  work  the 
more  acceptable. 


A  G-reat  Naturalist. 

Robert  Dick  gathered  insects  while  he  collected  plants. 
They  both  lay  in  the  same  beat.  After  his  bread  was 
baked  in  the  morning  and  ready  for  sale,  he  left  the 
shop  to  the  care  of  his  housekeeper  and  went  out  upon 
a  search.  Or  he  would  take  a  journey  to  the  moors  or 
mountains,  and  return  home  at  night  to  prepare  next 
day's  baking.  He  began  to  make  his  entomological 
collection  when  he  was  about  25  years  old.  He  worked  so 
hard  at  the  subject,  and  made  so  many  excursions  through 
the  country,  that  in  about  nine  months  he  had  collected 
specimens  of  nearly  all  the  insect  tribes  that  Caithness 
contained.  He  spent  nearly  every  moment  that  he 
could  spare,  until  he  thought  that  he  had  exhausted  the 
field.  He  worked  out  the  subject  from  his  own  personal 
observation.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  take  nothing 
for  granted.  Books  were  an  essential  end,  but  his 
knowledge  was  founded  not  on  books,  but  on  nature. 
He  was  not  satisfied  with  the  common  opinion  as  to 
the  species  or  genus  to  v/hich  any  individual  of  the  in- 
sect world  belonged.  If  he  had  any  doubts  about  an 
insect  from  a  gnat  to  a  dragon-fly,  he  would  search  out 
the  grub,  watch  the  process  of  its  development  from  the 
larva  and  chrysalis  state,  until  it  emerged  before  him  in 
unquestionable  identity.  *  *  *  Few  constitutions  could 
have  stood  the  amount  of  toil  and  privation  which  he 
endured,  during  his  long  course  of  inquiry  into  the 
fossils,  plants,  grasses  and  mosses,  over  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Caithness.  Robert  Dick  had  often  walked 
from  50  to  80  miles  between  one  baking  and  another, 
w'th  little  more  in  his  scrip  than  a  few  pieces  of  biscuit 


The  Nautilus. 

Tne  Nautilus,  a  genus  of  small  cephalopodous  mol' 
lusks,  has  ever  been  of  peculiar  interest  to  naturalists, 
and  also  it  has  been  a  prolific  source  of  poetic  fables.  It 
was  often  called  the  ^'little  sailor,"  ^'little  fairy  ship", 
and  other  names  of  like  character,  originating  from  the 
false  idea  entertained  that  the  Nautilus  trimmed  its  two 
broad  tentacles  into  sails  while  resting  upon  the  surface 
of  the  sea  and  floated  after  the  manner  of  a  ship  before 
the  breeze.  Hence  the  old  saying :  "  Learn  of  the  little 
Nautilus  to  sail." 

The  form  of  the  body  is  ovoid,  and  furnished  with 
eight  tentacles  covered  with  cups,  six  of  which  taper 
from  the  body  to  the  ends  and  two  which  expand,  sail- 
shape.  A  thin  shell  covers  the  body  with  spiral  shaped 
interior.  The  mouth  is  surrounded  with  several  small 
tentacles  without  cups.  The  shell  is  divided  into  several 
cavities,  or  cells,  by  partitions  and  a  tube  called  siphon 
occupies  the  centre  of  each  partition.  The  orifice  of  the 
siphon  is  at  the  head,  and  when  the  animal  desires  to 
move,  it  gathers  up  its  six  long  arms  into  a  line,  then 
violently  ejects  water  it  has  taken  in  and  the  force  of 
this  drives  the  queer  creature  along. 

It  is  said  to  float  very  gracefully  over  the  water  and 
really  has  the  appearance  of  being  moved  by  the  action 
of  the  wind  upon  its  little  (so  called)  sails. 

People  who  have  seen  them  upon  the  ocean  say  that 
large  collections  of  the  queer  species  may  be  seen  upon 
the  surface  in  some  localities  about  sunset,  and  being  of 
different  colors  look  very  beautiful  from  reflected  lights. 
If  anything  disturbs  them  they  fold  themselves  up  and 
sink  out  of  danger's  way. 

Sailors  at  one  time  looked  upon  the  Nautilus  as  a 
particular  friend  and  believed  to  meet  with  it  was  an 
omen  of  good  luck. 


The  scales  used  at  the  U.  S.  Assay  Office  are  so 
delicate  that  a  hair  turns  the  balance.  You  can  ascer- 
tain by  them  the  difference  in  weight  of  two  eye-lashes. 
They  are  made  of  aluminum^  and  might  be  compared  to 
a  snow-flake.  

Do  not  kick  every  stone  in  the  path.  More  miles  can 
be  made  in  a  day  by  going  steadily  on  than  by  stopping. 


Fried  Cakes. — One  pint  basin  of  sweet  milk,  one  tea- 
cup heaping  full  of  butter  or  lard,  one  teaspoon  of  salt, 
two  eggs,  nearly  a  cup  of  hop  yeast,  two  tablespoons  of 
cinnamon ;  use  flour  enough  to  mix  to  the  consistency 
of  biscuit ;  let  rise  till  very  light,  then  knead  and  cut  into 
cakes ;  let  them  rise  again  and  then  fry.  These  will  not 
absorb  lard  while  cooking. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


79 


Bice  Fields.  | 

Tlie  aspect  of  the  lowland  rice  fields  of  India  undergo 
jnaffical  changes  during  the  successive  seasons.  In 
Java,  for  instance,  you  will  see  the  long-legged  heron, 
sagelv  wading  over  the  inundated  plains,  and  a  few 
months  later  beautiful  fields  of  grain  wave  over  that 
same  locality.  Cords,  to  which  scare-crows  are  at- 
tached are  strung  across  the  fields  in  all  directions,  and 
from  a'nucleus,  or  central  elevated  position,  the  watch- 
man sits  and  occasionally  pulls  upon  the  cords  when  the 
wind  is  idle,  and  the  jerking,  flapping  images  scare  up 
clouds  of  thievish  birds  which  were  enjoying  a  stolen 
repast.  In  Ceylon,  the  rice  fields  rise  in  terraced  slopes 
—broad,  beautiful  green-carpeted  steps— to  the  hills 
above.  Artificial  irrigation  is  resorted  to  in  this  arrange- 
ment, water  being  supplied  from  huge  tanks  built  in 
the  vicinity,  from  whence  it  is  conveyed  in  cooling 
streams  from  terrace  to  terrace,  and  thus  assisting  to 
furnish  food  for  the  immense  population  of  the  coun- 
tries round  about.  But  there  is  a  kind  of  rice  that  will 
flourish  on  upland  slopes  without  continual  watering. 
In  Sumatra,  this  species  of  mountain  rice  is  cultivated. 
In  the  Indian  Archipelago,  they  grow  a  sort  of  marsh 
rice,  which  is  first  thickly  sown  in  small  b3ds,  and  after- 
wards, the  plants  are  transferred  to  fields  previously 
•softened  by  water.  As  the  grain  reaches  maturity,  for 
weeks  the  ground  is  left  dry,  when  the  ears  begin  to 
take  on  the  rich  golden  hue  so  pleasing  to  the  husband- 
men. Could  there  only  be  introduced  into  this  climate 
energetic  and  systematic  labor,  two  crops  of  this  grain 
might  be  annually  gathered. 

The  swamps  of  South  Carolina  afford  soil  admirably 
adapted  to  growing  this  cereal ;  but  an  idea  of  its  intro- 
duction and  cultivation  there  is  of  comparatively  modern 
date.  Sometime  during  the  last  century,  we  read  that 
<a  vessel  from  Madagascar,  chancing  to  put  into  Caro- 
lina, left  a  small  quantity  of  rice  seed,  which  the  captain 
suggested  to  a  gentleman,  to  sow.  A  fine  crop  was  the 
result,  and  after  a  time  it  was  dispersed  about  the 
colony,  and  experimenting  and  observing,  the  planters 
at  last  succeeded  in  bringing  its  culture  into  general 
favor. 

But  there  are  draw-backs  and  discouragements 
mingled  with  the  successes  of  rice  culture.  Besides  the 
devastations  made  upon  the  crop  by  immense  numbers 
of  rice  buntings— beautiful  birds  that  nest  and  sing  at 
the  North  in  summer— the  malaria  arising  from  the  hot, 
-damp  swamps,  sweep  ofE  numbers  of  laborers  each 
season. 

Brazil,  Java,  Bengal,  and  other  countries  export 
immense  quantities  of  rice  to  Europe. 

In  some  rice-growing  countries  like  that  of  the  moun- 
tain districts  of  Sumatra,  after  the  rice  is  harvested, 
they  sow  the  field  the  second  time  with  maize,  then  the 
ground  lies  fallow  for  a  few  years,  only  as  it  grows  up  to 
wild,  luxuriant  shrubs,  and  wonderfully  tall  grasses. 
Ere  the  field  is  again  cultivated,  they  have  to  fire  the 
slopes,  for  already  has  the  jungle  tiger  made  his  lair  in 
this  wilderness  thicket,  and  the  rhinoceros  taken  it  for 
a  grazing  ground.  The  flames  leap  to  the  work  like  a 
living  thing  ;  they  shoot  up  the  dry  reed  stalks  in  glow- 
ing arrows  ;  they  crackle,  and  rush,  and  roar,  and  make 
the  way  impassable  for  the  traveler,  but  present  a  rare 
and  beautiful  spectacle  when  night  brings  out  the  red 
iglory  of  the  burning  hills  and  terraces. 


Vulcan. 

In  unenlightened  periods,  the  violent  agencies  of  the 

■elements,  as  well  as  the  appearances  of  the  heavenly 
luminaries,  excited  astonishment  and  were  deified. 
Traces  of  the  worship  of  fire  are  found  in  the  earliest 
iimes.  The  Egyptians  had  their  god  of  fire,  from  whom 
the  Greeks  derived  the  worship,  called  by  the  Romans, 
Vulcanus  or  Vulcan;^  Fable  styles  him  the  son  of  Jupiter 
and  Juno. 

On  account  of  his  deformity,  his  mother  thrust  him 
•from  Olympus  ;  or,  according  to  another  story,  Jupiter 
hurled  him  out  because  he  attempted  to  help  Juno  when 
fastened  by  the  golden  chain.  He  fell  upon  the  island 
Lemnos,  afterwards  his  chief  residence,  and  was,  ac- 
*cording  to  the  later  fictions,  lamed  by  his  fall. 

To  Vulcan  was  ascribed  the  invention  of  those  arte 


that  are  connected  with  the  smelting  and  working  of 
metals  by  means  of  fire,  which  element  was  considered 
as  subject  to  him.  His  helpers  and  servants  in  such 
works  were  the  Cyclops,  sons  of  Uranus  and  Gala, 
whose  residence  was  also  in  Lemnos. 

The  epithet,  Cyclopean,  is  applied  to  certain  struc- 
tures of  stone,  chiefly  walls,  in  which  large  masses  of 
rough  stone  are  nicely  adjusted  and  fitted  together. 

Mount  iGtna  was  represented  as  the  workshop  of 
Vulcan,  so  also  Sipara,  one  of  the  ^olian  Isles,  called 
likewise  Vulanian.  Works  requiring  peculiar  art  and 
extraordinary  strength,  especially  when  metals  were 
employed  as  materials,  were  called  by  the  poets,  Vul- 
cans  masterpieces.  Among  these  were  the  jjalaces  of 
Phoebus,  of  Mars,  and  Venus,  the  golden  chain  of  Juno ; 
the  thunderbolts  of  Jujjiter;  the  crown  of  Ariadne  ;  the 
arms  of  Achilles,  and  of  .^^neas,  etc.  Vulcan  is  said  to 
have  formed,  by  request  of  Jupiter,  the  first  woman ; 
she  was  called  Pandora,  because  each  of  the  gods  gave 
her  some  present  or  accomplishment, 

A  calf  and  a  male  pig  were  the  principal  victims 
offered  in  sacrifice  to  him.  Those  who  followed  arts 
and  employments  requiring  the  use  of  fire,  especially 
rendered  honor  and  worship  tc  Vulcan.  *' The  lion,  who 
in  his  roaring,  seems  to  dart  fire  from  his  mouth,  was 
consecrated  to  Vulcan,  and  dogs  were  set  apart  to  keep 
his  temple." 

Vulcan  was  usually  represented  as  engaged  at  his 
work  with  hammer  and  pincers  in  his  hands,  sitting 
more  frequently  than  standing.  His  lameness  is  not 
indicated  in  any  existing  monuments,  although  it  was  in 
some  ancient  statues, 

Vulcan  was  represented  covered  with  sweat,  blowing 
with  his  nervous  arms  the  fires  of  his  forges.  His  breast 
was  hairy,  and  his  forehead  blackened  with  smoke. 
Some  represented  him  as  lame  and  deformed,  holding  a 
hammer  in  the  air  ready  to  strike,  while  with  the  other 
hand,  he  turns  with  pincers  a  thunderbolt  on  his  anvil. 
He  appears  on  some  monuments  with  a  long  beard, 
disheveled  hair,  half  naked,  and  a  small  round  cap  on  Ida 
head,  with  hammer  and  pincers  in  his  hands.  The  rep- 
resentation of  Vulcan  show  thav,  the  anvil  of  ancient 
times  was  formed  like  the  modern. 


The  Olive  Tree. 

The  common  olive  is  one  of  the  earliest  trees  men- 
tioned in  antiquity  ;  probably  it  was  a  native  of  Pales- 
tine, and  perhaps  of  Greece,  and  it  was  introduced  into 
other  countries  at  a  very  early  day.  It  is  largely  culti- 
vated in  Southern  Europe,  Western  Asia,  and  Northern 
Africa.  It  was  brought  to  South  America  and  Mexico 
more  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  and  in  various  parts 
of  California  it  is  planted  at  the  mission  establishments, 
where  some  of  the  old  groves  still  remain.  Of  these, 
San  Diego  is  yet  in  notably  good  bearing  condition ;  and 
other  plantations  have  recently  been  made  there.  In 
the  Atlantic  States,  the  olive  was  introduced  before  the 
Ptcvolution,  and  at  several  times  since.  It  is  perfectly 
hardy  and  fruitful  in  South  Carolina.  The  chief  obstacle 
to  its  cultivation  seems  to  be  the  fact  that  its  crops  ma- 
ture just  the  time  when  all  the  planter's  help  is  required 
to  gather  and  secure  the  more  lucrative  cotton  crop. 
The  French  enumerate  over  twenty  varieties,  differing 
in  size  and  color  of  their  leaves  and  fruits.  Olive  oil  is 
obtained  from  the  ripe  fruits,  the  pulp  of  which  contains 
about  seventy  per  cent,  of  oil.  Italy  produces  annually 
about  33,000,000  gallons,  while  the  production  of  Franc© 
is  only  about  7,000,000  gallons. 


Lobsters  Decreasing 

The  great  number  of  lobsters  now  used  for  canning, 
necessitating  a  constant  war  upon  them,  from  Boston  to 
Halifax,  to  supply  the  demand,  is  reducing  their  numbers 
and  size  so  rapidly  that  the  complete  extinction  of  the 
species  in  another  generation  is  prophesied.  The  great 
decrease  in  their  size  is  particularly  noticeable.  Once 
there  were  lobsters  in  Faneiul  Hall  Market  which  it  re- 
quired the  strength  of  both  arms  to  lift  from  the  bench  ; 
now  most  lobsters  are  not  much  too  large  to  put  into 
the  vest  pocket. 


The  first  lesson  for  childhood  shoiLid  be  that  of  earn- 
ing its  pleasures.  To  get  whatever  it  craves  as  soon 
06  it  asks  for  it  is  the  worse  training  a  child  can  have. 


fHE  G ROWING  IVORLD. 


The  Red  Breast  of  the  Kobin  * 

AN  IKISH  LEGEND. 

Of  all  the  merrj'  little  birds  that  live  up  in  the  tree, 

And  carol  from  the  sycamore  and  chestnut, 
The  prettiest  little  gentleman  that  dearest  is  to  me, 
Is  the  one  in  coat  of  brown  and  scarlet  waistcoat. 

It's  cockit  little  Robin  ? 

And  his  head  he  keeps  a-bobbin' 
Of  all  the  other  pretty  fowls  I'd  choose  him: 

For  he  sings  so  sweetly  still. 

Through  his  tiny  slender  bill. 
With  a  little  patch  of  red  upon  his  bosom. 

When  the  frost  is  in  the  aii*,  and  the  snow  upon  the  ground, 

To  other  little  birdies  so  bewilderin', 
Picking  up  the  crumbs  near  the  window  he  is  found. 
Singing  Christmas  stories  to  the  children. 

Of  how  two  tender  babes 

Were  left  in  woodlana  glades. 
By  a  cruel  man  who  took  'em  there  to  lose  'em ; 

But  Bobby  saw  the  crime : 

(He  was  watching  all  the  time  I) 
And  he  blushed  a  perfect  crimsou  on  his  bosom. 

When  the  charming  leaves  of  autumn  around  us  thickly  fall, 

And  everything  seems  sorrowful  and  saddening, 
jRobin  may  be  heard  on  the  corner  of  a  wall 
Singing  what  is  solacing  and  gladdening. 

And  sure,  from  what  I've  heard. 

He's  God's  own  little  bird. 
And  sings  to  those  in  grief  just  to  amuse  'em ; 

But  once  he  sat  forlorn 

On  a  cruel  Crown  of  Thorn, 
And  the  blood  it  stained  his  pretty  little  bosom. 

"  Our  cut  represents  an  English  robin. 


India-R-abber  and  G-utta-Percha." 

These  two  resins  are  identical  in  some  respects,  and 
on  account  of  their  extensive  use  for  many  purposes, 
together  with  the  fact  that  their  origin  is  unfamiliar  to 
many  persons,  deserve  a  more  extended  description  than 
that  given  to  the  other  resins. 

The  first  of  them,  india-rubber,  is  the  product  of  a 
tree  found  in  Cayenne,  and  other  parts  of  South  Amer- 
ica. This  tree,  known  as  the  syringe-tree,  {Ficics  Elas- 
tica),  attains  a  great  height,  a  singular  fact  concerning 
it,  being  that  excepting  a  small  space  of  about  ten  feet 
in  circumference  on  the  top,  it  has  no  branches. 

The  india-rubber  is  obtained  by  making  a  hole  through 
the  bark  of  the  tree,  and  collecting  the  liquid  which 
exudes  therefrom  in  the  form  of  a  vegetable  milk.  The 
work  of  collecting  the  resin  is  chiefly  done  in  rainy 
weather,  as  although  it  can  be  obtained  at  any  time,  it 
then  flows  in  greater  quantities.  As  thus  obtained,  it 
possesses  a  nearly  white  color,  and  is  exposed  to  the 
air  by  being  spread  over  moulds  of  clay.  Here  it  soon 
becomes  thick  and  hard,  when  another  layer  of  juice  is 
jplaced  over  the  first,  and  so  on  till  it  is  of  the  thickness 
required.  It  is  then  placed  over  a  strong  fire  of  burning 
vegetables,  which  hardens  and  darkens  it,  and  gives  it 
the  texture  and  appearance  of  leather. 

The  chemical  elements  of  india-rubber  are  carbon  and 
hydrogen,  and  when  it  is  dissolved  in  either  petrole  im, 
ether,  or  benzol,  it  swells  up  and  forn>«  tJin  varnish  Uted 


to  such  a  large  extent  for  water-proofing  parpose&. 
Combined  with  sulphur,  it  forms  what  is  known  as 
ndcanizcd  india-rubber.  If  the  latter  be  heated  to  a  cer- 
tain temperature,  it  will  become  hard  and  capable  of 
being  utilized  for  combs,  knife  handles,  buttons,  etc. 
(>t  its  other  uses  little  need  be  said,  since  all  must  b& 
aware  of  them. 

Gutta-percha  is  a  gum  resin,  the  product  of  a  tree 
found  in  the  East  Indies,  and  obtained  therefrom  in  a 
manner  similar  to  that  of  india-rubber.  It  possesses  lesa^ 
elasticity  than  the  latter,  but  does  not,  like  it,  lose  its 
elasticity  by  being  heated  to  a  high  temperature. 

It  is  composed  of  carbon,  hydrogen,  and  resinous 
matters,  and  on  account  of  being  a  good  non-conductor 
of  electricity,  it  has  been  extensively  used  for  insulating 
telegraph  wires.  Its  non-conducting  heat  power  is  also 
considerably  utilized  for  water  pipes,  as  the  water  en- 
closed therein  rarely  freezes. 

Sugar. 

Sugar  is  of  modern  use  only.  The  ancients  were  un- 
icquainted  with  it  as  an  article  of  commerce  or  of  com-^ 
non  use.  What  a  revolution  in  our  household  affairs 
would  it  occasion  to  strike  sugar  from  the  list  of  dietary 
irticles  !  It  is  a  necessity,  not  a  luxury.  Within  the 
•  ast  four  hundred  years  it  has  grown  from  being  an 
-uticle  of  curiosity  or  luxury  to  be  one  of  the  great 
staples  of  commerce.  It  enters  every  department  of 
lomestic  economy.  Humboldt  says  that  in  China  it  was^ 
Ivnown  and  used  in  ancient  times  ;  but  if  known  at  all  in 
.vestern  Asia  or  Europe  till  within  the  last  few  centuries, 
it  was  only  as  travelers  brought  it  as  remembrances  of 
ioreign  climes  and  distant  travel.  There  is  some  foun- 
dation for  the  idea  that  it  was  not  entirely  unknown  to- 
the  ancient  Greeks.  We  find  in  the  classics  mention 
made  of  honey  that  bees  did  not  make,  and  honey  from 
reeds — the  sugar-cane  being  a  reed.  From  their  ex- 
pressions, it  is  thought  that  sugar  is  meant,  as  all  sweet 
articles  were  included  in  the  term  honey  in  early  days. 

Pliney  says  there  is  a  kind  of  honey  from  reeds  which 
is  like  gum,  and  it  is  used  as  a  medicine.  Some  allusions, 
in  the  Bible  seem  to  refer  to  sugar  and  honey.  In  later 
times,  it  is  said  that  the  Crusaders  found  sweet-honeyed 
canes  growing  in  the  meadows  of  Tripoli ;  that  they 
sucked  these  canes,  and  were  delighted  with  the  oper- 
ation ;  that  these  canes  were  cultivated  with  great  care,, 
and,  when  ripe,  were  pounded  in  mortars,  and  the  juice 
was  strained  and  dried  to  a  solid,  like  salt ;  that,  mixed 
with  bread,  it  was  more  pleasant  than  honey. ,  In  1420^^ 
the  Portuguese  brought  the  cane  to  Spain,  Madeira,  and 
Canaries,  and  thence  it  was  carried  to  the  West  Indies 
and  Brazil.  In  these  countries  it  found  the  conditions 
for  its  rapid  development,  and  the  world  was  soon 
furnished  with  the  products  of  these  countries  ;  so  that 
sugar  assumed  a  place  among  the  chief  articles  of  com- 
merce. 

Shamoy  Skins. 

Shamoy  skins  are,  as  every  one  knows,  largely  used', 
for  many  purposes— for  inside  linings  of  gloves,  etc., 
and  for  cleaning  purposes  in  many  departments.  It  is. 
not  derived  from  the  skin  of  the  chamois,  as  is  some 
times  ignorantly  supposed,  from  the  sound  of  the  name, 
v.  hich  results  from  the  process,  but  from  the  flesh  side; 
of  the  sheep-skins  which  have  been  split.  The  skins, 
after  having  been  passed  in  the  ordinary  way  through 
the  earlier  processes  of  washing,  etc.,  are  soaked,  first  in 
lime-water,  and  next  in  a  mixture  of  bran  and  water,  or 
in  a  weak  solution  of  sulphuric  acid,  after  which  they 
are  beaten  in  a  mill  till  no  moisture  remains  in  them. 
Fish  oil  is  then  poured  over  the  skins,  which  are  again, 
beaten  until  they  are  thoroughly  impregnated  with  it. 
This  is  done  over  and  over  again  until  the  skins  can  re- 
ceive no  more  oil,  and  then  they  are  hung  for  a  short 
time  in  a  room  heated  up  to  a  certain  temperature.  They 
are  then  carefully  washed  in  a  solution  of  potash,  which, 
removes  any  oil  that  may  still  remain  about  the  leather ; 
and  thus  we  have  the  shamoy  skin  of  daily  use. 


How  TO  Get  Along. — Do  not  stop  to  tell  stories 
business  hours.     If  you  have  a  place  of  business,  be 
iound  there  when  wanted. 

The  careful  person  in  time  of  plenty  wi'l  prepare  for 
a  famine. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


8i 


An  Ancient  Fortification 

In  nearly  every  State  in  the  Union,  proofs  are  found 
of  the  former  existence  of  a  race  of  people  far  superior 
to  the  Indians  in  point  of  intellect.  These  proofs  are  of 
various  kinds,  and  several  of  them  have  already  been 
described  in  the  columns  of  the  Growing  World. 

In  the  New  England  States,  little  is  found  except  re- 
mains of  ancient  pottery,  with  an  occasional  arrow-head. 
In  the  Southern  Slates,  many  curious  relics  of  the  same 
kind  have  been  discovered,  besides  several  architectural 
structures,  and  a  number  of  rocks  covered  with  hiero- 
glyphics or  picture-writing.  Near  the  celebrated  copper 
mines  in  Michigan,  abundant  proofs  are  found  that  this 
metal  was  mined  hundreds  of  years  before  EurOj^eans 
visited  America.  In  the  vicinity  of  the  "  Salt  Sicks,"  of 
Kentucky  are  many  ancient  salt  wells,  and  occasionally 
is  found  an  earthen  pan  for  the  evaporation  of  salt 
water. 

The  Middle  otates  are  especially  noted  in  this  respect 
for  their  numerous  mounds  and  fortifications,  there 
being  no  less  than  thirty  in  New  York  alone.  In  Penn- 
sylvania, there  are  still  more.  But  the  largest  and  best 
preserved  one  of  all  is  in  Ohio. 

It  is  situated  in  the  town  of  Newark,  at  the  junction 
of  Racoon  Creek  and  South  Fork,  two  small  rivers  which 
unite  at  this  point  to  form  the  Muskingum.  At  the 
eastern  extremity  of  the  forufi cation  is  a  square  fort 
containing  twenty  acres.  Two  covered  walks  connect 
this  fort  with  Racoon  Creek,  which  is  about  half  a  mile 
north.  One  and  a  half  miles  south,  is  a  circular  enclo 
sure  containing  twenty-six  acres.  Parallel  walls  of 
earth  connect  them.  Parallel  walls  running  west  from 
the  first  enclosure,  connect  it  with  an  eight-sided  enclo 
sure,  nearly  four  miles  distant.  This  fort  contains  forty 
acres.  It  is  connected  by  high  parallel  walls  with  the 
Racoon  Creek,  which  flows  about  one  mile  north. 

A  short  distance  southwest,  and  connected  by  similar 
vp^alls  is  another  circular  enclosure  containing  twenty- 
two  acres.  In  the  center  of  the  latter  fort  is  an  observa- 
tory built  of  earth  and  stones.  Thirty  miles  south,  is 
another  fortification,  and  there  are  ruins  of  a  wall  which 
once  connected  it  with  the  octagonal  enclosure  before 
mentioned. 

On  the  north,  east,  and  west  sides  of  the  principal 
enclosure,  is  a  very  steep  embankment  of  earth,  forty 
feet  in  height,  and  nearly  eight  miles  long.  In  the 
northeastern  angle  of  this  embankment,  where  it  turns 
abruptly  to  the  south,  are  numerous  small  mounds, 
evidently  used  to  inter  the  dead,  for,  when  opened, 
human  bones,  arrow-heads,  pieces  of  pottery  and  copper 
ornaments  are  found  in  many  of  them. 

At  the  head  of  one  of  the  mounds,  formerly  stood  a 
large  stone,  covered  on  both  sides  with  picture-writing, 
representing  a  man  in  combat  with  several  wild  beasts 
of  different  kinds.  But  this  was  removed  many  years 
ago,  and  carried  away  by  a  party  of  French  gentlemen. 
It  is  not  known  in  whose  possession  it  is  at  the  present 
day,  even  if  it  has  not  been  destroyed. 

Scientific  men  are  disagreed  as  to  who  built  these 
fortifications  ;  some  thinking  that  they  were  built  by 
the  Aztecs,  others  claim  that  they  were  built  by  a  race 
of  people  who  were  exterminated  by  the  Indians.  There 
is  some  ground  for  both  of  these  theories ;  but  there  are 
also  serious  objections  to  both.  In  the  first  place,  the 
Btyle  of  architecture  is  wholly  different ;  the  relics  are 
different,  and  the  hieroglyphics  are  different.  In  fact, 
there  is  no  resemblance  at  all  except  in  the  size  and 
nhape  of  the  head.  But  a  more  serious  objection  is,  that 
In  the  time  of  Cortez,  the  Aztecs  claimed  to  have  come 
from  the  south. 

In  regard  to  the  second  theory,  it  is  founded  upon  a 
tradition  of  some  tribes  of  Indians,  that  they  came  from 
the  north,  and  meeting  in  this  country  with  people  of 
another  race,  made  war  upon  them  and  conquered  them. 
If  this  be  true,  it  does  not  follow  that  these  were  the 
builders  of  the  mounds.  In  fact,  it  does  not  seem 
reasonable  that  a  nation  so  numerous  and  powerful  as 
the  Mound-Builders  are  known  to  have  been,  could  have 
been  conquered  and  put  to  death  by  a  mere  handful  of 
naked  savages,  with  no  engineering  skill,  and  weapons 
far  inferior  to  their  enemies. 


I  The  Florida  Crocodile. 

The  two  American  species  of  trucw/i^u.s,  viz.,  rJi/yrnbifed 
and  ar.iUus,  were  first  described  by  Cuvier  as  confined  to 
the  West  Indies  and  South  America,  which  view  was  ac- 
cepted by  naturalists  for  a  long  time.  Subsequently  the 
(J.  acuUiH.  has  been  discovered  in  different  parts  of  Cen- 
tral America,  and  in  1870  Prof.  Jeffries  Wyman  de- 
scribed a  skull  from  Florida  as  belonging  to  that  species. 
Reports  are  current  in  Florida  of  a  true  crocodile  ex- 
isting there,  but  specimens  have  not  been  secured  until 
Very  recently.  The  present  year  has  thrown  more  light 
upon  the  subject  by  the  capture  of  two  fine  specimens. 
My  personal  observations  on  the  subject  were  confined 
to  the  south-east  coast  of  Florida,  particularlv  the 
vicinity  of  Biscayne  Bay.  While  there  last  Winter  col- 
lecting for  the  museum  of  Prof.  Ward,  of  Rochester, 
N.  Y,,  I  obtained  sight  of  a  reptile  that  I  at  first  sup- 
posed to  be  a  large  alligator,  but  which  a  nearer  view 
convinced  me  was  a  crocodile.  After  two  unsuccessful 
attempts  I  succeeded  in  killing  him  by  lying  in  wait  for 
him  with  my  rifle,  opposite  his  favorite  mud-wallow  on 
the  bank  of  the  stream.  It  proved  to  be  a  male — huge, 
old,  and  ugly.  His  tenacity  of  life  was  surprising,  and 
his  frantic  struggles  in  and  out  of  water  made  the  fight 
interesting  for  some  time.  He  lived  for  quite  an  hour 
after  six  rifle-balls  had  been  fired  into  his  nape  in  the 
direction  of  the  bram.  He  measured  fourteen  feet  in 
length,  and  his  girth  at  a  point  midway  between  fore 
and  bind  legs  was  five  feet  two  inches.  His  teeth  were 
large  and  blunt;  his  head  rugose  and  knotty,  with 
armor  plates  very  large  and  rough,  all  conspiring  to 
give  him  a  very  ugly  and  savage  appearance.  ^  On  dis- 
section it  was  found  that  he  had  been  very  pugnacious, 
or  else  was  a  persecuted  and  unfortunate  individual. 
Three  of  his  teeth  were  more  or  less  shattered ;  the 
tibia  and  fibula  of  the  right  hind  leg  had  been  broken 
in  the  middle  and  united,  also  one  of  the  metatarsal 
bones  of  the  same  limb  ;  about  five  inches  had  been 
bitten  off  the  end  of  his  tail,  leaving  it  quite  blunt,  and 
for  some  reason,  probably  an  old  wound,  two  of  the  ver- 
tebrae near  the  middle  of  the  tail  had  grown  together 
solidly  at  an  awkv/ard  angle.  The  day  following  the 
above  capture  (Jan.  23,  1875,)  I  had  the  further  good 
fortune  to  kill  at  the  same  spot  the  mate  of  this 
crocodile,  a  beautiful  female  measuring  ten  feet  eight 
inches.  There  was  a  striking  contrast  between  the  two 
specimens.  The  head  of  the  female  was  regular  in 
outline,  comparatively  smooth,  teeth  white,  regular,  and 
sharp,  plates  even  in  surface  and  contour,  and  colors 
very  marked.  The  entire  under  surface  of  both  specimens 
was  pale  yellow,  shading  gradually  darker  up  the  sides 
with  fine  irregular  streaks  and  spots  of  black.  On  the 
upper  parts  of  the  female  through  the  entire  length  the 
black  and  yellow  mottling  was  about  uniform,  the  yel- 
low rather  predominating.  The  general  appearance  of 
the  female  was  decidedly  yellowish,  while  the  back  and 
tail  of  the  male  showed  an  almost  entire  absence  of 
yellow,  the  prevailing  color  being  a  leaden,  lustreless 
black    In  brightness  of  color,  smoothness  of  armor,  and 


Alittle  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  Newport,  R.  I., 
had  a  greater  foreign  trade  than  New  York 


litheness  of  contour  the  female  greatly  outranked  her 
rough  and  burly  lord.  The  stomachs  of  both  specimens 
were  quite  empty,  but  in  the  aesophagus  of  the  male 
were  the  torn  remains  of  two  mud-hens  in  a  state  of 
disgusting  decomposition.  The  ovary  of  the  female 
contained  420  eggs,  varying  from  the  size  of  No.  8  shot 
to  a  hen's  egg,  all  perfectly  spherical.  The  exact  locality 
of  the  captures  was  a  narrow,  very  deep  and  crooked 
stream  known  as  Ai'ch  Creek,  flowing  from  the  Ever- 
glades into  the  head  of  Biscayne  Bay.  While  at  Biscayne 
I  collected  abundant  evidence  that  crocodiles,  though 
rare,  exist  in  various  tributaries  of  the  bay.  On  the 
bank  of  Arch  Creek  I  found  the  skull,  fifteen  inches 
long,  minus  the  lower  jaw,  of  a  crocodile  belonging  to 
the  same  species  as  the  large  specimens.  No  one  could 
give  any  information  concerning  it. 

Good  Women.— The  modest  virgin,  the  prudent  wife, 
or  the  careful  matron  are  more  serviceable  in  life  than 
petticoated  philosophers,  blustering  heroines,  or  virago 
queens.  She  who  makes  her  husband  and  children 
happy,  who  reclaims  the  one  from  vice  and  trains  the 
other  to  virtue,  is  a  much  greater  character  than  ladies 
described  in  romance  whose  sole  occupation  is  to  murder 
mankind  with  the  shafts  from  Ibe  quiver  of  their 
«ves. 


82 


THFZ  G ROMPING  WORLD. 


The  Augean  Stables. 

Extending  along  the  Ionian  sea,  from  tlie  promontory 
Araxus  to  the  river  Neda,  in  ancient  Greece,  was  a  coun- 
try belonging  to  the  Peloponnesus.  It  contained  about 
one  thousand  square  miles,  including  the  western  slopes 
of  the  Achian  and  Arcadian  mountains.  It  was  a  rough, 
hilly,  broken  country,  but  had  many  beautiful,  fertile 
valleys,  occupied  by  rich  people  who  had  beautiful 
homes.  The  principal  rivers  of  the  country,  called  Elea, 
were  the  Alpheus  and  the  Peneus.  There  were  three 
principal  cities  in  this  country,  or  Peloponnesus  ftate — 
Ellis,  V^^  principal  one,  named  after  Elea ;  Pisates,  and 
Pyrphiia.  They  were  unwalled  cities,  but  were  held  to 
be  sacred.  Once  every  four  years  at  Ellis  assembled 
vast  multitudes  to  hold  religious  games.  The  horses  of 
Elea  or  Ellis  as  the  country  was  called,  were  celebrated 
for  their  strength,  swiftness  and  intelligence 

Augeas  was  king  of  this  country,  Elea.  At  his  stables 
in  Ellis,  he  had  a  herd  of  three  thousand  oxen.  It  was 
the  duty  of  his  chief  herdsman  to  keep  this  number  of 
choice  oxen  always  on  hand.  If  one  died  the  loss  must 
be  replaced  immediately.  This  kept  a  demand  for  blood- 
ed stock,  or  oxen  of  a  certain  quality,  and  those  who 
could  raise  that  kind  of  animals  sold  them  at  a  profit 
and  were  paid  for  their  services,  coming  to  the  king  who 
encouraged  farming  and  agricultural  pursuits  by  con- 
tinually giving  prices  and  premiums  to  those  who  by 
their  skill  and  labor  made  Elea  to  be  a  very  rich  district 
or  state. 

These  stables  were  in  a  valley,  on  a  plain,  and  for 
thirty  years  had  not  been  cleaned  out.  The  oxen  had 
been  moved  a  little  from  place  to  place  at  times  so  that 
the  ground  on  which  they  had  stood  for  thirty  years  had 
been  raised  to  a  high  shaped  prominence  from  which 
streams  ran  to  the  original  plain,  giving  often*' s  to  farm- 
ers and  breeding  disease. 

Hercules,  a  hero  of  antiquity,  son  of  Jupiter  by  Alc- 
mena,  was  by  his  father  destined  to  occupy  the  throne 
of  Perseus,  but  by  the  connivance  of  Juno  was  super- 
seded by  Eurystheus,  the  grandson  of  Perseus.  Such 
was  the  strength  of  Hercules  that  people  came  to  fear 
him.  No  matter  what  seemingly  impossible  task  was 
given  him,  it  was  performed.  He  was  a  hard  man  to 
beat.  No  matter  how  often  he  was  knocked  out  of  time 
he  rallied  again.  He  was  strong,  gifted  by  the  gods,  and 
always  held  the  winning  hand.  People  came  to  consider 
him  more  than  mortal.  The  king  kept  heaping  impossi- 
bilities upon  the  life  of  this  young  man  Hercules,  but 
he  did  all  that  was  commanded  of  him.  He  was  ordered 
to  go  forth  and  slay  a  large  Nemean  lion  that  was  devas- 
tating the  country.  Hercules  went  forth,  blocked  up 
one  of  the  entrances  to  the  lion's  den,  then  went  in  by 
the  other,  slew  the  beast  and  brought  the  carcass  to  Eu- 
rystheus. 

One  day  the  King  Augeas  ordered  Hercules  to  clean 
the  royal  stables  where  the  3,000  oxen  had  been  for  thirty 
years,  and  to  do  it  in  one  day !  The  king  had  been 
greatly  vexed  because  the  seeming  impossibilities  he  had 
commanded  of  Hercules  had  all  been  performed.  At  a 
royal  dinner  he  told  his  courtiers  that  he  would  break 
the  spirit  of  Hercules  and  bring  him  to  admit  that 
there  was  something  he  could  not  do.  Therefore 
he  issued  his  royal  edict  that  within  twenty-four  turns  of 
the  hour-glass,  Hercules,  with  such  help  as  he  could  ob- 
tain from  the  poor  of  the  city  who  were  his  friends, 
should  clean  out  the  royal  Augean  stables. 

Hercules  called  the  boys  together,  and  they  cut  the 
banks  of  the  two  rivers,  Alpheus  and  Peneus,  turned  the 
course  of  the  streams  into  the  valley  where  the  stables 
were,  and  in  a  few  hours  oxen,  stables,  and  thirty  years 
of  accumulated  compost  were  swept  away  like  a  wagon- 
load  of  rubbish  by  a  flood. 

While  the  king  was  asleep,  some  twenty  hours  after 
his  orders  were  given,  officers  of  the  guard  rushed  into 
his  apartments  telling  that  Hercules  had  cut  the  banks, 
the  rivers  had  leaped  from  their  courses,  and  that  his 
oxen  and  stables  were  all  swept  away.  He  ordered  the 
troops  to  hasten  to  the  place  and  turn  the  currents  back 
to  their  proper  channels  ;  but  no  troops  or  monarch 
could  stem  or  stop  the  flood.  Hercules  appeared  before 
the  expiration  of  the  last  hour  of  the  twenty-four,  re- 
ported that  the  stables  were  cleansed,  and  asked  for  hii> 
reward.  Augeas  refused  to  give  it,  whereupon  Hercules 
slew  Augeas  and  all  his  sons  but  one,  Phyleus,  whom 
he  made  king  in  place  of  his  father. 


The  "World's  Gold. 

The  Ural  Mountains,  Australia  and  the  United  States 
are  t^e  most  productive  sources  of  gold  supply,  the  first 
yieldmg  $20,000,000  annually,  the  second  $37,000,000  and 
the  third  $35,000,000.  Prior  to  the  discovery  of  the  rich 
mines  of  the  United  States  the  total  production  was 
only  $68,000,000  per  annum. 

The  fever  for  gold  hunting,  which  was  excited  by  the 
finding  of  the  great  mines  oi  the  Pacific  coast,  rapidly 
increased  the  yearly  production,  nr.til,  in  1850,  it  reached 
over  $120,000,000,  and  five  or  six  ye^*--«  later  gold  bullion 
was  mined  to  the  extent  of  the  enct'^'ws  sum  of  nearly 
8185,000,000.  This  was  the  largest  yield  of  any  one  year, 
and  since  production  has  gradually  fallen  away,  and 
seems  to  have  finally  reached  an  equilibrium  of  about 
$100,000,000  per  annum,  nearly  all  of  which  is  found  in 
the  three  regions  named.  Now,  if  this  represented  the 
actual  yearly  increase  in  the  volume  of  gold  which  is 
used  as  the  basis  of  the  currency  of  gold-using  countries, 
it  miofht  serve,  unassisted,  as  a  standard.  But  the  fact  is, 
this  production  does  little  more  than  supply  the  place  of 
that  which  disappears  from  circulation  as  money  an- 
nually by  loss  and  wear,  or  metamorphosis  inio  articles 
of  commerce. 

A  few  years  ago  some  English  statistician,  after  a  care 
ful  investigation,  estimated  the  yearly  loss  of  gold  coin 
to  the  British  treasury  was  £5,000,000  sterling,  and,  cal- 
culating from  this  basis,  the  loss  to  the  world  must 
amount  to  nearly  the  total  production,  and  therefore 
little  addition  to  the  bulk  of  gold  in  the  treasuries  of  all 
nations  can  be  expected.  It  is  true  that  new  mines  may 
be  found.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  there  are  no  un- 
discovered regions  rich  with  auriferous  deposits.  But 
against  this  are  the  uncertainties  of  discovery,  with  an 
almost  certain  decrease  of  the  present  production.  That 
there  has  been  a  large  increase  of  the  stock  on  hand 
during  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  cannot  be  denied, 
but  this  has  been  due  principally  to  the  remarkable  dis- 
coveries in  the  United  States,  which  in  a  few  years 
doubled  the  storcc  Thirty  years  ago  the  entire  stock  of 
gold  coin  was  only  a  little  more  than  $3,000,000,000.  Now 
It  is  $7,500,000,000,  but  the  increase  was  made  during  a 
few  years,  and  the  past  decade  has  added  little  to  the 
stock. 


The  Peat  Bogs  of  Ireland 

They  cover  some  three  million  acres  of  surface  mainly 
1l  the  heart  of  the  country,  though  extending  into  every 
part  of  it.  Many  thousands  of  acres,  chiefly  in  the 
northeast,  have  been  brought  into  cultivation;  of  the 
rest,  some  yields  a  little  sour  pasturage,  but  the  main 
portion  is  of  use  only  as  it  yields  cheap  fuel  to  the  poor. 
These  bogs  are  of  all  depths,  from  a  few  inches  to  thirty 
or  forty  feet.  The  shallow  parts  are  those  reclaimed  for 
cultivation,  and  some  of  the  deeper  sections,  by  ditching 
and  draining,  are  rendered  fit  for  the  farmer's  use.  The 
peat  and  turf  are  cut  up,  piled  into  heaps  and  dried, 
when  it  is  burned  and  the  ashes  evenly  spread  over  the 
soil,  this,  with  the  moist  climate  insures  tolerable  crops. 

It  is  supposed  by  many  that  these  bogs  were  once  the 
site  of  mighty  forests  of  oak  and  fir,  which  dying  fell 
into  the  peat  where  the  moss  and  fungus  growth  soon 
covered  the  trunks  and  the  forest  growing,  dying  and 
falling,  during  the  long  centuries  brought  the  peat  inch 
by  inch  to  its  present  depth. 

Chemical  discoveries  have  utilized  the  peat  in  several 
ways  and  promise  to  do  more  through  its  agency.  There 
wUl  be  peat  coal  of  great  heating  capacity  and  free  from 
clinkers ;  peat  charcoal,  free  from  sulphur ;  peat  tar  of 
valuable  preservative  powers  for  saving  timber,  and  con- 
vertible into  illuminating  gas  ;  also,  acetate  of  lime,  and 
a  crude  sulphate  of  ammonia  well  known  as  an  energetic 
fertilizer.  So  these  waste  places,  as  they  were  deemed 
a  short  decade  ago,  prove  a  mine  of  wealth  to  the  de- 
veloping mind  and  capital  invested  in  their  utilization. 

How  are  we  led  to  wonder  at  the  miracles  of  wealth 
which  the  Creator  has  stored  away  for  the  use  of  man. 
Nature's  great  savings  banks  have  no  defaulters  and 
honor  all  drafts  that  are  made  upon  them.  Nr»  ?:'2!nder 
our  Maker  looking  forth  upon  His  nandiwork  pro- 
Bounced  it  all  good.  All  is  in  keeping  with  the  perfected 
plan,  and  only  through  man's  short-sightedness  is  the 
divine  order  and  harmony  disturbed,  but  never  over- 
"thrown. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD.  -  83 


High  Mountains. 

The  highest  mountain  on  the  North  American  con- 
tinent Is  Mount  St.  Elias,  in  Alaska,  whose  elevation  is 
17,900  feet.  Next  to  it  comes  the  volcano  of  Popocata- 
petl,  in  Mexico,  17,884  feet,  and  Orizaba,  also  in  Mexico, 
17,383  feet.  If  the  newly  discovered  peak  of  the  Holy 
Cross,  in  the  Yellowstone  region,  found  by  the  Hayden 
exploring  party,  be  really  17,000  feet  high,  as  they  esti- 
mate, it  will  be  the  fourth  peak  in  elevation  on  the  con- 
tinent of  North  America,  and  the  highest  mountain  in 
the  United  States,  excluding  Alaska.  Heretofore  the 
highest  peak  in  this  country  was  supposed  to  be  Big 
Horn  Mountain,  which  is  elevated  15,000  feet. 


Lavender  Culture. 

Comparatively  few  persons  are  aware  to  how  large  an 
extent  the  culture  of  lavender  for  commercial  purposes 
r>  carried  on  within  a  radius  of  thirty  miles  from  London. 
In  the  county  of  Surrey  alone  there  are  nearly  three 
hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land  devoted  to  its  growth, 
nnd  the  total  extent  of  the  lavender  fields  in  the  London 
district  cannot  fall  far  short  of  five  hundred  acres. 
When  three  years  old  the  plant  is  at  its  best,  and  when 
it  reaches  the  age  of  seven  years  it  has  made  so  much 
wood  that  it  is  more  profitable  to  uproot  it  and  set  a 
fresh  plant.  The  harvest-time  depends  much  on  the 
state  of  the  weather,  but  it  usually  commences  about 
the  first  week  in  August.  The  flowers  are  cut  with  a 
sickle,  bound  up  in  small  sheaves,  and  immediately 
carried  to  the  distillery.  There  the  stalks  are  cut  olf, 
leaving  but  a  little  more  than  the  flowers,  by  which  the 
bouquet  of  the  oil,  afterwards  extracted,  is  much  im- 
proved, though  the  quantity  of  the  oil  is  sensibly  dimin- 
ished. Much  care  is  needed  on  the  part  of  those  who 
handle  the  sheaves  in  the  distilling  house  to  guard 
against  being  stung  by  the  bees  which  remain  attached 
to  the  flowers.  The  temperance,  industry,  and  provi- 
dence of  these  insects  are  proverbial ;  yet  their  behavior 
in  lavender  fields,  especially  toward  the  end  of  the 
season,  when  the  flowers  are  fully  developed,  cannot  be 
too  severely  reprobated.  So  careless  are  they  of  the 
good  reputation  they  have  earned  that  they  refuse  to 
leave  their  luscious  feast  even  when  it  is  laid  on  the 
trimming  bench,  and  hundreds  are  thrown  into  the  still, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  to  dislodge  them,  in  a  state 
of  helpless  intoxication.  When  the  oil  is  first  distilled, 
it  has  a  peculiar  empyreumatic  odor,  but  by  being  kept 
in  bottles  for  twelve  months  it  loses  much  of  its  harsh- 
ness. It  is  still,  however,  unfit  to  be  used  as  a  perfume 
in  its  natural  state.  In  order  to  convert  the  essential 
oil  into  what  is  known  as  lavender-water,  it  is  mixed 
with  from  twenty  to  forty  times  its  bulk  of  spirits,  and 
with  just  a  trace  of  neroli,  or  other  essential  oil,  accord- 
ing to  the  taste  of  the  compounder. 


The  Furies  and  Harpies. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDTKE. 

Among  the  divinities  of  the  lower  world  were  three 
daughters  of  Acheron  and  Night,  or  of  Pluto  and  Pro- 
serpina, whose  oflice  it  was  to  torment  the  guilty  in 
Tartanas,  and  often  to  inflict  vengeance  upon  the  living. 
The  Greeks  called  them  Furies,  and  also,  by  a  sort  of 
euphemism  or  form  design  to  propitiate  them,  Furios, 
signifying  kindly  disposed.  The  Romans  styled  them 
Furixe.  These  names  were  Tisiphone,  whose  particular 
work  it  was  to  originate  fatal  epidemics  and  contagion  ; 
Alecto,  to  whom  was  ascribed  the  devastations  and 
cruelties  of  war,  and  Megaxera,  the  author  of  insanity 
and  murders.  Temples  were  erected  and  consecrated 
to  them  both  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  among 
the  latter  a  festival  also. 

They  were  represented  with  vipers  twining  among 
their  hair,  usually  with  frightful  countenances  in  dark  and 
bloody  robes,  holding  the  torch  of  discord  or  vengeance. 

The  fable  of  the  Harpies  seems  to  have  had  reference 
originally  to  the  rapidity  and  violence  of  the  whirlwind, 
which  suddenly  ceases  and  carries  off  whatever  it  strikes. 

Their  names  were  Aello,  from  storm  ;  Celaxcem,  from 
dark,  and  Ocypeta,  from  flying  rapidly,  all  indicative  of 
the  source  of  Fiction. 

They  were  said  to  be  daughters  of  Neptune  and  Terra, 
and  to  dwell  in  islands  of  the  sea,  on  the  borders  of  the 
lower  world,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Furies  to  whom 


they  sometimes  took  off  the  victims  they  seized.  They 
were  represented  as  having  the  faces  of  virgins  and 
bodies  of  vultures,  with  feet  and  hands  armed  with 
claws  and  sometimes  as  with  the  tails  of  serpents. 

The  Dmnons  or  Genii,  and  Manes. — In  the  earliest 
mythologies,  we  find  traces  of  a  sort  of  protecting  deities 
or  spiritual  guardians  of  men,  called  Genii.  They  were 
supposed  to  be  always  present  with  the  person  under 
their  care,  and  to  direct  their  conduct,  and  control  in 
great  measure  their  destiny,  having  received  this  power 
as  a  gift  from  Jupiter. 

Bad  demons  as  well  as  good,  however,  were  imagined 
to  exist,  and  some  maintained  that  every  person  had  one 
of  each  class  attendant  upon  him. 

The  Satyrs  and  Fauns. — The  idea  of  gods  of  the  forests 
and  woods,  with  a  form  partly  of  men  and  partly  of 
beasts,  took  its  rise  in  the  earliest  ages  either  from  the 
custom  of  wearing  skins  of  animals  for  cJipthing,  or,  in  a 
design  to  represent  symbolically  the  conoition  of  man  in 
the  semi-barbarous  or  half-savage  state.  The  Sytars  of 
the  Greeks,  and  the  Fauns  of  the  Romans,  in  their  rep- 
resentations, differed  from  the  ordinary  human  form  only 
in  having  a  buck's  tail  with  erect  pointed  ears. 

The  Qorgons. — Three  imaginary  sisters,  daughters  of 
Phorcys  and  Cete,  were  so  termed  from  their  frightful 
aspect.  Their  heads  were  said  to  be  covered  with  vipers 
instead  of  hair,  with  teeth  as  long  as  the  tusk's  of  a  boar, 
and  so  terrific  a  look  as  to  turn  every  beholder  into 
stone.  They  are  described  as  having  the  head,  neck,  and 
breasts  of  women,  while  the  rest  of  the  body  was  in  the 
form  of  a  serpent.  According  to  some,  they  had  but  one 
eye  and  one  tooth,  common  to  them  all,  which  they  were 
obliged  to  use  in  turn.  Their  names  were  Stheno, 
Euryale,  and  Medusa. 

Medusa  is  said  to  have  been  slain  by  Perseus,  who  cut 
off  her  head  while  they  were  in  the  act  of  exchanging 
the  eye.  The  Amazons  were  no  doubt  mythical  beings, 
although  said  to  be  a  race  of  war-like  women  who  lived 
near  the  river  Thermodom  in  Cappadocia.  A  nation  of 
them  also  was  located  in  Africa.  They  are  said  to  have 
burnt  off  their  right  breast,  that  they  might  use  the  bow 
and  javelin  with  more  skill  and  force. 


A  Curious  Tradition. 

A  curious  book  might  be  written,  or,  perhaps  com- 
piled, of  the  traditions  of  North  American  Indians.  They 
are  a  nation  of  traditions.  They  have  a  tradition  regard- 
ing the  origin  of  even  the  most  common  things  with 
which  they  are  acquainted ;  but  the  most  curious  of 
them  all  is  that  of  the  Iroquois  regarding  those  huge 
bones  which  are  found  scattered  over  the  country,  and 
which  the  researches  of  Cuvier  and  others  have  proved 
to  belong  to  an  extinct  species  of  elephant,  known  as 
the  mammoth. 

The  tradition,  as  told  to  Col.  Morgan,  is  that  after  the 
Great  Spirit  had  made  the  world,  he  created  all  the  birds 
and  beasts  which  now  inhabit  it.  He  also  made  man, 
but,  having  formed  him  white  and  very  imperfect  and 
ill-natured,  he  was  not  all  pleased  with  him.  Then  he 
took  black  clay,  and  made  what  the  white  man  calls  a 
negro.  This  was  much  better,  but  still  the  Great  Spirit 
was  not  satisfied.  So  he  placed  the  negro  and  the  white 
man  on  one  side  of  the  great  water,  and  took  a  piece  of 
pure  red  clay,  of  which  he  formed  the  red  man  perfect 
to  his  mind.  He  was  so  well  pleased  with  him  that  he 
placed  him  on  this  island,  giving  him  rules  for  his  con- 
duct, and  promising  him  happiness  in  proportion  to  hib» 
good  behavior. 

For  many  generations  his  descendants  lived  in  great 
happiness,  but  at  length  the  young  men  forgetting  and 
neglecting  to  obey  these  rules,  became  ill-tempered  and 
wicked,  in  consequence  of  which,  the  Great  Spirit 
created  a  great  buffalo,  which  made  war  upon  the  human 
species  alone,  and  killed  all  but  a  very  few.  These  re- 
pented and  promised  the  Great  Spirit  that  they  would 
always  obey  his  laws  if  he  would  kill  the  enemy.  The 
Great  Spirit,  conciliated  by  these  promises,  sent  a 
thunderbolt  and  destroyed  the  whole  race  with  the  ex- 
ception of  two,  a  male  and  female,  which  he  shr.t  up  in 
a  mountain  where  he  still  holds  them  in  readiness  to  let 
loose  upon  mankind  again  should  occasion  requke  it. 


The  Roman  Empire  in  its  glory  was  r"  ot  so  lai-ge  as  tha 
present  area  of  the  United  States. 


84 


THE  GROVFING  WORLD. 


The  Antarctic  Region. 

A  superficial  thought  would  lead  one  to  suppose  that 
as  we  leave  the  barren,  icy,  desolate  regions  of  the 
Polar  World,  and  come  next  into  the  temperate  regions, 
60  on  to  the  tropical  belt,  or  Torrid  Zone,  with  its  aston- 
ishing luxuriance  of  animal  or  vegetable  life,  that  ex- 
ploration would  round  off  and  finish  in  these  scenes  of 
magnificent  and  sweltering  beauty  ;  but  not  so.  Beyond 
this  the  South  Pole,  or  Antarctic  Region,  ctretches  wUd, 
frozen,  and  infinitely  desolate,  so  that  the  vivid  lancy 
causes  the  mind  to  recoil  from  contemplating  the  tern- 
ble  picture. 

At  the  North,  the  indomitable  explorer  sees  open  chan- 
nel-ways beckoning  him  each  year  to  fresh  exertions 
and  new  discoveries  ;  but  in  this  awful  Antarctic  ocean, 
impregnable  breastworks  of  ice  hem  in  their  farther  pro- 
gress. Not  a  flower  here,  only  blades  of  coarse  grass  ; 
even  the  invincible  mosses  of  frozen  countries  fail  to 
"  put  in  a  strong  appearance  "  in  this  forsaken  region. 

This  country  of  the  South  Pole — if  one  may  speak  of 
it  in  this  way — is  described  by  the  few  hardy  men  who 
have  gone  down  to  that  sea  in  ships,  as  awful  beyond 
description.  Icebergs  shifting  under  the  impenetrable 
fogs,  and  pushing  glistening,  fluity  promontories  out 
before  the  straining  ship,  and  projecting  in  slippery, 
merciless  cliffs  as  if  about  to  fall  upon  the  doomed 
vessel's  decks.  Occasionally  the  yielding  of  one  of  the 
frozen  crags  to  its  accumulating  weight  broke  it 
asunder;  and  while  the  awe-struck  sailors  watched 
through  the  solemn  fog-walled  night,  they  heard  fierce 
hissings  and  horrible  rushing  noises  and  heavy  detona- 
tions like  submarine  explosiorss,  or  the  cannonading  of 
some  monster  giants  behind  their  fortresses  of  everlast- 
ing ice. 

No  fur-clad  human  being  here  to  lift  the  inquiring 
glance  at  the  strange  ships  riding  at  anchor  outside  the 
glacier-walled  coast ;  no  companionable  animal  crossing 
with  swift  foot  or  investigating  tread,  upon  these  barren 
peaks,  only  the  shrill  screams  of  the  sea  fowl  riding  on 
the  drift  ice,  or  taking  their  swift  or  sluggish  flights  over 
frozen  cape,  promontory,  hill,  or  vale.  Here,  congregate 
the  petrel  family  of  several  species  ;  the  giant  petrel  or 
cannibal,  it  should  be  termed — even  devouring  its  own 
kind  if  one  happens  to  be  wounded ;  and  the  albatross 
and  penguin  also  frequent  this  locality.  The  hoarse 
voices  of  the  latter  making  a  diabolical  clatter  when  any 
number  of  them  became  excited. 

Whales  and  dolphins  are  found  in  this  ocean,  also 
seals  of  the  species  called  sea  elephants,  because  of  their 
monstrous  size ;  and,  although  they  present  a  formida- 
ble appearance  when  enraged,  they  are  very  easily  killed 
by  the  hunter. 

The  explanation  of  the  colder  and  more  barren  aspect 
of  the  South  Pole  than  that  of  the  North,  is  found  in  the 
fact,  that  while  there  is  much  land,  mountains,  hills, 
and  forests  in  the  Arctic  country,  the  predominance  of 
ocean  in  the  Antarctic,  the  flatter  inland  surface  of 
country,  and  the  constant  detachment  of  immense 
bodies  of  ice,  and  its  continuous  falling  into  the  sea, 
keeps  the  temperature  down  to  a  remarkable  degree  of 
coldness ;  ac-d  we  are  led  to  wonder,  if  in  the  endless 
changes  of  worlds  and  time,  in  the  planets  moving  from 
cast  to  west  and  from  north  to  south,  if  the  future  will 
of  the  Poles  will  be  different  from  its  present.  We 
believe  it  may  be  so.  The  seasons  may  change  or  soften 
their  rigors  there,  and  some  Heaven-sent  bird  or  mes- 
senger will  bear  away  to  those  remote  and  forsaken 
countries  the  germs  of  a  new  existence.  Some  island 
sloughing  from  the  known  continents,  or  from  unknown 
ones — seed  strewn,  vigorous  and  adhesive — may  rest  its 
foot  upon  some  hidden  anchorage  and  become  the  cen- 
tral points  of  a  new  country. 

With  God  all  things  are  possible,  and  with  an  eye  of 
faith  glancing  down  the  coming  time,  we  believe  that 
science,  aided  by  Divine  inspiration,  will  revel  in  dis- 
coveries undreamed  of  by  the  present  generation.  With 
exultant  foreknowledge,  we  cry  :  "  Speed  the  mind  that 
seeks  for  the  unspeakable  riches  of  God's  creation." 


It  is  not  in  our  open,  exposed  deeds  that  we  need  the 
still  voice  of  the  silent  monitor,  but  in  the  small,  secret, 
every-day  acts  of  life,  that  conscience  should  prompt  us 
to  beware  of  the  hidden  shoals  of  what  ^e  deefm  too 
common  to  be  dangerous. 


"G-as;  its  Origin  and  Manufacture." 

To  whom  the  credit  of  the  discovery  of  gas  is  due  is 
not  certainly  known.  History  informs  us  that  in  the 
time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  the  Persians  made  use  of 
the  gas  escaping  from  natural  crevices  in  the  surface  of 
the  earth  for  the  purpose  of  lighting  up  their  altars, 
which  were  sometimes  placed  near  such  crevices.  Cer- 
tain provinces  in  China  have  also  been  celebrated  for 
two  thousand  years  for  the  large  quantity  of  inflamma- 
ble air  or  gas  which  issues  from  the  earth.  Many  other 
cases  of  the  spontaneous  production  of  gas  could  be 
given,  such  as  the  fires  of  Baker  near  the  Caspian  Sea, 
jets  of  inflammable  air  on  the  road  between  Florence 
and  Bologna,  etc. 

With  all  these  and  many  other  precedents  for  the 
theory  that  gas  could  be  used  as  an  illuming  agent,  no 
such  use  seems  to  have  been  made  of  it  until  Kichard 
Murdock,  an  engineer  and  miner  of  Cornwall,  about 
1792,  conceived  the  idea  that  gas,  as  obtained  from  coal, 
might  be  conveyed  to  a  distance  through  pipes,  and  thus 
made  use  of.  He  had,  previous  to  this  time,  made  him- 
self well  acquainted  with  the  manner  of  producing  it, 
but  hitherto  made  no  other  use  of  it  beyond  collecting  it 
in  bladders,  and,  making  a  small  hole  in  the  latter,  light 
the  escaping  gas  for  the  amusement  of  his  friends. 

Acting  on  the  idea,  he  soon  introduced  and  perfected 
all  necessary  arrangements,  and  at  length  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  his  house  lit  up  with  it.  Since  then,  in 
the  manufacture  of  gas,  great  strides  have  been  made 
but  in  perfection  of  quality  and  quantity  manufactured. 

The  apparatus  at  present  employed  consists  of  an 
iron  retort,  set  in  a  furnace  so  that  it  may  be  uniformly 
heated.  The  retorts  are  cylindrical  in  shape,  flat  on  the 
ends,  and  generally  one  inch  thick.  From  the  top  of 
the  retort  an  outlet-pipe  ascends,  dips  in  cold  water, 
and  makes  a  curve  which  causes  it  to  terminate  in  an- 
other pipe  called  the  hydraulic  main.  The  outlet-pipe 
is  arranged  that  a  water-valve  commands  it  at  the  point 
where  it  dips  into  the  water  before  being  connected  with 
the  hydraulic  main.  The  use  of  this  valve  is  obvious, 
since  no  gas  can  return  to  the  retort  after  having  passed 
the  valve  on  its  way  to  the  hydraulic  main.  The  latter 
is  a  large,  horizontal  pipe  running  from  one  end  of  the 
building  to  the  other. 

The  retorts  having  been  filled  with  coal,  and  sealed  so 
that  the  flame  of  the  fire  cannot  get  to  their  contents, 
the  fire  underneath  is  lighted.  All  the  products  of  the 
distillation,  with  the  exception  of  the  coke,  which  re- 
mains in  the  retort,  are  volatile,  and  therefore  go  up  the 
outlet-pipe  to  the  hydraulic  main.  With  the  latter  are 
connected  a  number  of  smaller  pipes  running  alternately 
Up  and  down,  which  receive  the  volatile  products  from 
it,  and  are  so  constructed  as  to  condense  those  products 
and  allow  the  fluid  matters  to  run  off  into  a  tank.  The 
latter  products  are  utilized  for  tarry  matters,  etc.,  as 
hitherto  described. 

From  the  pipes,  the  gas  passes  to  vessels  filled  with 
lime.  These  vessels  are  called  purifiers,  as  the  lime  in 
them  perform  this  work  by  absorbing  hydrogen  and  car- 
bonic acid.  Sometimes  an  air-pump,  worked  by  a  steam- 
engine,  is  employed  to  draw  the  gas  from  the  retort  to 
the  purifiers.  This  is  called  an  exhauster,  and  is  of 
great  service.  From  the  purifiers  the  gas  is  conveyed, 
ready  for  use,  to  the  storage  tanks. 


A  River  of  Ink. 

Among  the  wonders  of  nature  in  Algeria,  there  is  a 
river  of  genuine  ink.  It  is  formed  by  the  junction  of  two 
streams,  one  flowing  from  a  region  of  ferruginous  soil, 
and  the  other  draining  a  peat  swamp.  The  waters  of  the 
former  are,  of  course,  strongly  impregnated  with  iron  ; 
those  of  the  latter,  with  gallic  acid.  On  meeting,  the 
acid  of  the  one  stream  unites  with  the  iron  of  the  other, 
and  a  true  ink  is  the  result.  The  banks  of  the  united 
stream  would  be,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  the  one  for 
a  colony  of  authors.  Fields  of  esparto  grass,  for  paper- 
making,  might  be  sown  in  the  neighborhood ;  the  paper- 
mills  might  be  turned  by  the  inky  flood,  and  geese  might 
be  reared  to  supply  quill  pens.  The  members  of  the 
republic  of  letters  would  there  do  nothing  all  daylong 
but  sit  dangling  their  feet  in  the  water,  and  occasionally 
dipping  in  their  pens. — a  peaceable  crew,  except  perhaps 
when  they  would  plague  each  other  by  reading  long  ex- 
_iracts  from  their  unpublished  works. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


85 


Manufacture  of  Gold  Leaf 

The  process  of  gold  beating  is  exceedingly  interesting 
In  its  various  details,  and  is  one  which  requires  the 
exercise  of  much  judgment,  physical  force  and  me- 
chanical skill.  The  gold  must  first  be  properly  refined. 
The  process  is  as  follows :  The  coin  is  first  reduced  in 
thickness  by  being  rolled  through  what  is  known  as  a 
"  mill,"  a  machine  consisting  of  iron  rollers  operated  by 
steam-power.  After  being  rolled,  it  is  annealed  by  being 
subjected  to  intense  heat,  which  softens  the  metal.  It 
is  next  cut  up  and  placed  in  jars  containing  nitro- 
muriatic  acid,  which  dissolves  the  gold,  and  reduces  it 
to  a  mass  resembling  Indian  pudding,  both  in  color  and 
form.  This  solution  is  next  placed  in  a  jar  with  cop- 
peras, which  separates  the  gold  from  the  other  com- 
ponents of  the  mass. 

The  next  process  is  to  properly  alloy  the  now  pure 
o-old,  after  which  it  is  placed  in  crucibles  and  melted, 
from  which  it  is  poured  into  iron  moulds  called  ingots, 
which  measure  ten  inches  in  length,  by  one  inch  in 
breadth  and  thickness.  When  cooled,  it  is  taken  out  in 
the  shape  of  bars.  These  bars  are  then  rolled  into  what 
are  called  a  ribbon,"  usually  measuring  about  eighty 
yards  in  length,  and  the  thickness  of  ordinary  paper,  and 
retaining  their  original  width.  These  "ribbons"  are 
then  cut  into  pieces  an  inch  and  a  quarter  square,  and 
placed  in  what  is  called  a  '*  cutch,"  which  consists  of  a 
pack  of  French  paper  leaves  resembling  parchment, 
each  leaf  three  inches  square,  and  the  pack  measuring 
from  three  quarters  of  an  inch  to  an  inch  in  thickness. 
They  are  then  beaten  for  half  an  hour  upon  a  granite 
block,  with  hammers  weighing  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
pounds,  after  which  they  are  taken  out  and  placed  in 
another  pack  of  leaves  called  a  "  shoder."  These  leaves 
are  four  and  a  half  inches  square,  and  the  gold  in  the 

shoder"  is  beaten  for  four  hours  with  hammers  weigh- 
ing about  nine  pounds.  After  being  beaten  in  this 
manner,  the  gold  leaves  are  taken  out  of  the  "  shoders  " 
and  placed  in  what  are  called  "  molds."  These  "  molds  " 
consist  of  packs  of  leaves  similar  to  the  other  packs, 
and  made  of  the  stomach  of  an  ox.  After  being  made 
ready  in  the  molds,"  the  gold  is  beaten  for  four  hours 
more  with  hammers  weighing  six  or  seven  pounds  each. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  thinner  the  leaf  becomes, 
the  lighter  are  the  hammers  used,  and  it  is  also  neces- 
sary in  beating  the  gold,  especially  in  striking  the 
"  mold,"  that  the  blow  should  be  given  with  the  full 
flat  of  the  hammer,  and  directly  in  the  centre  of  the 
"  mold."  Should  the  beater  strike  with  the  edge  of  the 
hammer,  there  is  every  chance  that  the  leaf  will  be 
broken  and  the  pack  spoiled.  The  leaf,  after  being 
taken  out  of  the  "mold,"  is  cut  into  squares  of  three 
and  three-eighths  inches,  and  placed  in  "books"  of 
common  paper.  Each  "book"  consists  of  twenty-five 
leaves,  and  there  are  twenty  "  books  "  in  what  is  known 
as  a  "  pack." 

Gold  foil  is  made  in  a  similar  manner  to  gold  leaf, 
except  that  the  sheets  are  thick  and  annealed  separately, 
while  the  chief  distinction  is  that  it  has,  if  a  genuine 
article,  no  alloy  whatever.  The  article  known  as 
"German  gilt"  is  not  made  from  gold  at  all.  The 
wood  upon  which  it  is  to  be  placed  is  first  made  exceed- 
ingly smooth,  and  then  painted  with  a  preparation 
which,  being  covered  with  silver  leaf,  has  the  property 
of  producing  a  gold-like  appearance. 


Cerberus. 

Cerberus  was  the  fabled  dog  of  Pluto,  stationed  as 
sentinel  at  the  entrance  of  Hades.  He  is  generally  de- 
scribed as  having  three  heads,  sometimes  as  having 
fifty. 

Snakes  covered  his  body  instead  of  hair.  None  from 
the  world  of  the  living  could  pass  by  him  but  by  ap- 
peasing him  with  a  certain  kind  of  cake,  composed  of 
medicated  and  soporific  ingredients.  To  seize  and  bring 
up  this  monster  was  one  of  the  labors  assigned  to  Her- 
cules. Scylla  and  Charybdis  are  the  names  ;  the  former, 
of  a  rock  on  the  Italian  shore  in  the  strait  between  Sicily 
and  the  main  land,  and  the  latter,  of  a  whirlpool  or 
strong  eddy  over  against  it  on  the  Sicilian  side.  The 
ancients  connected  a  fabulous  story  with  each  name. 

Scylla  was  originally  a  beautiful  woman,  but  was 
ehanged  by  Circe  into  a  monster,  the  parts  below  hcr 


walst  becoming  a  number  of  dogs,  incessantly  harking, 
while  she  had  twelve  feet  and  hands,  and  six  heads  with 
three  rows  of  teeth.  Terrified  at  this  metamorphosia, 
she  threw  herself  into  the  sea,  and  was  changed  into  the 
rocks  which  bear  her  name.  Charybdis  was  a  greedy 
woman  who  stole  the  oxen  of  Hercules,  and  for  that 
offence  was  turned  into  the  gulf  or  whirlpool  above 
mentioned. 

The  Sphinx  was  the  offspring  of  Orthos  and  ChimaruB, 
or  of  Typhon  and  Echidna,  a  monster  having  the  head 
and  breast  of  a  woman  ;  the  body  of  a  dog  ;  the  tail  of  a 
serpent ;  the  wings  of  a  bird  ;  the  paws  of  a  lion,  and  a 
human  voice.  This  monster  infested  the  neighborhood 
of  Thebes,  proposing  enigmas  and  devouring  the  inhabi- 
tants who  could  not  explain  them. 

At  length  one  of  the  enigmas,  in  which  she  demanded 
what  animal  it  was  which  walked  on  four  legs  in  the 
morning,  two  at  noon,  and  three  at  night,  was  solved 
by  ^dipsus  ;  he  said  that  the  animal  was  man,  who  in 
the  morning  of  life,  creeps  upon  his  hands  and  feet,  in 
middle  age  walks  erect,  and  in  the  evening  of  his  days 
uses  a  staff. 

On  hearing  this  solution  the  Sphinx  instantly  destroyed 
herself. 

The  Griffon  was  an  imaginary  animal,  said  to  be  pro- 
duced from  a  lion  and  an  eagle,  and  supposed  to  watch 
over  mines  of  gold  and  whatever  was  hidden.  Its  image 
is  sometimes  found  on  ancient  medals,  the  upper  part 
resembling  an  eagle,  the  lower  part  a  lion. 

In  the  Greek  mythology,  Typhon  is  ranked  among  the 

fiants,  said  to  have  been  produced  from  the  earth  by 
uno  striking  it ;  described  as  having  a  hundred  heads 
like  those  of  a  dragon.  In  Egyptian  mythology,  the 
monster  called  Typhon  holds  an  important  position, 
being  considered  the  cause  of  all  evil— "  the  Egyptian 
devil."  He  is  described  and  represented  in  various 
ways,  sometimes  as  with  a  hundred  dragon  heads ; 
sometimes  as  a  wolf  ;  sometimes  as  a  crocodile,  with 
the  head  and  fore-legs  of  a  hippopotamus. 


Roman  Luxury. 

All  students  of  history  learn  something  of  the  "  de- 
cline and  fall"  of  Rome,  and  that  herluxuriousness  was 
the  chief  cause  of  her  bankruptcy  and  ruin.  But  the 
astonishing  and  reckless  prodigality  with  the  fashionable 
people  of  the  last  days  of  the  Empire  spent  money  to 
add  to  their  pleasures  can  hardly  be  imagined  without 
seeing  the  details.  Their  extravagance  in  oniaments, 
dresses,  sumptuous  living,  and  rich  furniture,  surpassed 
all  the  display  of  modem  nations. 

The  palace  of  Nero  glittered  with  gold  and  jewels. 
Perfumes  and  flowers  were  showered  from  ivory  ceilings. 
The  halls  of  ^liogabulus  were  hung  with  cloth  and 
gold,  enriched  with  jewels.  His  beds  were  silver,  and 
his  tables  of  gold.  Tiberius  gave  a  million  of  sesterces 
for  a  picture  for  his  bedroom.  A  banquet  dish  of 
Daesillus  weighed  five  hundred  pounds  of  silver. 

The  art  of  using  metals  and  cutting  precious  stones 
surpassed  anything  known  at  the  present  day. 

In  cookery,  and  in  the  decoration  of  houses  in  social  en- 
tertainments, the  Romans  were  remarkable.  The  mosiac, 
signet  rings,  cameos,  bracelets,  bronzes,  vases,  couches, 
banqueting  tables,  lamps,  chariots,  colored  glass,  gilding, 
mirrors,  matresses,  cosmetics  perfumes,  hSir  dyes,  siflc 
ribbons,  potteries,  all  exhibit  great  elegance  and  beauty. 
The  tables  of  thuga  root  and  Delian  bronze  were  as  ex- 
pensive as  the  sideboards  of  Spanish  walnut,  so  much 
admired  in  the  great  exhibition  at  London. 

Wood  and  ivory  were  carved  as  exquisitely  as  in  Japan 
or  China.    Mirrors  were  made  of  polished  silver. 

The  Roman  grandees  rode  in  gilded  chariots,  bathed 
in  marble  baths,  dined  on  golden  plate,  drank  from 
crystal  cups,  slept  on  beds  of  down,  reclined  on  luxuri- 
ous couches,  wore  embroidered  robes,  and  were  adorned 
with  precious  stones. 

They  ransacked  the  earth  and  the  seas  for  rare  dishes 
for  their  banquets,  and  ornamented  their  house  with 
j  carpets  from  Babylon,  onyx  cups  from  Bythinia,  mar- 
I  bles  from  Numidia,  bronzes  from  Corinth,  stataes  from 
j  Athens — whatever,  in  short,  was  precious  or  curious 
!  in  the  most  distant  countries. 

The  luxuries  of  the  bath  almost  exceed  belief,  and  on 
the  walls  were  magnificent  frescoes  and  paintings,  ex- 
hibiting an  inexhaustive  productiveness  in  landscape 
and  mythological  scenes. 


86 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Coffee  Tree. 

Says  La  Roque :  "The  coffee  tree  is  from  six  to 
twelve  feet  high  ;  the  stem  ten,  twelve,  and  fifteen  inches 
in  circumference.  When  full  pjrown  it  resembles  a 
young  apple  tree.  The  outer  limbs  bend  down,  render- 
ing it  the  shape  of  an  umbrella.  The  bark  is  whitish 
and  somewhat  rough;  its  leaf  resembles  that  of  the 
citron  tree.  It  continues  green  throughout  the  year,  and 
the  tree  is  never  without  leaves,  which  are  ranged 
almost  opposite  on  each  side  of  the  bough  and  at  a 
small  distance  from  each  other.  At  nearly  all  seasons 
of  the  year  there  are  blossoms,  green  and  ripe  fruit  at 
the  same  time  upon  the  tree. 

"  When  the  blossom  falls  off,  there  remains  in  its  room, 
or  rather  springs  from  each  blossom,  a  small  fruit, 
green  at  first,  but  which  becomes  red  as  it  ripens,  and  is 
not  unlike  a  large  cherry,  and  very  good  to  eat.  Under 
the  flesh  of  this  cherry,  instead  of  a  stone,  is  found  the 
bean  or  berry  which  we  call  coffee,  wrapped  round  in  a 
fine  thin  skin.  The  berry  is  then  very  soft  and  of  a  dis- 
agreeable taste ;  but  as  the  cherry  ripens,  the  berry  in 
the  inside  grows  harder,  and  the  dried-up  fruit,  being 
the  flesh  or  pulp  of  it,  which  was  before  eatable,  be- 
comes a  shell  or  pod  of  a  deep,  brown  color.  The  berry 
is  now  solid,  and  of  a  clear  transparent  green. 

Each  shell  contains  one  berry,  which  splits  into  two 
equal  parts.  When  the  fruit  is  sufficiently  ripe  to  be 
shaken  from  the  tree,  the  husks  are  separated  from  the 
berries  and  are  made  use  of  by  the  natives,  while  the 
berries  are  exported. 

"The  coffee  for  the  next  year's  harvest  blossoms  in 
October,  and  the  consumption  of  this  fragrant  berry  is 
enormous,  thp  exports  from  Rio  Janeiro  alone  ranging 
up  as  high  aS  two  million  bags  a  year,  while  other  coun- 
tries export  a  proportionably  large  amount." 


House  Spiders. 

I  have  often  observed,  says  u  writer,  the  power  in 
Gossamer  Spiders  of  ejecting  forcibly  from  the  spinners 
a  web  which  they  use  as  a  means  of  moving  from  one 
place  to  another.  I  was  not  aware  until  lately,  however, 
that  the  same  power  was  possessed  by  the  common 
house  spider. 

I  caught  one  of  these  the  other  day  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  out  if  it  was  capable  of  ejecting  its  web  by  mus- 
cular effort,  and  I  propose  giving  the  result  at  length. 
Having  plac^'i  my  spider  upon  a  pencil  held  between 
my  finger  *i*ta  thumb,  I  watched  him  carefully,  noting 
all  his  movements.  The  sage  insect  proceeded  deliber- 
ately to  take  a  tour  round  his  somewhat  limited  quarters, 
and  finding  at  length  that  he  could  not  escape  by  either 
end,  he  carefully  attached  a  web  to  the  pencil  and 
descended  rapidly. 

I  wound  the  web  up  on  the  pencil,  so  as  to  prevent 
him  reaching  the  ground,  and  after  trying  the  same  plan 
a  good  many  times,  he  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
pencil,  and  apparently  "  took  a  big  think,"  the  result  of 
his  meditation  being  another  descent  of  about  a  foot 
from  his  support.  He  then  gathered  himself  up  into  a 
little  ball,  elevating  his  abdomen,  and,  much  to  my 
astonishment,  ejected  the  web  unconnected  as  it  pro- 
ceeds from  the  spinner  to  the  distance  of  about  a  foot, 
when  the  whole  converged  into  a  focus,  as  it  were, 
forming  a  complete  web,  which  continued  sailing  out- 
ward until  it  attached  itself  to  my  coat ;  the  spider, 
after  giving  the  web  a  few  tugs,  then  passed  over,  and 
so  escaped.  Thinking  I  might  be  deceived  as  to  the 
web  coming  out  in  so  many  parts,  I  caught  several 
more,  and  repeated  the  experiment  about  a  dozen  times, 
BO  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  fact.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  hear  th»t  some  one  else  has  tried  this,  so  as  t&j 
confirm  it. 


A  Curious  Freak  of  Nature. 

A  curious  freak  of  nature  is  found  at  Willough  Lake, 
In  the  northern  par*  of  Vermont,  where  Mounts  Pisgah 
and  Hor  rise  2,500  feet  from  the  water,  and  4,000  f eeti 
above  the  sea,  and  are  less  than  a  mile  apart,  while  the 
lake  below  is  of  unknown  depth — all  efforts  to  sound  it 
have  failed — and  is  supposed  to  rest  at  the  level  of  the 
sea.  A  few  years  ago,  an  immense  rock,  weighing  over 
300  tons  was  started  from  its  bed  at  the  top  of  Mount 
PiBgah,  and  fell  down  the  almost  perpendicular  face  of  f 


the  mountain  into  the  lake,  tearing  away  the  carriage 
road  and  everything  that  opposed  it,  shaking  the  whole 
region  round,  and  being  heard  ten  and  fifteen  miles  away. 
The  lake  is  an  immense  spring,  as  hardly  a  brook  flows 
into  it,  but  a  river  flows  out  large  enough  to  carry  ex- 
tensive mills.  A  winding  footpath  conducts  to  the  sum- 
nait  of  Mount  Pisgah,  which  is  abruptly  cut  off  on  the 
side  nearest  the  Jake,  forming  a  perpendicular  precipice 
nearly  3,000  feet  high,  below  which  lies  water  of  such  sin- 
gular transparency  that  one  can  see  more  than  100  feet  be- 
low the  surface.  The  temptation  to  leap  from  such  a  height 
is  almost  irresistible,  and  no  one  has  yet  visited  the 
place  of  strong  enough  nerve  to  stand  erect  and  look 
over  the  brink;  but  visitors  crawl  up  on  hands  and 
knees  to  satisfy  their  curiosity.  The  view  from  this 
height  is  grand.  To  the  east  can  be  seen  the  White 
Mountains  and  the  Connecticut  River,  winding  down 
eighty  miles  of  its  course ;  to  the  north  and  northwest 
are  Monadock,  fifty  miles  away,  and  the  entire  length  of 
Lake  Memphremagog ;  and  to  the  west  is  seen  the  west- 
ern range  of  the  Green  Mountains.  The  scenery  is  un- 
surpassed in  New  England,  and  the  drive  over  the 
carriageway  which  skirts  the  lake  and  connects  Orleans 
and  Caledonia  coxmtieg  is  the  most  picturesque  of  any 
tn  the  State. 


How  a  Bronze  Statue  is  Cast. 

The  casting  of  a  large  piece  in  bronze  is  a  delicate'op- 
eration,  requiring  care  and  artistic  skill.  The  making  of 
a  plaster  mould  from  the  original  model,  then  a  plaster 
figure  from  that  mould,  and  finally  from  the  figure  a  sec- 
tional mould  into  which  to  run  the  metal,  requires  many 
weeks  of  skilled  labor.  The  element  of  luck  enters 
largely  into  the  culminating  attempt  to  cast,  as  flaws  H 
the  metal  often  causp  failures,  imposing  weeks  of  addi- 
tional labor. 

The  large  box  called  a  "flask,  '  containing  the  mouia, 
clamped  firmly  with  iron,  was  let  down  with  a  crane  inta 
a  cavity,  and  flowed  over,  so  that  only  a  funnel  protruded. 
This  was  close  to  a  brick  furnace,  in  which  the  bronze 
was  heating  over  a  great,  roaring  fire.  The  metal  as  it 
was  slowly  converted  into  liquid,  was  closely  observed 
by  the  foreman.  A  glimpse  through  an  aperture  showed 
it  boiling  furiously  like  water,  and  so  hot  that  an  iron  bar 
stuck  into  it  became  red  almost  instantly.  When  the  iron 
could  be  withdrawn  without  any  bronze  clinging  to  it, 
the  compound  was  deemed  ready.  An  immense  metal 
bucket,  attached  to  a  powerful  crane,  was  swung  under 
the  end  of  a  spout,  the  furnace  was  tapped  and  a  molten 
stream  ran  out.  Sparks  flew  in  every  direction,  faces 
were  shielded  hastily  from  the  heat,  the  dusty  plaster 
images  of  Franklin,  the  Vanderbilt  bas  relief  and  other 
relics  of  previous  jobs  were  made  to  glow.  The  bucket 
was  nearly  filied,  a  turn  of  the  crank  took  it  over  the  flask, 
and  the  liquid  was,  by  tipping  the  bucket,  poured  into 
the  mould,  from  which  the  suddenly-heated  air  rushed 
through  the  vent  pipes  with  a  noise  like  escaping  steam. 
Some  of  the  bronze  slopped  over  and  set  fire  to  the  wood 
floor,  and  the  water  that  quenched  the  blaze  made  so 
much  steam  that  nothing  else  could  be  seen  for  five  min- 
utes.   The  casting  was  perfect. 


Haste  not  Wisdom. — Hasty  conclusions  are  the 
mark  of  a  fool ;  a  wise  man  doubteth — a  fool  rageth, 
and  is  confident  ;  the  novice  saith,  I  am  sure  it  is  so : 
the  learned  answers,  peradventure  it  may  be  so,  but  1 
prithee  inquire.  Some  men  are  drunk  with  fancy,  and 
mad  with  opinion.  It  is  a  little  learning,  and  but  a 
Uttle,  which  makes  men  conclude  hastily.  Experience 
and  humility  leach  modesty  and  fear. 


11^"  The  house  in  which  William  Penn  lived,  situated 
in  Philadelphia,  is  now  occupied  by  a  drinking  house  of 
he  lowest  order.  Any  other  country  in  the  world,  al- 
.Most,  would  have  preserved  this  house  fi*om  the  slightest 
invasion.  Well,  we  are  young  yet,  and  cannot  be  trusted 
jay  more  than  other  children  with  valu  ble  possessions. 


Generosity  during  life  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
generosity  in  the  hour  of  death.  One  proceeds  from 
f^enuine  liberality  and  benevolence,  the  other  from  pride 
or  fear. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


87 


JOAN  OF  ARC: 

THE   MAIDEN   LEADER  OF  TROOPS. 

At  daybreak  on  the  30th  of  May,  1431,  a  priest  entered 
(he  cell  of  a  young  woman  at  Rouen,  and  announced 
that  he  was  come  to  prepare  her  for  death.  Not  that 
the  prisoner  was  ill— she  was  young,  healthy,  and  in  the 
full  possession  of  her  faculties  ;  the  death  she  was  to 
suffer  was  a  violent  one— she  was  to  be  burned  alive. 
Burned  alive  st  one-and-twenty  1  What  could  this  young 


ment  took  tile  poor  maiden  entirely  by  surprise.  A 
week  before,  she  had  been  led  out  into  a  public  place 
in  Rouen,  and  compelled,  in  a  moment  of  weakness, 
when  surrounded  by  enemies — and  not  one  kindly 
face  among  the  crowd — and  under  circumstance  of 
great  excitement,  to  sign  a  document  disavowing  and 
solemnly  abjuring  certain  ciiarges  of  heresy  wliich 
were  preferred  against  her  ;  and  she  had  been  told 
on  that  occasion  tliat  her  life  would  now  be  spared, 
though  she  must  resign  herself  to  a  sentence  of  pel 


^  >>OAN  OF  ARC'S  H 

woman  «ave  done  V  She  had  snivf  red  the  power  of  the 
Engush  in  France  ;  she  had,  by  means  of  an  enthusiasm 
which  rendered  her  obnoxious  to  the  clergy,  roused  the 
French  nation  from  tlie  torpor  into  which  it  had  been 
thrown  by  the  stunning  blows  dealt  to  it  by  Henry  V. 
of  England,  and  she  had  dared  to  thwart  the  purposes 
and  brave  the  anger  of  vindictive  churchmen  like  the 
Bishop  of  Beauvais,  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
Cardinal  Beaufort.  The  prisoner's  name  was  Jeanne 
Dare,  or  has  she  has  been  more  commonly  but  erro- 
neously called,  Joan  of  Arc.    The  priest's  announce. 


:)USE  AT  ROUEN. 

petual  imprisonment.  The  excuse  for  breaking  faitb 
with  the  poor  girl  was  this  :  that  since  her  abjuration 
she  had  said  that  St.  Catherine  and  St.  Margaret, 
with  whom  she  asserted  she  was  frequently  in  direct 
communication,  had  appeared  to  her,  and  rebuked 
her  for  her  weakness  in  yielding  to  the  threats  of 
violence.  On  first  hearing  the  announcement  of  the 
priest,  Jeanne's  firmness  gave  way  ;  she  wept,  and 
gave  vent  to  piteous  cries,  tore  her  hair,  and  appealed 
to  "  the  great  Judge  "  against  the  cruel  wrongs  done 
to  her;  but  by  degrees  her  self-possession,  returned 


88 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


and  slie  listened  to  the  ministrations  of  the  priest, 
received  the  last  sacrament  from  him,  and 
announced  herself  ready  to  submit  to  the  will 
of  heaven.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  she 
was  carried  away  in  the  hangman's  cart  to  the  market- 
place in  Rouen,  where  had  been  already  laid  the  funeral 
pyre  on  which  the  young  victim  was  to  be  sacrificed. 
The  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  and  several 
other  prelates,  with  fhe  English  military  commanders, 
were  there,  and  a  vast  crowd  had  come  out  to  see  the 
"  Maid  of  Orleans  "  die.  In  the  centre  of  the  market- 
place, about  the  spot  where  now  stands  a  fountain  sur-^ 
mounfted  by  a  figure  of  Jeanne  Dare,  the  stake  was 
reared,  and  around  it  were  piled  the  faggots.  Soldiers 
guarded  the  place  of  execution.  The  ceremonial  of 
death  was  begun  on  that  beautiful  May  morning  by  a 
sermon  in  which  the  crime  of  heresy  was  vehemently 
denounced  ;  then  the  sentence  pronounced  by  the  shep- 
herds of  the  flock  upon  the  ewe  lamb  before  them  was 
published,  and  the  signal  was  given  to  proclaim  the  last 
act  of  the  tragedy.  A  soldier's  stalf  was  broken,  and 
formed  into  a  rough  cross,  which  "the  Maid"  clasped 
to  her  breast.  She  was  then  bound  to  the  stake,  the 
faggots  were  lighted,  the  fire  leaped  up  around  her  ;  and, 
after  suffering  the  agony  indispensable  to  death  by  burn- 
ing, her  spirit  returned  to  God  who  gave  it.  The  Eng- 
lish cardinal  watched  the  whole  proceedings  with  un- 
moved face ;  and  when  his  victim's  life  was  beyond  his 
-  each,  he  ordered  her  ashes  and  bones  to  be  gathered 
ap,  and  to  be  cast  into  the  Seine. 

Joan  of  Arc  was  bom  January  6th,  1410,  in  the  village 
of  Domremy,  in  Lorraine,  of  poor  but  decent  and  pious 
parents.  She  was  their  fifth  child,  and  owing  to  the  in- 
digence of  her  father,  received  no  instruction,  but  was 
accustomed  to  out-of-door  duties,  such  as  the  tending 
of  sheep  and  the  riding  of  horses  to  and  from  the  water- 
ing place.  The  neighborhood  of  Domremy  abounded  in 
superstitions,  and  at  the  same  time,  sympathized  with 
the  Orleans  party  in  the  divisions  which  rent  the  king- 
dom of  France.  Jeanne  shared  both  in  the  political  ex- 
citement and  the  religious  enthusiasm  ;  imaginative  and 
devout,  she  loved  to  meditate  on  the  legends  of  the 
Virgin,  and,  especially,  it  seems,  dwelt  upon  a  current 
prophecy,  that  a  virgin  should  relieve  France  of  her 
enemies. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  she  began  to  believe  herself  the 
subject  of  supernatural  visitations,  spoke  of  voices  that 
she  heard  and  visions  that  she  saw ;  and,  at  eighteen, 
was  possessed  by  the  idea  that  she  was  called  to  deliver 
her  country  and  crown  her  king.  An  outrage  upon  her 
native  village  by  some  roving  Burgundia^ns  raised  this 
belief  to  a  purpose;  her  "voices"  importuned  her  to 
enter  upon  her  mission  by  applying  to  Bandricourt, 
governor  of  Vaucouleurs  ;  and  this,  by  the  aid  of  an 
uncle,  she  did  in  May,  1428.  The  governor  after  some 
delay,  granted  her  an  audience,  but  treated  her  preten- 
sions with  such  scorn,  that  she  returned  to  her  uncle. 

The  fortunes  of  the  dauphin,  however,  were  desperate, 
and  Bandricourt,  pressed  by  her  entreaties,  sent  her  to 
Chinon,  where  Charles  held  his  court.  Introduced  into 
a  crowd  of  courtiers  from  whom  the  king  was  undis- 
tinguished, she  is  said  to  have  singled  him  out  at  once. 

Her  claims  were  submitted  to  a  severe  scrutiny. 
She  was  handed  over  to  an  ecclesiastical  commission, 
and  was  sent  to  Poitiers  for  examination  by  the 
several  faculties  in  the  famous  university  there. 
No  evidence  indicated  that  she  was  a  dealer  in  the 
black  art,  and  her  wish  to  lead  the  army  of  her  king 
was  granted. 

A  suit  of  armor  was  made  for  her  ;  a  consecrated 
sword  which  she  described  as  buried  in  the  church  of 
St.  Catherine,  at  Fierbois,  and  which  she  perhaps 
had  seen  while  visiting  among  the  ecclesiastics  there, 
was  brought  and  placed  in  her  hands. 

Thus  equipped,  she  put  herself  at  the  head  of  ten 
thousand  troops  under  the  generalship  of  Dunois ; 
threw  herself  upon  the  English  who  were  besieging 
Orleans  ;  routed  them,  and  in  a  week,  forced  them  to 
raise  the  siege. 

Other  exploits  followed.  The  presence  of  the  vir- 
gin with  her  consecrated  banner,  struck  a  panic  into 
the  hearts  of  her  enemies.   In  thr^e  months,  Charles 


was  crowned  king  at  Rheims,  the  maid  of 
standing  in  full  armor  at  his  side. 

Her  promised  work  was  done;  Dunois,  however, 
unwilling  to  lose  her  influence,  urged  her  to  remain 
with  the  army,  and  she  did  do  so,  but  her  victories 
were  over.  In  an  attack  on  Paris  in  the  early  winter 
of  1429,  she  was  repulsed  and  wounded.  In  the  spring 
of  the  next  year  she  threw  herself  into  Compiegne, 
then  beleaguered  by  the  English  ;  made  a  sortie, 
in  which  she  was  taken  prisoner  (May  23,  1430), ' 
and  was  carried  to  the  Due  de  Luxembourg's 
fortress  at  Beaurevoir.  An  attempt  to  escape  by 
leaping  from  a  dungeon  wall  was  unsuccessful, 
and  she  was  taken  to  Rouen.  The  university  of 
Paris  demanded  that  she  should  be  tried  on 
a  charge  of  sorcery,  and  solicited  letters  patent  from  the 
king  of  England,  which  were  reluctantly  granted.  The 
Chapter  at  t  ouen  were  rather  favorably  disposed  toward 
her.  Many  of  the  English  in  authority  were  unwilling 
to  proceed  to  extremities.  But  the  University  of  Paris 
prevailed ;  the  examination  lasted  several  months,  and 
resulted  in  a  conviction  of  sorcery.  The  papers  were 
sent  from  Rouen  to  Paris,  and  the  verdict  of  the  Uni- 
versity was  unanimous  that  such  acts  and  sentiments  as 
hers  were  diabolical,  and  merited  the  punishment  of 
fire  Sentence  of  condemnation  was,  therefore,  read  to 
her  publicij  on  a  scafEo\d  by  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  and 
the  alternative  offered  of  submission  to  the  Church,  or, 
the  stake.  The  terrified  girl  murmured  a  recantation, 
put  her  mark  to  a  confession,  and  was  taken  back  to 
prison.  Here  she  heard  her  "  voices  "  again,  her  visions 
returned,  and  as  heretofore  stated,  faith  was  broken 
with  her.  A  huge  pile  of  wood  was  erected  in  the 
market-place  at  Rouen,  and,  surrounded  by  a  vast  as* 
sembiy  of  soldiers  and  ecclesiastics,  Joan  of  Arc  was 
burned. 

The  infamy  of  this  transaction  lies  heavily  upon  all 
concerned  in  it ;  upon  the  Burgundians  who  gave  her 
up ;  upon  the  English  who  allowed  her  execution ;  upon 
the  French  who  did  the  deed;  and  the  French  who 
would  not  prevent  it ;  and  upon  the  king  who  did  not 
avenge  her,  who  waited  ten  years  before  he  reversed  the 
Tjrocess  by  which  she  was  condemned,  pronouncing  her 

a  martyr  to  her  religion,  her  country,  and  her  king." 

The  character  of  the  "  Maid  of  Orleans  "  was  spotless. 
She  was  distinguished  for  her  purity,  innocence,  and 
modesty.  Her  hand  never  shed  blood,  and  the  gentle 
dignity  of  her  bearing  impressed  all  who  knew  her. 

How  a  Mouse  Built  a  House. 

A  few  years  ago  a  rich  man  built  a  great  schoolhouse 
for  girls.  He  built  it  only  for  girls,  so  their  brothers  had 
to  stay  at  home,  or  go  to  one  of  the  great  schools  for 
boys.  But  the  mice  did  not  care  whether  they  were  in- 
vited or  not,  and  came  in  families  to  the  warm,  cosy 
rooms  that  were  built  expressly  for  the  girls.  They  even 
disputed  the  ownership  with  the  rightful  occupants  ;  and 
one  5"0ung  lady  spent  the  first  night  there  in  deciding 
which  should  stay  in  the  room,  she  or  the  mice. 

One  mouse  was  in  need  of  a  house.  She  was  very 
persevering  and  smart,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  taste, 
too,  and  she  could  not  be  satisfied  with  a  house  made  of 
common  materials.  She  watched  her  chance  when  the 
young  lady  was  away  reciting  her  lessons,  and  crept 
carefully  into  her  room,  and  up  to  her  closet  shelf  ;  and 
there  she  found  what  was  better  for  her  than  a  whole 
forest  of  black  walnut,  or  a  whole  quarry  of  marble.  It 
was  the  school-girl's  Sunday  hat— a  very  palace  for  Mrs. 
Mouse.  It  was  Winter  time,  and  the  velvet  hat  had  a 
lining  of  soft  silk,  and  trimming  of  beautiful  soft  feath- 
ers. You  can  imagine  the  joy  with  which  mother  mouse 
saw  this  wealth  of  delicate  building  stuffs.  She  went 
quietly  to  work  to  literally  turn  the  hat  outside  in,  for 
with  her  little  teeth  she  bit  off  pieces  of  feather  and  bits 
of  velvet,  until  her  house  was  entirely  plain  without,  but 
lined  and  relined  within  with  these  tempting  furnish- 
ings. Like  your  mother,  little  child,  she  was  not  work- 
ing for  her  own  comfort,  but  when  her  beautiful  house 
was  done  she  tucked  into  it  her  six  dear  little  mice,  and 
hoped  to  bring  them  up  safely  in  the  luxury  of  feathers 
and  velvets. 

When  the  next  Sunday  came,  the  young  lady  went  to 
her  wardrobe  for  her  hat,  and  found,  instead,  the  house 
that  mother  mou  je  had  built. 


THE  GROJVING  PFORLD. 


89 


Elias  Howe. 

In  Comhill,  Boston,  some  thirty  years  ago,  there  was 
a  shop  for  the  manufacture  and  repair  of  nautical  tools, 
kept  by  Ari  Davis.  He  was  an  ingenious  mechanic,  had 
invented  some  Uttle  useful  machinery  which,  at  that 
time,  tended  to  make  him  quite  a  noted  man. 

In  the  year  1839,  two  men  in  Boston,  one  a  mechanic, 
the  other  a  capitalist,  were  striving  to  produce  a  knitting 
machine,  and  in  despair  over  their  lack  of  success, 
brought  the  machine  to  Davis'  shop  to  see  if  his  genius 
could  not  suggest  some  method  of  improvement  on  their 
failure. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Davis,  in  his  blustering  manner, 
"  why  do  you  bother  your  brains  over  a  knitting  machine  ? 
Why  not  make  a  sewing  machine  ?  " 

"It  can't  be  done,"  they  replied.  "Yes  it  can,"  re- 
sumed Davis,  "  I  can  make  a  sewing  machine."  "Then 
you  are  sure  of  an  independent  fortune,"  was  the  re- 
sponse. 

Right  there  the  conversation  and  the  matter  dropped. 
But  among  the  workmen  was  a  young  man  from  the 
country,  a  new  hand  in  the  shop,  on  whom  the  imposing 
manner  and  flashy  appearance  of  the  capitalist  made  a 
great  impression.  Up  to  that  time  and  hour  the  idea  of 
sewing  by  machinery  had  never  entered  the  young  man's 
brain. 

This  youth  was  Elias  Howe,  who  was  born  in  1819,  at 
Spencer,  Mass.  His  father  was  a  farmer  and  miller,  but 
farm  and  mill  yielded  an  insufficient  income  for  a  man 
with  eight  children.  When  Elias  was  six  years  of  age, 
he  worked  with  his  brothers  and  sisters  at  sticking  the 
wire  teeth  into  strips  of  leather  for  "  cards  "  used  in  the 
manufacture  of  cotton.  As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough, 
he  assisted  on  the  farm  and  in  the  mills,  attending  the 
district  school  through  the  winter  months. 

We  have  thought  that  he  must  have  got  some  crude 
ideas  concerning  machinery  while  working  in  his  father's 
mills  ;  but  no  event  worth  recording  took  place  during 
the  first  eleven  years  of  his  life.  He  was  careless  and 
loved  play,  like  other  boys.  At  the  age  of  eleven  he 
went  to  live  with  a  farmer  in  the  neighborhood,  calcu- 
lating to  remain  there  until  he  should  be  twenty-one, 
but  an  inherited  lameness  rendered  his  labors  on  the 
farm  so  distressing  that  he  was  obliged  to  return  home 
to  work  in  the  mills,  where  he  remained  until  he  was 
sixteen. 

In  1835,  his  father  reluctantly  consented  for  him  to  go 
to  Lowell.  He  worked  there  in  a  machine  shop  until  the 
crash  of  1837  closed  the  mills.  Adrift  without  work,  he 
went  to  Cambridge.  He  found  employment  there  in  a 
machine  shop. 

Nathaniel  P.  Banks— since  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  and  Major-General— worked  in  the  same 
shop  and  boarded  with  him.  After  a  few  months  of 
work  in  Cambridge,  Elias  went  back  to  work  in  the  shop 
of  Ari  Davis,  Boston. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  young  Howe's  per- 
sonal appearance.  He  was  small,  with  curly  hair,  and  a 
manner  bespeaking  his  great  fondness  for  joking.  In 
truth,  at  the  age  of  twenty  he  was  more  of  a  boy  than  a 
man. 

Steady  labor  he  did  not  love,  and  he  was  not  the  per- 
son to  seize  an  idea  with  avidity  and  work  it  out  with 
zeal.  But  the  conversation  in  Mr.  Davis'  shop,  concern- 
ing the  making  of  a  sewing  machine,  recurred  again  and 
again  to  his  mind,  and  induced  a  train  of  questioning. 
Why  might  not  machinery  be  made  to  do  the  tiresome 
work  of  so  many  hands  ?  he  asked  over  and  over  again. 

At  twenty-one,  being  still  a  journeyman  machinist, 
earning  nine  dollars  a  week,  he  married.  The  increasing 
xamily,  with  the  cares  incident  to  support  them,  soon 
robbed  him  of  his  boyish  mien,  and  made  of  him  a  plod- 
ding, thoughtful  citizen. 

Often  his  day's  labor  proved  so  heavy  and  exhausting 
that  he  could  not  eat,  only  crawl  wearily  to  bed  with  the 
disheartening  wish  that  he  might  lie  there  forever. 

His  wearisome  toil  and  his  poverty  brought  on  the 
^'inventor's  mania,"  with  the  seducing  chorus— " inde- 
pendent fortune  " — which  he  had  heard  four  years  before 
in  Davis'  shop  in  Boston.  Hours  and  hours,  day  and 
night  he  worked  upon— as  it  proved— a  false  model.  He 
was  trying  to  form  a  needle  and  machine  to  work  it,  in  a 
manner  similar  to  hand  sewing.  This  he  could  not  do. 
Still  he  whittled  away,  filling  many  a  basket  with  chips, 
after  the  idea  had  suggested  itself  that  there  might  be 


another  stitch  which  the  machine  cwdd  take.  This  waa 
the  crisis  of  the  invention.  With  wood  and  wire,  he 
labored  on,  until  he  convinced  himself  that  he  had  in- 
vented a  sewing  machine.  This  was  after  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  shuttle  and  needle,  with  an  eye  near 
the  point,  to  operate  together. 

Months  of  toil  and  privation  followed.  He  could  not 
settle  himself  to  work  at  his  trade ;  and  yet,  how  ever 
could  he  utilize  the  power  of  his  genius  ?  To  test  the 
worth  of  his  invention  there  must  be  a  machine  made  of 
steel  and  iron,  with  the  exactness  and  finish  of  a  clock, 
and  he  had  no  money. 

At  that  critical  time  there  was  living  at  Cambridge  a 
friend  and  schoolmate  of  Elias  Howe.  George  Fisher 
was  a  coal  and  wood  merchant,  and  besides  had  inherited 
a  fortune  from  a  deceased  relative. 

In  1844,  Howe  succeeded  in  convincing  Fisher  of  the 
feasibility  of  his  invention,  and  a  partnership  was 
formed.  The  terms  of  this  co-partnership  certainly  bore 
down  heavily  on  Fisher,  on  whom  rested  all  the  expense 
of  Howe  and  his  family,  besides  finding  the  materials  to 
work  with,  while  the  machine  was  being  constructed. 
In  return  he  was  to  be  proprietor  of  one-half  the  patent, 
if  the  enterprise  should  prove  successful. 

In  the  garret  of  George  Fisher's  house  Elias  Howe  set 
to  work.  Only  Fisher  had  faith  and  hope  in  the  inven- 
tor's enterprise,  and  his  kindness  was  laughed  at  in  com- 
pany with  Howe's  visionary  conceit.  Just  the  old  story, 
you  know,  with  new  characters. 

All  through  the  winter  of  '44  and  '45,  Howe  tirelessly 
labored  on,  and  his  plan  was  so  plain  in  his  brain  that  he 
could  progress  as  rapidly  as  if  a  model  stood  before  him. 
In  April  he  sewed  a  seam  on  his  machine.  By  the  mid- 
dle of  May,  1845,  he  had  completed  his  work.  In  July 
he  made  upon  his  machine  two  suits  of  clothes — one  for 
Mr.  Fisher  and  one  for  himself — the  sewing  of  which 
outlasted  the  cloth. 

Like  all  great  inventors,  Mr.  Howe  found  when  he  had 
completed  his  machine  his  difficulties  had  just  begun. 
Firstly,  the  whole  army  of  tailors  believed  their  bank 
ruptcy  signed  and  sealed  if  the  machine  should  prove  a 
success  ;  and  no  doubt  t£  they  had  dreamed  that  it 
would  be  aught  else  but  a  failure,  the  first  machine 
would  have  been  destroyed  with  violence ;  but  placing 
his  invention  in  Quincy  Hall  Clothing  Manufactory,  he 
offered  to  sew  seams  for  any  or  all  the  tailors  in  Boston. 
For  two  weeks  he  sat  there,  daily  sewing  for  aU  who 
came,  and  the  work  proved  eminently  satisfactory.  It 
was  proved  that  the  sewing  was  neater  and  stronger  thaa 
hand  work,  and  could  be  accomplished  in  less  than  one- 
fifth  of  the  time  that  would  be  required  to  accomplish 
the  same  amount  by  hand. 

Still  not  a  machine  was  ordered,  not  an  encouraging 
word  was  spoken.  One  serious  drawback  to  their  intro- 
duction was  their  cost,  being  two  hundred  and  fifty  or 
more  dollars  each. 

Howe's  next  job  was  to  shut  himself  in  the  garret 
again  to  construct  a  model  to  deposit  in  the  Patent  Office. 
Then,  in  the  spring  of  '46,  Mr.  Howe,  finding  that  there 
was  no  near  prospect  of  bread  and  butter  in  his  machine, 
turned  engineer,  and  "  drove  "  a  locomotive  daily  upon 
one  of  the  railroads  terminating  in  Boston,  But  his 
health  compelled  him  soon  to  abandon  this,  and  in  the 
fall,  with  model  and  papers,  the  partners  started  for 
Washington  with  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  the  invention 
at  a  Fair.  The  only  result  was  to  amuse  a  crowd. 
George  Fisher  was  now  quite  discouraged.  He  had  ex- 
pended upon  Howe's  famUy  and  the  materials  for  the 
machine  about  two  thousand  dollars  without  the  remotest 
probability  of  any  return. 

But  mothers  and  inventors  do  not  give  up  their  off- 
spring thus.  America,  having  rejected  the  invention, 
Mr,  Howe  resolved  to  offer  it  to  England,  In  October, 
1846,  Elias  Howe's  brother  took  steerage  passage  for 
London,  carrying  with  him  a  machine  It  attracted  the 
attention  and  approval  of  a  shop-keeper  in  Cheapside. 
He  made  an  offer,  which  eventually  proved  highly  ad- 
vantageous to  Mr.  William  Thomas,  Cheapside,  London. 

His  offer  to  Amasa  Howe  was  to  pay  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  sterling  for  the  machine,  and  the  right  to 
use  as  many  more  machines  as  his  business  required, 
and  a  verbal  understanding  that  he  would  have 
the  machine  patented  there,  and  pay  so  much  to  Elias 
for  each  machine  sold.  Amasa  returned  to  Cambridge 
with  this  offer.  There  was  no  choice  but  to  accept.  The 
brothers  returned  to  London,  as  Mr.  Thomas  wanted 


90 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


JSlias  to  make  an  improvement  or  addition  to  the  maichine 
for  corset-sewing.  He  bore  the  expenses  until  his  wishes 
were  accomplished,  then  he  gave  Mr.  Howe  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  done  with  him. 

Soon  after  this  Elias  found  himself  and  family  in  very 
straitened  circumstances.  Of  an  acquaintence,  a  coach 
maker,  he  hired  a  small  room,  borrowed  a  few  tools,  and 
sot  about  makiiig  another  machine.  But  seeing  that  his 
prospects  were  growing  daily  more  embarrassing,  he  re- 
solved to  send  his  family  home  while  he  could,  and  rely 
nn  the  machine  which  he  was  now  making  to  furnish 
means  to  get  himself  home. 

After  this  the  inventor  was  reduced  to  almost  absolute 
penury,  being  obliged  to  pawn  some  of  his  clothing  to 
pay  the  cab  fare  for  his  sick  wife  on  her  way  to  the  ship. 

In  a  low  London  garret  he  cooked  his  own  food,  and 
resolved  to  pawn  his  machine  as  soon  as  it  was  finished 
and  return  to  America.  He  found  a  purchaser  for  this 
<.)ne,  but  received  only  a  small  installment  of  the  pay. 
To  procure  means  to  return  home,  he  pawned  his  first 
machine  and  his  letters  patent.  His  baggage  he  drew  in 
a  hand-cart  to  the  ship  to  save  expense.  He  landed  in 
New  York  after  two  years'  absence  with  one  small  silver 
piece  in  his  pocket.  He  sought  and  found  employment 
in  the  machine  shops.  He  heard  that  his  wife  was  very 
low  with  consumption,  but  he  had  not  the  means  to 
reach  Cambridge.  In  a  few  days,  however,  his  father 
sent  him  the  money,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  reach 
his  wife  just  as  she  died. 

His  gay  and  lively  manner  was  now  wholly  subdued. 
He  was  extremely  cast  down  and  sorrowful,  but  he 
was  among  friends  who  administered  to  his  and  his 
childrens'  needs.    He  again  went  to  work  at  his  trade. 

But  Howe  was  surprised  on  his  return  from  London  to 
find  that  the  sewing-machine  had  become  celebrated. 
Ingenious  mechanics  had  invented  machines,  but  more 
who  had  seen  his  had  improved  upon  his  patent.  Ex- 
amining the  machines  in  use,  he  was  startled  and  angered 
to  find  the  infringements  that  had  been  made  upon  his 
Tights. 

He  would  not  submit  to  this.  He  sent  to  London  by 
Anson  Burlingame  to  redeem  his  machine  and  letters, 
and  then  he  sent  public  notice  to  the  trespassers,  warning 
them  of  their  unlawful  method  of  manufacturing  ma- 
chines, and  offering  to  sell  them  licenses  if  they  wished 
to  continue.  They  stood  out  against  his  just  demands, 
and  he  proposed  to  commence  a  suit  in  law. 

A  man  was  found  to  buy  out  George  Fisher's  claim, 
and  the  case  came  into  the  courts  where,  as  usual  in 
such  cases,  it  promised  to  drag  interminably. 

Howe  persevered,  however,  and  in  1850  constructed 
fourteen  sewing-machines,  which  he  exhibited,  worked 
and  sold  as  opportunity  offered.  By-and-by  the  gracious 
public  learned  that  the  courts  had  decided  that  Elias 
Howe  was  the  real  first  inventor  of  the  sewing-machine, 
although  the  infringers  had  attempted  to  exhume  a  pre- 
vious inventor  who  had  tried  to  bring  into  use  some  of 
Howe's  later  ideas ;  but  this  attempt  proved  an  utter 
failure.  Howe  came  off  victorious,  but  yet,  so  slight 
v/as  the  hold  that  the  sewing-machine  had  upon  public 
f  o.vor,  Elias  was  able — embarrassed  as  he  was  with  debts 
from  law  suits,  and  so  forth — on  the  death  of  Ins  partner 
to  buy  out  his  share,  and  so  became  sole  possessor  of  the 
pa:,fcnt  just  as  it  was  about  to  turn  him  a  princely  fortune. 

Mr.  Howe's  income  soon  went  up  to  tens  of  thousands 
a  year  from  his  machine  business  ;  and  the  sewing-ma- 
cbme  war — the  leading  parties  of  which  were  Singer  & 
Co.,  Wheeler  &  Wilson,  and  Grover  &  Baker,  which  at 
tirst  seemed  to  denote  extermination  of  the  weaker  by 
the  sti'onger — finally  culminated  in  the  "combination" 
wiueh  has  had  so  much,  no  doubt,  to  do  with  keeping 
machines  up  to  their  present  high  price,  from  which  Mr. 
Howe  received  an  immense  income  from  the  slight  per 
centage  given  him  on  each  machine  made  and  sold. 
What  wonders  of  work  are  performed  by  these  unpre- 
tentious little  machines. 

Think  of  our  army  in  the  last  war,  with  '^heir  number- 
less garments,  tents,  havresacks,  cartridge  boxes,  shoes, 
blankets,  sails,  and  so  forth,  how  much  the  invention  of 
Elias  Howe  added  to  their  comfort. 

One  day  during  the  war,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, an  order  from  the  War  Department  reached  New 
York  by  telegraph  for  fifty  thousand  sand  bags,  such  as 
are  used  in  field  works.  By  two  o'clock  the  next  after- 
noon the  baers  were  made,  packed,  shipped,  and  started 
for  the  South. 


Mr.  Howe  exhibited  his  machine  at  the  Paris  ExposA- 
tiou  of  1867,  where,  for  its  evident  superiority  over  ail 
others,  it  was  awarded  the  highest  premium  (a  gold 
medal),  and  Elias  Howe,  Jr.,  its  inventor  and  manufac- 
turer, was  decorated  by  the  Emperor  of  France  with 
the  "Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,"  thus  receiving  the 
highest  award  ever  given  to  any  exhibitor  at  any  exhi 
bition  for  any  articles  whatever  exhibited. 

After  the  close  of  the  French  Exhibition,  Mr.  Ho\  > 
returned  to  his  native  land,  where  a  few  months  subse- 
quently he  died,  passing  away  at  the  zenith  of  his  tri- 
umph, as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  successful  in- 
ventors of  the  age.  He,  however,  could  never  have  fully 
realized  the  magnitude  of  the  work  which  he  had  accom 
plished,  nor  could  he  have  foreseen  the  enormous  pro. 
portions  to  which  the  company  he  organized  was  des^ 
tined  to  attain.  No  adequate  estimate  can  be  made  o 
the  vast  importance  of  the  Sewing  Machine  to  the  world  as 
a  labor-saving  invention,  though  some  idea  of  the  magni' 
tude  of  the  business  may  be  gained  from  the  fact  that  there 
are  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  sewing  machines  no 
less  than  thirty-two  different  companies,  having  an  aggre- 
gate capital  invested  of  not  less  than  $30,000,000,  and 
producing  over  400,000  machines  per  annum.  More  than 
12,000  men  are  employed  in  their  factories,  not  to  men- 
tion the  immense  army  engaged  in  the  sale  of  machines. 

Among  all  these,  none  is  more  prominent  than  the 
Howe  Machine  Company.  Since  its  organization  in. 
1865  it  has  manufactured  and  sold  nearly  one  million 
sewing  machines,  a  number  which  required  more  than 
twenty  years  for  the  next  largest  company  to  produce. 
Taking  the  number  of  machines  manufactured  by  the 
different  companies  since  their  organization,  the  annual 
average  of  the  Howe  Machine  Co.  is  nearly  double  that 
of  any  other.  So  great  has  been  the  demand  for  it& 
machines,  that  it  has  been  obliged  to  increase  its  facili- 
ties from  time  to  time,  untU  its  works  now  cover  the 
enormous  area  of  513,298  square  feet,  and  are  capable  of 
producing  1,000  machines  per  day,  giving  employment 
to  nearly  4,000  men.  It  has  branch  oflices  in  all  the 
principal  cities  of  the  world,  and  sub-agencies  for  the  sale 
of  its  machiiies  are  to  be  found  in  nearly  every  village. 

The  infinite  variety  of  work  to  which  their  machines 
are  adapted,  would  have  been  deemed  incredible  even 
ten  years  ago.  It  embraces  the  sewing  of  every  variety 
of  fabric.  Various  styles  of  machines  are  manufactured, 
but  the  parts  of  each  are  exactly  alike,  varying  only  in 
ornamentation,  according  to  the  style  of  the  machine, 
and  they  range  in  value  from  $60  to  $250. 

The  Centennial  Exhibition  has  awarded  the  Howe 
Machine  a  medal  and  diploma  of  the  highest  merit. 

As  we  view  these  mighty  inventions  and  discoveries, 
we  are  led  to  ask  the  simple  question  :  What  may  we 
next  expect  as  the  result  of  infinite  mind  working 
through  the  agency  of  finite  man  ? 

Daniel  Webster. 

Daniel  was  the  youngest  son  of  Judge  Webster  and 
his  second  wife.  He  was  born  at  Salisbury,  New  Hamp- 
shire, January  18th,  1782.  He  was  a  delicate,  sickly  boy, 
and  his  father,  early  perceiving  that  his  son  was  likely  to 
be  physically  unfitted  for  severe  bodily  labor,  therefore 
sought  to  give  him  an  education  that  would  allow  of  his- 
entering  some  of  the  professions. 

The  schools  in  that  part  of  New  Hampshire  at  that 
time  were  poor,  yet  at  one  of  these  young  Daniel  re- 
ceived the  rudiments  of  his  education.  He  was  noted  a& 
a  correct  and  fluent  reader  at  an  early  age,  otherwise  he 
exhibited  no  unusual  talent.  He  delighted  in  the  boyish 
pastimes  of  fishing,  hunting  and  playing.  He  was 
obliged  to  assist  in  running  his  father's  saw-mill,  which 
he  has  since  affirmed,  was  the  best  school  that  he  ever 
attended  He  would  take  his  book  with  him,  and  when 
the  saw  had  been  set  and  the  water  turned  on,  he  was 
sure  of  fifteen  minutes  of  quiet  before  the  log  would 
need  his  attention,  and  these  intervals  were  given  to  hi& 
book. 

They  possessed  but  few  volumes  ;  these  were  read  and 
re-read  until  they  were  learned  by  heart.  There  was. 
also  a  small  public  library  from  which  he  derived  con- 
siderable benefit. 

Mr  Webster  intended  making  a  school-teacher  or 
Dai>iel,  and  finding  that  he  had  advanced  in  his  studies 
beyond  the  scope  of  the  district  school,  he  was  sent  to 
i  the  Academy  at  Exeter.   Here  he  made  rapid  progress. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


91 


but  could  not  overcome  his  oataral  timidiiy. 

At  the-  end  of  the  first  inonth  the  tutor  made  this  re- 
mark •  "  Webster,  you  will  pass  into  the  other  room 
and  join  a  higher  class.  Boys,"  he  added,  to  young 
Daniel's  classmates,  bid  Webster  adieu,  you  will  never 
eee  him  again."  ,  ,  . 

Judge  Webster,  not  bemg  able  to  give  his  son  a 
thorough  course  at  Exeter,  Daniel,  ere  long,  was  called 
home  and  placed  in  the  family  of  Rev.  Samuel  Wood,  of 
the  neighboring  town  of  Boscawen.  The  whole  charge 
for  board  and  tuition  was  one  dollar  a  week. 

Daniel's  father  was  so  well  pleased  with  his  progress 
at  Exeter,  that  he  determined  to  tax  every  energy  in 
order  to  send  the  young  fellow  to  college. 

While  on  one  of  their  rides  to  Boscawen,  his  father 
made  known  his  intentions.  "I  remember,"  says  Webster, 
in  after  years,  "the  very  hill  which  we  were  ascending, 
through  deep  snow,  in  a  New  England  sleigh,  when  my 
father  told  me  what  he  proposed  doing.  1  could  not 
speak.  How  could  he,  I  thought,  with  so  large  a  family 
and  such  a  small  income,  think  of  incurring  so  great  an 
expense  for  me.  A  warm  glow  ran  through  my  pulses, 
and  1  leaned  my  head  upon  my  father's  shoulder,  and 
wept  with  deep  emotion." 

For  a  year  and  a  half  Daniel  studied  manfully  under 
Mr.  Wood's  supervision,  and  then,  in  the  autumn  of 
1737,  he  entered  the  Freshman  Class  of  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, engaging  to  make  up  his  deficiency  by  extra  study. 
He  spent  four  years— a  faithful  student— in  college.  He 
was  fond  of  Latin,  and  learned  it  so  well  that  in  after 
years  he  read  the  Roman  authors  with  pleasure.  Greek 
and  mathematics  he  cared  nothing  about ;  but  he  was 
an  indefatigable  reader,  and  it  was  from  the  college 
library,  rather  than  from  his  text  books,  that  he  derived 
the  most  of  his  learning.  History  and  English  literature 
were  his  favorite  reading  through  life.  Biography,  also, 
he  particularly  admired.  While  at  Dartmouth,  much  of 
his  timidity  disappeared,  so  that  he  was  able  to  take  a 
part  in  the  Society  debates.  Here  he  won  distinction, 
and  when  but  eighteen  years  of  age  he  delivered  a 
Fourth  of  July  oration,  which  was  spoken  of  as  an  ad- 
mirable effort  for  so  young  a  man. 

During  college  vacations,  Daniel  taught  school  to 
Ughten  the  load  of  expense  resting  upon  his  father. 
His  earnings,  in  part,  were  devoted  to  another  purpose. 
He  was  deeply  attached  to  his  brother  Ezekiel,  and  he 
was  ambitious  that  he,  too,  should  enter  upon  a  col- 
legiate course. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Daniel  won  his  father's 
consent  to  this  plan  Toil  and  hardships  had  brought 
infirmities  upon  the  Judge,  and  he  also  was  much  in 
debt,  and  depending  mainly  upon  his  salary  of  four 
hundred  a  year  as  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas, 
for  the  support  of  his  remaining  family.  His  other  sons 
were  married,  and  had  families  of  their  own,  and  Mr. 
Webster  was  almost  involuntarily  leaning  upon  Ezekiel 
as  the  staff  of  his  declining  years,  and  for  the  support 
of  himself  and  wife  and  two  unmarried  daughters. 

But,  without  doubt,  Daniel  made  an  irresistible  plea, 
for  after  a  whole  night's  conversation  with  his  brother, 
the  cordial  assent  was  gained. 

The  Judge  lived  only  for  his  children,  and  was  willing 
to  sacrifice  his  property  for  their  benefit.  But  there  were 
mother  and  sisters.    They,  too,  must  be  consulted. 

Said  the  generous,  trusting  mother :  I  have  lived 
long  enough  in  this  world,  and  have  been  happy  in  my 
children.  If,  therefore,  Daniel  and  Ezekiel  will  promise 
me  to  care  for  my  old  age,  I  will  gladly  consent  to  the 
sale  of  all  our  property,  that  they  may  enjoy  what  re- 
mains after  the  debt  has  been  paid." 

Here  the  whole  family  was  affected  to  tears  ;  but  the 
full  sacrifice  was  not  demanded,  because  a  part  of 
Daniel's  earnings  helped  defray  the  expenses  of  his 
brother's  studies  while  preparing  for  coUege.  After 
leaving  college,  Daniel  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of 
the  law  until  his  father's  wanmg  health  showed  him  the 
necessity  of  obtaining  paying  employment  to  aid  in  the 
support  of  the  family.  He  sought  for  and  obtained  the 
place  of  Principal  of  the  Academy  at  Freyburg,  Maine 
at  a  salary  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year! 
Out  of  this  he  must  pay  two  dollars  a  week  for  board! 
In  order  to  increase  his  slender  income  he  devoted  his  eve- 
nings to  copying  deeds— a  labor  which  he  detested— and 
earned  money  eiiough,  in  this  way,  to  allow  of  the 
greater  part  of  his  salary  to  go  to  pay  Ezekiel's  expenses. 

Daniel  was  poor.  His  clothing  was  threadbare  and 
©lit  at  the  heels,  but  with  keen  perceptions  as  to  the 


ludicrous,  even  in  his  own  poverty-strleken  afifairs,  he 
never  lost  the  rare  and  vivacious  manner  so  peculiar  to 
him.  After  closing  his  engagement  at  Freyburg,  he 
went  back  to  his  legal  studies,  but  his  little  hoard  of 
money  was  soon  spent,  and  he  went  to  Boston  to  try  and 
find  employment.  He  had  but  one  acquaintance  in  that 
town,  Dr.  Cyrus  Perkins,  then  a  struggling  young  physi- 
cian, who  had  opened  a  private  school  to  enable  him  to 
live  while  he  was  establishing  himself  in  his  profession. 
"When  Dr.  Perkins  thought  himself  in  good  enough 
ractice  to  dispense  with  his  school-teaching,  Daniel 
astened  home  to  secure  Ezekiel's  services  for  the 
vacant  situation.  The  Faculty  at  Dartmouth  allowed 
him  to  assume  the  charge  without  sundering  his  connec- 
tion with  the  college,  on  condition  of  his  keeping  up 
with  his  class  by  private  study,  a  condition  which  he 
faithfully  fulfilled. 

Ezekiel  acquitted  himself  so  well  in  the  avocation, 
that  he  not  only  supported  himself,  but  was  able  to  aid 
Daniel  to  come  back  to  finish  his  legal  studies. 

When  Daniel,  at  his  brother's  summons,  left  home  to 
tetum  to  Boston  to  go  on  with  his  schooling,  he  was 
almost  penniless,  and  had  no  acquaintances  in  the  town 
but  the  doctor  and  his  brother.  He  hardly  knew  what 
to  do.    He  could  not  remain  idle. 

To  Christopher  Gore,  an  eminent  lawyer  of  Massa- 
chusetts— afterwards  Governor  of  the  State  and  U.  S. 
Senator — who  had  just  returned  to  Boston  from  London, 
where  he  had  resided  as  U.  S  Agent  under  Jay's  Treaty, 
the  young  man  applied  for  the  situation  of  law-student 
and  clerk.  Gore  was  settling  down  to  practice  his  pro- 
fession, when,  as  Webster  narrates,  a  young  man  as  little 
known  to  the  great  lawyer  as  Daniel  himself,  undertook 
the  task  of  introduction.  Webster  spoke  of  his  shock- 
ing embarrassment,  as  he  briefly  but  frankly  explained 
his  circumstances,  after  apologizing  for  the  unwarrant- 
able intrusion  upon  a  stranger.  He  spoke  of  his  wishes, 
hopes  and  ambitions,  offering  to  send  to  New  Hampshire 
for  letters  to  confirm  his  statements.  The  great  lawyer 
heard  him  through  with  good  nature,  questioned  and 
talked  with  him  for  half  an  hour,  and  finished  by  taking 
him  at  his  word,  and  engaged  him  on  the  spot 

He  stayed  and  studied  and  worked  for  Mr.  Gore  some 
nine  months,  attending  the  courts,  studying  chiefly  in 
Common  Law,  but  tracing  it  back  to  its  sources  in  the 
old  Latin  and  Norman-French.  After  leaving  Mr.  Gore, 
or  rather,  just  before  completing  his  legal  studies,  he 
was  offered  the  clerkship  in  his  father's  court  with  a 
good  salary,  but  his  patron  set  his  face  steadily  against 
his  accepting  it,  and  urged  him  to  persevere  and  finish 
the  course  at  any  sacrifice.  Daniel  yielded  to  Mr.  Gore's 
argument,  and  not  long  after  was  admitted  to  the  bar 
in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  in  Boston.  His  patron 
prophesied  future  eminence  for  the  young  aspirant  of 
legal  fame,  and  his  predictions  proved  correct. 

The  next  year  after  commencing  practice,  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  Bar  of  the  Supeiior  Court  of  New  Hamp- 
shire 

Then  his  father  died,  cutting  the  bonds,  as  it  were, 
that  held  young  Webster  to  his  native  town,  and  he  re- 
signed his  growing  practice  there  to  Ezekiel,  while  he 
removed  to  Portsmouth.  Here  he  came  in  contact  with 
the  ablest  men  of  the  age,  men  who  had  arrived  to  great 
eminence  in  their  profession,  yet  who  recognized  the 
talent  in  Daniel  Webster  that  placed  him  as  a  worthy 
co-laborer  among  them.  It  was  here  while  contending 
with  formidable  rivals,  that  Webster  developed  the 
prowess  of  a  mighty  intellect. 

Mr.  Webster,  in  1808,  married  Grace  Fletcher.  She 
bore  him  three  sons  and  a  daughter.  But  one  of  these, 
Fletcher  Webster,  survived  him,  and  he  fell  at  the  head 
of  his  regiment  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run. 

In  1812,  Webster  was  elected  to  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. This  Congress  is  conspicuous  in  our  history 
for  the  number  of  great  men  who  served  in  the  Lower 
House— Clay,  Calhoun,  Lowndes,  Pickering,  Gaston  and 
Forsyth.  Among  these  giants,  Mr.  Webster  sat  as  an 
equal.  When  he  delivered  his  first  speech  in  the  House, 
his  hearers  were  taken  by  storm.  Competent  judges 
foretold  that  he  would  be  one  of  the  most  prominent 
statesmen  in  America.  After  this  he  was  elected  to 
Congress. 

During  the  recesses  of  Congress,  he  devoted  himseli 
to  his  profession,  in  the  practice  of  which  he  was  alreadjf 
excelling,  and  in  which  he  afterwards  towered  pre-emi- 
nent over  his  competitors. 

As  an  orator  he  stands  almost  unrivalled-    His  massive 


92 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


brain,  unaided  by  influence  or  Influential  friends,  his 
massive  intellect,  aided  only  by  indefatigable  persevere- 
ance,  raised  him  to  that  lordly  eminence  side  by  side 
with  America's  wonderfully  gifted  sons. 

Allow  us  to  quote,  in  connection  with  this  biography, 
a  part  of  one  of  Daniel  Webster's  speeches.    He  said  : 

I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  look  beyond  the  Union 
to  see  what  may  be  hidden  in  the  dark  recesses  behind. 
I  have  not  accustomed  myself  to  hang  over  the  precipice 
of  disunion,  to  see  whether  1  can  fathom  the  abyss  below, 
nor  could  I  regard  him  as  a  safe  counsellor  who  might 
be  considering  how  tolerable  might  be  the  condition  of 
the  people  after  the  Union  was  broken  up  or  destroyed. 
While  the  Union  lasts,  we  have  high,  exciting,  gratifying 
prospects  spread  out  before  us  and  our  children.  Be- 
yond that,  I  seek  not  to  lift  the  veil.  God  grant  that  in 
my  day,  at  least,  that  curtain  may  never  rise.  When  my 
eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold,  for  the  last  time,  the  sun  in 
Heaven,  may  1  not  see  him  shining  on  the  broken  and 
dishonored  fragments  of  a  once  glorious  Union ;  on 
States  dissevered,  discordant  and  belligerent;  on  a 
land  rent  with  civil  feuds,  and  drenched,  it  may  be,  with 
fraternal  blood.  Oh,  let  their  last  glance  rather  behold 
the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Republic,  now  known  and 
honored  throughout  the  earth,  without  one  stripe  erased, 
or  one  single  star  obscured,  Its  ample  folds  drifting  upon 
the  wind,  wearing  the  dear  old  motto,  'Liberty  and 
Union,  now  a7id  forever,  one  and  inseparable.'  " 

This  outburst  of  eloquence  on  the  part  of  Webster, 
completely  silenced  those  who  were  opposed  to  these 
sentiments. 

Daniel  Webster's  career  as  a  statesman  was  long  and 
brilliant.  Who  would  have  dared  to  foretell  this  in  his 
obscure  and  impoverished  boyhood  ?  Verily,  what  great 
results  may  follow  from  small  beginnings.  Mr.  Web- 
ster's health  had  been  failing  for  some  time,  when  he 
met  with  a  serious  accident  that  caused  a  fatal  termina- 
tion to  his  illness.  He  was  thrown  from  a  carriage  near 
Marshfield,  and  after  that  he  failed  rapidly,  dying  Oc- 
tober 24th,  1852,  aged  seventy  years. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  was  anxious  to 
give  him  a  public  burial,  but  Mr.  Webster  instructed 
otherwise.  He  wished  for  no  ostentatious  display,  and 
his  wishes  were  heeded.  On  Friday,  October  29th,  the 
remains  of  the  dead  man  were  laid  in  an  open  coflSn 
under  the  old  elm  tree,  the  shade  of  whose  branches 
had  been  so  grateful  to  him  in  life  ;  *'and  around  him," 
says  Mr.  HiUiard,  "  was  the  glorious  autumn  day  land- 
scape that  he  loved,  and  above  him  was  nothing  but  the 
wide  blue  dome  of  the  heavens.  The  sunshine  fell  upon 
the  dead  face,  and  the  wind  blew  over  and  dallied  with 
his  hair  He  was  an  ardent  lover  of  nature,  and  the 
scene  suggested  a  child  gathered  into  the  maternal  arms 
and  resting  on  the  mother's  lap." 

A  vast  crowd  from  all  parts  of  the  Union  congregated 
to  take  part  in  the  last  ceremonies,  and  long  processions 
passed  by  to  look  their  last  on  the  face  which  New  Eng- 
land loved  so  well. 

In  the  crowd  walked  a  plain,  unknown  man,  dusty 
and  in  humble  garb,  who,  as  he  looked  upon  the  calm, 
grand  face  of  the  still  sleeper,  unconsciously  spoke 
words  that  interpreted  the  feelings  of  the  assembled 
multitude.  Said  he :  "  Daniel  Webster,  the  world 
without  you  will  seem  lonesome." 

Six  sturdy  New  England  farmers,  when  the  funeral 
services  were  over,  lifted  the  coffin  to  their  shoulders 
and  thus  bore  it  to  the  grave,  where — 

"  Beyond  the  rock-waste  and  the  river — 
Beyond  the  Ever  and  the  Never ;  " 
fche  great  statesman's  body  was  laid  down  to  its  eternal 
rest. 


German  Students. 

It  will  interest  our  readers  to  learn  something  about 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Heidelberg  students. 
They  are  divided  into  two  classes  ;  those  who  come  for 
real  study,  remain  in  comparative  obscurity,  and  those 
who  do  not  work,  the  "corps  students."  These  latter 
make  all  the  life  and  gaiety  of  this  otherwise  quiet  town. 
Study  is  to  most  of  them  a  secondary  consideration,  and 
to  some  no  consideration  at  all.  There  are  five  corps — 
named  after  the  districts  from  which  the  members  origi- 
nally came:  Westphalia,  Rheinland,  Swabia,  &c.,  and 
each  corps  has  its  particular  color,  of  which  the  students' 
caps  are  made.   These  caps  are  very  pretty— black  v  el- 


vet  embroidered  in  gold,  blue  with  silver,  green  and 
silver,  white  velvet  and  black,  and  various  other  styles. 

The  Heidelberg  corps  students  are  much  condemned 
by  foreigners,  on  account  of  their  dueling  propensities. 
'  One  sees  the  students  going  about  with  patches  and 
scars  on  their  faces  in  all  directions ;  two  or  three  have 
the  tips  of  their  noses  taken  clean  off.  These  wounds 
are  the  result  of  the  duels,  or,  more  properly,  fencing 
matches.  They  fence  with  fine,  sharp  swords,  having 
the  eyes  and  vital  parts  protected,  so  that  no  serious 
mjury  can  ensue,  though  they  do  receive  terrible  cuts 
occasionally.  The  scars  remain,  in  many  instances,  for 
a  lifetime ;  but  the  combatants  bear  them  proudly,  even 
if  they  are  inflicted  unnecessarily. 

The  duels  are  fought  usually  without  provocation  be- 
tween students  of  different  corps,  though  sometimes 
they  are  "affairs  of  honor." 

The  writer  once  witnessed  a  most  melancholy  and  im- 
pressive sight— the  funeral  of  a  blue-cap  student  who 
was  drowned  in  the  Neckar  a  short  time  before.  At 
nightfall,  a  long  procession  of  all  the  students,  in  dress 
uniform,  and  each  bearing  a  torch,  wound  slowly 
through  the  town.  A  band  preceded  them,  playing  a 
funeral  march.  Next  followed  the  funeral-car,  a  mass 
of  black  velvet  and  flowers,  on  which  reposed  the  coffin, 
with  the  sword  and  cap,  "useless  forever  now,"  crossed 
upon  it.  It  was  indeed  a  touching  sight  to  see  the  faith- 
ful dog  of  the  dead  student  following  close  behind  the 
hearse,  with  an  anxious,  searching  look  in  its  intelligent 
eyes.  The  different  corps  came  next,  in  their  uniform 
of  embroidered  cap,  black  dress-coat,  white  buckskin 
knee-breeches,  top-boots,  gauntlets  to  the  elbow,  sashes 
of  the  corps  colors  over  the  shoulder,  and  a  sword. 
Every  banner  was  draped  in  crape,  and  each  student 
wore  a  mourning  badge.  The  effect  of  the  long  proces- 
sion winding  through  the  narrow  streets,  lighting  bril- 
liantly the  sad  old  houses  in  the  torchlight,  was  indescri- 
bably lovely.  The  tolling  of  church  bells  and  booming 
of  cannon,  continued  till  the  services  at  the  cemetery 
were  concluded.  Then  the  procession  returned  to  a 
square  in  the  town,  formed  in  one  great  circle,  and  sang 
the  grand  college  song,  "Godeamus,"  after  which,  at  a 
given  signal,  every  torch  was  flung  high  into  the  air, 
and  then  left  to  smoulder  and  die  out  on  the  ground. 
The  students  then  dispersed  to  their  various  assembly 
rooms,  to  drown  their  grief  in  copious  draughts  of  beer. 

They  consume  an  enormous  quantity  of  this  delicate 
beverage— though  it  is  a  rare  sight  to  see  a  student  in- 
toxicated. They  are  extremely  gentlemanly  and  polished 
In  manner,  and  faultless  in  dress,  although  they  spend 
the  best  part  of  each  night  in  a  grand  carouse.  They 
meet  different  nights  in  the  week  for  what  is  called  in 
German,  a  "Kneipe."  On  these  occasions  it  is  customary 
to  drink  from  ten  to  fifteen  glasses  of  beer  each ;  large 
beer-mugs  quite  full.  They  vary  the  evening's  enter- 
tainment with  singing,  having  usually  a  band  of  musi- 
cians present  for  accompaniment,  smoking  and  card- 
playing.  They  have  a  variety  of  ways  in  which  they 
drink  toasts ;  for  instance,  when  they  desire  to  drink  to 
the  health  of  certain  fair  ones,  "absent,  but  ever  dear," 
the  glasses  are  clinked  together,  and  then  thrown  out  of 
the  windows,  where  they  are  smashed  to  atoms  in  the 
court  below,  to  avoid  desecration  by  future  use. 

Every  corps  has  half-a-dozen  or  more  dogs,  which  are 
common  property — great,  ugly  brutes,  but  supposed  to 
be  very  valuable  animals.  These  quadrupeds  are  taught 
to  drink  beer  at  an  early  age,  and  are  as  inordinately 
fond  of  it  as  their  masters. 

The  writer  asked  an  old  professor  if  the  corps-students 
ever  studied.  He  answered  :  Oh,  they  have  so  much  to 
do,  fencing,  dueling,  and  attending  Kneipe,  that  there 
is  really  no  time  for  study !" 

He  was  a  corps-student  himself,  in  his  youth,  and 
spoke  from  experience,  and,  no  doubt,  truthfully. 

No  student  remains  in  a  corps  more  than  a  year  or 
two  ;  then  they  go  to  the  universities,  and  make  up  foi^ 
lost  time  by  hard  study,  and  become  eventually  brilliant 
men.  They  look  back  on  the  time  spent  in  Heidelberg 
as  a  season  of  delightful,  exciting  idleness ;  and,  in  long 
years  after,  there  is  a  green  spot  in  their  hearts  for  the 
happy  days  spent  among  their  colleagues  in  the  corps. 
To  some,  their  system  of  beer-drinking,  dueling,  and 
idling  would  prove  hurtful ;  but  most  of  the  finely-edu- 
cated Germans  were  corps-students  in  their  youth.  Bis- 
marck, for  instance,  bears  still  a  scar  received  in  dueling 
as  they  fight  to-day. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


93 


The  Grave  of  Charlotte  Cushman. 

Seldom  does  a  year  pass  during  which  some  illustrious 
name  is  not  added  to  the  long  list  of  those  who  are 
Bleeping  their  last  sleep  in  the  cemetery  of  Mount  Auburn. 
It  was  in  1876  that  the  grass  grew  for  the  first  time  above 
the  grave  of  Charlotte  Cushman.  In  the  autumn  of 
1874  it  was  that  she,  with  a  friend,  rode  out  there  for  the 
purpose  of  selecting  a  lot,  requestmg  to  be  shown  one 
where  there  was  "an  unobstructed  view  of  Boston." 
She  was  conducted  to  one  a  long  way  from  the  entrance, 
away  over  toward  the  beautiful  country  which  lies  fair 
and  green  and  peaceful  beyond  the  inclosure  of  this 
city  of  the  dead,  to  reach  which  she  had  to  pass  the 
graves  of  many  of  her  old  friends,  of  whom  she  spoke 
tenderly.  When  she  arrived  at  the  small  triangular  lot 
designated,  she  stopped,  satisfied,  and  gazing  yearningly 
at  the  distant  roofs  and  spires,  she  said,  "See  !  yonder 
lies  dear  old  Boston,"  and  expressed  her  great  delight 
in  the  place  she  had  chosen,  saying,  "  This  is  a  delight- 
ful spot ; "  and  returning  to  it  for  a  second  visit  some 
weeks  later,  she  seemed  happy  in  the  certainty  that  her 
last  resting  place  was  to  be  in  sight  of  the  city  of  her  birth, 

To  that  "  delightful  spot,"  in  a  little  more  than  a  year 
afterward,  she  was  borne,  from  the  very  Stone  Chapel, 
the  old  King's  Chapel,  in  which  she  had  been  wont  to 
worship,  before  whose  altar  her  lifeless  body  had  rested 
for  a  few  hours  while  the  funeral  honors  were  being 
paid,  while  friends  and  strangers  and  the  girls  of  the 
Cushman  School  heaped  flowers — laurel  and  ivy,  pond 
lilies,  forget-rae-nots,  and  immortelles — upon  the  casket 
where  she  lay,  with  a  lily-of-the-valley  in  her  hand,  while 
along  the  arches  of  the  venerable  church  thrilled  the 
solemn  music  of  chant  and  hymn. 

Not  many  weeks  after  her  death,  while  rambling  about 
Mount  Auburn,  we  came  upon  her  solitary  grave.  The 
prospect  was  enchanting.  Turning  a  little  to  the  right, 
we  saw  scattered  farm-houses,  villages,  wooded  knolls, 
and  green  fields,  making  a  lovely  landscape,  outlined  by 
gentle  hills,  and  in  the  near  valley  a  river  and  meadows, 
willow-skirted.  In  front,  in  full  view,  perhaps  four 
mDes  away,  was  "  dear  old  Boston,"  the  stately  pile  of 
buildings  crowned  by  the  burnished  dome  of  the  State- 
house,  under  whose  shadow  was  the  King's  Chapel,  and 
beyond  it  the  old  historic  North  Church,  close  by  her 
birth-place,  whose  chimes  had  been  among  the  most 
familiar  sounds  of  her  childhood. 

Her  grave,  as  yet  unsodded,  was  in  the  centre  of  the 
three-cornered  lot  on  the  fair  slope  looking  toward  the 
sunrise  ;  and  so,  with  her  face  toward  the  city  she  loved, 
and  her  feet  to  the  east,  she  awaits  the  resurrection 
morning. 

She  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  many  whom  she  knew 
in  life,  like  herself  distinguished.  The  grave  of  Everett 
is  not  far  off  ;  that  of  Pierpont  is  on  the  rising  ground 
just  above,  marked  by  a  temple-shaped  monument  of  gray 
stone  with  sunken  arches  ;  and  a  little  farther  on  is  the 
plain,  open  lot  where  the  Sumner  household  are  gathered, 
save  those  who  went  down  into  the  sea— father,  mother, 
and  children  under  the  small  white  stones  in  a  range  at 
the  back,  the  great  Senator  in  front,  alone,  as  was  his 
life.  It  is  simply  a  level  swarded  space,  with  no  green 
thing  growing  out  the  grass  ,  not  a  flower  or  vine,  and 
not  a  tree  except  one  tall,  gaunt  oak,  blasted  and  storm- 
scathed.  On  that  April  evening  its  aspect  was  most 
forlorn  ;  and,  to  add  pathos  to  the  scene,  a  little  hang- 
ing nest  still  clung  to  the  outermost  tmg,  showing  that 
a  bird  had  once  made  its  home  and  reared  its  brood 
there,  and  given  the  cheerfulness  of  its  presence  and 
song  to  the  place. 

Not  far  away  is  the  block  of  granite  from  over  the 
seas  which  indicates  the  burial-place  of  Agassiz.  A 
bowlder  taken  from  near  the  lower  glacier  of  the  Aar  in 
Switzerland,  and  set  up  in  its  native  roughness,  except 
that  a  space  was  made  smooth  to  receive  the  inscription, 
which  simply  records  his  time  and  place  of  birth  and 
death.  It  is  scarcely  more  than  four  feet  in  height,  an 
unpretending  stone,  dark,  with  gray  and  greenish  stains, 
and  decorated  by  a  vine  which  has  been  trained  over  it. 
The  centre  of  the  lot  is  occupied  by  a  rustic  cross  set  in 
a  heap  of  rocks  like  a  cairn.  A  photograph  of  this  fit- 
ting monument  hangs  on  the  walls  of  the  Agassiz  Mu- 
seum, where  the  newly  executed  and  life-like  bust  of 
the  "teacher,"  as  he  liked  to  call  himself,  is  a  constant 
reminder  of  his  genial  presence. 


In  a  neighboring  lot  are  members  of  Margaret  Fuller'e 
family  ;  one  stone  is  to  the  memory  of  Arthur,  chaplain 
of  one  of  the  Massachusetts  regiments,  who,  when  there 
was  a  call  for  volunteers  for  Fredericksburg,  was  among 
the  first  to  go,  and  was  shot  while  on  the  bridge  of  boats 
— fearless  in  arms  as  he  had  been  in  reform.  No  one 
who  ever  heard  this  brave  preacher  in  his  pulpit  could 
forget  him — strong-featured  and  fair-haired  like  his  sis- 
ter, with  the  same  prominent  forehead,  and  something 
of  her  magnetic  power  in  manner  and  utterance.  His 
likeness  is  cut  in  the  marble  head-stone,  and  his  own 
words  are  these,  "I  must  do  something  for  my  country." 
Another  stone  stands  for  Margaret's  child,  the  beautiful 
boy  who  was  washed  ashore  after  the  wreck,  and  buried 
by  the  sailors  in  a  little  grave  which  they  hollowed  out 
for  him  among  the  sand  heaps  on  the  beach,  and  after- 
wards brought  away  by  her  parents  to  Mount  Auburn — 
all  that  the  sea  gave  back  to  remember  Margaret  Fuller 
by.  The  inscription  is  followed  by  this  unusual  bit  of 
poetry  : 

"  Though  here  the  offspring  that  we  loved 
Unfolded  but  the  early  shoot, 
And  formed  this  little  tender  root 
To  be  transplanted  and  removed, 
Yet  'twas  a  signal  favor  given 
Above  the  parents'  paltry  worth, 
To  be  a  nursery  on  earth 
For  the  eternal  seed  of  heaven." 
In  memorial  of  herself  and  Ossoli,  there  is  a  marble 
slab  with  appropriate  emblems  for  each— a  sword,  with 
oak  leaves  for  the  one  ;  a  book,  with  flowers  and  olive 
leaves,  for  the  other.   The  stone  is  arched  and  sur- 
mounted with  a  cross ;  in  the  centre  of  the  arch  is 
sculptured  her  head  in  profile,  with  the  strong  intellec- 
tual characteristics  so  familiar  in  her  portraits,  but  in 
general  effect  far  from  pleasing. 

Returning  in  the  twilight,  we  passed  the  sombre  in- 
closure where  N.  P.  Willis  is  buried  ;  the  exquisite  cross 
ornamented  with  ferns  which  bears  the  name  of  his 
famous  sister ;  the  monument,  with  the  fit  design  of  a 
broken  lyre  and  laurel  crown,  in  memory  of  Frances 
Sargent  Osgood ;  the  simple  drab-colored  stone  where, 
beside  his  wife  and  soldier  son,  lies  Rufus  Choate  ;  the 
long  ridge  where  the  wife  of  Longfellow  sleeps  ;  and  the 
graves  of  Cbanning  and  Spurzheun. 


A  Man  of  the  "World. 

BY  BOSA  V.  KALSTON. 

He  is  commonly  recognized  as  a  man  of  reckless  de- 
meanor, indifference  as  to  moral  propensities,  and  mudi 
outward  show  of  a  lack  of  humanity.  Un  account  of 
his  habitual  contact  with  the  world  at  large,  he  has  a 
more  thorough  insight  into  human  nature  than  one  who 
confines  himself  to  a  single  sphere.  He  is  prepared  for 
any  changes  and  schisms  that  may  take  place  in  society, 
and  reads  with  like  complacency  the  newspaper  account 
of  the  shocking  suicide  of  John  Smith,  the  Itist  social 
scandal,  or  the  unexpected  bankruptcy  of  the  most 
prominent  mercantile  firm  of  the  metropolis.  He  makes 
no  religious  pretensions,  but  is  not  infrequently  found 
to  be  more  charitable  than  those  who  do.  He  is  not  of 
the  Pharisee,  stand-aside-that-my-robes-may-not-be-pol- 
luted  kind.  He  is  mixed  with  all  classes,  and  under- 
stands how  to  excuse  their  foibles.  All  his  deeds  of 
charity  are  done  in  the  dark,  and  he  is  more  disconcerted 
at  being  charged  with  secret  benevolence  than  open  de- 
bauchery. He  takes  a  more  extended  view  of  the  world, 
has  no  narrow,  contracted  ideas,  and  is  by  nature  more 
generously  disposed  towards  mankind  than  he  who  asso- 
ciates with  only  a  "  select  few."  He  is  not  a  miser,  but 
is  noted  for  his  liberality  toward  his  friends.  He  is  far 
more  likely  to  drain  his  purse  for  the  erection  of  a  church 
edifice  or  orphans'  home  than  many  who  parade  their 
religion  in  well-kept  pews  on  the  Sabbath.  Indeed,  the 
reckless  manner  in  which  he  spends  his  money  may  be 
noted  as  one  of  his  prime  faults.  He  is  not  remarkable 
for  any  very  strong  attachments  ;  yet  he  cares  for  all  his 
friends  in  a  disinterested  way,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  the 
cosmopolitan  principle  of  his  nature.  He  regards  the 
world  as  a  world,  and  not  as  individuals.  With  all  his 
faultc!  he  is  intinitely  more  to  be  preferred  than  the 
hab'  aal  recluse.  Of  the  two  he  is  likely  to  make  a 
k.'  aer  husband,  a  more  indulgent  pari^nt,  a  more  faith- 
ful Xriend,  and  a  more  reliable  politician  than  the  latter. 


94 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


TO  A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  LADY  PAINTING, 

What  art  thou  painting,  lady-fair? 

A  forest  glade — a  leafy  lair 

Into  which  the  shy  little  sunbeams  pass, 

To  dance  with  the  fairies  over  the  grass? 

Or  a  "love  of  a  cottage"  down  in  a  dell. 
Where  "  fancy  pictures  "  Love  might  dwell, 
Smothered  in  roses  and  covered  with  thatch, 
After  the  fun  of  a  runaway  match? 

Or  is  it  the  face  of  a  girlish  friend, 
Whose  thoughts  and  feelings  joyously  blend 
With  the  thoughts  and  feelings  so  maidenly  wise, 
That  shine  in  the  depths  of  your  own  bright  eyes? 

Or  is  it  some  ruined  old  castle's  tower — 
Some  grim  memento  of  lawless  power 
And  of  days  when  love  was  mingled  with  feud. 
When  maidens  (like  you)  were  roughly  wooed? 

Or  is-  it,  perchance  a  dear  little  child 
Crowned  with  a  chaplet  of  cowslips  wild. 
With  innocent  joy  in  its  angel  face 
At  the  sight  of  its  own  sweet  childish  grace? 

Or  is  it  (forgive  me)  one  dearer  still, 
To  whom  thou  hast  promised  thy  clear  "I  will"? 
Aye,  that  is  the  picture  that  pleaseth  thee  best; 
And  he?  Oh  he  is  simply  blest  I 

W.  A.  G1BB8. 


Charles  G-oodyear  and  the  Mannfacture 
of  India  Rubber. 

One  day  in  the  year  1833  a  man  Dy  the  name  of  Charles 
Goodyear,  of  the  firm  of  A.  Goodyear  &  Sons,  hardware 
merchants  in  Philadelphia,  chanced  to  have  business 
which  required  his  presence  in  the  city  of  New  York  for 
several  days.  While  there  he  happened  to  pass  the 
store  of  the  Roxbury  India  Rubber  Company.  He  had 
read  much  of  the  utility  of  the  then  recently  invented 
India  rubber  life-preservers,  and  his  curiosity  being 
aroused  he  entered  the  store,  and,  after  a  short  talk, 
purchased  a  life-preserver  and  carried  it  with  him  to 
Philadelphia.  Soon  after  his  return  he  failed  in  business 
and  became  heavily  involved  in  debt. 

While  examining  the  life  preserver,  several  months 
afterward,  an  improvement  in  the  manner  of  inflating  it 
occurred  to  him,  and  he  hastened  to  New  York  for  the 


purpose  of  laying  ft  before  the  agent  of  whom  he  had 
purchased,  with  a  view  of  selling  his  right  to  the  im- 
provement, and  thus  hoping  to  realize  a  sum  which 
would  be  suflBcient  to  pay  his  debts  and  set  him  on  his 
feet  once  more. 

The  agent,  however,  had  a  sorry  tale  to  tell  him.  The 
first  pair  of  India  Rubber  shoes  ever  seen  in  this  country 
were  brought  here  from  South  America  in  1820.  Until 
1823  they  were  handed  about  merely  as  a  curiosity,  when 
a  shipment  of  five  hundred  pairs,  soon  followed  by 
another  of  five  thousand  pairs  was  made. 

These  shoes  at  once  sold  for  a  very  high  price,  not  less 
than  sixteen  dollars  per  pair.  This  price, together  with  the 
wonderful  cheapness  of  the  material  of  which  they  were 
made,  had  the  effect  of  creating,  as  it  were,  an  India 
rubber  mania,  similar  to  the  petroleum  mania  which 
occurred  some  thirty  years  later,  and  by  which  so  many 
were  ruined.  One  of  the  most  important  results  of  the 
mania  was  the  formation  of  the  Roxbury  India  Rubber 
Company,  before  mentioned,  with  a  capital  of  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  But  they  encountered  new 
and  tremendous  difficulties,  for  it  was  found  that  the 
shoes  would  not  stand  the  climate  of  our  Northern 
winters  ;  an  exposure  to  a  cold  at  which  water  would 
congeal  would  render  them  as  hard  and  as  brittle  as 
glass,  while  a  temperature  of  one  hundred  degrees 
would  convert  them  into  a  mass  of  sticky  gum.  In  short, 
the  agent  said  that  unless  some  way  of  remedying  these 
I  two  evils  w  as  found,  the  Roxbury  Company,  as  well  as 
I  all  other  companies  of  the  same  kind  would  soon  be- 
come bankrupt. 

This  catastrophe  did  occur  a  short  time  after  this  con- 
versation, to  the  ruin  of  hundreds  of  prominent  business 
men  in  New  York  and  elsewhere,  and  with  it  died  out 
all  interest  in  the  manufacture  and  utility  of  India 
rubber,  except  in  the  mind  of  one  single  individual,  and 
that  individual  was  Charles  Goodyear,  bankrupt  iron 
merchant,  and  a  native  of  Massachusetts. 

On  his  return  to  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Goodyear  began  his 
experiments.  He  purchased  a  few  pounds  of  India 
rubber.  He  melted  it,  pounded  it,  rolled  it,  kneaded  it, 
manipulated  it  in  every  manner,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

He  read  about  it ;  he  talked  of  it  with  professors  and 
physicians  and  other  learned  men  ;  he  pondered  upon  it 
by  day  ;  he  dreamed  of  it  by  night,  but  without  success. 
He  mixed  it  with  magnesia,  turpentine,  alcohol,  and 
tried  every  way  imaginable  to  gain  his  object,  but  the 
substance  presented  the  same  diflSculties  as  before. 
Once  he  thought  he  had  succeded  by  mixing  quick  lime 
with  the  gum.  He  made  a  few  specimens  of  cloth, 
which  presented  an  elegant  appearance.  But  he  soon 
learned,  to  his  dismay,  that  the  weakest  acid,  such  as 
orange  juice,  dropped  upon  the  cloth,  at  once  changed 
it  to  its  original  condition.  One  morning  as  he  was 
going  to  his  shop,  he  met  an  Irishman,  in  his  employ,  who 
was  highly  elated,  having,  as  he  thought,  discovered  the 
process  so  much  sought  for.  He  had  on  a  pair  of  pants 
which  h©  had  dipped  in  a  barrel  of  gum.  They  were 
nicely  covered,  as  with  a  varnish,  and  for  a  few  moments 
Mr.  Goodyear  thought  that  perhaps  Pat  had  blundered 
into  the  secret.  The  man  sat  down  on  a  stool  to  his 
work,  and  in  a  few  moments,  on  attem^pting  to  rise, 
found  himself  glued  to  his  seat,  with  his  le^s  stuck 
tightly  together.  He  had  to  be  cut  out  of  his  pants, 
amid  the  laughter  of  the  by-standers. 

Thus  Charles  Goodyear  struggled  on,  sometimes  in  a 
debtor's  prison,  always  without  provisions  for  a  week 
ahead,  for  five  years.  Then  it  was  that  he  made  the 
simple  discovery  which  has  rendered  India  rubber  so 
useful  to  the  world.  It  was  as  follows  :  Take  a  piece 
of  common  sticky  gum,  sprinkle  a  little  sulphur  on  it, 
put  it  in  an  oven  heated  to  a  temperature  of  two  hundred 
and  seventy  degrees,  and  bake  it  for  a  short  time.  It 
comes  out  retaining  all  its  good  qualities,  and  having 
wholly  lost  its  liability  to  harden  in  cold  or  melt  in 
warm  weather.  He  found,  by  subsequent  experiments, 
that  by  varying  the  quantity  of  heat  he  could  mal^e  it  as 
hard  as  ivory  or  as  flexible  as  whale-bone. 

After  this  discovery  the  interest  in  the  manufacture 
of  India  rubber  goods  revived,  and  the  business  has  now 
swelled  to  one  of  immense  magnitude.  For  instance,  a 
single  firm  in  New  York,  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of 
rubber  belting,  annually  sells  two  million  dollars'  worth 
of  belts.  During  the  late  Civil  War  more  than  four 
million  India  rubber  blankets  were  supplied  to  the 
soldiers  of  both  armieSi 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


95 


Patrick  Henry. 

During  this  Centennial  year  our  thoughts  naturally 
and  rightfully  go  back  along  the  course  of  the  young 
republic  and  with  veneration  and  love  we  pause  as  we 
hear  the' names  of  those  heroes  who  came  to  the  front 
when  the  times  ''tried  men's  souls."  How  strong  in 
the  cause  of  justice  they  were  I  What  lovers  of  liberty  ! 
and  the  beautiful  and  useful  manufactures,  inventions 
and  ornaments  which  we  are  now  exhibiting  to  other 
nationalities,  were  ''bought  with  a  price."  Ihe  heroes' 
ashes  rest  in  the  bosom  of  earth  to-day,  but  fresh  mem- 
ories are  revived  in  the  hearts  that  are  throbbing 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  glorious  land. 
It  is  as  if  the  dead  arose  and  walked  in  our  midst  at 
this  time,  so  freshly  do  their  deeds  pass  through  our 
minds. 

Let  us  speak  of  Patrick  Henry,  a  name  permanently 
enrolled  on  the  scroll  of  freedom  with  the  scores  of  other 
brave  men  who  bought  for  us  the  privileges  of  to-day. 

He  was  the  second  son  of  his  parents,  being  born  in 
Hanover  County,  Virginia.  His  family  were  in  easy 
circumstances  and  of  good  character.  As  a  boy  at  school 
he  learned  to  read  and  write,  and  studied  arithmetic. 
At  the  age  of  ten  he  was  taken  home,  his  father  having 
opened  a  school  in  his  own  house.  As  a  scholar  he  was 
rather  indolent,  lacking  the  energy  of  application  that 
makes  a  successful  student.  It  must  be  confessed  that 
he  played  the  truant  at  school,  and  his  father  was  not 
of  the  temperament  to  deal  harshly  with  him.  Patrick 
lacked  the  brusque,  or  boisterous  manner  of  youth. 
When  in  company  he  sat  silent  and  thoughtful.  No 
smile  of  his  answered  the  merry  song  or  jest,  and  often 
after  the  party  was  broken  up  his  parents  would  question 
him  as  to  what  had  been  passing.  He  could  not  detail 
the  conversation,  but  with  the  strictest  fidelity  he  could 
outline  the  character  of  each  person.  This  power  to 
read  character,  to  feel  as  it  were  the  emotions  of  others, 
to  describe  their  sensations,  seemed  a  strange,  inherited, 
intuitive  knowledge,  and  it  doubtless  gave  him  that 
power  over  human  hearts  and  passions  so  strongly  dem- 
onstrated in  his  after  life. 

This  peculiarity  of  disposition  was  all  that  distinguish- 
ed him  from  his  companions,  as  he  was  careless  in 
habits  and  awkward  in  manners.  Being  one  of  a  large 
family,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  set  afloat  in  the 
world  to  earn  his  own  living.  His  father  obtained  him  a 
clerk's  situation  in  a  country  store ;  afterwards,  when 
he  had  obtained  sufiieient  experience,  he  furnished  Pat- 
rick and  his  other  son  William,  a  small  stock  of  goods 
to  start  in  business  on  their  own  responsibility  ;  but  the 
enterprise  was  not  prosperous — for  the  business  was 
disagreeable  to  both,  besides  Patrick's  good  nature  al- 
lowed the  credit  system  too  much  sway,  and  one  can 
easily  judge  that  a  failure  ensued.  While  following  the 
avocation  of  amateur  merchant,  his  only  pastime  was  to 
sit  a  little  back  of  the  company  that  gathers  about  such 
places,  and  while  they  talked  and  laughed  in  utmost 
freedom,  he  read  both  their  minds  and  motives  of  action, 
with  an  accuracy  almost  more  than  mortal  wisdom  gives. 
But,  by-and-by,  when  matters  became  disastrous,  Patrick 
took  upon  himself  the  settling  up  of  the  shattered  busi- 
ness ;  and  then,  undaunted  by  his  hard  experience,  at 
the  early  age  of  eighteen  he  married  a  farmer's  daugh- 
ter ;  but  farming  was  not  his  forte,  and  failure  met  him 
there,  as  it  did  again  when  he  once  more  returned  into 
trade.  During  this  second  period  of  mercantile  life,  he 
devoted  more  of  his  time  to  study  than  to  business.  He 
took  up  geography  and  mastered  it.  Works  of  history 
he  was  deeply  interested  in.  His  powerful  memory 
helped  him  as  nothing  else  could  do. 

Just  when  he  had  closed  up  his  second  store,  Patrick 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  then  a 
youth  of  seventeen,  on  his  way  to  the  William  and  Mary 
College.  Jefferson  speaks  of  him  as  being  rather  coarse 
in  manner,  with  a  passion  for  music,  dancing  and  gay 
humor;  the  latter  amiable  characteristic  winning  him 
very  many  pleasant  friends.  As  a  last  resource  for  his 
talents,  Mr.  Henry  began  studying  law ;  but  he  met  with 
little  encouragement  from  his  friends,  who  imagined 
that  he  lacked  the  perseverance  requisite  to  success  in 
this  calling.  But  as  if  at  last  he  had  found  the  right 
road,  he  progressed  onward  with  zeal,  if  with  but  little 
BV'icess.  For  some  two  or  three  years  he  and  his  family 
>ere  in  abject  poverty,  but  he  retained  So  a  marvellous 
degree  his  aerepe  and  cheer^  al  t  em^er 


Away  back  In  that  remote  period  the  lawful  currency 
of  Virginia  was  tobacco.  This  legal  tender  fluctuated 
more  from  year  to  year  than  our  greenbacks  and  cou- 
pons ;  and  the  payments  of  debts  in  this  way  were  bur- 
densome in  the  extreme. 

The  clergymen  of  the  Established  Church  had  their 
salary  fixed  in  so  many  pounds  of  tobacco,  and  a  move- 
ment being  on  foot  to  have  taxes  and  public  dues  paid 
in  money  at  a  great  discount,  and  the  clergy  having 
accumulated  large  amounts  of  tobacco,  on  which  they 
would  meet  a  great  loss,  a  strife  began  immediately  and 
the  case  was  carried  to  law. 

During  the  ups  and  downs  of  vetoes  and  appeals,  the 
plergy  gained  some  points  and  were  feeling  assured  of 
success,  when  Patrick  Henry,  who  had  consented  to 
'iiake  a  plea  for  the  people,  for  the  first  time  took  his 
%nd  in  the  court-house  as  an  active  member  of  the  bar. 
Some  twenty  clergymen,  the  learned  men  of  the  colony, 
with  the  austere  dignity  of  fierce  critics,  were  arrayed 
before  him,  while  the  court-  room  was  cro",  /ded  to  suffo- 
cation, and  masses  were  without  unable  to  effect  an 
entrance. 

Mr.  Lyons,  advocate  for  the  clergy,  who  were  deter- 
mined to  have  full  price  for  their  hoarded  tobacco  in 
spite  of  the  trouble  that  it  would  give  the  poor  tax  pay- 
ers, wound  up  his  plea  with  a  brilliant  eulogium  on  the 
ministerial  benevolence  of  his  clients. 

Then  Patrick  Henry  arose,  nervous  and  awkward — 
his  tongue  tripping  up  on  the  opening  sentences,  while 
an  ominous  silence  fell  upon  the  assembly ;  and  the 
clergy  exchanged  insinuating,  if  not  insulting  smiles, 
and  the  people  shrank  from  beholding  the  mortifying 
failure  of  their  champion. 

But  immediately  a  marvellous  change  came  over  the 
young  advocate.  He  stood  erect  with  dilating  nostrils, 
flashing  eyes  and  commanding  mien.  The  stammering 
tongue  was  loosed,  and  the  startled  audience  were 
amazed  at  the  graceful  gesture,  clear,  steady  and  ring- 
ing tones  issuing  the  startling  sentence  and  eloquent 
argument.  He  knew  the  case  was  against  him,  but  he 
proved  the  justice  of  the  law  showing  that  a  good  King 
cares  for  his  people  something  as  a  father  feels  for  his 
children  ;  that  when  he  sought  to  annul  good  and  just 
laws  he  became  a  tyrant  and  forfeited  the  claim  of  obe- 
dience from  his  subjects. 

A  voice  cried  out,  "treason,"  but  its  further  utterance 
v/as  hissed  down;  and,  says  Mr.  Wirt,  "attracted  by 
some  gesture,  struck  by  some  majestic  attitude,  enchain- 
ed by  his  lightening  and  darkening  eyes,  and  the  rapid 
and  varied  intonations  of  his  voice,  in  every  part  of  the 
house,  on  the  benches,  in  the  windows,  bent  and  swayed 
the  excited  and  enraptured  multitude.  The  sneering 
faces  first  took  on  an  expression  of  surprise,  then  of 
amazement,  while  the  clergy  precipitately  left  the  as- 
sembly, and  Mr.  Henry's  father  made  no  effort  to  restrain 
the  tears  that  rushed  over  his  face." 

This  was  the  commencement  of  Patrick  Henry's  career. 
The  people  were  proud  of  him,  but  the  nobility  coldly 
viewed  him  as  their  enemy.  Neither  vain  of  applause 
nor  dismayed  by  censure,  this  man  held  supreme  com- 
mand of  his  own  temper  and  manners,  and  after  his 
fame  had  filled  two  continents,  simple  and  natural,  he 
trod  kindly  on  a  level  with  the  humblest  man  in  the 
colonies. 

Unfortunately,  our  space  will  not  permit  us  to  follow 
step  by  step  with  this  brilliant  genius ;  but  we  take  up 
his  life  again  near  the  time  when  the  war  of  the  Revolu- 
tion was  closing  around  the  infant  nation.  The  Stamp 
Act  was  agitating  the  country  to  its  heart's  core,  whcD 
Henry  found  himself  in  an  Assembly  of  aristocrats, 
whose  aim  was  to  keep  the  poorer  class  of  people  in  a 
servile  state,  while  a  distinct  line,  or  class  of  nobility 
was  to  be  maintained.  This  Assembly  was  composed  of 
the  most  brilliant  men  of  the  times,  but  with  them  a 
mind  like  Patrick  Henry's  could  feel  no  sympathy.  The 
gentry  were  embarrassed  by  debts,  and  they  had  met  to 
devise  some  loan-measures,  which  Henry  at  a  glance 
saw  was  simply  to  extricate  themselves,  while  it  would 
hopelessly  embarrass  the  common  people — the  bone  and 
muscle  of  the  colonies. 

He  brought  his  mighty  and  eloquent  tongue  to  bear 
against  the  proposed  measures,  and  he  defeated  them, 
to  the  chagrin  and  abiding  hatred  of  the  nobility.  They 
took  a  petty  revenge  by  ridiculing  the  plain  persou  and 
nelegant  manners  of  the  audacious  rustic  who  had  dared 
to  beard  them  in  their  dens. 


96  THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


When  the  news  of  the  passing  of  the  Stamp  Act 
reached  Virginia,  this  august  body  met,  and  said  there 
was  no  other  course  but  submission.  Not  so  said  Patrick 
Henry.  Now  was  the  time  to  make  matters  square  be- 
tween the  British  King  and  the  American  Colonists. 
Much  excitement  ensued.  A  fierce  debate  occurred  in 
the  House  of  Assembly,  and  Henry  holding  his  ground 
exclaimed  with  vehemence:  "Caesar  had  his  Brutus, 
Charles  the  First  his  Cromwell,  and  George  the  Third" 

 hisses,   cries  and  general  uproar   drowned  his 

speech,  but  without  quailing,  in  the  first  lull  he  finished, 
"ma?/  profit  by  their  example.''^  He  held  his  place  and 
carried  his  points  by  the  majority  of  07ie  vote,  yet  it  was 
sufllcient.  It  has  been  said  of  Henry  that  he  was  one  of 
the  first  moving  forces  of  the  Revolution.  The  tempest 
of  war  gathered  rapidly.  The  quarrel  with  England 
deepened  and  gained  strength.  At  last  the  Congress  of 
the  Colonies  was  summoned  to  meet  in  Philadelphia, 
September  3,  1774.  Virginia  chose  Henry  for  a  delegate, 
and  he  made  the  journey  on  horseback  in  company  with 
Washington  and  Edmund  Pendleton.  He  was  in  his  seat 
at  the  opening  of  the  session.  When  his  turn  came  to 
speak  that  day,  he  arose  slowly  as  if  a  heavy  weight 
rested  upon  him,  but  when  his  mouth  was  opened  it  was 
filled  with  words  of  glowing  eloquence,  that  astonished 
the  deputies.  Then  followed  that  speech  of  his  that 
shall  be  remembered  as  long  as  America  has  a  heroic,  a 
loyal  pulse  beating  In  her  bosom.    He  began  : 

"There  is  but  one  lamp  to  guide  my  feet;  tha^  lamp 
is  experience.  There  is  no  way  of  judging  the  future 
but  by  the  past ;  and  judging  by  the  past,  what  has  there 
been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  Ministry  for  years  to 
solace,  or  sustain  a  hope  in  our  hearts  of  equal  rights  or 
liberty  of  speech  and  action  ?  Is  it  the  insidious  smile 
with  which  our  petition  for  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act 
has  been  received  ?  Sirs,  there  is  a  snare  laid  for  our 
feet.  Shall  we  suffer  ourselves  to  be  betrayed  with  a 
kiss  ?  Ask  how  the  gracious  reception  of  our  petition 
comports  with  the  war-like  preparations  that  seek  to 
environ  us  by  land  and  sea.  Are  fleets  and  armies  neces- 
sary to  a  work  of  love  and  reconciliation?  Have 
we  shown  ourselves  so  intractable  tha.t  force  must  be 
used  to  win  our  love  ?  Sirs,  we  deceive  ourselves. 
These  are  implements  of  war  and  subjugation,  argu- 
ments conclusive  of  Kings?  Gentlemen,  we  are  to 
be  Jm'ced  into  submission.  Great  Britain  has  no  ene- 
mies that  calls  out  these  armies  and  navies.  They 
are  meant  for  us.  They  are  sent  here  to  bind  and  rivet 
upon  us  the  chains  which  the  British  Ministry  have  so 
long  been  foiging.  With  what  shall  we  oppose  them  ? 
Argument  ?  Sirs,  we  have  been  trying  that  ior  years. 
Have  we  any  new  pleadings  to  offer  ?  No,  sirs.  We 
have  petitioned,  we  have  remonstrated,  we  have  suppli- 
cated— our  remonstrances,  supplications  and  petitions 
have  been  spumed  from  the  throne  by  the  foot  of  royalty. 
What  then?  Would  we  be  free^  would  we  preserve  in- 
violate the  privileges  of  home  and  country  ?  we  must 
fight!  1  repeat  it,  sirs" — and  the  measured,  majestic 
tones  thrilled  the  nerves  of  the  listeners — "  We  must 
fight.  An  appeal  to  arms  and  to  the  God  of  Hosts  is  all 
that  is  left  us.  They  tell  us  that  we  are  too  weak  to 
cope  with  so  powerful  an  adversary  ;  but  when  shall  we 
be  stronger  ?  Shall  we  gain  strength  by  weakly  hugging 
the  delusion  of  safety  and  hope  the  while  that  they  are 
binding  us  hand  and  foot  ?  We  are  not  weak.  We  shall 
be  armed  in  a  holy  cause.  That  God  who  holds  the  des- 
tinies of  nations  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand  will  hear  our 
cry.  He  will  aid  us.  The  battle  is  not  to  the  strong 
alone  ;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the  active,  the  brave.  Be- 
sides, gentlemen,  this  state  of  things  is  not  of  our  elect- 
ing. There  is  no  retreat  for  us  but  in  submission  and 
slavery.  Our  chains  aie  forged.  Already  their  clanking 
may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston.  The  war 's  in- 
evitable— and  let  it  come.  1  repeat  it,  gentlemen,  let  it 
come!  It  is  in  vain  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentle- 
men may  cry  'peace — peace' — but  there  is  no  peace. 
The  war  is  actually  begun.  The  next  gale  that  sweeps 
from  the  North  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  re- 
sounding arms.  Our  brethren  are  already  in  the  field. 
Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  would  we  have  ?  Is 
life  so  dear  or  peace  so  sweet  as  to  be  purchased  with 
chains  and  slavery?  Forbid  it,  Almighty  God.  1  know 
not  what  course  others  may  take,  but  as  for  me" — and 
with  knitted  brows  and  working  features,  he  tossed  his 
arms  aloft,  crying  in  tones  swelled  to  the  boldest  note 
of  exclamation: — Oive  me  liberty  or  give  me  ieatJi.^^  , 


A  profound  silence  followed  this  vehement  declara- 
tion. Then,  with  quivering  lips,  the  cry  went  out :  "To 
arms  !"  And  "  to  arms  I  to  arms  "  swelled  into  a  defiant, 
trumpet-peal,  not  again  to  be  drowned  or  hushed  until 
the  proud  young  Republic  burst  her  chains  and  called 
with  stentor  tones  :  "  We're  free  1  we're  free  1" 

Patrick  Henry's  voice,  Patrick  Henry's  eloquence,  was 
like  a  blazing  brand  thrown  among  explosive  combus- 
tibles. His  spirit  permeated  the  colonies.  He  believed 
what  God  asserts,  that  of  one  fi£sh  He  made  all  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth.  He  believed  that  the  whole  human 
family  had  equal  rights,  and  especially  the  birth-right  of 
liberty. 

We  are  glad  that  Patrick  Henry's  private  life  and 
character  were  so  free  from  silly  vanity  and  vain  boast- 
ing. He  was  brilliant  and  gifted,  but  there  was  no  ar- 
rogance ;  and  his  playful,  amiable  and  cheerful  disposi- 
tion was  brought  into  the  very  best  place  of  display 
upon  the  whole  wide  earth — at  lionu. 

He  was  the  centre  and  sun  of  attraction  in  his  family, 
and  the  most  timid  member  fearfd  not  to  draw  nigh  and 
>)ask  in  the  light  of  his  smile. 

Keep  the  memory  of  our  forefathers  sacred.  To  them, 
ordained  of  heaven  to  labor  through  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day,  we  owe  the  blessed  hopes  and  privileges 
of  this  Centennial  year. 


Christopher  Carson. 

The  name  of  "Kit  Carson  "  is  familiar  to  the  reading 
public  of  America ;  and  just  now,  while  the  recent  hor- 
rible massacre  of  brave  Custer  and  his  loyal  troops  is 
fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  people ;  while  they  may  partly 
appreciate  the  perils  that  surround  those  who  bravely 
take  the  front  of  civilization,  and  offer,  as  it  were  a 
quivering  breast-work  of  soldier  martyrs  to  protect  the 
onward-coming  tide  of  immigration  and  pioneer  life  ;  a 
brief  outline  of  this  intrepid  border  hero's  life  may  prove 
interesting  and  instructive. 

Christopher  Carson  was  born  in  Madison  County, 
Kentucky,  December  34,  1809,  and  while  "Kit"  was 
still  an  infant,  his  parents  removed  with  him  to  the  then 
frontier  of  Missouri.  At  an  early  age  it  was  projected 
for  him  to  learn  a  trade,  but  after  a  little  time  he  found 
the  routine  of  his  labor  too  monotonous  to  be  endured 
by  such  an  adventurous  spirit  as  was  awakening  to  life 
in  his  breast. 

Historians  differ  somewhat  as  to  the  exact  date  when 
he  entered  upon  his  wild  life  upon  the  plains,  some  set- 
ting the  age  of  seventeen,  others  affirming  that  when 
he  was  only  fifteen  he  joined  a  trading  party  bound  for 
Santa  Fe.  From  thence  he  pursued  his  daring  way  into 
the  lower  Mexican  provinces,  where  his  untamed  nature 
found  ample  food  in  wild  exploits  and  daring  adven- 
turer. For  some  time  he  was  employed  as  teamster  in 
the  copper  mines  of  Chihuahua.  His  trapper  life  began 
in  the  regions  of  the  Rio  Colorado,  California.  After  en- 
countering untold  perils,  hardships  and  "hair-breadth" 
escapes,  he  returned  to  Taos,  New  Mexico,  and  joined 
himself  to  a  trapping  party  bound  for  the  head-waters 
of  the  Arkansas.  Here  among  the  wild  mountains  that 
lift  their  ribbed  and  ragged  backs  about  the  head-waters 
of  the  Missouri  and  Columbia  rivers,  he  spent  eight 
years  of  his  eventful  life.  Trapping  was  then  a  flourish- 
ing and  lucrative  business,  but  the  class  of  men  engaged 
in  this  pursuit  exhibited  marked  and  striking  traits  of 
character.  As  they  mingled  with  nature  in  her  original 
and  untamed  state,  made  her  wild  rivers  and  grand 
mountains  their  companions,  as  it  were,  encountering  at 
every  point  the  fierce,  brave  and  stealthy  savage,  subject 
to  storms,  to  cold  and  heat,  to  privations  and  suffering 
of  every  form,  noble  energies  and  heroic  self-sacrifice 
were  developed  within  the  rough  and  dauntless  breasts. 
Carson  became  pre-eminent  in  these  characteristics,  and 
was  soon  famous  as  a  successful  trapper,  unerring 
marksman,  and  most  reliable  guide. 

In  many  a  daring  conflict  with  hostile  Indians  he  fear- 
lessly led  the  van  and  came  off  victorious,  just  one  time 
in  all  his  life  receiving  a  bullet  wound.  This  was  in 
the  shoulder  during  a  skirmish  with  the  murderous 
Blackf  eet  tribe.  '  „      ,  ^ 

Colonel  J.  C.  Fremont,  who  found  Carson  of  ines- 
timable value  to  him  during  his  Western  explorations, 
pays  tribute  to  the  brave  guide's  worthiness.  In  a  letter 
written  in  1847,  he  says :  "With  me,  Carson  and  truth 
i  mean  the  same  thing.   He  is  always  the  same— gallant 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


97 


and  useful.  He  is  kind-hearted,  and  dislikes  quarrels 
tind  turbulent  scenes."  Only  one  particular  instance  of 
his  being  drawn  into  a  broil  \6  recorded. 

Happening  to  find  himseif  at  one  time  in  a  "rendez- 
vous" of  hunters,  trappers  and  traders— a  mixed  and 
motley  company  of  Frenchmen,  Spaniards,  Dutchmen, 
Canadian  and  Western  backwoodsmen— he  heard  the 
boasting  of  a  foreigner  until  he  had  said  that  Americans 
Were  dogs  and  only  fit  to  be  whipped  with  switches,  and 
Insolently  affirmed  that  he  had,  or  could,  whip  any  one 
of  them.  Carson  stepped  out  of  the  crowd,  his  grey 
eyes  flashing  fire. 

"  1  am  an  American,  the  most  trifling  one  among  them, 
but"— and  he  leaped  upon  his  horse.  It  was  a  challenge. 
With  leveled,  loaded  pistols  they  dashed  upon  each 
other.  The  reports  were  almost  simultaneous.  The 
Frenchman's  ball  grazed  Carson's  cheek  near  the  left 
eye,  cutting  off  some  stray  wisps  of  hair ;  his  shot  en- 
tered the  braggart's  hand,  came  out  at  the  wrist  and 
then  went  through  the  arm  above  the  elbow.  The  offend- 
er immediately  cried  for  quarter,  and  Carson  spared  him. 

After  his  eight  years  of  journeying  about  the  head- 
waters of  the  Missouri  and  Columbia  rivers,  he  took  the 
post  of  hunter  to  Bent's  Fort,  in  the  new  Territory  of 
Colorado.  It  was  about  this  time  that  Fremont  met  him 
and  secured  his  services  as  guide  on  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. 

It  1847,  Carson  was  sent  to  Washington  as  a  bearer  of 
dispatches,  and  was  appointed  Lieutenant  of  the  Rifle 
Corps  of  the  Army.  Several  years  later  he  undertook 
the  exploit  of  driving  6,500  sheep  across  the  mountains 
Into  California.  He  succeeded  in  his  undertaking,  and 
on  his  return  to  Taos  was  appointed  Indian  Agent  of 
New  Mexico. 

While  agent  in  New  Mexico,  he  visited  Washington 
with  a  deputation  of  red  men  for  the  purpose  of  making 
a  treaty  with  the  United  States,  and  with  his  "unwashed 
heathen"  he  made  a  tour  of  several  of  the  Eastern  and 
Northern  cities. 

Although  Carson  had  but  little  education,  he  was  a 
man  of  wonderful  natural  abilities,  speaking  French 
and  Spanish  fluently,  besides  several  of  the  Indian 
tongues.  All  the  difficult  and  responsible  tasks  entrusted 
to  him,  he  safely  and  expeditiously  carried  through,  to 
the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  patrons. 

Perhaps  no  other  man  acquired  so  much  practical 
knowledge  of  the  rivers,  plains  and  mountains  of  the 
Great  West,  as  Christopher  Carson.  He  had  hunted, 
scouted  and  trapped  all  over  the  Western  Territory, 
understood  more  of  the  wily  Indian  nature,  fought  more 
hand-to-hand  battles  with  them,  and  had  more  miraculous 
escapes  from  imminent  perils  than  any  other  borderer  of 
whom  to-day  there  stands  authentic  record. 

As  a  scout  he  was  unequalled.  So  wonderful  were 
his  faculties  in  this  respect,  so  keen  his  perceptions,  that 
he  could  decipher  the  hieroglyphic  marks  upon  an  In- 
dian trail  as  readily  as  we  can  read  a  common  book.  He 
could  accurately  judge  of  the  number  of  warriors  in 
the  party,  trace  their  errand  or  expedition  by  the  trail 
marks  of  their  horses,  and  set  the  time  within  a  few 
minutes  that  had  elapsed  since  the  braves  had  broken 
camp. 

As  the  years  glided  on  Carson  thought  more  of  the 
comforts  of  home  than  he  did  in  his  early  years,  and 
quietly  forsakmg  his  wandermg  life,  he  settled  upon  a 
fine  ranche  in  New  Mexico.  But  it  was  not  for  him  to 
enjoy  a  quiet  life  long.  By  some  strange  accident  an 
artery  was  ruptured  in  his  neck,  and  he  died  May,  1868, 
in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 

While  Indian  Agent  in  New  Mexico,  Carson  married 
an  Indian  woman,  to  whom  he  proved  an  attached  and 
devoted  husband.  She  died,  leaving  a  daughter.  After- 
wards he  married  a  lady  of  New  Mexico.  She  is  spoken 
of  as  a  very  respectable  and  worthy  woman. 

It  will  not  be  amiss  in  this  biography  to  relate  some 
striking  incidents  in  brave  Carson's  life.  The  accounts 
are  given  by  Fremont. 

He  speaks  of  two  Mexicans  coming  into  camp — a  man 
named  Andreas  Fuentes,  and  Pablo  Hernandez,  a 
handsome  lad  of  eleven  years.  They  belonged  to  a 
party  of  six  persons,  the  other  four  being  the  wife  of 
Fuentes,  the  father  and  mother  of  Pablo,  and  Santiago 
Giacomo,  a  resident  of  New  Mexico.  With  a  cavalcade 
of  about  thirty  horses,  they  had  come  out  from  Puebla 
de  los  Angelos,  near  the  coast,  under  the  guidance  of 
Siacomo,  in  advance  of  a  great  caravan,  in  order  to 


travel  at  their  leisure  and  to  secure  food  forage  for  their 
animals.  When,  as  they  thought,  at  a  proper  distance, 
fehev  camped  down  to  await  the  coming  of  the  train. 

For  a  day  or  two  several  Indians,  very  friendly  in  be- 
havior, hovered  about  the  camp.  Their  deportment 
lulled  all  suspicions ;  but  these  disappearing,  suddenly 
returned  with  hundreds  of  warriors  and  attacked  the 
travellers.  Pablo  and  Fuentes  chanced  to  be  mounted 
and  on  horse-guard. 

One  object  of  the  savages  was  to  secure  the  horses, 
but,  in  obedience  to  the  shouts  of  the  guide,  Fuentes 
drove  the  animals  over  and  through  the  assailants  in 
spite  of  their  arrows,  but  the  animals  were  afterwards 
captured.  Knowing  that  they  would  be  pursued,  they 
drove  on  without^any  halt  save  to  shift  their  saddles  to 
fresh  steeds.  They  had  hoped  to  meet  the  caravan,  but 
Instead  rode  into  our  camp  filled  with  terrible  apprehen- 
sion concerning  the  fate  of  their  friends. 

Carson  and  a  man  named  Godey,  of  Fremont's  party, 
Immediately  volunteered  to  return  with  them  to  deliver 
the  captives  if  alive,  or  avenge  them  if  they  were  mur- 
dered, Fuentes  did  not  go  far  with  them,  as  his  horse 
gave  out,  but  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  a  war- 
whoop  was  heard  such  as  the  Indians  make  when  vic- 
torious, and  soon  Carson  and  Godey  appeared  driving  in 
the  band  of  horses. 

They  had  gone  on,  and  towards  nightfall  found  the 
trail  leading  into  the  mountains.  After  sunset  the  moon 
came  up  with  her  light,  and  they  kept  the  trail  until  it 
led  into  a  narrow  defile  which  was  dangerous  and  diflSi- 
cult  to  follow.  Here  they  tethered  their  horses  and  laid 
down  to  sleep,  and  at  daylight  resumed  pursuit,  and 
about  sunrise  discovered  the  horses,  and  immediately 
dismounting  and  tying  up  their  own  animals,  they 
crept  forward  to  a  piece  of  rising  ground,  to  reconnoitre. 
They  had  crept  up  close  to  the  lodges  when  a  movement 
among  the  horses  discovered  them  to  the  Indians.  With 
a  whoop  the  sco\its  charged  into  the  camp,  and  were  met 
with  a  flight  of  arrows,  one  of  which  passed  through 
Godey's  shirt  collar. 

So  wild  and  unexpected  was  the  charge,  that  the 
whole  party  of  savages  that  made  up  the  four  lodges 
fled.  Some  of  the  best  horses  had  been  killed  and  the 
red  robbers  were  preparing  for  a  feast ;  a  basket  con- 
taining some  fifty  pairs  of  moccasins  told  of  a  large 
party  expected  in  to  the  banquet. 

Carson  and  Godey  performing  this  daring  exploit, 
which  cannot  be  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  border  his- 
tory, swooped  up  the  stolen  horses,  and  dashed  away 
upon  their  return  trail,  having  ridden  a  hundred  miles  in 
the  pursuit,  and  coming  back  in  thirty  hours,  besides 
resting  from  midnight  until  dawn  on  the  defile  trail.  It 
is  needless  to  add  in  this  incident,  perhaps,  that  all  the 
members  of  Fuentes'  and  Pablo's  party  were  found  hor- 
ribly butchered. 

On  another  occasion  a  party  of  these  red  pirates  had 
decoyed  and  murdered  several  of  Fremont's  party,  and 
on  the  second  day  after  the  murder,  Carson,  riding  ahead 
with  ten  men,  suddenly  came  upon  the  murderers'  vil- 
lage containing  not  less  than  a  hundred  warriors.  Fre- 
mont's orders  were  if  they  discovered  Indians  to  send 
back  and  let  him  come  up  with  his  men  ;  but  Carson  had 
advanced  too  far  when  he  discovered  the  village  to  dare 
to  retreat ;  he,  therefore,  made  an  instant  charge  with 
his  small  detachment,  and  after  a  short,  sharp  conflict, 
put  the  whole  to  flight.  In  this  attack  the  hero-guide 
came  near  losing  his  valuable  life.  An  Indian  turned  and 
fixed  his  arrow  for  its  deadly  mission ;  Carson  leveled 
his  rifle,  but  it  snapped,  when,  most  happily,  Fremont 
just  then  coming  near  and  seeing  the  danger  of  his  faith- 
ful companion,  spurred  his  horse  to  a  reckless  leap, 
rode  on  to  the  Indian,  and  knocked  him  down. 

"I  owe  my  life,"  Carson  said,  relating  the  incident, 
"to  those  two — the  Colonel  and  Sacramento,"  referring 
to  the  favorite  iron-grey  horse  of  Fremont's. 

Scores  of  these  wild,  truthful  tales  are  told  of  Carson, 
making  ample  materials  for  the  pen  of  the  story-teller, 
and  verifying  the  maxim  that  "Truth  is  stranger  than 
flction." 

We  have  not  taken  up  Carson's  life  to  add  another 
name  to  to  the  list  wherein  are  written  those  of  the  poet, 
the  statesman,  the  orator,  or  divine ;  but  who  shall  say 
that  he,  and  such  as  he,  do  not  deserve  as  high  a  niche 
in  the  temple  of  fame  as  any  who  stand  there  to-day  ? 

The  engineer  holds  a  responsible  position,  but  what 
could  he  do  without  the  firemen  and  brakeman.  and  the 


98 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


machinist  that  repairs  and  makes  the  iron  steed  ?  The  -j  also,  for  the  laconism  of  his  dispatches,  like  many  other 


successful  general  merits  his  honors,  but  where  were 
the  battles  won  were  it  not  for  the  privates,  moving 
shoulder  to  shoulder  as  he  commands  ? 

In  viewing  gorgeous  silks,  we  are  apt  to  overlook  the 
worm  that  makes  it ;  so  the  rough  and  dauntless  pioneer 
who  with  his  axe  levels  the  forest  and  clears  up  the 
wilderness  for  the  tenderer  race  to  occupy,  is  just  as 
worthy  as  the  refined  creature  that  plants  sweet  flowers 
in  the  soil  that  he  has  broken  up  and  brought  into  even 
surfaces. 

So  the  sturdy,  inspired  souls  who  dare  the  dangers 
and  meet  the  hardships  of  pioneer  life,  whether  it  be  in 
the  highway  to  civilization  or  moral  reform,  deserve  our 
appreciation,  veneration  and  honor.  Their  names  should 
be  written  high  up  among  earth's  heroes — her  great  men 
— and  where  is  the  dissenting  voice  to  say  us  nay  ? 

Glad  are  we  to  know  that  Fremont's  heart,  faithful  in 
friendship  and  grateful  for  Carson's  inestimable  services 
in  their  great  explorations,  has  planted  an  endurable 
monument  in  the  Great  West  that  will  not  let  the  hero- 
scout  and  pioneer  sink  out  of  sight.  A  border  lake  and 
a  frontier  river  bears  Carson's  name — a  name  thus 
stamped  permanently,  as  it  should  be,  in  the  grand 
geography  of  our  beautiful  country. 

Little  G-reat  Men. 

It  is  a  remarkable  thing  that  some  of  the  greatest  men 
in  history  have  been  of  small  stature.  Certainly,  from 
all  experience,  height  of  person  has  no  influence  on  the 
mental  faculties.  The  chances  seem  to  be  that  small- 
ness  of  size,  in  fact,  at  times,  a  little  lameness  is  advan- 
tageous. The  reason  for  this  is  tolerably  plain.  Tall  and 
robust  men  are  apt  to  devote  themselves,  or  at  least  to 
derive  so  much  enjoyment  from  boisterous  pursuits,  as 
to  be  rather  indiflEerent  to  any  specialty  in  mental  cul- 
ture. Men  of  small  stature,  and  perhaps  weak  health, 
are,  on  the  contrary,  driven  to  mental  occupation. 
Studying  hard  in  their  several  vocations,  they  rise  to 
distinction,  A  comforting  reflection  this  for  young  men 
who  have  the  misfortune  to  labor  under  personal  infirm- 
ities. We  propose  to  give  a  few  notable  examples  of 
"little  great  men." 

Of  the  three  world-wide  conquerors  whom  Napoleon 
classed  together — ^himself,  Alexander  of  Macedon,  and 
Csesar — he  alone  was  a  little  man.  His  predecessors 
were  both  of  them  men  of  a  truly  majestic  presence,  tall 
of  stature.  Alexander,  indeed,  if  his  portraits  are  exact, 
was  remarkable  for  his  handsome  and  manly  aspect. 
Bonaparte  was  always  presented  in  the  English  carica- 
tures of  him,  both  pictorial  and  verbal  as  a  kind  of 
pigmy.  When  the  vulgar  English  crowded  to  his  levees 
as  First  Consul  at  the  Tuileries,  in  1802,  after  the  peace 
of  the  preceding  October,  to  the  disgust  of  the  high- 
minded  Sir  Samuel  Romily,  they  were  probably  disap- 
pointed at  not  finding  him  to  be  a  dwarf.  "  Bonaparte," 
says  Miss  Berry,  in  her  lively  description  of  one  of  his 
receptions,  "by  no  means  struck  me  as  co  li+^le  as  I  had 
heard  him  represented,  and  as  indeed  he  appeared  on 
horseback.  His  shoulders  are  broad,  v/hich  gives  his 
figure  importance."  Allusions  to  his  stature  were  not 
always  received  by  him  with  complaisance,  but  there  is 
some  humor  in  a  correction  which  he  once  administered 
to  one  of  his  imperial  grand  chamberlains.  The  Em- 
peror had  made  several  fruitless  attempts  upon  tiptoe  to 
reach  a  book  placed  on  a  high  shelf  in  his  cabinet.  The 
official  hurrying  eagerly  to  his  assistance,  said  awkward- 
ly :  "  Permit  me,  sire ;  I  am  greater  than  your  majesty," 
{Je  suis  plus  grand  que  voUre  mageste.)  "Please  to  say 
you  are  longer.  {Bites,  aoncy  plus  long,)  said  Napoleon, 
with  a  scornful  smile. 

An  earlier  victorious  French  soldier,  whose  name  is 
invariably  cited  as  the  "  Great  Conde,"  was  a  little  man; 
so  was  his  admiring  pupil,  the  Duke  of  Luxembourg, 
of  whom  William  of  Orange  once  angrily  said:  "How 
does  he  know  I  am  a  hunchback  ?"  Said  Luxembourg, 
on  hearing  of  the  exclamation,  "  I  have  often  seen  his 
back,  but  he  has  never  yet  seen  mine."  The  most  cele- 
brated of  all  naval  Englishmen  heroes,  Nelson,  was  none 
the  less  endeared  for  his  small  size.  The  first  of  Russian 
warriors,  the  strange  Suwarrow,  was  another  of  those 
leaders  whose  shortness  of  physical  stature  seems  to  be 
reflected  in  the  short  decisiveness  of  their  actions,  ac- 
cording to  the  proverb,  "Little  and  quick."  Suwarrow 
said  that  all  his  victorious  tactics  could  be  compressed 
into  two  words,  "Advance;  strike."   He  was  famous, 


earlier  and  later  commanders  of  the  first  rank.  When- 
ever he  held  a  conversation,  he  studied  to  express  him- 
self with  great  conciseness.  It  seems  to  be  a  fact,  how- 
ever that  great  generals  of  small  size  do  not  always 
^prefer  to  be  followed  by  small  soldiers.  Imposing  stat- 
ure has  usually  been  in  demand  for  the  rank  and  file  of 
fighting  men.  Marius  would  not  willingly  enlist  any 
soldiers  that  were  not  six  feet  high.  Mr.  Carlyle  has 
pictured  with  vivacity  the  tall  Potsdam  regiment  of 
Frederick  William,  "the  great  drill-sergeant  of  the  Prus- 
sian nation."  Aristotle  says  that  the  Ethiopians  and  In- 
dians, in  choosing  their  kings  and  leaders,  had  particular 
i  regard  to  the  beauty  and  stature  of  their  persons.  Per- 
haps the  Greeks,  with  whom  physical  perfection  count- 
ed for  so  much,  followed  the  philosopher's  great  pupil, 
Alexander,  with  more  satisfaction  for  the  splendor  of  his 
person.  Many  of  the  greatest  wits  and  humorists  have 
been  insignificant  creatures  in  appearance ;  for  instance, 
Voltaire,  Quevedo,  and  Scarren  ;  the  last  called  himself 
"an  abridgement  of  human  miseries,"  Le  Sage,  who 
was  singularly  handsome,  and  Swift,  who  was  a  tall  and 
muscular  man,  are  witnesses  that  the  keenest  wit  is  not 
confined  to  a  small  bodily  lodging.  Both  Dryden  and 
Pope  were  little  men.  Rochester  nicknamed  the  former 
"  Poet  Squab/'  and  Tom  Brown  always  called  him  "Lit- 
tle Rayes."  Pope  was  only  less  deformed  than  Quevedo 
and  Scarren,  and  was  almost  a  dwarf  ;  his  consciousness 
of  his  mean  appearance  made  him  the  more  laborious 
in  the  cultivation  of  his  talents,  according  to  Shenstone. 
He  was  more  sensitive  and  petulant  than  the  first  poet 
of  the  children.  Dr.  Watts,  who  was  also  afflicted,  like 
Pope,  with  a  littleness  of  body,  and  with  lifelong  sick- 
oess.  It  is  related  that  when  the  hymn-writer  was  one 
day  sitting  in  a  coffee-house,  he  heard  a  gentleman  say 
in  a  low  tone,  "  That's  the  great  Dr,  Watts ; "  while  an- 
other exclaimed,  "What  a  little  fellow!"  Turning  to 
the  two  speakers,  he  repeated,  with  good-humored 
seriousness,  one  of  his  own  verses.  It  has  been  called 
by  some  who  have  told  the  anecdote  an  impromptu  : 

"  Were  I  so  tall  to  reach  the  pole. 
Or  mete  the  ocean  with  my  span, 
1  must  be  measured  by  my  soul ; 
The  mind's  the  stature  of  the  man." 

All  biographers  who  have  taken  little  persons  for  their 
subjects,  agree  in  drawing  the  same  moral  as  Dr.  Watts. 
When  Calvin  arrived  at  Nerac,  and  was  trying  to  find 
the  great-hearted  Lefevre,  every  one  of  whom  he  made 
inquiries  gave  him  the  same  sort  of  answer:  "Lefevre  is 
a  little  bit  of  a  man,  but  lively  as  gunpowder."  Thus 
Lefevre  was  quick  to  perceive  the  destiny  of  the  young 
inquirer,  and  was  the  first  to  prophesy  his  future  import- 
ance in  the  history  of  religion  amongst  the  French- 
speaking  people.  

Thomas  Jefferson. 

Jefferson,  of  all  our  early  statesmen,  was  the  most 
efficient  master  of  the  pen,  and  the  most  "advanced" 
political  thinker.  In  one  sense,  as  the  author  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  he  may  be  called  the 
greatest,  or,  at  least,  the  most  generally  known,  of  Ameri- 
can authors.  But  in  his  private  correspondence  his 
literary  talent  is  most  displayed,  for  by  his  letters  he 
built  up  a  party  which  ruled  the  United  States  for  nearly 
half  a  century,  and  which  was,  perhaps,  only  overturned 
because  its  opponents  cited  the  best  portions  of  Jeffer- 
son's writings  against  conclusions  derived  from  the 
worst.  In  executive  capacity  he  was  relatively  weak ; 
but  his  mistakes  in  policy  and  his  feebleness  in  adminis- 
tration, which  would  have  ruined  an  ordinary  statesman 
at  the  head  of  so  turbulent  a  combination  of  irascible 
Individuals  as  the  Democratic  party  of  the  United 
States,  were  all  condoned  by  those  minor  leaders  of  fac- 
tion who,  yielding  to  the  magic  persuasiveness  of  his 
pen,  assured  their  followers  that  the  great  man  could  do 
no  wrong.  Read  in  connection  with  the  events  of  his 
time,  Jefferson's  writings  must  be  considered  of  perma- 
nent value  and  interest.  As  a  political  leader  he  was 
literally  a  man  of  letters,  and  his  letters  are  master- 
pieces, if  viewed  as  illustrations  of  the  arts  by  which 
political  leadership  may  be  attained.  In  his  private  cor- 
respondence he  was  a  model  of  urbanity  and  geniality. 
The  whole  impression  derived  from  his  works  is  that  he 
was  a  better  man  than  his  enemies  would  admit  him  to 
be,  and  not  so  great  a  man  as  his  partisans  declared  him 
to  be. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


99 


Samuel  F.  B.  Morse. 

With  thrilling  pulses  we  think  and  write  of  this  man. 
He  was  bom  in  Charleston,  Mass.,  April  27,  1791,  and 
was  the  oldest  son  of  Rev.  Jedediah  Morse,  D.  D.,  who 
was  prominent  in  our  early  history  as  a  defender  of  or- 
thodox faith.  At  the  age  of  seven  years  young  Samuel 
was  sent  to  school  at  Andover,  and  after  seven  years  of 
preparatory  study  he  entered  Yale  College.  Gifted  with 
artistic  taste  and  talent,  after  his  graduation  he  sailed 
for  Europe  with  William  Allston  to  study  pain  ting  under 
him.  In  1815,  he  returned  to  thiis  country  and  practiced 
his  art  for  many  years.  In  1829,  not  being  fully  satisfied 
with  his  attainments,  he  again  visited  Europe  and  re- 
sumed his  studies.  He  was  absent  this  time  some  three 
years.  In  regard  to  his  artistic  life,  we  have  only  to  say 
that  he  painted  portraits  and  historical  scenes  with  suc- 
cess, and  ere  long  he  was  interesting  himself  in  founding 
the  National  Academy  of  Design,  in  New  York  City.  He 
was  the  first  President  of  this  Institution.  Subsequently 
he  was  elected  Professor  of  Arts  in  the  New  York  Uni- 
versity. 

His  prospects  were  very  flattering  on  his  second  re- 
turn from  Europe ;  and,  without  doubt,  if  he  had  simply 
and  earnestly  pursued  his  profession,  he  would  have 
obtained  an  enviable  eminence  among  the  great  ones 
which  have  gone  before  and  which  are  also  yet  to  come; 
but  he  was  destined  for  a  greater  work  than  this,  and 
wider  and  more  permanent  fame. 

While  young  Morse  was  in  college  he  manifested  much 
interest  in  scientific  matters,  and  afterwards,  while  Pro- 
fessor of  Arts,  he  studied  the  subject  of  electro-magnet- 
ism ;  although  he  did  not  allow  his  investigations  to  in- 
terfere with  his  other  duties ;  for,  inasmuch  as  he  had 
devoted  seventeen  years  to  study  and  the  improving  of 
his  talents,  it  was  for  his  interest  to  secure  the  greatest 
possible  returns  for  his  time  and  expenditures  ;  besides, 
he  had  an  intuitive  knowledge  that  his  future  success  in 
his  own  country  was  no  myth,  but  a  permanent  fact. 
But  while  on  his  second  voyage  home,  even  while  he 
assured  himself  that  success  awaited  him  in  his  chosen 
avocation,  a  subtle,  invisible  power,  evidently,  was  bear- 
ing upon  him  to  change  the  whole  current  of  his  future 
life. 

Away  out  on  that  watery,  unstable  route  leading  from 
the  other  Continent  to  our  land,  while  our  young  artist 
eat  at  the  mid-day  meal  on  board  the  good  ship  Sully,  a 
passenger  chanced  to  speak  of  some  new  discoveries  in 
electro-magnetism.  With  an  indefinable  thrill,  we  can 
imagine  the  insinuating,  foreshadowing  train  of  ideas 
that  ran  with  lightning-like  rapidity  through  the  artist's 
mind.  As  this  passenger  went  on  stating  that  electricity 
would  instantly  pass  over  any  known  length  of  wire, 
Morse  lifted  his  face,  transfigured  with  prophetic  fire 
And  power,  asserting  in  an  impressive  tone : 

"  This  being  so,  there  is  no  reason  why  intelligence 
mi^ht  not  be  transmitted  instantaneously  by  electricity." 

Then  and  there  passed  the  decree,  which  should  echo 
down  the  ages  yet  unborn,  that  mind  triumphant  over 
matter  should  seize  in  its  audacious,  undaunted  grasp, 
the  most  subtle  and  dangerous  of  all  the  heavenly  ele- 
ments, subdue  it,  command  it,  and  enforce  upon  it  the 
position  of  swiftest  courier  and  most  obedient  servant. 

It  was  for  Franklin  to  conceive  the  marvellous  idea  of 
captui-ing  the  lightning  of  heaven ;  and  for  Samuel 
Morse  to  subdue  this  mighty  force  so  that  the  finger  of  a 
child  may  beckon  it  to  go  or  to  come,  and  be  obeyed. 

But  to  return.  This  conversation  on  board  the  Sully 
took  the  deepest  hold  of  young  Morse's  mind.  He  tra- 
versed the  deck,  and  the  "small,  still  voice"  repeated 
the  potent  questionings.  It's  "  Why,  why  may  this  not 
be  done  ?"  was  as  significant  to  him  as  the  handwriting 
on  the  wall  was  to  the  ancient  king.  The  writing  was 
for  Morse— /ie  could  interpret  it ;  and  in  his  berth  he 
took  his  sketch-book  and  began  drawing  devices  and 
arbitrary  lines — thi;  hieroglyphics,  by  means  of  which 
the  most  powerful  and  awful  of  all  elements  of  nature 
should,  in  a  moment,  circle  the  world,  as  it  were,  con- 
veying from  man  to  man  messages  of  love,  of  sorrow,  of 
hate  and  despair.  Entirely,  intensely  absorbed  by  this 
mighty  subject,  before  the  voyage  was  ended  he  had 
outlined  a  crude  and  general  plan  of  his  invention,  and 
with  every  stroke  of  his  pencil,  every  improvement  ol 
his  crude  plan,  he  became  more  and  more  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  destined  to  unfold  to  the  world 
a  stupendous  and  maiTellous  possibility. 


I  On  his  arrival  in  the  United  States,  Morse  opened  a 
I  studio,  but  devoted  every  spare  moment  to  experiment- 
ing and  perfecting  his  discovery.  His  means  being  lim- 
ited, there  were  many  discouraging  circumstances  sur- 
rounding him,  but  he  was  so  overshadowed  and  impressed 
by  prophetic  knowledge,  that  he  labored  on  undaunted. 
With  the  exception  of  a  clock,  he  made  the  whole  ap- 
paratus necessary  for  demonstrating  his  discovery,  and 
in  his  room  at  the  University  he  exhibited  its  workings 
to  hundreds  of  people.  With  the  wires  stretched  around' 
and  across  his  room  he  sent  messages  from  one  person 
to  another,  to  the  amazement  of  all  but  the  inventor — 
illustrating  in  miniature  what  was  destined  to  revolu- 
tionize the  method  of  communication  over  the  whole 
world. 

But  doubts,  delays,  ridicule  and  discouragements  met 
him  when  he  brought  his  invention  before  the  public, 
and  tried  to  induce  the  National  Legislature  to  interest 
itself  in  the  affair.  He  asked  a  money  appropriation  for 
an  experimental  telegraph  line.  The  Congress  of  1837-8 
failed  to  help  him,  and  yet  undaunted,  impelled  by  con- 
scious power,  he  embarked  for  the  Eastern  Continent, 
asking  both  Europe  and  France  for  aid.  Neither  coun- 
try responded.  His  extended  hand  fell  back  empty. 
Yet  that  "stiQ,  small  voice"  whispered:  "Be  not  afraid 
—only  believe  ;"  and  back  again  over  the  watery  way  he 
came,  and  beseiged  Congress  once  more.  Nothing  can 
be  more  interesting  to  a  mind  struggling  through  like 
difficulties,  or  to  one  which  through  similar  experience 
has  finally  "come  up  higher"  than  to  follow  this  strug- 
gle of  Samuel  Morse.  He  talked,  he  reasoned,  he 
argued ;  he  exhibited  the  perfect  feasibility  of  his  in- 
vention. One  moment  flushing  with  hope  as  some  intel- 
ligent mind  comprehended  what  to  him  was  perfectly 
plain,  anon  recoUing  discouraged,  as  some  veritable 
"dead-head"  scoffed  at  the  whole  affair  as  the  offspring 
of  an  unsettled  brain ;  thus  he  struggled  in  feverish  or 
depressing  excitement,  and  saw  with  sickening  misgiv- 
ings the  last  day  of  the  session  arrive  without  any  action 
being  taken  in  his  favor.  In  despair,  he  returned  to  his 
lodgings  thinking  the  next  day  to  leave,  and  literally 
shake  the  dust  off  his  feet  as  a  witness  against  the  city. 
How  we  pity  and  sympathize  with  him ;  his  heart  beat- 
ing sorely,  his  head  throbbing,  the  great  gift  which  he 
had  offered  the  world  tossed  back  in  his  face  with  inso- 
lence and  scorn — but  at  midnight  a  courier,  flushed  and 
eager,  brought  him  word  that  Congress  had  accepted  his 
proposals — it  would  help  him.  The  telegraph  bill  had 
passed.  Could  he  not  call  out  joyfully:  "The  dawn  has 
come !"  The  next  year  saw  a  line  of  telegraph  operating 
between  Washington  and  Baltimore,  and  from  city  to 
city  flashed  the  first  sentence  :  "What  God  has  wrought." 
I  feel  as  if  there  should  have  been  something  more  in 
the  sentence.  "  What  God  throvxjh  finite  man  has 
wrought,"  would  have  been  only  a  just  tribute  to  Samuel 
F,  B.  Morse. 

By  God-given  genius,  by  faith  and  patience  was  this 
marvellous  invention  made  a  success,  and  as  Sidney 

Smith  says : 

"  Honor  is  not  due  to  hira  who  first  conceives  some- 
thing new,  but  rather  to  him  who  with  inventive  power 
comprises  the  energy  to  make  the  long,  loud,  clear,  per- 
sistent calls  upon  the  public  until  it  is  compelled  to  hear, 
heed  and  utilize  the  materials  offered  it  for  the  good  of 
mankind." 

And  the  lofty  and  crowned  heads,  turned  scornfully 
away  from  the  struggling  merit,  came  bowing  do^vll 
around  the  pedestal  when  genius  had  mounted  to  its 
rightful  throne ;  but,  happily,  those  laden  with  many 
talents  feel  the  weight  of  responsibility  and  walk  humbly 
without  pride  and  vain-glory. 

And  now  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  stands  an  elegant 
bronze  statue  of  Professor  Morse.  It  is  prominently 
raised  near  the  principal  avenue  of  the  beautiful  oasis  of 
the  great  Metropolitan  City.  Its  cost  was  some  $11,000, 
contributed  chiefly  by  dollar  subscriptions  from  tele- 
graph operators  throughout  the  country.  The  Quincy 
granite  base  was  the  gifj  of  a  New  York  gentleman. 
The  entire  statue,  includmg  base,  is  fifteen  feet  high. 
The  evening  after  the  inauguration  of  the  statue,  Prof. 
Morse  gave  a  reception  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  The 
proceedings  were  interesting  in  the  highest  degree,  for 
the  most  eminent  representatives  of  the  professions  and 
ranks  of  life  were  present,  while  the  main  building  waa 
filled  with  the  beauty  and  intelligence  of  the  land 
There  was  a  varied  programme  for  the  evening's  ente; 


lOO 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


talnment — ^mnslc,  prayers  and  addresses  t)y  the  talent  of 
the  age.  The  most  intense  interest  culminated  around 
the  hour  of  9  p.  m.,  when  a  brief  sentiment  from  Prof. 
Morse  was  to  be  received  the  same  instant  by  all  the 
cities  of  the  United  States  and  the  Canadas.  The  elec- 
trical arrangements  were  under  the  direction  of  George 
B.  Prescott,  Electrician — responses  coming  back  from 
all  the  principal  cities,  and  from  Europe,  Asia  and  Africa 
in  ten  minutes. 

At  the  time  of  the  inauguration  of  the  statue,  June 
10, 1871,  Professor  Morse  is  described  as  a  noble  type  of 
the  venerable  yet  hale  and  intellectual  powers  pertaining 
to  the  patriarchs  of  science  and  art.  His  address  de- 
livered on  the  occasion  show  a  heartfelt  sympathy  for 
the  young,  gifted  and  aspiring ;  and  while  we  feel  that 
we  do  not  fully  appreciate  the  changes  wrought  in  social 
and  political  life  in  our  business,  our  literature,  our 
journalism,  in  our  times  of  war  and  of  peace,  by  the 
electric  telegraph,  yet  with  awe  and  veneration  we  are 
led  to  exclaim  again  and  again : 

*^Behold  what  God  through  finite  man  hath  wrought.''^ 


The  History  of  a  Life. 

A  little  child  wandered  carelessly  along  a  flower-strewn 
path.  He  plucked  the  fragrant  blossoms,  and  becoming 
tired  of  them  cast  them  aside  ;  he  chased  the  golden- 
winged  butterfly,  or  listened  to  the  sweet  songs  of  the 
feathered  choir.  When  fatigued,  he  reclined  in  the 
generous  shade  of  some  noble  forest  tree,  and  was  lulled 
to  repose  by  the  musical  tinkling  of  some  laughing  brook 
or  miniature  cascade.  Thus  the  morning  of  his  exist- 
ence passed  happily  away.  He  thought  not  of  the  future, 
nor  cared  but  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost  the  pleasures  that 
were  borne  to  him  on  the  wings  of  each  succeeding  day. 
Years  flew  apace  ;  the  careless  child  became  a  dreamer  ; 
the  future  rose  before  him  bright  and  joyous  ;  he  built 
fairy  air-castles  whose  gold-tinted  turrets  aspired  to  the 
heavens.  Fame  held  before  him  a  crown  of  laurels  ;  in 
imagination  he  beheld  his  name  inscribed  in  living  letters 
of  fire  upon  the  book  of  ages.  He  now  began  the  battle 
of  life  right  earnestly. 

Home,  friends,  kindred,  were  all  sacrificed  for  the 
god  Ambition.  He  heeded  not  that  the  path  was  rugged 
and  pebble-strewn,  or  that  his  feet  were  bruised  and 
bleeding.  He  beheld  not  the  shady  groves  on  either 
side,  nor  listened  to  the  tinkling  fountains.  Friends  en- 
treated him  in  vain  to  tarry  with  them  :  his  eyes  are 
fixed  on  the  delusive  vision  before  him,  and  he  struggles 
onward — ever  onward,  and  upward.  Now  and  then  he 
pauses  to  plant  a  few  flowers  and  shed  a  few  tears  on  a 
newly  made  grave  ;  then  he  locks  his  sorrow  deep  in  the 
innermost  recesses  of  his  heart,  and  with  firmly  com- 
pressed lips  he  hurries  on.  Now  his  footsteps  lead 
through  a  lovely  valley  ;  verdure-clad  meadows  are 
divided  by  a  broad  river,  like  a  silver  band ;  herds  of 
lowing  kine  graze  in  the  fields.  The  blue  smoke  curls 
from  a  thousand  chimneys  of  quiet,  vine-embowered 
homesteads,  where  peace,  contentment,  and  the  simple 
joys  of  a  rural  life  reign  supreme.  He  is  weary  and 
heartsick  ;  oh  !  that  he  might  linger  here,  and  taste  the 
blessings  of  home,  to  which  he  has  so  long  been  a  stran- 
ger. But  no,  there  is  some  uncontrollable  power  urging 
Sim  onward ;  an  insatiable  yearning  for  some  higher, 
nobler  phase  of  existence  than  is  to  be  found  in  this 
common,  work-a-day  world. 

At  last  the  goal  is  reached  ;  panting  and  exhausted  he 
clutches  the  glittering  crown — he  feels  himself  in  a  new 
world.  His  old-time  friends  and  companions  seem  like 
mere  dwarfs  to  him,  while  viewing  them  from  the  vast 
heights  to  which  he  has  ascended.  He  hears  his  name 
on  every  side,  but  there  is  bitterness  mixed  with  the 
sweet ;  on  one  side  he  is  extolled  to  the  skies,  on  the 
other  he  is  subjected  to  the  most  extravagant,  and  oft- 
times  unjust,  criticisms.  He  was  feted  and  lionized  to 
his  heart's  content,  but  still  he  was  not  happy.  "  I  will 
acquire  wealth,"  said  he,  "  hundreds,  thousands,  mil- 
lions ;  what  is  it  money  will  not  purchase  ?" 

Then  the  struggle  began  anew ;  the  noonday  of  his 
existence  was  spent  in  the  feverish  pursuit  of  a  delusive 
phantom.  Again  everything  that  would  conduce  to  dis- 
tract his  thoughts  from  the  object  of  his  exertions  were 
disregarded.  Again  his  efforts  were  crowned  with  suc- 
cess, and  be  was  the  possessor  of  almost  uclimited 


wealth.  But  he  was  doomed  to  experience  bitter  disap* 
pointment,  for  he  found  not  the  happiness  which  he  had 
fondly  hoped  wealth  would  bring  him.  He  drained  the 
cup  of  pleasure  to  the  very  dregs  :  then  he  stood  aloof 
and  as  the  sparkling  peal  of  a  careless  laugh  was  borne 
to  his  ears,  he  smiled  a  smile  which  was  not  pleasant  to 
behold — a  smile  which  marked  him  as  a  cjmic.  He  had 
realized,  alas  too  late,  that  money  would  not  buy  for- 
getfulness  of  duties  neglected.  Memory,  with  painful 
pertinacity  kept  knocking  at  the  sealed  portal  of  his 
heart,  and  reverted  to  a  lonely  grave  wherein  reposed 
the  remains  of  her  unto  whom  he  had  promised  to 
"cleave  until  death  did  them  part."  How  had  he  ful- 
filled  that  promise  ?  There  came  visions  of  a  deserted 
fireside,  and  of  a  pale,  patient,  loving  woman,  who  sat 
listening,  waiting,  watching  for  a  beloved  one  who  never 
came. 

Slowly  and  sadly  he  wandered  to  the  little  country- 
churchyard.  Entering,  he  paused  beside  the  graves  of 
his  wife  and  only  child,  whom  he  had  forsaken  that  they 
might  not  prove  a  hindrance  to  him  in  his  upward  jour- 
ney. Evening  stole  on  apace  ;  the  night  wind  rustled 
and  whispered  in  the  tall  poplars,  the  marble  headstones 
looked  ghastly  in  the  dim  light,  and  this  man — bowed, 
sorrow  stricken  and  repentant — knelt  beside  those  grass- 
grown  mounds,  and  prayed  silently  and  earnestly. 

He  is  now  descending,  with  feeble,  tottering  footsteps 
the  rugged  path  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  of  life. 
The  poor  and  needy  whom  he  meets  on  his  way,  regard 
him  with  a  sort  of  reverence.  He  is  ever  ready  to  aid 
the  poverty  stricken,  and  minister  to  the  afflicted.  In 
doing  good  deeds  he  has  found  peace  and  contentment, 
if  not  happiness,  at  last.  The  sun  of  his  existence  is 
fast  declining,  and  he  is  waiting— peacefully,  hopeful! v 
waiting  that  blessed  change,  when,  "like  a  tired  child;' 
he  shall  sink  to  rest  on  the  "bosom  of  mother  earth." 


John  Randolph  and  Lord  Byron. 

We  find  the  following  description  (of  perhaps  the  two- 
most  remarkable  men  that  ever  lived,)  in  George  Tick- 
nor's  Memoirs.   Here  is  his  portrait  of  John  Kandolph  : 

The  instant  I  entered  the  room  my  eyes  rested  on  his 
lean  and  sallow  physiognomy.  He  was  sitting,  and 
seemed  hardly  larger  or  taller  than  a  boy  of  fifteen.  He 
rose  to  receive  me  as  I  was  presented,  and  towered  half 
a  foot  above  my  own  height.  This  disproportion  arises 
from  the  singular  deformity  of  his  person.  His  head  is 
small,  and  unta  you  approach  him  near  enough  to  ob- 
serve the  premature  and  unhealthy  wrinkles  that  have 
furrowed  his  face,  you  would  say  that  it  was  boyish. 
But  as  your  eye  turns  toward  his  extremities,  everything 
seems  to  be  unnaturally  stretched  out  and  protracted. 
To  his  short  and  meagre  body  are  attached  long  legs, 
which,  instead  of  diminishing,  grow  larger  as  they  ap- 
proach the  floor,  until  they  end  in  a  pair  of  feet  broad 
and  large,  giving  his  whole  person  the  appearance  of  a 
sort  of  pyramid.  His  arms  are  the  counterparts  of  his 
legs ;  they  rise  from  small  shoulders,  which  seem  hardly 
equal  to  the  burden,  are  drawn  out  to  a  disproportionate 
length  above  the  elbow,  and  to  a  still  greater  length  be- 
low, and  at  last  are  terminated  by  a  hand  heavy  enough 
to  have  given  the  supernatural  blow  to  William  of  Delo- 
raine,  and  by  fingers  which  might  have  served  as  models 
for  those  of  the  goblin  page.  In  his  physiognomy  there 
is  little  to  please  or  satisfy,  except  an  eye  which  glances 
on  all  and  rests  on  none.  You  observe,  however,  a  mix- 
ture of  the  white  man  and  the  Indian,  marks  of  both 
being  apparent.  His  long,  straight  hair  is  parted  on  the 
top,  and  a  portion  hangs  down  on  each  side,  while  she 
rest  is  carelessly  tied  up  behind  and  flows  down  his 
back.  His  voice  is  shrill  and  effeminate,  and  occasioH- 
ally  broken  by  those  tones  which  you  sometimes  hear 
from  dwarfs  and  deformed  people.  At  table  he  talked 
little,  but  ate  and  smoked  a  great  deal. 

He  says  of  Lord  Byron Instead  of  having  a  thin 
and  rather  sharp  and  anxious  face,  as  he  has  in  his  pic- 
tures, it  is  round,  open,  and  smiling ;  his  eyes  are  light, 
and  not  black ;  his  air  easy  and  careless,  not  forward 
and  striking :  and  I  found  his  manner  affable  and  gentle, 
the  tones  of  his  voice  low  and  conciliatory,  his  conver. 
sation  gay,  pleasant,  and  interesting  in  an  uncommon 
degree."  He  received  more  kindness  from  Lord  Byron,, 
with  whom  he  became  very  intimate,  than  from  any 
other  person  in  England  to  whom  he  had  notes  of  intro- 
duction. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


lOl 


LIFE 
IN  THE  OCEAN  DEPTHS. 

"  Clear  through  the  shining,  liquid  glass  I  gazed. 
Discovering  a  world ! " 
The  unscientific  man  is  generally  startled  a  little  when 
Agassiz  tells  him  that  "the  ocean  is  the  true  home  of 
animal  life."    He  is  so  accustomed  to  think  of  the  soa 
fis  barren  and  desert,  that  he  "makes  great  eyes,"  as 
"he  Germans  say,  when  the  naturalist  assures  him  that 
is  the  land  which  is  comparatively  bare  of  animal 


to  realize  this  when  we  look  down  into  a  shallow, 
waveless  sea,  and  observe  the  variety  of  creatures  of 
all  sorts — crabs,  snails,  worms,  star-fishes,  polyps, 
which  have  their  homes  among  the  sea-weed ;  and 
yet  those  animals  which  we  are  able  to  see  in  their 
sub-marine  abodes  are 'nothing  in  comparison  to  the 
hosts  of  smaller  creatures  imperceptible  to  our  eyes — 
the  infusoria,  myriads  of  which  the  microscope 
brings  to  our  view,  and  which  are  all,  without  ex- 
ception, aquatic. 

The  latest  investigations  into  deep  sea  life  show 


"I  SAW  A  LOOSE  PEARL,  WHOSE  SIZE  EQUALED  THAT  OF  A  COCOANUT.' 


iife.  The  land,  to  be  sure,  is  the  habitation  of  the  most 
perfect  of  animals ;  and  as  it  is,  besides,  the  home  of 
Dur  own  species,  we  naturally  connect  the  idea  of  life 
with  it  rather  than  with  the  ocean.  The  land,  more- 
over, affords  more  favorable  conditions  for  the'  devel- 
opment of  a  greater  variety  of  functions,  amono- 
which  IS  the  faculty  of  uttering  sounds,  while  almost 
all  marine  animals  are  dumb.  The  latter  have  such 
a  quiet  way  that  we  are  apt  to  overlook  them— the 
fate  of  quiet  people  generally. 

Sure  it  is  in  the  number  both  of  species  and  of  in- 
mviduals.  the  ocean  far  exceeds  the  land.   We  begin 


that  the  vast  area  lying  beneath  the  ocean  is  covereo 
with  a  simple  animal  life,  boundless  in  extent  and  in- 
finite in  variety.  Under  conditions  too  rigid  and 
severe  to  permit  the  growth  of  the  humblest  sea- 
weed, these  creatures  live,  and  multiply,  and  dia. 
Far  beyond  the  reach  of  light,  in  a  glacial  tempera- 
ture, and  under  an  enormous  pressure,  exists  thia 
wonderful  fauna.  As  we  strip  the  mystery  of  vital- 
ity of  garment  after  garment,  as  its  conditions  be- 
come fewer  and  its  mode  of  existence  less  complex, 
the  wonder  instead  of  becoming  less,  constantlv 
grows    upon  the   mind.     The    humaa  intellect 


102 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


longs  to  find  a  commensurate  physical  cause 
for  the  effect  which  we  call  life.  When,  as  in 
higher  organic  hemgs,  the  conditions  are  many  and  the 
processes  complicated,  the  phenomenon  of  vitality  does 
not  seem  so  puzzling ;  antecedent  appears  to  bear  some 
sort  of  proportion  to  consequent.  The  mind  rarely 
troubles  itself  to  make  nice  distinctions  between  com- 
plicated machinery  and  motive  power.  A  liberal  dis- 
play of  wheel-work  is  adequate  to  account  for  results 
without  any  reference  to  the  initial  force.  But  as  we 
contemplate  the  life  of  the  protoza,  which  reign  supreme 
in  the  ocean's  depths,  we  see  the  awful  and  mysterious 
problem  presented  in  its  simplest  terms ;  forms  of  ex- 
istence which  are  formless,  organisms  possessing  no 
organs,  life  contradicting  the  very  definitions  of  life,  and 
yet  performing  all  its  essential  functions.  The  condi- 
tions, complex  and  multitudinous,  under  which  we  live, 
are  here  reduced  to  two  or  three ;  the  elements, 
many  and  bewildering,  which  enter  into  the  ordinary 
statement  of  the  problem,  are  here  eliminated,  and  yet 
we  are  forced  to  recognize  the  same  vital  principle 
giving  functional  activity  to  a  mass  of  structureless 
jelly  which  animates  the  highest  organic  beings. 

When  we  see  this  formless  life  governed  by  laws,  each 
in  itself  as  inexorable  as  that  which  guides  the  rolling 
planets,  and  all  in  their  various  combinations  as  flexUe 
as  those  which  control  our  human  existence,  we  feel  the 
sense  of  awe  which  a  whisper  from  the  unseen  world 
might  send  thrilling  through  our  nerves.  We  are  stand- 
ing face  to  face  with  life  stripped  of  its  familiar  condi- 
tions. It  looks  us  in  the  eyes  as  the  disembodied  ghost 
of  the  life  now  so  familiar  to  us. 

The  plants  and  animals  which  live  at  the  bottom  vary 
with  the  climate,  as  they  do  on  land.  In  the  temperate 
regions  vast  forests  flourish  beneath  the  waters,  and 
these  shady  retreats  are  the  homes  of  multitudes  of 
mollusks,  crabs,  and  the  smaller  fish. 

"  There  long  reeds  swung, 
Balanced  by  the  lazy  ripples ;  sea-plants  raised 

Their  emerald  crowns  aloft ;  dark  mosses  clung, 
Golden  and  brown,  to  rocks  that  seemed  fit  couch 

For  mermaidens  and  languid  water-brides ; 
Bright,  tawny  bulging  sea-weed  in  its  pouch 

Held  living  jewels  twinkling  through  the  sides ; 
Blue  polished  pebbles  and  pink  twisted  shells 

Paved  the  clean  floor." 

In  the  heated  waters  near  the  equator,  the  vegetation 
IS  not  so  aDundant  nor  so  delicate  as  in  the  cooler 
regions.  Although  light  penetrates  the  water  for  only  a 
few  hundred  feet,  these  animals  have  perfectly  formed 
eyes,  apparently  made  for  the  reception  of  light,  as  in 
fish  nearer  the  surface.  Though  all  the  attempts  to 
ascertain  the  temperature  of  the  sea  have  in  a  degree 
failed,  results  have  been  attained  sufiiciently  accurate  to 
fconvince  the  scientist  that  it  is  not  uniform.  Marine 
currents  cross  each  other  in  all  directions,  forming  im- 
passable barriers  between  the  different  classes  of  animals. 
Those  of  the  polar  region  are  as  effectually  cut  off  from 
the  fish  of  the  warmer  gulf  stream  as  they  could  be  by 
a  wall,  while  the  genial  heat  of  that  well-known  cur- 
rent nourishes  multitudes  of  animals  to  which  the 
neighboring  waters  would  prove  fatal. 

The  bed  of  the  sea  is  constantly  filling  up  with 
substances  washed  from  the  shores  and  by  the  im- 
mense rocks  that  are  crushed  in  the  iron  grasp  of  the 
waves.  The  rivers  all  carry  more  or  less  loose  earth 
or  gravel  along  with  them  in  their  courses,  and  some 
of  them  have  their  waters  so  thickened  with  this  de- 
bris that  they  may  be  distinguished  from  the  clear 
sea  water  for  miles  from  their  mouths.  Then,  too, 
myriads  of  minute  sea  insects  build  up  their  frail 
framework  to  the  very  top  of  the  water,  and  the 
waves  constantly  carry  earth  to  these  reefs  until 
enough  accumulates  to  grow  the  seeds  deposited  by 
the  very  busy  sea,  and  lastly  men  come  to  inhabit 
those  islands  which  seem  to  have  arisen  from  nothing, 
so  gradual  was  the  work  and  so  diminutive  the  work- 
men. Beside  the  more  useful  coral  made  by  this 
little  insect,  we  find  in  the  wealthy  ocean  rare  gems 
and  the  finest  coral  from  which  jewelry  is  made.  It 
is  formed  in  the  shape  of  a  branched  trunk,  which  is 
of  various  shades  between  white  and  a  deep  red,  and 
as  hard  as  the  most  compact  rock.     Here  and  there 


on  the  surface  can  be  detected  very  small  holes,  in 
each  of  which  resides  one  of  the  builders.  These  in- 
sects, when  expanded,  show  all  the  appearance  of 
small  white  fiowers,  with  eight  divisions  spread  out 
like  rays.  It  was  this  deceitful  appearance  which 
made  naturalists  hesitate  so  long  about  the  nature  of 
coral,  as  some  of  them  thought  it  to  be  a  plant  which 
petrified  on  being  taken  from  the  sea. 

Coral  is  fished  up  from  the  lowest  depths  of  the 
ocean  by  a  kind  of  a  drag  with  arms  on  which  are 
supported  nets  to  catch  the  coral  that  is  torn  loose. 
Pearls  are  also  found  in  great  abundance  in  many 
waters.  They  are  formed  inside  the  shell  of  the  pearl 
oyster  by  its  having  swallowed  a  grain  of  sand  ;  or,  some 
say  it  is  the  oyster's  tear.  Men  are  employed  in  diving 
for  them  in  large  diving-bells  made  for  the  purpose,  as 
shown  in  No.  62  of  Growing  World.  The  pearl  fish- 
eries are  of  great  value,  and  yield  a  large  profit  to  their 
ownjprs,  who  buy  the  territory  by  the  acre. 

Could  we  only  descend  for  a  short  time  beneath  the 
blue  depths  of  the  Pacific,  and  walk  among  the  sub- 
marine forests,  exploring  the  unknown  regions  of  dark- 
ness, or  visiting  the  haunts  of  some  of  the  most  gigantic 
of  the  animal  Kingdom,  what  marvelous  stories  could 
we  not  tell,  and  what  beautiful  sights  hold  in  remem- 
brance 1  Then  fancy  the  strange  sensation  we  must 
experience  in  walking  away  down  deep  in  the  sea,  where 
probably  no  other  human  foot  ever  rested,  with  the  boundless 
,  vastness  of  briny  water  over  and  around.  I  fancy  thought  of 
the  millions  drowned  in  this  treacherous  element  woula  come 
to  mind, 

"  For  they  are  lulled  by  cradle-song  of  waves, 
And  soft,  green  waters  kiss  their  sealed  eyes; 
Round  them  smooth  currents  wind  through  twilight  caves: 
y        They  sleep  on  moss,  but  buried  treasure  lies 
Golden  and  pearl  anigh  their  crystal  graves. 

High  overhead  they  feel  the  sea  gull  dip 
With  greetings  sweet." 

We  might,  perhaps,  meet  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  and  see 
them  swim  and  play  in  their  native  element.  It  seems  cruel  to 
transport  them  to  narrow  tanks,  like  the  whale  at  the  New 
York  Aquarium,  after  they  have  once  experienced  the  joy  of 
swimming  in  an  endless  sea. 

Jules  Vernes,  in  "Twenty  Thousand  Leagues  Under  the 
Sea,"  invents  an  imaginary  submarine  vessel,  shaped  like  a 
huge  cigar  and  made  of  steel,  called  the  Nautilus,  that  glided 
either  above  or  beneath  the  water  at  a  terrific  speed,  guided  by 
the  powerful  agent  electricity.  It  was  232  feet  long,  and  it& 
maximum  breadth  26  feet.  It  was  divided  into  several  com- 
partments, was  fully  furnished  with  nautical  instruments  and  a 
crew  of  able  seamen.  Its  commander  was  called  Captain 
Nemo,  "the  Man  of  the  Seas."  His  skill  in  managing  this 
remarkable  vessel  enabled  him  to  shoot  through  the  water,  if 
he  chose,  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles  an  hour,  and  his  nautical 
instruments  enabled  him  to  direct  his  course  accurately.  At 
one  time  the  Nautilus  went  to  the  South  Pole  and  was  nearly 
crushed  by  icebergs,  but  Captain  Nemo  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  passing  under  the  icebergs  to  reach  the  open  sea.  He 
said:  "  If  these  ice  mountains  are  not  more  than  300  feet  above 
the  surface,  they  are  not  more  than  900  feet  beneath;  and  what 
are  900  feet  to  the  Nautilus  f  The  only  difficulty  is  that  of 
remaining  several  days  without  renewing  our  provision  of 
air." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  M.  Aronnax  (Professor  in  the  Museum  of 
Paris).  "The  Nautilus  has  vast  reservoirs;  we  can  fill  them, 
and  they  will  supply  us  with  all  the  oxygen  we  want." 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  attempt  be  made,  and  ten  of 
the  crew  cut  away  the  ice,  and  down  went  the  Nautilus.  M. 
Aronnax  says:  "The  sea  was  lighted  by  an  electric  lantern, 
but  it  was  deserted;  fish  did  not  sojourn  in  these  imprisoned 
waters.  Our  pace  was  rapid;  we  could  feel  the  quivering  of 
the  long  steel  body. 

"The  next  morning  the  electric  log  told  me  that  the  speed, 
had  been  slackened.  It  was  then  going  toward  the  surface,  but 
prudently  emptying  its  reservoirs  very  slowly.  My  heart  beat 
fast.  Were  we  going  to  emerge  and  regain  the  open  polar 
atmosphere?  No ;  a  shock  told  me  that  the  Nautilus  had 
struck  the  bottom  of  the  iceberg.  We  had  indeed  struck, 
to  use  a  sea  expression,  Tjut  in  an  inverse  sense,  and  at  a 
thousand  feet  deep.  Several  times  that  day  the  Nautilus 
tried  again,  and  every  time  it  struck  the  wall  which  lay  like  a 
ceiling  above  it.  That  night  no  change  had  taken  place  in  our 
situation.  Still  ice  between  four  and  five  hundred  yards  in 
depth  1  It  was  evidently  diminishiug,  but  still  what  a  thickness 
between  us  and  the  surface  of  the  ocean  1  The  groping  of 
the  Nautilus  continued.  About  three  in  the  morning  I  noticed 
that  the  lower  surface  of  the  iceberg  was  only  about  fifty  feet 
deep.  One  hundred  and  fifty  feet  now  separated  us  from  the 
surface  of  the  waters.  My  eyes  never  left  the  barometer. 
We  were  still  rising  diagonally  to  the  surface.  At  length,  at 
bIx  in  the  morning  of  that  memorable  day,  the  19th  of  March» 
♦.he  door  of  the  saloon  opened,  and  Captain  Nemo  appeared." 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


"The  sea  is  open!'"  was  all  he  said. 

Captain  Nemo  and  his  party  sought  and  visited  many  won- 
derful caves,  forests,  and  other  places  of  intense  interest  down 
nnder  the  sea.  They  encountered  marine  monsters,  fought 
battles  with  them,  and  discovered  jewels  of  almost  untold 
value.  They  wore  India  rubber  diving  dresses,  with  copper 
head-covering.  Thus  equipped,  they  frequently  went  on  explor- 
ing expeditions. 

M.  Aronnax)  says  of  one  of  these  journeys:  "We  were 
obliged  to  follow  the  captain,  who  seemed  to  guide  himself  by 
paths  only  known  to  himself.  Often  we  rounded  high  rocks 
scraped  into  pyramids.  In  their  dark  fractures  huge  crustaceans, 
perched  upon  their  high  claws  like  some  war  machine,  watched 
us  with  fixed  eyes,  and  under  our  feet  crawled  various  kinds  of 
annelids  (leeches  and  red  blooded  worms). 

At  this  moment  there  opened  before  us  a  large  grotto,  dug  in 
a  picturesque  heap  of  rocks,  and  carpeted  with  all  the  thick 
warp  of  the  submarine  flora.  At  first  it  seemed  very  dark  to 
me.  The  solar  rays  seemed  to  be  extinguished  by  successive 
gradations,  until  its  vague  transparency  became  nothing  more 
than  drowned  light.  Captain  Nemo  entered,  and  we  followed. 
My  eyes  soon  accustomed  themselves  to  this  relative  state  of 
darkness.  I  could  distinguish  the  arches  springing  capriciously 
from  natural  pillars,  standing  broad  upon  their  granite  base. 
Why  had  our  incomprehensible  guide  led  us  to  the  bottom  of 
this  submarine  crypt  ?  I  was  soon  to  know.  Captain  Nemo 
stopped,  and  with  his  hand  indicated  an  oyster  of  extraordinary 
dimensions,  a  gigantic  tridacne,  a  goblet  that  could  have  con- 
tained a  whole  lake  of  holy  water,  a  basin  the  breadth  of 
which  was  more  than  two  yards  and  a  half.  It  adhered  by  its 
byssus  to  a  table  of  granite,  and  there  isolated,  it  developed 
itself  in  the  calm  waters  of  the  grotto.  I  estimated  the  weight 
of  this  tridacne  at  six  hundred  pounds.  Such  an  oyster  would 
contain  thirty  pounds  of  meat.  Captain  Nemo  was  evidently 
acquainted  with  its  existence.  The  shells  were  a  little  open. 
The  captain  put  his  dagger  between,  to  prevent  them  from 
closing;  then  with  his  hand  he  raised  the  membrane  with  its 
friaged  edges,  which  formed  a  cloak  for  the  creature.  There, 
between  the  folded  plaits,  I  saw  a  loose  pearl,  whose  size 
equaled  that  of  a  cocoanut.  Its  globular  shape,  perfect  clear- 
ness, and  admirable  lustre,  made  it  altogether  a  jewel  of 
inestimable  value.  Carried  away  by  my  curiosity,  I  stretched 
out  my  hand  to  seize  it,  weigh  it,  and  touch  it;  but  the  captain 
stopped  me,  made  a  sign  of  refusal  (conversation  was  impossi- 
ble in  the  diving  costume  they  wore),  and  quickly  withdrew 
his  dagger,  and  the  two  shells  closed  suddenly.  I  then  under- 
stood Captain  Nemo's  intention.  In  leaving  this  pearl  hidden 
jn  the  mantle  of  the  tridacne,  he  was  allowing  it  to  grow  slowly. 
Each  year  the  secretions  of  the  mollusc  would  add  new  con- 
centric layers.   I  estimated  its  value  at  $10,000,000  at  least. 

After  ten  minutes  Captain  Nemo  suddenly  stopped.  I 
thought  he  had  halted  previously  to  returning.  No;  by  a 
gesture  he  bade  us  crouch  beside  him  in  a  deep  fracture  of  the 
rock,  his  hand  pointed  to  a  part  of  the  liquid  mass,  whicli  1 
watched  attentively. 

About  five  yards  from  me  a  shadow  appeared,  and  sank  to 
the  ground.  The  disquieting  idea  of  sharks  shot  through  my 
mind,  but  I  was  mistaken.  It  was  a  living  man,  an  Indian,  a 
fisherman,  who  I  suppose  had  come  to  glean  before  the  harvest, 
for  this  was  a  famous  pearl  divers'  ground.  Here,  in  a  month. 
Captain  Nemo  had  said  before  leaving  the  Nautilus,  will  be 
assembled  the  numerous  fishing  boats  of  the  exporters. 

I  could  see  the  bottom  of  the  pearl  diver's  canoe  anchored 
some  feet  above  his  head.  He  dived  and  went  up  successively. 
A  stone  held  between  his  feet,  cut  in  the  shape  of  a  sugar  loaf, 
while  a  rope  fastened  him  to  his  boat,  helped  him  to  descend 
pore  rapidly.  This  was  all  his  apparatus.  Reaching  the 
bottom,  about  five  yards  deep,  he  went  on  his  knees  and  filled 
his  bag  with  oysters  picked  up  at  random.  Then  he  went  up, 
emptied  it,  pulled  up  his  stone,  and  began  the  operation  once 
more,  which  lasted  thirty  seconds. 

The  diver  did  not  see  us.  The  shadow  of  the  rock  hid  us 
from  sight.  And  how  should  this  poor  Indian  ever  dream  that 
men,  beings  like  himself,  should  be  there  under  the  water 
watching  his  movements  and  losing  no  detail  of  the  fishing  ? 
He  did  not  carry  away  more  than  ten  oysters  at  each  plunge, 
for  he  was  obliged  to  pull  them  from  the  bank  to  which  they 
adhered  by  means  of  their  strong  byssus.  And  how  many  of 
those  oysters  lc_  -vnich  he  risked  his  life  had  no  pearl  in  them! 
1  watched  him  closely.  His  manceuvers  were  regular,  and  for 
the  space  of  half  an  hour  no  danger  appeared  to  threaten  him. 
I  was  beginning  to  accustom  myself  to  the  sight  of  this  inter- 
esting fishing,  when  suddenly,  as  the  Indian  was  on  the 
ground,  I  saw  him  make  a  gesture  of  terror,  rise,  and  make  a 
spring  to  return  to  the  surface  of  the  sea.  I  understood  the 
dread.  A  gigantic  shadow  appeared  just  above  the  unfortunate 
diver.  It  was  a  shark  of  enormous  size  advancing  diagonally, 
his  [eyes  on  fire,  and  his  jaws  open.  I  was  mute  with  horror, 
and  unable  to  move.  The  voracious  creature  shot  towards  the 
Indian,  who  threw  himself  on  one  side,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
shark's  fins  ;  but  not  its  tail,  for  it  struck  his  chest  and 
stretched  him  on  tue  ground. 

This  scene  lasted  but  a  few  seconds.  The  shark  returned, 
and,  turning  on  his  back,  prepared  for  cutting  the  Indian  in 
two,  when  Isaw  Captain  Nemo  rise  suddenly,  and  then,  dagger 
in  hand,  walk  straight  to  the  monster,  ready  to  fight  face  to 
face  with  him.  The  very  moment  the  shark  was  going  to  snap 
the  unhappy  fisherman  in  two,  he  perceived  his  new  adversary, 
«nd  turning  over,  made  straight  towards  Mm.    I  can  see  Cap- 


tain Nemo's  position.     Holdlnj*  himself  well  together,  he 

waited  for  the  shark  witli  admirable  coolness,  and  when  it 
rushed  at  him,  threw  himself  on  one  side  with  wonderful 
quickness,  avoiding  the  shock  and  burying  his  dagger  deep 
into  its  side.  But  it  was  not  all  over;  a  terrible  combat  ensued. 
The  shark  had  Bcemcd  to  roar,  if  I  may  say  sr.  The  blood 
rushed  in  torrents  from  its  wound.  The  sea  was  dyed  red,  and 
through  the  opaque  liquid  I  could  distinguish  nothing  more — 
nothing  more  until  the  moment  when,  like  lightning,  I  saw  the 
undaunted  captain  hanging  to  one  of  the  creature's  fins, 
struggling,  as  it  were,  hand  to  hand  with  the  monster,  and 
dealing  successive  blows  at  his  enemy,  yet  still  unable  to  give 
a  decisive  one.  The  shark's  struggles  agitated  the  water  with 
such  fury  that  the  rocking  threatened  to  upset  me. 

I  wanted  to  go  to  the  captain's  assistance,  but,  nailed  to  the 
spot  with  horror,  I  could  not  stir.  I  saw  the  haggard  eye.  I 
saw  the  different  phases  of  the  fight.  The  captain  fell  to  the 
earth,  upset  by  the  enormous  mass  that  leaned  upon  him.  The 
shark's  jaws  opened  wide,  like  a  pair  of  factory  shears,  and  it 
would  have  been  all  over  with  the  captain,  but  quick  as 
thought,  harpoon  in  hand,  Ned  Land  (an  old  fisherman,  who 
was  Captain  Nemo's  right-hand  man)  rushed  towards  the  shark 
and  struck  it  with  its  sharp  point.  The  waves  were  impreg- 
nated with  a  mass  of  blood.  They  rocked  under  the  shark'^s 
movements,  which  beat  them  with  indescribable  fury.  Ned 
Land  had  not  missed  his  aim.  It  was  the  monster's  death 
rattle.  Struck  to  the  heart,  it  struggled  in  dreadful  convul- 
sions, the  shock  of  which  overthrew  Conseil  (servant  to 
M.  Aronnax). 

But  Ned  Land  had  disentangled  the  Captain,  who,  getting  up 
without  any  wound,  went  straight  to  the  Indian,  quickly  cut  the 
cord  which  held  him  to  a  stone,  took  him  in  his  arms,  and. 
with  a  sharp  blow  of  his  heel,  mounted  to  the  surface.  We  all 
three  followed  in  a  few  seconds,  saved  by  a  miracle,  and 
reached  the  fisherman's  boat.  Captain  Nemo's  first  care  was 
to  recall  the  unfortunate  man  to  life  again.  I  did  not  think  he 
could  succeed.  I  hoped  so,  for  the  poor  creature's  immersion 
was  not  long  ;  but  the  blow  from  the  shark's  tail  might  have 
been  his  death  blow. 

Happily,  with  the  captain's  and  CoHseil's  sharp  friction,  I 
saw  consciousness  return  by  degress.  He  opened  his  eyes. 
What  was  surprise,  his  terror,  even,  at  seeing  four  great  copper 
HEADS  leaning  over  him!  And  above  all,  what  must  behave 
thought  when  Captain  Nemo,  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  bag 
of  pearls,  placed  it  in  his  hand?  This  munificient  charity  from 
the  man  of  the  waters  to  the  poor  Cingalese,  was  accepted  with 
a  trembling  hand.  His  wondering  eyes  showed  that  he  knew 
not  to  what  superhuman  beings  he  owed  both  fortune  and  life. 

At  a  sign  from  the  captain  we  regained  the  bank,  and 
following  the  road  already  traversed,  came  in  about  half  an 
hour  to  the  anchor  which  held  the  canoe  of  the  Nautilus  to  the 
earth.  Once  on  board,  we  each,  by  the  help  of  the  sailors,  got 
rid  of  the  heavy  copper  helmet. 

"To  the  Nautilus,"  said  Captain  Nemo,  and  the  boat  flew 
over  the  waves.  Some  minutes  after  we  met  the  shark's  body 
floating.  By  the  black  marking  of  the  extremity  of  its  fins,  I 
recognized  the  terrible  melanopteron  of  the  Indian  seas,  of 
the  species  of  shark  properly  so  called.  It  was  more  than 
twenty-five  feet  long,  its  enormous  mouth  occupying  one-third 
of  its  body.  Whilst  I  was  contemplating  this  inert  mass,  a 
dozen  of  these  voracious  beasts  appeared  around  the  boat,  and- 
without  noticing  us,  threw  themselves  upon  the  dead  body  and 
fought  with  one  another  for  the  pieces.  At  half  past  eight  we 
were  again  on  board  the  Nautilus." 

*******  ** 

*  ******** 
********* 

*  They  met  with  many  other  deep  sea  monsters, 
encountered  many  obstacles  in  their  experience,  saw  strange, 
wonderful  and  beautiful  eights ;  but  we  presume  nothing  in 
their  wanderings  and  adventures  exceeded  what  really  does 
exist  in  the  depths  of  the  sea.  With  such  a  vessel  and  such 
a  commander,  how  many  of  us  would  like  to  join  him  in  a 
voyage  round  the  world,  visiting  and  examining  the  wonders  of 
old  Ocean's  caves  and  hidden  treasures  I 

There  is  a  mysterious  charm  about  the  sea  people  ;  some  of 
them  exist,  pernaps,  only  in  imagination;  but  who  would  nof 
like  to  see 

The  pale  white  chargers  of  the  sea 

Toss  back  their  foam-white  hair, 
As  swift  they  plunge  beneath  the  waves, 

With  mist-robed  sea-nymphs  fair. 

Far  down  in  dim-lit  coral  caves 

The  mermaids  coil  and  slide. 
Or  with  fish-monsters,  filmy-eyed, 

Through  walls  of  water  glide. 

While  whirling  up  from  darkling  deeps, 

With  hurrying  leap  and  reach. 
The  great  wave  Triton's  dance  and  dash 

Along  the  echoing  beach." 


What  can  be  more  foolish  than  to  think  that  all  tliis  rare 
fabric  of  heaven  and  earth  could  come  by  chance,  when  all  th# 
skil.  of  v'-  is  not  able  to  make  an  oyster? 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Horace  Greeley. 

Next  arises  before  us  the  large,  benevolent  features  of 
Horace  Greeley.  Such  a  pleasant  face,  and  so  full  of 
character— the  broad,  high,  full  forehead,  and  keenly 
pleasant  eye.  Some  boy,  while  reading  the  biography  of 
this  self-made  man,  must  gird  up  his  young  soul  in 
strength  and  exclaim  : 

"  Why  may  not  I  press  on  over  stumbling  blocks  and 
difficulties,  and  win  a  name  and  success  in  life  ?  " 

You  may — you  can.  There  is  no  patent  on  nobility  in 
this  free  land,  my  boy  ;  you  have  got  to  climb  up  no 
genealogical  tree  with  "  who  was  the  son  of  Henry,  who 
was  the  son  of  Seth,  who  was  the  son  of  Nathan,"  and  so 
on  to  gain  eminence.  America  searches  for  no  remote 
pedigree ;  she  is  not  partial  to  elder  sons  nor  heirs ; 
wherever  the  active  body  and  energetic  mind  wills  to 
go,  with  God's  blessing  they  can  go. 

The  Greeleys  were  not  universally  rich,  by  any  means. 
Horace  was  bom  at  Amherst,  New  Hampshire,  February 
3d,  1811.  He  was  the  third  of  seven  children.  His 
father's  farm  was  not  fertile,  besides  being  mortgaged  ; 
and  it  was  a  wearisome  struggle  to  support  the  family 
and  meet  the  interest  on  the  debts.  Horace  remembered 
that  almost  as  soon  as  he  could  walk  about  the  farm,  he 
was  employed  in  picking  up  stones,  and,  doubtless,  many 
a  little  boy  to-day  will  agree  with  him,  that  there  was  no 
fun  in  this  occupation. 

Horace,  in  his  autobiography  says,  the  task  was  never- 
ending,  for  clean  them  off  as  nicely  as  you  pleased  one 
year,  the  next  plowing  turned  them  up  as  thickly  as 
ever,  in  sizes  varying  from  a  hickory  nut  to  a  tea-kettle. 

Whether  it  was  natural  instinct,  or  due  to  the  stone- 
pickingj  the  historian  says  not,  but  Horace  disliked  farm 
life.  He  learned  to  read  before  he  could  talk  plainly, 
his  mother  being  his  teacher.  She  was  a  woman  of  more 
than  ordinary  intelligence,  and  she  dearly  loved  poetry 
and  music,  and  had  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  song  and 
ballads  and  stories,  which  she  would  repeat  to  her  boy 
as  she  turned  her  spinning  wheel,  or  held  him  on  her 
knee.  Horace  would  listen  to  them  with  eagerness,  and 
they  served  to  awaken  in  him  a  thirst  for  knowledge  and 
an  interest  in  literature  and  history. 

When  he  was  four  years  old,  he  could  read  common 
books  correctly.  When  about  this  age  he  went  to  visit 
his  mother's  father,  with  whom  he  lived  for  three  or 
inore  years,  attending  school  much  of  the  time.  He 
learned  rapidly,  and  was  noted  for  his  proficiency  in 
spelling. 

When  Horace  was  six  years  old  his  father  removed  to 
a  larger  farm  in  the  town  of  Bedford.  The  boy  was  now 
recalled  from  his  grandfather's  to  assist  the  family  upon 
the  new  place.  Here  he  spent  the  next  four  years,  and 
only  securing  what  schooling  the  intervals  of  labor 
allowed.  Here  he  began  to  learn  that  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  hard  work  to  be  done  in  the  world.  He  was  fre- 
quently called  out  of  bed  at  dawn  to  ride  a  horse  to 
plow  an^ong  the  corn  ;  full  often  was  he  kept  at  this  job 
until  the  forenoon's  school  was  half  done.  He  had  more 
chance  to  go  to  school  in  winter,  but  with  the  intense 
cold,  the  biting  wind  and  deep  snows,  it  was  hard  work 
to  attend  with  any  regularity. 

The  simple  little  newspaper,  taken  in  his  father's  fam- 
ily? gave  Horace  the  idea  that  a  great  world,  with  human 
beings,  like  a  tide  ebbing  and  flowing  through  it,  lay 
beyond  the  grey  New  Hampshire  hills,  and  sometime  he 
must  take  his  place  in  it. 

Eagerly  he  devoured  the  contents  of  each  issue  of  the 
paper,  and,  some  way,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  being  a 
printer.  One  day,  as  he  watched  a  blacksmith  in  Bed- 
ford shoe  a  horse,  the  man,  who  was  a  friend  to  the  boy, 
asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to  learn  the  trade.  "  No," 
said  Horace,  "  I  am  going  to  be  a  printer." 

When  Horace  was  about  ten  years  old,  his  father  re- 
moved to  Vermont.  At  the  head  of  Lake  Champlain 
the  family  began  life  anew.  For  several  years  more  our 
hero  worked  hard  and  fared  poorly,  but  he  was  happy, 
for  he  had  at  last  drifted  into  a  locality  where  he  could 
borrow  and  read  newspapers  and  books.  His  hungry 
mind  feasted,  as  it  were,  upon  a  sumptuous  repast.  By 
gathering  nuts,  and  pine  knots  for  kindling,  which  he 
disposed  of  at  the  stores,  and  by  hunting  wild  bees  he 
secured  small  sums  of  money  which  he  invested  in  books. 
No  king  upon  the  throne  was  so  happy  as  the  boy,  when 
by  his  own  economy  and  planning  he  had  purchased 
some  coveted  new  volume. 


When  he  was  eleven  years  old,  he  heard  that  an  ap-  ^ 
prentice  was  wanted  in  the  printing  office  at  Whitehall. 
With  his  father's  consent,  he  started  off  to  walk  the  nine 
miles  to  the  place,  but  he  was  rejected  because  of  his  ex- 
treme youth.  This  vicinity  was  noted  at  that  time  for  its 
dissipation.  So  amazed,  astonished  and  disgusted  was 
Horace  with  the  coarse  barbarism  which  he  beheld,  that 
an  utter  abhorence  of  obscenity  and  drunkenness  filled 
his  mind  ever  after. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  seeing  an  advertisement  for  a 

Erinter's  boy  in  the  office  of  The  Northern  S})ectator,  pub- 
shed  at  East  Poultney,  Vermont,  ^even  miles  from 
home,  he  aslced  leave  of  his  father  to  try  for  the  situa- 
tion. He  obtained  it,  and  on  the  18th  of  April,  1826,  he 
began  his  apprenticeship  in  the  Spectator  office.  He  was 
to  receive  his  board  only  for  the  first  six  months,  after 
that  his  board  and  forty  dollars  a  year  for  clothing. 
Soon  after  Dhis  Horace's  father  removed  to  the  town  of 
Wayne,  Erie  County,  Pa.  For  four  ^uars  Horace  worked 
faithfully  at  his  trade.  His  empi^^yers  were  kind,  but  he 
was  kept  very  busy.  What  leisure  time  he  had  was  de- 
voted to  reading  and  improvement  of  his  mind,  and  he 
became  a  leading  member  of  the  village  debating  society. 
He  was  firm,  but  courteous  in  his  demeanor,  frank, 
even-tempered  and  popular.  He  was  never  treated  as  a 
boy,  but  his  opinion  was  weighed  as  that  of  a  man  of 
judgment.  His  little  income  of  forty  dollars  a  year  was 
carefully  husbanded,  and  out  of  it  he  clothed  himself 
and  sent  the  rest  to  his  father. 

In  the  year  1830,  the  Spectator  office  was  closed,  and 
Horace  was  thrown  out  of  employment.  With  his  scanty 
wardrobe  and  but  eleven  dollars  in  his  pocket,  he  set  out 
to  visit  his  family,  obtaining  employment  on  the  way  in  the 
office  of  the  Democratic  paper  published  at  Sodus,  N.  Y. 
Here  his  wages  were  eleven  dollars  a  month  ;  but  later 
in  the  year  he  obtained  fifteen  dollars  a  month  in  a  print- 
ing office  at  Erie,  Pennsylvania.  So  thorough  was  he  in 
his  work,  that  his  employers  offered  him  a  partnership. 
Fortunately  he  declined  it,  for  a  dull  season  setting  in 
soon  after,  worked  unfavorably  with  the  publishers. 

Then  Horace  conceived  the  idea  of  seeking  occupation 
in  New  York.  Generously  dividing  his  earnings  with  his 
father,  he  started  off,  making  part  of  his  journey  on 
foot,  and  partly  by  canal  and  Hudson  River  steamer. 
He  landed  in  New  iTork  August  17th,  1831.  Poor,  un- 
known, and  awkward  in  appearance— we  can  picture 
him,  frail  and  boyish — another  young  David  going 
bravely  out  to  fight  a  gigantic  army  of  difficulties. 

How  the  rush  and  the  roar,  the  clatter  and  clang,  the 
shrieking  of  locomotives,  the  jar  of  machinery,  the  in- 
coming and  out-going  of  the  human  tide  awed  and  dis- 
heartened him.  Within  a  circle  of  two  bunded  miles  he 
knew  no  human  being,  and  his  unpolished  address  was 
a  drawback  to  finding  remunerative  employment. 

How  often  does  the  world  go  tramping  over  the  pure 
gold  unknowingly,  because  there  is  a  sifting  of  dust  on 
the  surface  that  conceals  the  treasure  within. 

With  all  his  personal  estate  tied  up  in  a  pocket- 
handkerchief,  there  was  nothing  to  trammel  the  light- 
ness of  his  step  as  he  walked  ashore,  glad  to  be  rid  of 
the  sibilant  hissing  of  the  escaping  steam,  perhaps  fan- 
cying it  something  like  the  way  the  world  would  meet 
him  now  that  he  had  fairly  come  upon  the  stage  of  action. 

He  soon  found  a  cheap  boarding-place,  and  as  his 
funds  were  limited  to  the  sum  of  ten  dollars,  he  began 
an  immediate  search  for  employment.  It  was  the  dull, 
midsummer  season,  and  his  young  appearance  and  em- 
barrassed manner  was  not  in  his  favor.  For  two  days 
he  travelled  incessantly,  and  was  told,  at  least  one  time, 
that  he  was  probably  a  runaway  country  apprentice. 

Disheartened  and  disgusted,  Horace  resolved  to  leave 
the  city  the  next  day  after  he  was  accused  of  being  a 
runaway,  but  he  learned  from  a  chance  visitor  at  the 
boarding-house,  that  John  T.  West,  in  Chatham  street, 
was  in  need  of  a  workman.  He  applied  for  and  ob- 
tained the  place,  just  because  no  other  printer  in  the 
city  would  accept  the  situation,  simply  from  the  fact 
that  the  work  was  very  difficult,  being  the  composition  of 
a  miniature  Testament  with  copious  marginal  notes. 

Our  hero  had  his  job  mostly  alone,  but  he  persevered 
and  completed  it,  but  so  difficult  was  the  work  that  he 
could  barely  earn  a  dollar  a  day.  When  the  task  was 
completed,  Mr.  West  had  no  further  use  for  him,  and  he 
was  again  without  work  for  a  short  time.  After  a  while 
he  entered  the  office  of  Porter's  Spirit  of  the  Times,  a 
new  sporting  paper,  where  he  was  paid  fair  wages.  He 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Von  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Francis  Y.  Story,  the  foreman 
•of  the  office,  who  shortly  after  induced  Horace  to  enter 
into  a  partnership  with  him  in  an  office  of  their  own. 

Hiring  two  rooms,  the  new  firm  invested  their  small 
capital  in  printing  material,  and  took  such  job  printing 
as  they  could  get,  but  their  main  dependence  was  the 
printing  of  Sylvester's  Bank  JSote  Jieporter,  and  the 
publishing  of  the  Horning  Fast,  a  daily  penny  paper, 
started  by  Dr.  H.  D.  Shepard.  But  in  a  few  weeks  it 
proved  a  failure  under  Shepard's  superintendence;  after- 
wards it  was  bought  by  an  Englishman,  who,  at  least, 
managed  to  pay  the  printer's  bills,  and  the  young  firm 
was  beginning  to  get  along  well,  when  Mr.  Story  came 
to  an  untimely  death  by  drowning. 

Mr.  Jonas  Winchester,  brother-in-law  of  Mr.  Story, 
took  his  place,  and  by  hard  and  persistent  struggling  a 
fair  business  was  established.  In  March,  1834,  Mr.  Gree- 
ley and  his  partner  began  issuing  a  weekly  paper  called 
The  New  Yorker,  which  was  devoted  to  literature  and 
current  news.  Mr.  Winchester  attended  to  the  business 
department,  Mr.  Greeley  was  sole  editor.  This  publica- 
tion was  ably  conducted  for  seven  years  and  a-half,  then 
followed  the  panic  of  1837,  and  the  credit  system  was 
disastrous  to  this  periodical.  In  1838,  while  Mr.  Greeley 
was  conducting  The  New  Yorker,  he  became  editor  also 
of  a  campaign  paper — The  Jeffersonian — in  the  interest  of 
the  Whig  party  of  the  State  of  New  York.  This  paper 
ran  up  to  a  circulation  of  15,000  copies,  and  Greeley  re- 
ceived a  salary  of  $1,000.  In  1840,  during  the  Harrison 
campaign,  he  published  T7ie  Log  Cabin,  another  paper  on 
the  plan  of  The  Jeffersonian.  This  last  publication  met 
with  unexpected  success  from  the  start,  the  first  number 
attaining  a  sale  of  46,000  copies.  It  was  Horace's  own 
paper,  and  was  a  profitable  enterprise.  After  elec- 
tion it  merged  into  a  family  newspaper,  and  finally  de- 
veloped, or  was  re-christened,  the  Weekly  Tribune. 

It  had  always  been  the  darling  ambition  of  Horace 
■Greeley's  life  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  first-class  newspaper 
in  New  York.  His  New  York  Tribune  was  small  at  first, 
and  sold  for  a  cent  a  copy.  It  began  its  career  with  600 
subscribers,  and  a  capital  of  $1,000  borrowed  money. 
The  first  edition  of  10,000  copies  proved  a  hard  job  to 
dispose  of  on  any  terms.  But,  fortunately,  the  Sun 
assumed  the  position  of  rabid  critic,  with  intent  to  crush 
the  young  aspirant  for  popularity  to  death.  Mr.  Greeley 
showing  tight,  a  pretty  quarrel  ensued,  and  the  public 
became  interested,  and  the  Tribime  was  brought  into 
notice.  Thomas  McElrath  was  induced  to  become  a 
partner  in  the  enterprise,  and  a  successful  career  was 
entered  upon.  No  matter  about  his  politics— it  is  evi- 
dent that  Horace  Greeley  had  the  welfare  and  morality 
of  the  mass  of  mankind  at  heart,  and  if  he  made  mis- 
takes— who  does  not  make  them — it  was  through  errors 
of  judgment  and  not  of  the  heart.  Let  us  have  Mr. 
Oreeley's  aspirations  as  interpreted  by  himself: 

Fame  is  a  vapor ;  popularity  an  accident ;  riches 
take  wings  ;  the  only  earthly  certainty  is  eventual  obliv- 
ion; and  yet  I  hope  that  the  journal  which  I  have 
projected  and  established,  may  flourish  long  after  I  have 
mouldered  back  to  dust.  May  it  be  ready  to  discern  the 
right,  and  defend  it  at  whatever  cost." 

In  1848,  Mr.  Greeley  was  elected  to  Congress,  but  there 
lie  was  out  of  his  sphere,  being  a  bom  journalist,  and  in 
adhering  to  his  natural  calling  lay  his  hopes  of  success. 

Besides  his  editorial  labors,  he  published  several  books. 
His  arduous  routine  of  labor  showed  that  he  preferred 
wearing  out  to  rusting  out ;  but  a  warmer  or  more  gen- 
erous heart  is  seldom  found  beating  outside  of  a  woman's 
breast,  so  delicate  and  refined  were  his  sympathies  for 
the  sorrowing  and  unfortunate. 

We  grieve  over  his  sad  latter  days.  The  death  of  his 
beloved  wife,  followed  closely  by  the  abuse  and  slander 
of  political  opponents,  so  wounded  his  sensitive  heart 
and  mind,  that  as  his  bodily  strength  gave  way,  mild  in- 
sanity ensued,  and  the  kind  father,  generous  friend,  and 
sympathetic  benefactor  passed  beyond  the  confines  of 
earthly  life  November  29th,  1872,  in  the  sixty-second 
year  of  his  age.    "  Peace  to  his  ashes." 


PlTltO. 

Pluto  was  a  second  brother  of  Jupiter,  and  received 
as  his  portion,  in  the  division  of  empire,  the  infernal 
regions,  or  the  world  of  shades.  Under  this  idea 
the  ancients  imagined  the  existence  of  regions  situ- 


ated down  far  below  the  earth,  and  they  represented 
certain  distant  and  desert  lands  as  serving  for  a  path  and 
entrance  to  the  under  world.  Hence  the  fictions  repre- 
senting Acheron,  Styx,  Cocytus  and  Phelegethon,  as 
rivers  of  hell.  These  regions  below  the  earth  were  con- 
sidered as  the  residence  of  departed  souls,  where,  after 
death,  they  received  rewards  or  punishments  according 
to  their  conduct  upon  earth.  The  place  of  reward  was 
called  Elysium  ;  that  of  punishment  Tartarus. 

ElyBium  is  described  as  adorned  with  beautiful  gardens, 
smiling  meadows,  and  enchanting  groves ;  where  birds 
ever  warble ;  where  the  river  Eridanus  winds  between 
banks  fringed  with  laurel,  and  "divine  Lethe"  glides  in 
a  quiet  valley ;  where  the  air  is  always  pure,  and  the  day 
serene  ;  where  the  blessed  have  their  delightful  abode. 

Tartarus  is  represented  as  a  hideous  prison  of  im- 
mense depth,  surrounded  by  the  miry  bogs  of  Cocytus, 
and  the  river  Phlegethon,  which  rolls  with  torrents  of 
flames,  and  guarded  by  three  rows  of  walls  with  brazen 
gates  ;  here  the  Furies  torment  their  wretched  victims, 
and  all  the  wicked  suiler  according  to  their  crimes. 

The  chief  incident  in  the  history  of  Pluto  is  his  seizure 
and  abduction  of  Proserpine,  who  thereby  became  his 
wife,  and  the  queen  of  the  lower  world.  She  was  a 
daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Ceres. 

Pluto  is  represented,  both  by  poets  and  artists,  with 
an  air  menacing,  terrible  and  inexorable.  The  latter 
usually  exhibit  him  upon  a  throne,  with  a  bifurcated 
sceptre,  or  a  key  in  his  hand.  A  rod  is  sometimes  put 
into  his  hand  instead  of  his  sceptre.  The  device  which 
places  upon  his  head  a  sort  of  bushel  or  measuring-vessel 
instead  of  a  crown,  is  of  Egyptian  origin,  borrowed  from 
the  images  of  Serapis. 

He  appears  crowned  with  ebony ;  sometimes  with 
cypress  leaves ;  sometimes  with  flowers  of  narcissus. 
He  is  also  sometimes  represented  in  the  act  of  bearing 
off  Proserpine  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  v/inged  dragons" 
His  worship  was  universal;  but  it  was  attended  with 
special  solemnities  in  Boxeotia,  particularly  at  Coronea. 
His  temple  at  Pylos,  in  Messenia,  was  also  celebrated. 
The  Roman  gladiators  consecrated  themselves  to  Pluto. 
The  victims  offered  to  him  were  usually  of  a  black  color. 
Under  the  control  of  Pluto  were  the  three  judges  of  the 
lower  world,  Minos,  Rhadamanthus  and  ^acus.  These 
decided  the  condition  of  all  the  spirits  brought  into 
Pluto's  realm  by  Charon.    Minos  held  the  first  rank. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  world  of  shades,  in  Pluto's 
vestibule,  lay  the  dog  Cerberus,  a  three-headed  monster, 
that  hindered  the  spirits  from  returning  to  the  upper 
world. 

Charon  is  said  to  have  been  the  son  of  Erebus  and 
Nox.  His  office  was  to  conduct  the  souls  of  the  dead, 
in  a  boat,  over  the  rivers  Styx  and  Acheron  to  the  realms 
of  Pluto.  As  all  were  obliged  to  pay  to  him  an  obolus,  a 
small  piece  of  money,  it  was  customary  to  place  a  coin 
for  that  purpose  under  the  tongue  of  the  deceased  be- 
fore the  funeral  rites. 

Such  as  had  not  been  honored  with  a  funeral  were 
compelled  to  wander  on  the  shore  a  hundred  years  before 
they  could  be  transported. 


Not  a  G-eorge  Washington. 

A  benevolent  fruit-raiser,  much  annoyed  by  the  boya 
who  robbed  him  of  his  finest  peaches,  one  day  chanced 
to  see  a  minute  marauder  go  up  into  one  of  his  trees. 
He  was  ready  for  the  emergency,  for  he  had  provided  a 
large  stuffed  dog,  which  he  placed  at  the  foot  of 
the  tree,  and  then  retired  a  little  to  watch  the  effects  of 
his  strategy.  The  little  boy,  having  filled  his  stomach 
and  his  pockets  with  fruit,  was  about  to  descend,  when 
his  frightened  eye  rested  upon  the  animal.  First  he 
tried  blandishments,  viz.,  whistling,  coaxing.  Then  he 
tried  the  sterner  dodges,  viz.,  threatening,  scolding. 
All  was  thrown  away  on  the  stuffed  dog,  standing 
sternly  there,  and  never  moving  his  stiff  tail  an  inch  to 
the  right  or  left.  The  little  boy  had  never  seen  a  dog 
like  that,  and  after  awhile  he  understood  that  the  tree 
must  be  his  dormitory  for  the  night.  The  hours  dragged 
wearily  on.  The  stuffed  dog  looked  bigger  and  bigger 
in  the  dark.  There  was  plenty  of  peaches,  but  where 
was  the  little  boy  to  find  appetite?  In  the  morning  the 
owner  appeared,  and  asked  the  little  boy  how  he  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  tree.  Alas  !  not  in  the  least  regener- 
ated by  his  sufferings,  he  answered  that  he  had  been 
chased  by  the  dog,  and  had  ascended  for  safety. 


io6 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Liet  the  "World  Know  You're  a  Man. 

Cornel  off  -tvith  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves! 

Young  man,  I'm  speaking  to  you; 
Oh!  why  do  you  stand  in  this  busy  land, 

And  say  "there's  nothing  to  do?" 
Just  pull  off  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves, 

And  do  whatever  you  can; 
You'll  find  it  will  pay  in  the  end,  I  say. 

To  let  the  world  know  you're  a  man. 

Come !  off  with  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves ! 

Then  you'll  find  plenty  to  do; 
Don't  sit  down  and  growl,  but  get  up  and  howl, 

And  "paddle  your  own  canoe." 
If  you're  in  hard  luck,  then  show  you've  got  pluck — 

Never  sit  down  and  complain; 
But  get  up  and  dust,  and  scour  off  the  rust, 

And  then  go  at  it  again. 

Come!  off  with  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves! 

Young  man,  why  do  you  complain. 
And  stand  on  the  street  just  like  a  dead  beat, 

If  "nothing  was  made  in  vain?" 
Now,  off  with  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves! 

And  do  the  best  that  you  can; 
In  the  end 't  will  pay,  as  you'll  find  some  day. 

To  let  the  world  know  you're  a  man. 

Come!  off  with  your  coat  and  roll  up  your  sleeves! 

Take  hold  and  work  like  a  man; 
Don't  be  a  drone  in  this  world  alone — 

You'll  find  it's  not  the  best  plan; 
B  it  off  with  your  coat  and  roll  np  your  sleeves! 

And  be  the  best  in  the  van; 
Now,  mark  what  1  say!  in  the  end 't  will  pay, 

To  let  the  world  know  you're  a  man. 


The  Coming  Men, 

There  is  a  very  general  complaint  that  it  is  becoming  more 
and  more  difficult  to  find  desirable  occupations  for  boys.  In 
all  the  vast  industrial  and  commercial  machinery  of  the 
country  there  seems  to  be  no  space  for  the  lads  who  must 
shortly  be  the  men  of  another  generation.  There  was  a 
time  when  boys  were  regularly  apprenticed  at  mechanical 
trades  or  in  mercantile  houses.  They  served  five  or  seven 
years  in  the  shop,  store,  or  counting-house,  and  rose  by  slow 
degrees  to  be  partners,  heads  of  houses,  or  independent 
masters  in  their  own  line  of  life.  Other  boys  went  to  sea, 
after  receiving  a  good  common-school  education,  and  passed 
through  the  several  stages  of  promotion  as  cabin-boy,  before 
the  mast,  ordinary  seaman,  master,  and  captain.  All  these, 
whether  on  sea  or  land,  were  the  sons  of  American  citizens, 
and  whether  of  rich  or  poor  parents,  they  were,  for  the  most 
part,  on  a  common  level.  There  was  not  so  much  disrelish  for 
manual  labor  as  there  has  been  in  later  years.  Perhaps  there 
was  more  sturdiness  of  character. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  times  have  changed.  How 
the  introdaction  of  a  foreign  element  into  active  business  pur 


suits  is  responsible  for  this,  we  cannot  tell.  It  is  certain, 
however,  that  something  in  the  forecastle  and  in  the  shop  ha& 
made  those  places  distasteful  to  the  average  American  boy. 
!lt  is  rare  nowadays  to  find  a  gentleman's  son  working  his  way 
,'to  the  qaarter-deck  from  before  the  mast.  The  sneering 
phrase  ''greasy  mechanic"  oftener  includes  a  fling  at  the 
ignorant  and  uncongenial  foreigner  than  of  old.  With  this 
change  in  the  material  of  the  mechanical  trades  have  come 
the  modern  ideas  concerning  trades  unions,  with  all  their 
machinery  of  strikes,  lock-outs,  and  strife  with  employers- 
ideas  which  are  certainly  not  of  American  origin.  One  of  the 
very  first  demands  of  the  trades  union  is  that  a  limit  be  fixed 
to  the  number  of  apprentices  to  be  taken  into  any  working 
force.  Some  trades  have  fixed  the  maximum  of  apprentices  as 
low  as  one  to  each  thirteen  journej^men,  or  "  full  hands 
possibly  others  have  made  a  still  more  rigorously  exclusive 
demand.  The  theory  of  this  sort  of  proscription  appears  to 
be  that  men  who  have  acquired  a  trade  are  determined  that 
their  number  shall  be  kept  within  certain  limits  during  their 
lifetime.  Any  attempt  to  invade  the  magic  circle  is  met  with 
a  strike,  in  which  the  workmen  have  the  employers  temporarily 
at  their  mercy.  As  employers  are  not  specially  anxious  about 
posteritv,  they  readily  surrender. 

To  enter  what  are  called  the  "  learned  professions  "  an  ex- 
pensive education  is  considered  necessary.  This  is  not  attain- 
able by  most  youths,  and  even  when  it  is  acquired  it  does  not 
always  lead  anywhere.  In  these  professions  there  is  "  always 
at  the  top,"  which  is  small  consolation  to  those  who  are  hardly 
able  to  crowd  in  at  the  bottom.  Vast  numbers  of  boys,  there- 
fore, are  driven  into  mercantile  pursuits— a  vague  term  which 
means  anything,  from  buying  and  selling  ship-loads  of  goods 
to  being  "generally  useful"  about  a  warehouse  or  store. 
Here  the  crowd  of  applicants  for  place  is  tremendous.  The 
pay  is  small,  and,  generally  speaking,  the  chances  for  promo- 
tion and  ultimate  independence  are  smaller. 

When  we  consider  what  possibilities  are  bound  up  in  the 
boy,  whose  only  badness,  possibly,  is  what  he  has  inherited 
without  his  own  consent,  his  future,  with  only  a  few  avenues- 
of  life  open  to  him,  is  not  cheerful  to  one  who  wishes  well  for 
his  kind.  To-day  the  boy  stands  at  the  dividing  of  the  ways. 
The  chances  are  that  he  will  take  that  which  leads  to  thrif  t- 
lessness  and  uselessness,  if  not  worse.  The  boy  who  learns  no 
trade,  masters  no  useful  and  productive  calling,  has  lost  his 
chance.  He  enters  life  handicapped.  Men,  though  they  may 
be  prosperous  and  successful,  as  the  world  goes,  sometimes 
turn  back  with  a  great  cry  for  their  lost  youth.  For  a  moment, 
before  they  take  up  their  burden  and  go  on,  they  plead  that 
the  youthful  bloom,  which  no  power  in  heaven  or  earth  can 
restore,  shall  be  theirs  again.  The  boys  of  this  generation  are 
in  great  need  that  something  be  done  to  fit  them  for  the  man- 
hood which  comes  to  them  apace.  They  complain  that  there 
is  no  room  for  them  anywhere. 


Knowledge  is  one  of  the  greatest  levers  to  future  happiness. 


The  Seven  Sleepers. 

"  It  would  awaken  the  seven  sleepers"  is  a  commoD 
8a3dng ;  but  we  venture  to  say  that  half  who  use  it  do 
not  know  its  origin.  The  legend  runs  that  seven  noble 
youths  of  Epbesus,  during  the  persecution  of  the  Chris- 
tians by  Decius,  a  Roman  Emperor  of  the  third  centuiy^ 
fled  and  took  refuge  in  a  cavern,  and  having  been  pur- 
sued and  discovered,  were  walled  in  and  thus  left  to 
perish.  They  are  said  to  have  fallen  asleep,  and  in 
that  state  were  miraculously  preserved  for  nearly  two 
centuries,  when  their  bodies  having  been  found  in  the 
cavern,  were  taken  out  and  exposed  to  the  veneration  of 
the  faithful.  Then  it  was  said  these  holy  martyrs  were 
not  dead  ;  that  they  had  been  hid  in  the  cavern  where 
they  had  fallen  asleep,  and  that  they  at  last  awoke,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  spectators.  The  spot  is  still 
shown  at  Ephesus  where  the  pretended  miracle  took 
place,  and  the  Persians  celebrate  annually  the  feast  o3 
the  Seven  Sleepers. 


Influence. — You  cannot  live  without  exerting  influence. 
The  doors  of  your  soul  are  open  on  others,  and  theirs  on  you. 
You  inhabit  a  house  which  is  well-nigh  transparent;  and 
what  you  are  within,  are  ever  showing  yourself  to  be  without. 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD, 


107 


Anson  Burlingame. 

There  is  great  truth  in  the  humorous  remark,  that  it  is 
not  safe  to  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the  most  forlorn 
and  ragged  urchin  that  walks  the  streets  of  our  land,  for 
perchance  you  may  be  insulting  the  future  President  of 
the  United  States.  This  truth  comes  home  to  us  with 
the  greatest  force,  as  we  glance  along  the  upward  and 
onward  course  which  our  great  men  have  pursued,  and 
see  them  upon  the  eminence  to  which  their  merits  have 
brought  them. 

We  now  have  before  our  mind's  eye  a  lad  whose  birth- 
place was  a  little  village  in  New  York.  A  boy  in  nowise 
without  failings— perhaps  not  any  more  promising  in 
feature,  manners  or  circumstances,  than  the  boy  who 
holds  this  biography  before  his  eyes.  He  was  bright, 
active  and  careless,  just  like  scores  of  other  little  fel- 
lows, and  no  one  would  have  dreamed  of  prophesying 
future  greatness  for  him,  any  more  than  they  would  of 
you ;  full  of  playful  spirits,  rather  disinclined  to  work, 
and  no  more  devoted  to  studiousness  than  the  ordinary 
lad.  The  only  peculiar  trait  about  him  that  we  hear  of 
was  his  love  for  debate,  which,  early  in  life,  made  him  a 
fluent  speaker.  We  can  imagine  him — the  son  of  a  poor, 
local  country  preacher — stealing  off  to  the  woods,  or  by 
the  rivers'  bank  and  in  other  secluded  places,  haranguing 
an  imaginary  crowd,  or  fancying  that  the  roaring  of  the 
winds  in  the  adjoining  forest  was  the  distant  applause  of 
excited  and  appreciative  audiences.  We  can  see  him 
reclining  on  the  turf,  his  noble  forehead  shaded  by  the 
Bchool-boy's  battered  cap-visor,  dreaming  of  what  he 
would  do  when  he  should  come  to  be  a  man — for  it 
seems  to  us  as  if  some  faint,  uncertain  foreboding  of 
what  he  was  to  be,  must  have  pressed  with  the  weight  of 
certainty  upon  his  soul. 

As  he  grew  older  the  restlessness  of  young  manhood 
assailed  him,  and  untrammelled  by  wealth  or  position, 
he  threw  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder  and  in  the  wilderness 
of  the  far  West  he  led,  for  sometime,  a  life  of  fascina- 
ting and  dangerous  adventure.  Even  then  there  was 
nothing  more  promising  about  him  than  there  is  about 
many  a  sturdy  young  fellow  who  scouts  among  the  red 
men  of  "  untutored  mind,"  or  draws  a  surveyor's  chain 
between  section  and  section,  or  from  landmark  to  land- 
mark in  that  wild  country. 

We  find  ourselves  wondering  if  sometime  when  he 
camped  down  under  the  stars  with  his  rifle  for  a  com- 
panion, and  his  knapsack  for  a  pillow,  if  a  mirage  of  his 
future  did  not  swim  out  of  the  sea  of  difficulties  that 
seemed  to  hem  him  in.  If  so,  Anson  Burlingame  beheld 
himself  at  school  and  afterwards  at  college,  distinguished 
for  his  rich  and  ready  flow  of  language,  as  he  pleasantly 
met  his  opponent  and  silenced  him  with  his  felicitous 
expressions  and  elegant  and  well-toned  sentences.  Now 
there  was  developed  in  him  a  wonderful  faculty  of 
acquiring  languages. 

Itt  1846  he  received  his  degree  from  Harvard  Univer- 
sity. Then  in  Boston,  choosing  the  law  for  his  profes- 
sion, he  began  his  glorious  upward  career.  His  remark- 
ably happy  style  of  expression,  with  the  grand  flow  of 
words  always  at  his  tongue's  command,  brought  him  up- 
on the  platform  before  an  astonished  and  admiring  public. 

Governor  Briggs  became  his  warm  friend,  and  a  law 
partnership  with  the  Governor's  son  followed.  Sweet, 
bewitching  dreams  of  romance  and  love  centred  around 
the  daughter  of  one  of  Cambridge's  old  influential  resi- 
dents. A  marriage  with  Miss  Livermore  centred  and 
buoyed  his  ambitions  in  a  safely  onward  course.  Then 
the  State  gladly  honored  him  with  a  Senatorship  in  1853. 
Following  this,  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  and  the 
whole  country  seemed  delighted  to  yield  his  talents  due 
homage. 

A  fierce  contest  of  sentiment  in  the  House  between 
himself  and  the  impetuous  Southron,  Preston  Brooks,  of 
South  Carolina,  led  to  a  challenge  to  mortal  combat.  So 
unlooked-for  an  event,  connected  with  a  Northerner's 
cool  and  self-restrained  code  of  honor,  amazed  the  peo- 
ple, and  caused  a  profound  sensation  to  run  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land. 

The  place  appointed  for  the  duel  was  in  Canada,  but 
Mr.  Brooks  learned  that  it  would  be  at  the  imminent  risk 
of  his  life  to  venture  over  the  route  to  the  place  of  meet- 
ing, otherwise  our  hero  might  have  been  shot,  and  a 
grand  future  spoiled.  But  Burlingame's  fearlessness  in 
responding  to  the  Southerner's  challenge  made  him 
famous,  and  as  he  travelled  about  the  country,  people 


flocked  to  see  the  hero  and  orator. 

Forward  again  with  his  history.  For  six  years  he  lived 
in  the  Celestial  Empire,  which  might  be  termed  the 
country  of  qeues.  There,  as  a  quiet  diplomatist,  he  re- 
turned to  his  old  pursuits  of  acquiring  foreign  languages, 
and  he  mastered  the  difficult  Chinese  dialect.  And,  let 
us  question,  was  his  renown  simply  owing  to  the  fact  of 
the  old  saying — ''being  born  under  a  lucky  planet?" 
or  did  persevering  energy  and  far-reaching  study,  added 
to  the  divine  gift  of  reaching  forward  to  the  tracing  of 
effects  from  causes,  win  him  success  ? 

Seeing  China,  with  her  many  resources  and  immense 
population,  walled  in  from  the  foreign  nations,  he 
brought  his  powerful  mind  to  bear  upon  the  compj^sing 
of  a  more  liberal  international  communication.  What 
was  the  result  ?  We  find  him  embarking,  so  to  speak, 
upon  a  great  expedition,  as  Embassador  making  a  tri- 
umphal tour  to  all  the  treaty-making  powers. 

From  extremely  small  beginnings  did  ever  a  career 
swell  out  into  a  more  noble  completeness,  than  the  life 
of  Anson  Burlingame  ? 

In  his  own  country,  while  on  the  embassy  of  opening 
up,  as  it  were,  a  grand  highway  among  the  nations,  we 
behold  him  surrounded  by  the  strange  companions  that 
composed  his  retinue,  and  receiving  plaudits  and  ova- 
tions such  as  an  honoring  country  gives  her  honorable 
sons,  superadded  to  those  due  the  envoy  of  a  govern- 
ment opulent  and  powerful,  with  a  history  dating  back 
into  remote  ages.  In  the  Courts  of  Europe  he  was  re- 
ceived with  the  magnanimous  reverence  due  a  diplomat- 
ist and  an  American — welcomed  as  the  minister  of  a 
new  brotherhood  which  might  become  world-wide  and 
of  immense  consequence  to  the  nations  yet  to  be. 

What  a  lesson  for  a  poor  boy  —  for  you,  my  little 
reader— what  a  lesson  of  possibilities.  Who  shall  pro- 
phesy for  your  future  if  you  take  "onward  and  up- 
ward "  for  your  motto  ?  With  your  principles  firm  for 
mercy  and  justice,  and  your  soul  holding  firmly  to  the 
knowledge  that  by  always  choosing  the  right  way  God 
will  be  your  steadfast  and  firm  friend,  and  the  rewarder 
of  all  your  noble  aspirations  and  deeds  ? 

There  are  no  beginnings  so  small  but  that  rich  develop- 
ments of  success  may  attend  them. 

How  the  life  of  this  man  thrills  us.  Picture  him  as 
the  poor  and  unknown  lad  traversing  the  Western  wilds, 
and  contrast  him  with  Anson  Burlingame,  Foreign  Min- 
ister and  Envoy  Extraordinary,  bound  on  one  of  the 
grandest  missions  of  the  age.  Oh,  what  spirit  power, 
what  "  still,  small  voice  "  awoke  the  possibilities  lying 
dormant  within  his  soul  ?  Who  can  answer  whether  a 
mighty  tempest  or  a  sweet,  soft  breeze  was  the  agent  for 
the  new  life  and  glorious  attainment ;  for  some  infinite 
power  spoke  the  loud  "come  forth"  to  faculties  that 
stirred  the  nations'  hearts  to  honor  and  to  action. 

And  that  triumphal  tour  closed  his  brilliant  life  ;  and 
while  our  hearts  sadden  to  mournful  symphonies,  we  yet 
rejoice  that  if  the  end  must  come,  then  it  should  be  thus 
crowned  with  success. 

Here  in  the  proud  capitol  of  the  Russias  we  find  him 
dead,  and  while  a  nation  mourns  his  loss,  crowned  heads 
are  bared  and  bowed  by  his  coffin,  crowned  heads  do 
homage  to  the  memory  of  the  great  spirit  that  has  gone 
out  from  the  cold  tabernacle  of  flesh. 

And,  boys  of  to-day — the  youth  living  in  this  glorious 
•Centennial  Anniversary  of  our  country's  free  existence- 
remember  that  all  possible  distances  that  have  been  passed 
over  between  obscure  youth  and  grand  and  glorious 
maturity  of  years,  may  he  passed  over  again.  Begin 
work  now,  and  if  you  may  not  attain  to  the  topmost 
eminence  of  fame,  ascend  as  far  as  you  possibly  can,  for 
with  great  struggles  and  small  or  great  successes,  comes 
the  power  to  do  good  deeds  and  to  benefit  mankind. 
Struggle  on  with  strong  endeavors, 

For  the  good  of  fellow  man  ; 
K  you  can't  do  all  you  purpose, 

'Tis  as  \\e\\—do  all  you  can. 
Faint  not  looking  at  the  great  ones, 
Who  a  sounding  name  have  won, 
Many  who  the  world  know  not  of 
Have  as  great  a  life-work  done, 
In  the  humble  path  of  duty 

Where  their  steadfast  feet  had  trod, 
"nil  the  angel's  summons  called  them, 
Home  to  rest  and  home  to  God. 


Not  being  untutored  in  suffering,  I  le&m  to  pity  tHOi^^ 
in  aflaiction.  Viegil. 


ic8  THE  GROJVING  IVORLD, 


Asa  Packer. 

Anthracite  coal  was  first  used  in  the  Wyoming  valley, 
Pennsylvania,  in  the  year  1708.  A  blacksmith  was  the 
first  one  to  utilize  this  valuable  mineral.  His  name  has 
not  been  carefully  enough  preserved.  A  hundred  years 
afterwards.  Judge  Fell,  of  Wilkesbarre,  first  used  it  in  a 
grate  for  heating  the  family  mansion. 

As  late  as  1820,  the  mining  of  anthracite  coal  may 
hardly  be  said  to  have  begun,  for  the  production  of  that 
year  did  not  exceed  365  tons.  Half  a  century  later,  in 
1866,  the  annual  production  had  reached  twelve  million 
tons.  It  is  estimated  that  the  anthracite  trade  of  Penn- 
sylvania at  the  present  time  represents  a  property 
valuation  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  million  dollars,  and 
many  thinking  people  imagine  that  the  trade  is  yet  in 
its  infancy. 

To  trace  the  course  of  the  coal  development  is  very 
interesting ;  how  wagons  were  supplanted  by  arks  ;  arks 
by  canal-boats  ;  canal-boats  by  gravity  railroads,  and 
these  by  locomotive  roads  and  engineering  skill  pro- 
portionate to  the  vast  operations  of  the  present  time. 

We  purpose,  however,  to  glance  at  the  history  of  one 
individual  intimately  connected  with  the  prosperous  de- 
velopment of  this  great  source  of  American  wealth — of 
one  whose  energy  largely  contributes  to  the  comfort  of 
millions  of  American  citizens  to-day. 

Asa  Packer  was  born  in  Groton,  New  London  County, 
Connecticut ,  in  the  year  1806.  His  grandparents  and 
parents  were  respected  citizens  and  industrious  people. 
Asa  only  enjoyed  limited  opportunities  for  an  education, 
but  he  made  every  eilort  to  improve  his  store  of  in- 
formation. He  was  diligent  and  faithful  in  his  studies, 
and  had  the  confidence  of  his  associates. 

As  soon  as  he  was  of  an  age  to  labor  a  situation  was 

Srocured  for  him  in  the  tannery  of  Mr.  Elias  Smith,  of 
forth  Stonington.  Ere  long,  despite  his  youth,  the 
tanner  came  to  regard  him  as  a  confidential  friend  and 
adviser,  and  if  death  had  not  taken  his  friend,  doubtless 
Asa  would  have  become  a  partner  in  the  establishment. 

During  Mr.  Smith's  last  illness  Packer  was  his  trusted 
manager,  and  after  the  hours  of  business,  his  sym- 
pathizing friend  and  companion. 

After  Mr.  Smith's  death,  young  Packer  engaged  himself 
to  a  farmer  named  John  Brown.  This  man  was  of  strong 
character,  and  Asa  passed  a  year  in  his  employ.  The 
firm  common  sense  and  great  argumentative  talents  of 
his  employer  no  doubt  gave  strength  and  vigor  to  the 
young  man's  developing  energies.  After  this  year  he 
went  to  Mystic  and  attended  school,  being  fully  aroused 
to  appreciate  an  education,  and  studying  earnestly  and 
steadily,  he  became  quite  proficient  in  the  common, 
practical  branches  of  learning. 

Now,  being  seventeen  years  old,  the  keen  New  Eng- 
land enterprise  manifested  itself  in  his  nature.  He  must 
begin  life  in  earnest.  Pennsylvania  at  that  time  was  at- 
tracting the  attention  of  men  farther  east.  Swept  into 
the  current  setting  westward,  young  Packer,  knapsack 
in  hand,  and  a  few  dollars  in  his  purse,  set  out  on  foot 
for  Susquehanna  County,  Pennsylvania.  Arrived  at  the 
town  of  Brooklyn,  he  engaged  as  an  apprentice  with  a  car- 
penter. He  served  his  time  and  became  master  of  his 
trade.  He  worked  steadily  for  several  years,  investing 
his  savings  in  a  lot  of  wild  land  at  the  upper  waters  of 
the  Susquehanna.  He  then  entered  upon  the  hardy, 
free  adventurous  life  of  a  pioneer.  He  made  a  clearing, 
reared  a  small  homestead,  and  brought  thither  his  bride. 
She  proved  worthy  of  his  choice.  Her  ready  hands  and 
willing  heart  made  her  a  helpmeet  for  an  enterprising 
man. 

Here  Asa  lived  eleven  years.  When  he  went  out  from 
this  place  it  was  to  enter  a  more  populous  district  to 
obtain  money  for  taxes  and  articles  of  household  com- 
fort. The  nearest  point  from  his  farm  where  he  could 
be  sure  of  money  in  return  for  his  labor  was  an  hundred 
miles  away  in  the  Lehigh  Valley. 

In  the  Valley  of  the  Lehigh,  two  men,  representatives 
of  working  capital  in  Philadelphia,  were  pushing  ahead 
improvements  to  open  up  the  timber  and  mineral  wealth 
of  that  section.  Asa  reached  this  district  after  a 
wearisome  journey  on  foot  through  rough  mountain- 
ways  and  along  lonesome  stretches  cf  forest  country. 
He  took  his  place  among  a  crowd  of  workingmen  as  a 
co-laborer  with  them,  but  his  prying,  reasoning  intellect, 
as  he  surveyed  the  rich  productiveness  of  the  country  in 
coal,  iron,  timber,  lime  and  slate,  suggested  to  him  that. 


at  no  far-off  time  immense  lines  of  transportation  woul^ 
spring  up  at  that  very  centre.  Accordingly,  he  disposed 
of  his  farm  and  brought  his  family  for  permanent  settle- 
ment to  the  Lehigh  Valley. 
^  He  had  but  a  few  hundred  dollars.  His  capital  con- 
sisted of  a  stout  heart,  strong  arms  and  an  active  brain. 
His  first  and  second  summers  were  employed  in  boating 
coal  from  Mauch  Chunk  to  Philadelphia  in  his  own  craft. 
His  energy  brought  him  to  the  notice  of  the  navigating 
company  of  the  Lehigh  coal,  and  he  advantageously 
connected  himself  with  it. 

About  this  time  Asa  visited  home  and  interested  his 
brother  and  his  uncle  in  his  account  of  the  mineral 
wealth  developing  near  his  home.  They  returned  to  the 
Lehigh  with  him,  investigated  for  themselves,  and  the 
uncle  being  too  old  to  engage  in  active  business,  advised 
the  brothers  to  unite  their  means  and  he  would  assist 
with  money  if  they  needed.  His  views  coincided  with 
their  own,  and  the  firm  of  A.  &  R.  Packer,  dealers  in 
general  merchandise,  from  the  start,  entered  upon  a 
large  and  profitable  business. 

This  house  soon  became  known  for  its  immense  trans- 
actions on  the  Lehigh  and  Schuylkill  rivers. 

Through  this  extensive  coal-mining  business  Asa  be- 
came associated  with  Commodore  Stockton,  a  man  who 
afterwards  ably  assisted  Mr.  Packer  in  the  great  enter- 
prise of  his  life — the  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad. 

Up  to  1850  the  transportation  of  the  coal  in  the  Lehigh 
valley  had  been  altogether  by  water,  and  Mr.  Packer's 
suggestions  concerning  a  railroad  were  not  favorably  re- 
ceived. 

After  the  usual  delay  in  arguing  and  urging  pros  and 
cons — Mr.  Packer  meanwhile  becoming  owner  of  a  con- 
trolling portion  of  stock — the  work  was  undertaken.  In 
regard  to  this  enterprise,  he  was  as  the  strong,  active 
water-wheel  that  puts  into  motion  and  keeps  going  the 
other  machinery,  and  he  threw  so  much  vigor  into  the 
work  that  others  were  inspired — among  them  Com- 
modore Stockton,  of  the  New  Jersey  Central  Railroad 
Company — and  came  to  his  assistance  and  made  Him 
large  advances  on  his  stock  and  bonds. 

The  road  was  a  success.  Within  three  years  after  the 
opening  of  the  railroad  from  Maunch  Chunk  to  Easton, 
with  connections,  which  made  a  railroad  route  from  the 
valley  to  Philadelphia,  as  well  as  New  York,  Mr.  Packer 
suggested  the  extension  of  a  line  of  railroad  into  the 
valley  of  the  Susquehanna,  and  up  that  valley  to  the 
great  table  lands  of  the  State  of  New  York,  there  to  con- 
nect with  the  New  York  and  Erie  Railroads.  This  would 
bring  the  anthracite  coal  region  within  the  system  of 
roads  leading  north  and  west  to  Lakes  Ontario  and  Erie, 
and  also  afford  a  direct  route,  by  connecting  with  the 
Catawissa  and  Erie  roads,  to  the  great  West. 

In  due  course  of  time  the  whole  of  this  stupendous 
conception  was  placed  in  working  order,  being  of  in- 
calculable benefit  to  the  whole  country.  His  railroad 
enterprise  added  millions  of  dollars  to  Mr.  Packer's  for- 
tune. 

Now  comes  the  crowning  glory  of  his  works.  On  his 
return  from  Europe,  in  1865,  he  announced  his  intention 
of  founding,  in  the  Lehigh  Valley,  an  educational  in- 
stitution, which  should  supply  to  its  young  men  the 
means  of  obtaining  that  knowledge  of  which,  in  early 
Mfe,  he  realized  the  need.  The  branches  of  education 
to  which  Mr.  Packer  designed  that  the  institution  should 
be  devoted,  were  civil,  mechanical  and  mining  engineer- 
ing; general  and  analytical  chemistry,  mineralogy, 
metallurgy,  analysis  of  soils  and  agriculture  ;  architecture 
and  construction  ;  all  of  them  branches  of  knowledge  of 
exceptional  value  in  that  vicinity.  In  carrying  out  this 
noble  benefaction,  Mr.  Packer  gave  first  a  woodland 
park,  sixty  acres  in  extent,  and  afterwards  the  sum  of 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

This  institution,  kno\^^l  as  Lehigh  University,  was 
formally  opened  in  1866,  and  its  success  was  marked  and 
gratifying  to  the  heart  of  its  founder.  No  sect  or  class 
is  excluded.  It  is  self-sustaining,  its  free  scholarships 
being  offered  as  prizes  to  be  competed  for  by  all 
students. 

As  a  proof  of  the  esteem  in  which  this  enterprising 
man  has  been  held  by  his  acquaintances,  he  has  been — as 
often  as  he  would  accept — elected  to  different  public 
offices. 

When  Asa  Packer  set  out  from  Mystic,  Connecticut, 
on  foot,  to  make  a  journey  to  Pennsylvania,  it  is  not 
.probable  that  his  worldly  possessions  amounted  to  more 


THE  GROW  NG  IVORLIX 


109 


t,han  twenty  dollars  ;  not  so  very  many  years  afterwards  resumed  the  banking  business  In  Philadelphia.  The 
—without  wronging  men  by  gamester's  speculations —  highway  to  wealth  was  laid  open  to  Jay  Cooke  in  his 


negotiation  of  the  original  seven-thirty  loan. 
1  You  know  how  it  was  :  The  Great  Rebellion  had 
broken  out,  and  there  was  an  unprecedented  de- 
mand for  money  for  the  purchase  and  movement  of 
every  variety  of  war  material.  The  demand  for  a  single 
month  often  over-balanced  the  receii^ts  of  the  Govern- 
|ment  for  a  year  of  ordinary  times.  To  meet  this  de- 
jmand,  in  July  and  August  of  1861,  Treasury  notes  were 
'issued  to  the  amount  of  $27,000,000.  This  was  only 
considered  a  temporary  resource  until  the  sale  of  the 
bonds  of  the  loans  authorized  by  the  Act  of  Congress, 
July  I7th  and  August  5th  should  supply  the  Govern- 
ment with  funds.  The  bonds  met  with  only  a  limited 
sale,  and  on  the  19th  of  August  of  the  same  year,  the 
banks  of  Boston,  New  York  and  Philadelphia  agreed  to 
advance  $50,000,000  in  coin  to  the  Government,  receiving 
for  it  bonds  having  a  three  years'  run,  and  bearing 
seven  and  three-tenths  per  cent,  interest.  On  the  Ist  of 
October  the  banks  agreed  to  advance  $50,000,000  more, 
and  on  the  16th  of  November  a  negotiation  was  affected 
for  $46,000,000,  which  was  the  last  loan  paid  in 
coin,  as  the  banks  suspended  specie  payment  the  fol- 
lowing December. 

As  the  banks  suspended  on  the  specie,  the  brokers  grew 
timid,  and  Jay  Cooke  conceived  the  idea  of  appealing  to 
the  industrial  people.  Secretary  Chase  appointed  him 
subscription  agent.  He  advertised,  he  argued  the  ad- 
vantage of  these  bond  investments  ;  he  appealed  to  the 
patriotism  of  the  people.  He  threw  them  into  this  plan 
his  wonderful  force  and  vigor  of  character.  His  long 
letters,  filled  with  earnest  zeal,  appeared  in  obscure  as 
well  as  widely-circulated  publications  of  the  press.  The 
greatest  facilities  for  purchasing  was  offered,  and  the 
finayicial problem  v:!a!i  solved  The  demand  soon  exceeded 
the  supply.  Our  patriots  parted  wi+h  their  |substance 
and  their  sons  to  maintain  the  Union  unshattered. 

No  victory  during  the  war — unless  we  except  the  sur- 
render of  Richmond — reassured  the  sinking  public  mind 
like  the  problem  of  finances  so  matchlessly  solved  by 
Jay  Cooke. 

The  brokers,  who  before  had  felt  suspicious  in  regard 
to  the  bonds,  now  were  glad  to  buy  and  sell  them  for  Jay 
^/Ooke  &  Co.,  at  half  their  usual  commission. 

This  successful  enterprise  made  Jay  Cooke's  fortune 
secure.  It  won  for  him  the  confidence  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  the  Treasury,  and  made  his  banking-house 
known  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  and 
drew  to  it  a  large  share  of  the  business  which  otherwise 
might  have  fallen  into  other  hands. 

In  1862  Mr.  Cooke  opened  a  branch  house  at  Washing- 
ton, D.  C,  to  be  nearer  to  the  treasury,  and  to  facilitate 
transactions  with  the  Goverment.  The  two  establish- 
ments made  popular  the  first  five-twenty  loan,  and  the 
three  series  of  seven-thirties. 
1.  ^  X  1  ^  .  The  house  of  Jay  Cooke  remained  intimately  con- 

The  father  of  Jay  Cooke  was  one  of  the  pioneer  ^ected  with  the  financial  bureau  of  the  government  until 
settlers  of  Ohio-a  rugged,  self-reliant,  energetic  lawyer  ^he  end  of  the  war.  Mr.  Cooke's  immense  wealth  has 
influential  and  of  respected  character.  Jay  was  started  hgen  mainly  gathered  from  commissions, 
out  to  earn  a  livelihood  at  the  early  age  of  thirteen  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  national  tumult;  in  the 
years.  He  was  active,  quick  at  figures,  his  memory  confusino:  cries  of  buyers  and  sellers,  mixed  with  the 
trustworthy  his  tact  and  ability  worthy  of  note.  The  '^ild  uproar  of  bloody,  fierce  intestinal  warfare,  if  Mr. 
boy  was  m  the  employ  of  different  mercantile  houses  m  Cooke  did  not  have  time  to  sufficiently  analyze  the  effect 
Sandusky  until  seventeen  years  old  He  then  went  to  |of  the  prolonged  national  debt,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
Philadelphia,  and  became  a  clerk  m  the  Congress  Hotel  at— there  is  no  picture  in  the  wide,  wide  world  without 
of  that  city.  This  was  m  the  year  1839  Among  the  fgome  spot  or  blemish  ;  and  parity  spirit,  while  pecking  at 
boarders  at  the  hotel  was  Mr.  E.  W  Clarke  a  senior  Iflaws,  forget  to  yield  honor  where  honor  is  due 
partner  m  the  banking-house  of  E.  W.  Clarke  &  Co.  |  Doubtless,  our  national  banking  system  is  the  most 
About  Jay  Cooke  there  was  a  certain  quick,  exact 'perfect  which  any  country  has  known,  and  Mr.  Cooke 
tone  and  manner  about  him  that  once  seen  could  not  played  an  influential  part  in  bringing  it  into  successful 
readily  he  forgotten.    His  mind  fastened  itself  upon  the  operation. 

matter  in  hand,  so  that  he  seldom  had  to  receive  j  In  1867  a  second  branch  of  the  house  of  Jav  Cooke  & 
directions  twice  upon  the  same  subject.  He  rose  so  Co.  was  established  in  New  York,  and  Wflliam  Pitt 
rapidly  in  the  estimation  of  his  employers,  and  became  Cooke,  a  shrewd,  cautious  brother  of  the  great  banker, 
so  essential  to  them  in  their  business  affairs,  that  in  five  was  made  its  manager.  The  Washington  branch  was 
or  six  years  they  deemed  it  advisable  to  take  him  into  entrusted  to  a  younger  brother,  Henry  T.  Cooke.  The 
partnership,  and  he  became  the  firm's  business  manager,  influence  of  these  three  houses  was  unparalleled  in  the 

There  were  branch  houses  in  New  York,  St.  Louis  and  financial  history  of  any  country. 
Boston,  and  the  business  which  they  conjointly  trans-  1  Jay  Cooke  is  credited  with  very  many  benevolent  acts 
acted  was  immense.  The  profits  were  large,  and  in  a  'upon  a  grand  scale,  especially  as  in  regard  to  aged 
few  years  Jay  Cooke  became  a  rich  man.  In  1853,  with  |clergymen  of  his  own  religious  faith, 
a  fortune  of  $100,000 — then  esteemed  quite  an  immense  |  Mr.  Cooke  is  married  andhas  a  family  of  children.  He 
one — ^he  retired  to  private  life  and  the  society  of  his  has  a  luxuriously  furnished  house  at  Chelton  Hills,  a 
family.  But  after  seven  years'  rest,  in  1860,  in  connec-  Httle  ways  out  of  Philadelphia,  and  his  wealth  Is  es- 
tion  with  William  G.  Morehead,  a  wealthy  capitalist,  he  tlmated  at.  $15,000,000. 


his  fortune  was  estimated  at  twenty  mill i 071  dollars;  and 
that  wealth  is  but  a  fraction  of  the  riches  which  he 
helped  to  open  up  for  the  country  in  the  Lehigh  valley. 

Mr.  Packer's  career  adds  lustre  to  the  record  of  our 
glorious  land,  where  honor,  fame,  wealth  and  position 
are  not  entailed  for  elder  sons  and  the  offspring  of 
crowned  heads. 

The  Old  Man  Eloquent. 

One  great  secret  of  Henry  Clay's  powers  as  an  orator  con- 
eistcd  in  his  ability  to  draw  men's  hearts  to  him.  Every  eye 
lighted  when  he  appeared,  and  friend  and  foe  were  borne  down 
before  him.  It  was  of  no  use  trying  to  hate  him,  or  to  set  up 
one's  will  powers  in  opposition  to  charming. 

He  was  defending  a  man,  one  day,  who  had  been  arraigned 
for  murder.  "Mr.  Clay  is  going  to  address  the  j  iiry,"  whispered 
one  man  to  another.  "The  villian  ought  to  be  hung,  but  he 
has  got  a  wife  and  child,  and  his  old  mother  is  here  in  court, 
and  that  is  enough  for  Clay.  He'll  have  the  jury  blubbering 
in  half  an  hour,"  he  added  impatiently. 

They  Avere  heavy,  stolid  looking  men,  and  appeared  as  likely 
to  be  moved  by  sensibility  as  the  foundation  stones  of  the 
court  house.  But  it  was  not  many  minutes  before  the  great 
hulking  fellows  were  sobbing  and  mopping  their  faces  over  the 
sorrows  of  the  prisoner's  family.  Even  the  Court,  blew  its 
nose,  vigorously,  over  the  case  of  the  old  woman  whose  deso- 
lateness  was  depicted  with  so  much  pathos,  and  the  audience 
generally  sobbed  in  concert,  though  all  the  sensible  ones  knew 
well  enough  they  were  "sold."  Of  course,  the  "poor  pri- 
soner," was  acquitted,  and  allowed  to  plague  his  family  for 
another  term  of  years. 

Mr.  Clay  was  present,  one  day,  at  a  fair,  which  he  was  called 
to  address. 

"I  wonder  if  nobody  in  Kentucky  can  make  a  speech 
but  him,"  said  a  lady  petulantly,  "  I  am  sure  I  didn't  want  to 
hear  him.  My  husband  is  a  democrat." 

There  were  probably  many  others  of  like  mind  in  the  crowd, 
but  Mr.  Clay  proceeded,  and  spoke  with  such  a  mingled  air  of 
gallantry  and  drollery,  with  touches  of  pathos  at  times,  that 
all  were  carried  away  with  him.  His  compliments  to  the  ladies 
on  their  particular  exhibits,  his  high  praise  of  home  manu- 
facture, generally,  and  the  displays  at  that  fair  in  particular, 
made  many  hearts  flutter  with  pride  and  pleasure. 

Said  the  Democrat's  wife  to  her  friend:  " There  is  no  use 
trying  to  not  like  him  because  he  is  a  Whig,  is  there  Jane  ?  I 
suppose  John  won't  like  it,  but  I  am  going  to  give  him  my 
blankets  1" 


Jay  Cooke„ 


I  lO 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Francis  Marion. 

When  shall  we  ever  find  a  more  fitting  season  to  ex- 
hume the  memory  and  do  justice  to  the  heroes  of  the 
Revolution  than  in  this  centennial  year?  While  we 
strive  to  realize  the  privileges  of  our  time  and  country, 
we  need  to  send  the  prayer  up  from  our  soul's  depths, 
"  Lord,  keep  our  memory  green.  Tell  it  over  and  over 
to  our  children,  stamp  it  indelibly  upon  their  minds,  that 
to  God  and  the  sufl^ering,  heroic  men  and  women  of  the 
Revolution,  we  owe  the  blessings  of  the  present  hour." 

To-day  we  chance  to  turn  the  page,  and  our  glance 
rests  upon  the  pure,  brave  face  of  General  Francis 
Marion.  He  was  born  in  1733,  in  Winyah,  near  George- 
town, South  Carolina.  His  parents  were  of  French  de- 
scent, and  fleeing  from  persecution  in  their  own  country, 
they  came  to  America.  Francis'  boyhood  was  passed 
in  assisting  his  father  on  the  plantation.  His  education 
was  limited.  He  early  manifested  a  desire  to  go  to  sea, 
but  his  first  voyage  proved  so  disastrous  with  shipwreck 
and  starvation,  that  pursuit  of  a  livelihood  in  that  di- 
rection was  abandoned,  and  he  became  a  planter. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he  was  given  a  lieuten- 
ant's commission  among  the  troops  organized  to  fight 
the  Cherokee  Indians.  His  captain  was  William  Moul- 
trie, afterwards  general  in  the  Revolutionary  army. 
Marion  received  a  promotion  to  a  captaincy  ere  the  cam- 
paign was  over ;  but  returned  again  to  the  life  of  a 
planter  after  the  subjugation  of  the  Indians. 

When  the  struggle  began  between  the  colonies  and 
England,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  volunteer.  He  was 
unanimously  chosen  captain.  He  was  soon  major  of  a 
regiment,  and  in  the  spring  of  1776  he  was  ordered  to 
fortify  Sullivan's  Island.  Of  strong  palmetto  logs  they 
built  a  structure,  and  named  it  in*honor  of  his  commander, 
Fort  Moultrie.  On  the  2d  of  June,  this  fort  was  attacked 
by  the  British  fleet  under  Sir  Peter  Parker,  but  Marion 
stubbornly  fought  and  repulsed  them.  For  his  gallant 
conduct  here  he  was  made  lieutenant-colonel  of  his 
regiment. 

Then  followed  the  unfortunate  attack  upon  Savannah, 
the  investment  of  Charleston,  and  its  subjugation  by  Sir 
Henry  Clinton.  After  the  capture  of  Charleston,  South 
Carolina  was  rapidly  subdued,  and  the  British  estab- 
lished a  ilumber  of  forts  over  the  State.  Tarlton,  with 
his  invincible  cavalry,  raided  about  the  country.  Clin- 
ton, at  first  severe  and  threatening,  finally  offered  pardon 
to  those  who  would  assist  in  restoring  the  authority  of 
the  king  through  the  demoralized  colonies. 

South  Carolina  was  so  soon  and  so  completely  subdued 
that  it  seemed  as  if  the  patriot  cause  was  entirely  dead 
throughout  the  colonies.  Matters  were  in  this  desperate 
condition  when  Marion,  not  quite  well  from  a  fractured 
ankle,  set  out  to  join  the  little  army,  collecting  in  North 
Carolina  under  DeKalb, 

On  the  way  up,  he  remarked  to  an  acquaintance  :  "If 
the  enemy  should  be  moved  to  play  a  kind  and  generous 
game,  they  will  minus,  but  if  they  go  on  in  their  present 
course  of  treating  the  people  cruelly,  that  state  of  eon- 
duct  will  ruin  them  and  save  America.''''  Soon  after  this, 
Gates,  through  over  assurance,  was  defeated  at  Camden. 

Marion,  with  his  small  force,  hearing  that  the  tories 
were  massing  in  his  vicinity  to  attack  him,  gallopped 
forward  to  a  place  of  safety,  and  then  halting,  made  this 
gallant  appeal  to  his  men  : 

"  I  want  to  know  yoior  minds  ;  my  own  is  already  made 
up.  My  life  may  last  but  a  moment,  but  I  consider  that 
to  fill  that  moment  with  duty  is  enough.  To  guard  my 
country  against  slavery  seems  now  my  greatest  duty ; 
therefore,  I  am  determined  that  while  I  live  she  shall  not 
be  enslaved.  That  wretched  state  may  be  hers,  but  my 
eyes  shall  never  behold  it.  Never  shall  she  clank  her 
chains  in  my  ears,  and,  pointing  to  the  ignominious 
badge,  exclaim,  '  It  was  your  cowardice  that  brought  me  to 
this  / 

His  spirit,  his  enthusiasm,  inspired  his  comrades. 
They  took  oath  to  stand  by  him  ;  and  there  were  about 
thirty  of  them,  men  of  the  best  families,  mounted  on 
good  steeds.  This  was  the  origin  of  the  celebrated, 
brave  "  Light  Brigade." 

Their  meeting  place  was  the  close  recesses  of  the  in- 
tricate swamp,  where  only  those  familiar  with  its  features 
could  hope  to  reach  it.  From  this  point,  with  this  band, 
be  dealt  a  startling  blow  to  the  enemy. 

His  scouts  reported  that  a  British  force  of  ninety  men 
with  a  large  number  of  American  urisoners,  were  on  the 


way  from  Camden  to  Charleston.  He  resolved  to  rescu* 
them.  He  made  a  night  attack,  released  the  prisoners, 
and  captured  nearly  all  of  the  British  soldiers.  He  ex- 
pected the  rescued  men  to  join  him — what  then  was  hia 
disgust  when  they,  consideriBg  the  cause  lost,  refused 
to  comply. 

But  his  successful  exploit  allowed  him  to  equip  his 
company  in  a  much  needed  manner,  and  also  left  a  sur- 
plus with  which  to  arm  new  recruits.  Soon  after  this  he 
made  another  sally  upon  a  party  of  forty  of  the  enemy's 
soldiery,  and  secured  them  and  their  arms  without  firing 
a  shot. 

His  next  project  was  to  buy  up  all  the  old  saw  blades 
which  he  could  obtain,  and,  setting  the  smiths  to  work, 
he  had  made  a  large  number  of  broadswords,  which 
done  much  service  through  the  war. 

The  British  oflicers  were  astounded  when  news  of 
these  daring  exploits  reached  them.  They  had  supposed 
that  all  opposition  to  royal  authority  was  virtually  at  an 
end. 

Governor  Rutledge  sent  Marion  a  commission  of  Briga» 
dier-General,  and  the  disheartened  patriots  began  to 
shake  off  their  stupor,  and  recruits  poured  in  until  the 
"Light  Brigade"  numbered  two  hundred  daring  men. 
Now  here,  now  there,  this  body  of  patriots  made  bold 
and  staggering  blows  upon  the  enemy.  Superior  forces 
went  out  against  him,  but  so  secret  and  rapid  were  his 
movements,  that  while  they  searched  for  him  where  he 
was  last  seen,  he  proved  to  be  miles  away,  dashing  like 
a  thunderbolt  where  least  expected.  This  body  of  men 
were  all  of  the  better  class,  superior  horsemen,  well 
armed  and  well  mounted,  but  generally  ragged  and  half 
starved. 

Rest  assured  that  such  a  brilliant  example  of  daring 
and  patriotism  roused  the  Colonists  to  act  in  concert. 
Armed  bands  sprang  into  existence  in  every  direction, 
and  England  began  to  realize  that  a  slumbering  lion  was 
awakened,  and  might  be  dangerous. 

As  to  General  Marion's  character,  it  is  written  that  he 
was  a  man  of  pure  principles  and  of  a  kind  nature.  He 
allowed  no  cruelty  in  the  treatment  of  the  prisoners  in 
his  hands.  No  planter  had  cause  to  complain  of  law- 
lessness on  the  part  of  the  "  Light  Brigade."  He  was 
brave  and  daring,  yet  prudent,  and  with  the  simple 
manners  of  a  child. 

When  a  British  courier,  with  a  flag  of  truce,  was  sent 
to  Marion  to  negotiate  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  he  was 
fated  to  be  astonished  beyond  measure.  He  had  pic- 
tured a  stalwart  and  imposing  warrior,  with  martial 
front  and  imperious  bearing,  but  in  Marion  he  beheld  a 
swarthy,  smoke-dried  little  man.  Instead  of  flaming 
regimentals  and  glistening  belts  and  fringes,  the  hero 
had  barely  enough  of  homespun  garments  to  cover  his 
nakedness.  In  place  of  ranks  of  tall,  uniformed  sol- 
diery, were  a  handful  of  ragged  militia-men,  some  of 
whom  were  roasting  potatoes  in  the  coals,  while  others 
lay  asleep  among  the  logs  with  their  homely  accoutre- 
ments near  them. 

After  the  oflScer's  surprise  had  worn  off  suflflciently  to 
permit  of  speech  and  action,  their  business  was  satis- 
factorily arranged,  and  he  was  invited  to  dine  with 
them. 

His  searching  eye  could  discover  neither  pot,  pan,  nor 
Dutch  oven ;  but  dinner  was  served,  nevertheless. 
Sweet  potatoes  raked  out  from  the  coals,  and  the  ashes 
brushed  off,  comprised  the  bill  of  fare.  Some  of  the 
best  of  these  were  piled  upon  a  piece  of  bark  and  placed 
between  Marion  and  the  officer.  All  the  excuse  that  the 
patriot  made  was  this  :  "  Our  dinner,  I  fear,  may  not 
be  palatable  to  you,  but  it  is  the  best  we  have." 

The  Briton  laughed,  and  insinuated  that  this,  probably, 
was  a  "  picked  up  "  dinner.    The  reply  was  : 

"  We  are  not  often  so  fortunate  as  to  have  enough  like 
this." 

"  Heaven  ! "  exclaimed  the  officer,  "  then  your  ample 
pay  compensates,  no  doubt,  for  your  meagre  fare." 

"  We  receive  not  a  cent,"  was  brave  Marion's  reply — 
"  not  one  cent,  sir." 

"  Why,  General,"  exclaimed  his  guest  "  how  do  you 
stand  it  ?  " 

"  Minor  things  like  these,"  was  the  response,  "  are  in 
subjection  to  the  cause." 

"  But,"  went  on  the  Englishman,  "  how  couldl recon- 
cile myself  to  a  soldier's  life  on  General  Marion's  terms 
—all  flghting,  no  pay,  and  only  potatoes  for  provisions  ?  " 
Then  came  the  patriot's  matchless  reply : 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


1 1 1 


Why,  sir,  it  is  the  heart— the  heart  is  all,  and  moves 
all.  When  that  is  interested  the  limbs  and  muscles  do 
not  mind  toil.  Let  a  man  be  wholly  in  love  with  such  a 
beauteous  sweetheart  as  Rachel,  and  what  does  he  care 
lor  fourteen  years'  servitude  like  Jacob's,  if  he  but  win 
the  object  of  his  soul  in  the  end  ?  I  am  in  love,  and  my 
sweetheart  is  Liberty.  What  are  the  pomps  of  London 
and  Paris  compared  with  fhe  beauties  of  these  woods 
and  wilds,  if  I  but  win  her  ? 

"  Oh,  to  have  no  vain  monarch  riding  over  me  m 
gilded  coaches  ;  no  host  of  excisemen  or  tax-gatherers 
robbing  and  insulting  me  ;  instead  to  be  my  own  master, 
my  own  prince  and  sovereign,  gloriously  preserving  the 
dignity  of  my  nation;  pursuing  my  trae  happmess  ; 
planting  my  rich  vineyards,  and  eating  the  luscious 
fruit :  sowing  my  fields  and  reaping  my  golden  grain, 
with  millions  of  my  brothers  and  counti7men,  equally 
free  and  happy  with  myself  in  these  privileges  and  un- 
speakable blessings.  This  is  our  object  and  the  stimulus 
to  labor."  ^  ^,  . 

"  It  certainly  sounds  like  a  happy  state  of  thmgs,"  re- 
turned the  Briton.  .  ^ 

"Happy,  indeed,"  was  the  reply,  "I  choose  to  fight 
for  such  blessings  for  my  country,  and  feed  on  roots 
rather  than  keep  aloof,  if  by  so  doing  I  might  wallow  in 
the  luxuries  of  Solomon ;  for  now,  as  I  walk  the  soil 
that  gave  me  birth,  I  feel  that  I  am  not  unworthy  to  tread 
it.  I  look  upon  these  beautiful  and  venerable  trees,  and 
feel  that  I  do  not  dishonor  them.  I  think  of  my  sacred 
rights,  and  rejoice  that  I  have  never  deserted  them  ;  be- 
sides, I  look  forward  to  the  long  ages  and  generations 
yet  to  be,  and  glory  in  the  thought  that /am  fighting 
their  battles  for  them.  The  children  of  the  distant 
future  may  never  hear  my  name,  but  I  am  glad  that  I 
oan  fight  for  them,  and  leave  them  the  priceless  dowry 
of  Liberty.'''' 

That  honest  English  oflScer  dropped  his  head  abashed; 
and  when  he  returned  to  Colonel  Watson,  his  serious 
demeanor  led  to  the  question  : 

"Has  General  Marion  refused  to  treat  with  you  on  the 
subject  of  exchange  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Has  Washington  defeated  Sir  Henry  Clinton  ?  " 
"No,  sir." 

"  What  can  be  worse  than  these  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  I  have  seen  an  American  general  and  his 
t>fficers,  without  pay,  and  almost  without  clothing,  living 
on  roots  and  drinking  water,  and  all  for  liberty.  What 
chances  can  we  have  against  them  ?  " 

Colonel  Watson  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  this 
reply,  but  the  young  officer,  without  delay,  threw  up  his 
commission  and  left  the  service,  his  heart  forbidding  him 
to  array  himself  against  such  men. 

Marion  stated  once  his  method  of  dealing  with  cow- 
ardly troops  that  ran  away :  He  should  not  hurl  in- 
vectives after  them  ;  he  should  run  with  them,  and  faster 
than  they,  if  possible,  getting  to  the  front,  and  encourag- 
ing them  to  rally. 

He  made  no  effort  to  capture  deserters.  Their  punish- 
ment lay  in  the  contempt  that  would  meet  them  from  all 
true,  worthy  patriots. 

Marion,  with  Lee's  Legion,  was  sent  during  the  war  to 
lay  seige  to  a  strong  fort.  The  blufE  upon  which  the 
fort  rested  was  forty  feet  high,  and  a  forest  lay  all 
around.  The  patriots  had  no  cannon,  but  in  one  night 
they  cut  and  pued  up  logs  until  they  had  erected  a  tower 
so  high  that  the  riflemen  could  pick  off  the  garrison  at 
their  leisure.    The  fort  capitulated  directly. 

Then  followed  the  capture  of  Fort  Motte.  This  struc- 
ture had  been  erected  upon  the  plantation  of  a  widow 
lady  named  Motte,  and  her  palatial  residence  in  the 
midst  of  the  British  works  had  been  taken  for  the  officers' 
quarters,  while  the  lady  herself  had  been  forced  to  lodge 
in  the  negro  houses.  Marion  saw  that  he  could  not 
compel  the  surrender  of  the  garrison  without  setting  fire 
to  the  house.  On  learning  this,  Mrs.  Motte  sought  him 
out,  gave  her  consent  with  the  heroism  of  the  times  ; 
even  furnished  him  with  the  iron-tipped  arrows,  with 
inflammable  material  attached  that  accomplished  the 
work,  nobly  exclaiming : 

"  What  are  my  small  concerns,  when  the  welfare  of 
the  nation  is  at  stake  !  " 

This  garrison  surrendered.  Then  he  compelled  the 
evacuation  of  Charleston.  The  Light  Brigade  also  took 
part  in  the  bloody  battle  of  Eutaw  Springs. 

General  Marion's  sentiments  were  that  cruelty  to  man 


was  no  way  to  show  gratitude  to  God.  He  denounced 
the  proposed  plan  of  confiscating  the  property  of  the 
Tories  after  the  war.  He  thought  that  it  would  foster 
ill-feelings,  but,  while  in  the  Legislature,  he  jjlainly  ex- 
pressed his  opinion  of  those  who  had  been  so  ignorant 
of  their  state  and  standing  as  to  join  the  British,  or 
sneak  entirely  away  from  the  patriot  cause. 

After  the  war  his  choice  would  have  been  to  retire 
from  public  life,  and  quietly  settle  down  upon  his  plan- 
tation, but  his  countrymen  wished  to  retain  him  in 
public  service. 

After  the  liberty  which  he  prized  had  been  bought 
with  much  of  the  best  blood  of  the  colonies,  he  married 
Mary  Videaw,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  useful 
life  in  the  quiet  of  a  peaceful  home.  He  was  a  sincere 
Christian,  and  once  being  told  that  the  Methodists  and 
Baptists  were  making  great  progress  in  South  Carolina, 
he  exclaimed:    "Thank  God  for  such  good  news." 

"General,"  continued  his  friend  "what  is  the  best 
religion  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  but  one  religion,"  was  the  earnest  re- 
sponse, "  a  hearty  love  of  God  and  fellow-men." 

When  his  last  iUness  seized  him,  he  said  to  his  wife 
who  was  weeping  beside  his  couch  : 

"  My  dear,  do  not  weep  for  me.  I  am  not  afraid  to 
die,  for  since  coming  to  man's  estate,  I  have  never  in- 
tentionally done  wrong  to  any  one."  These  were  his  last 
words. 

"As  a  patriot  officer,"  said  General  Greene,  "history 
never  furnished  his  equal." 

And  if,  to-day,  Francis  Marion's  spiritual  vision  can 
pierce  the  mists  of  earth,  he  would  see  the  vineyards, 
ttie  fields,  the  forests  and  vales  of  America,  the  country 
which  he  so  much  loved,  sunning  itself  in  the  blessings 
of  liberty  and  equal  rights  for  which  he  struggled  and 
fought,  together  with  those  brave,  self-sacrificing  souls 
that  lived  a  hundred  years  ago. 


Alexander  Hamilton. 

Alexander  Hamilton  was,  next  to  Franklin,  the  most 
consummate  statesman  among  the  band  of  eminent  men 
who  had  been  active  in  the  Revolution,  and  who  after- 
ward labored  to  convert  a  loose  confederation  of  States 
into  a  national  government.  His  mind  was  as  plastic  as 
it  was  vigorous  and  profound.  It  was  the  appropriate 
intellectual  expression  of  a  well  poised  nature  whose 
power  was  rarely  obtrusive,  because  it  was  half  con- 
cealed by  the  harmonious  adjustment  of  its  various 
faculties.  It  was  a  mind  deep  enough  to  grasp  princi- 
ples, and  broad  enough  to  regard  relations,  and  fertile 
enough  to  devise  measures.  Indeed,  the  most  practical 
of  our  early  statesmen  was  also  the  most  inventive.  He 
was  as  ready  with  new  expedients  to  meet  unexpected 
emergencies  as  he  was  wise  in  subordinating  all  expe- 
dients to  clearly  defined  principles.  In  intellect  he  was 
probably  the  most  creative  of  our  early  statesmen,  as  in 
sentiment  Jefferson  was  the  most  widely  influential. 
And  Hamilton  was  so  bent  on  practical  ends  that  he  was 
indifferent  to  the  reputation  which  might  have  resulted 
from  a  parade  of  originality  in  the  means  he  devised  for 
their  accomplishment.  There  never  was  a  statesman 
less  egotistic,  less  desirous  of  labeling  a  policy  as  "  my  " 
policy,  and  one  of  the  sources  of  his  influence  was  the 
subtle  way  in  which  he  insinuated  into  other  minds  ideas 
which  they  appeared  to  originate.  His  moderation,  his 
self-command,  the  exquisite  courtesy  of  his  manners, 
the  persuasiveness  of  his  ordinary  speech,  the  fascina- 
tion of  his  extraordinary  speeches,  and  the  mingled  dig- 
nity and  ease  with  which  he  met  men  of  all  degrees  of 
intellect  and  character,  resulted  in  making  his  political 
partisans  look  up  to  him  as  almost  an  object  of  political 
adoration.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  this  accomplished 
man  might  have  done  as  a  leader  of  the  Federal  opposi- 
tion to  the  Democratic  Administrations  of  J eff erson  and 
Madison,  had  he  not,  in  the  maturity  of  his  years  and  in 
the  full  vigor  of  his  faculties,  been  muj-dered  by  Aaron 
Burr.  Nothing  can  better  illustrate  the  folly  of  the  prac- 
tice of  duelling  than  the  fact  that,  by  a  weak  compliance 
with  its  maxims,  the  most  eminent  of  American  statesmen 
died  at  the  hands  of  the  most  infamous  of  American 
demagogues. 

"Whenever  you  are  in  doubt  which  of  two  things  to  do,  let 
your  decision  be  for  that  which  is  right.  Do  not  waver,  do 
not  parley  ;  but  square  up  to  the  mark  and  do  the  right  thing. 


112 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Remarkable  Blind  Characters. 

Uldaric  Schomberg,  born  in  Germany,  towards  the 
eommencement  of  the  seventeenth  (17th)  century,  lost 
his  sight  by  the  small-pox,  at  the  age  of  three  ;  but  as 
he  grew  up  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the  belles 
lettres,  which  he  afterwards  professed  with  credit  at 
Altorf,  at  Leipsic,  and  at  Hamburg. 

Bourcheau  de  Valbonais,  bora  at  Grenoble  in  1651, 
became  blind  when  very  young,  soon  after  the  naval 
combat  at  Solbaye,  where  he  had  been  present.  But 
this  accident  did  not  prevent  him  from  publishing  the 
"History  of  Dauphine,"  in  two  volumes,  folio.  He 
had  made  profound  researches  into  the  history  of  his 

{)rovince,  and,  besides  the  work  just  mentioned,  pub- 
ished  a  "  Nobiliare  of  Dauphine." 

Dr.  Nicholas  Sanderson,  Lucasian  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics in  the  University  of  Cambridge,  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  of  his  time.  He  was  born  in  1682,  at  a 
small  town  in  the  county  of  York,  and  died  at  Cam- 
bridge in  1739,  at  the  age  of  fifty-six.  He  invented 
a  table,  which  has  since  been  greatly  improved,  for 
teaching  arithmetic  palpably  to  the  blind.  Then  there 
is  Dr.  Blacklock,  of  whom  every  one  has  heard.  Dr. 
Henry  Moyes  professed  the  Newtonian  philosophy, 
which  he  taught  with  considerable  success  as  an  itiner- 
ant lecturer.  He  was  also  a  good  chemist,  a  respectable 
mathematician,  and  a  tolerable  musician. 

Mr.  Phefel,  of  Colmar,  who  lost  his  sight  when  very 
young,  in  consequence  of  a  violent  opthalmia,  composed 
a  great  deal  of  poetry,  consisting  chiefly  of  fables,  some 
of  which  have  been  translated  into  French  by  M.  Deger- 
ando.  Among  the  pupils  of  this  learned  blind  man  may 
be  mentioned  Prince  Schwartzemberg  and  Prince  Eisem- 
berg.   He  died  at  Colmar,  1809. 

Weissemburgh,  of  Mannheim,  became  blind  at  the 
age  of  seven.'  He  wrote  perfectly,  and  read  with  char- 
acters which  he  had  imagined  for  his  own  use.  He  was 
an  excellent  geographer,  and  composed  maps  and 
globes,  which  he  employed  both  in  studying  and  teach- 
ing this  science.  He  was  the  inventor  of  an  arithmetical 
table,  differing  but  little  from  that  of  Sanderson. 

The  blind  man  of  Puiseaux  must  be  known  to  aU  who 
read  Diderot's  celebrated  "Lettres  sur  les  Avengles." 
He  was  son  of  a  professor  of  philosophy  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Paris,  and  had  attended  with  advantage,  courses 
of  chemistry  and  botany  at  the  Jardin  du  Roi.  After 
having  dissipated  a  part  of  his  fortune,  he  retired  to 
to  Puiseaux,  where  he  established  a  distillery,  the  pro- 
ducts of  which  he  came  regularly  once  a  year  to  dispose 
of.  There  was  an  originality  in  everything  that  he  did. 
His  custom  was  to  sleep  during  the  day,  and  to  rise  in 
the  evening;  he  worked  all  night,  "because,"  as  he 
himself  said,  "  he  was  not  then  disturbed  by  anybody." 
He  wife,  when  she  arose  in  the  moraing,  used  to  find 
everything  perfectly  arranged.  He  spoke  very  sensibly 
of  the  qualities  and  defects  of  the  organ  in  which  he  was 
deficient,  and  answered  questions  put  to  him  with  much 
justness  and  discrimination.  To  Diderot,  who  visited 
him  at  Puiseaux,  he  put  some  very  singular  questions 
on  the  transparency  of  glass,  colors,  and  such  like 
matters.  He  asked  if  naturalists  were  the  only  persons 
who  saw  with  the  microscope,  and  if  astronomers  were 
the  only  persons  who  saw  with  the  telescope  ;  if  the 
machine  that  magnified  objects  was  greater  than  that 
which  diminished  them  ;  if  that  which  brought  them  near 
was  shorter  than  that  which  removed  them  to  a  distance. 
He  believed  that  astronomers  had  eyes  of  different  con- 
formation from  those  of  other  men,  and  that  a  man 
could  not  devote  himself  to  the  study  of  a  particular 
science  without  having  eyes  specially  adapted  for  that 
purpose.  "  The  eye,"  said  he,  "  is  an  organ  upon  which 
the  air  ought  to  produce  the  same  effect  as  my  cr.nc 
does  upon  my  hand."  He  possessed  the  memory  ox 
sounds  to  a  surprising  degree,  and  recogni-^ed  by  the 
voice  those  whom  he  had  only  heard  speak  once.  He 
could  tell  if  he  was  in  a  thoroughfare  or  ii  a  cul-de-sac, 
in  a  large  or  in  a  small  place.  He  estimated  the  prox- 
imity of  fire  by  the  degree  of  heat ;  the  comparative 
fullness  of  vessels  by  the  sound  of  the  liquor  In  falling ; 
and  the  neighborhood  of  bodies  by  the  action  of  the  air 
on  his  face.  He  employed  characters  in  relief,  in  order 
to  teach  his  son  to  read,  and  the  latter  never  had  any 
Dther  master  than  his  father. 

M.  Huber,  of  Geneva,  an  excellent  naturalist  and 
•uthor  of  the  best  treatise  extant  on  bees  and  ants,  wag 


;  blind  from  his  earliest  infancy.  In  reading  the  descrip- 
tions of  these  insects,  we  can  scarcely  persuade  our- 
selves that  they  are  not  the  production  of  a  singularly 
clear-sighted  man,  well  versed  in  this  branch  of  natural 
history.  In  executing  his  great  work,  however,  M. 
Huber  had  no  other  assistance  than  what  he  derived 
from  his  domestic,  who  mentioned  to  him  the  color  of 
the  insects,  and  then  he  ascertained  their  size  and  form 
by  touch,  with  the  same  facility  he  would  have  recog- 
aized  them  by  their  humming  in  the  air.  This  laborious 
writer  has  also  published  a  valuable  work  on  education. 

Francis  Lesneur,  born  of  very  poor  parents  at  Lyons, 
on  the  5th  of  August,  1766,  lost  his  sight  when  only  six 
weeks  old.  He  went  to  Paris  in  1778,  and  was  begging 
at  the  gate  of  a  church,  when  M.  Hauy,  discovering  in 
the  young  mendicant  some  inclination  to  study,  received 
him,  and  undertook  the  task  of  instructing  him,  at  the 
same  time  promising  him  a  sum  equal  to  that  which  he 
had  collected  In  alms.  Lesneur  began  to  study  in  Octo- 
ber, 1784.  Six  months  after  he  was  able  to  read,  to 
compose  with  characters  in  relief,  to  print ;  and  in  less 
than  two  years  he  had  learned  the  French  language, 
geography,  and  music,  which  he  understood  very  well. 
His  intelligence  and  penetration  were  indeed  surprising, 
and  he  was  among  the  blind  what  Massien  has  since 
been  among  the  deaf  and  dumb.  It  is  painful  to  add 
that  he  proved  unthankful  to  his  benefactor  and  master, 
to  whom  he  owed  everything  ;  and  that  by  his  conduct 
he  merited  the  reproach  of  ingratitude,  a  vice  which, 
with  some  reason,  has  been  charged  against  the  blind 
generally. 

Avisse,  bom  in  Paris,  was  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished eleves  of  the  institution.  His  father,  who  kept 
furnished  lodgings  in  the  Rue  Guenegand,  intended  him 
for  the  sea,  and  he  embarked,  when  very  young,  on 
board  a  vessel  fitted  out  for  the  slave  trade,  in  the  capa- 
city of  secretary  or  clerk  to  the  captain;  but  he  wa& 
struck  by  a  coup  de  vent  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  lost 
his  sight  from  the  violent  inflammation  which  ensued. 
On  his  return,  his  parents  procured  his  admission  into 
the  institution  for  the  blind,  where,  in  a  few  years,  he 
became  professor  of  grammar  and  logic.  He  produced 
a  comedy  in  verse,  in  one  act,  entitled  "La  Ruse 
d'Avengle,"  which  was  performed ;  and  several  other 
pieces,  which  were  all  printed  in  one  volume,  in  the 
year  1803.  He  died  before  he  had  completed  his  thirty- 
first  year,  at  the  very  time  when  the  high  hopes  enter- 
tained of  him  were  being  realized. 

Nor  have  the  blind  been  less  distinguished  in  the 
practice  of  the  arts  than  in  science  and  literature. 
Many  instances  of  their  eminence  in  this  respect  may  be 
mentioned.  Indeed,  the  want  of  sight  seems  little  or  na 
impediment  to  manual  dexterity.  Stengel  mentions  a 
young  cabinet  maker  of  Ingolstadt,  who,  having  lost  his 
sight  by  an  explosion  of  gunpowder,  amused  himself  by 
constructing  pepper-mills,  which  he  made  without  the 
use  of  any  other  instrument  than  a  common  knife,  and 
executed  with  so  much  exactness  and  elegance,  that 
they  were  thought  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  gallery  of 
curiosities  at  Munich,  where  they  may  still  be  seen.  Sir 
Kenehn  Digby  has  stated  several  extraordinary  particu- 
lars of  a  preceptor  of  his  son,  who  was  so  completely 
blind,  that  he  could  not  distinguish  the  light  of  noon- 
day from  midnight.  He  surpassed  in  skill  the  ablest 
players  at  chess  ;  at  long  distances,  he  shot  arrows  with 
such  precision  as  almost  never  to  miss  his  mark;  he 
constantly  went  abroad  without  a  guide,  and  frequented 
most  of  the  promenades  ;  he  regularly  took  his  place  at 
table,  and  ate  with  such  dexterity,  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  perceive  he  was  blind ;  when  any  one  spoke  to 
^im  for  the  first  time,  he  was  able  to  tell  with  certainty 
-lis  stature  and  the  form  of  his  body ;  and  when  his 
'  upils  recited  in  his  presence,  he  knew  in  what  situa- 
tion and  attitude  they  were. 

Giovanni  Gambasio,  of  Volterra,  lost  his  sight  at 
twenty,  and  remained  ten  years  in  this  state,  ignorant  of 
even  the  elements  of  sculpture.  All  of  a  sudden,  how- 
ever, "  the  desire  of  making  a  statue  came  upon  him ;" 
and  having  handled  in  every  way  a  marble  figure  of 
Cosuro  de  Medici,  he  formed  one  of  clay,  so  extremely 
like,  that  it  astonished  all  who  saw  it. 


No  man's  life  is  free  from  struggles  and  mortifications, 
not  even  the  happiest ;  but  every  one  may  build  up  his 
own  happiness  by  seeking  mental  pleasure,  and  thu» 
make  himself  independent  of  outward  fortune. 


THE  GROiVING  IVORLD. 


113 


THE  VACATION 

OF  AN  ORNITHOLOGIST. 

An  ornithologist  looks  forward  to  holidays  and  vacations 
irom  business  as  welcome  seasons  of  uninterrupted 
work.  The  most  careful  plans  are  laid  long  beforehand 
to  get  the  utmost  amount  of  valuable  results  with  the 
least  expenditure  of  time,  regardless  of  labor  and 
trouble ;  and  he  reckons  the  value  of  the  vacation  bv 
the  work  he  has  done,  not  by  the  rest  he  has  taken. 
1  et  It  is  really  the  best  of  rest  to  him,  and  every  busi- 
ness man  ought  to  have  a  similar  avocation,  which  shall  j 


iTii!?  ^^"^d  "'^tes  of  the 

Dirds,  flitting  about  on  every  hand  (see  cut),  with  the 
keenest  enjoyment.  Any  appellation  for  the  forlorn 
little  station  to  which  I  returned  in  the  course  of  an 
f»ur,  would  be  a  misnomer,  for  it  looked,  felt,  tasted 

st^'uV'^hn  ^T^^  ?^^T'J"?.'  g^^e^^isli^  black,  villainous 
stuit  but  the  best  lubricator  in  the  world.  The 
whole  country  thereabouts  is  on  edge.  So  many 
of  V  11^'  ^'t  '^^'^  is  scarcely 

^rL  b^t^e^"'  all  densely  covered  with  a 

^nd  TullS'"''.  ^^^^^  ^oods? 

and  jungles   of   bushes   and    brambles,  knit  to- 


iler 


i'liii'ii'nii 


"  LEANING  ON  AN  OLD  RAIL  FENCE  I  LISTENED  TO  THE  VARIED  NOTE^^TtH^^^R^sI^ 
evprv^^..^^*^^^  ^^.r        ^^^y  pavements  ™^ 


blrdr/nr  raikenni;;';ire"rn 
tii  w  ?  ^^.^cePtpg  tlie  mvitation  of  gentlemen  of 
r^!^.7.f^■^'%''''^  ^'K^""^  Land ''Company  To 
^S^^i  I  ^ent^to  Petroleum, 

Ritchie  county.  West  Virginia,  which  is  on  the  Park 
ersburg  division  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway 

a  littl? itT'"'''!  ^-i-^^  ^  ^^^^^^  t«  reconnoitre 

a  little  before  decidmg  to  make  this  plax^e  the  scene 
of  my  wanderings.  Therefore  leaving  my  carpet  has 
and  equipments  m  the  station,  I  started  out     I  how 

noon,  but,  leamng  on  an  old  rail  fence,  overgrown 


gether    with    trailing    vines   and   creepers  thp 

Sn^ev^er/etrt'to'c'^^^^^  vegetatiL  is 

conecTin^  ^x^lSlYV^^/^'  ^  ^P^°^  ^^^rly  four  weeks  hr 
e?er  w^in^^  off^'^^^?/"^^^^^-  The  first  day,  ho'^ 
eo™nJ!i     ^^^"^  ^  ^^^^  and  I  sawnone  but  the 

crowr^old'pn'^l  ^%^«bins,  bluebirds,  blackbirds? 
I  wis  %^^tt1«  sparrows.    The  next  da^ 

kinf  fifhii  f!,^'''^  successful,  for  I  added  to  my  list  i 
S  !       ^"^5?  a  mocking  wren,  a  blue-CTav 

gnatcatcher,  and  others.    From  this  time  eve^^J 


114 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


brought  varieties.  The  king-fishers  do  not  seem  abun- 
dant, but  a  few  nest  in  a  steep  bank  a  mile  or  two  down 
the  road,  in  company  with  another  troglodyte — the 
rough-winged  swallow.  The  burrows  of  these  two 
birds  are  very  different,  although  it  is  not  always  easy 
to  tell  their  entrances  apart.  The  king-fisher  goes 
straight  in  several  feet  and  lays  her  eggs  on  three  or 
four  straws  ;  if  anything  at  all,  (it  is  the  British  species 
that  builds  its  nest  of  fish  bones,)  while  the  swallow 
pierces  her  narrow  tunnel  only  a  few  inches,  and  usually 
makes  an  elbow  in  it,  at  the  end  of  which  a  little 
chamber  is  hollowed  and  a  warm  nest  of  straw  and 
feathers  tucked  in.  This  is  also  the  habit  of  its  con- 
gener, the  common  bank  swallow,  and  all  three  of  them 
lay  pure  white  eggs,  like  most  birds  that  nest  in  dark 
holes — the  woodpeckers  and  owls  for  instance— though 
there  seems  no  direct  connection  between  the  facts. 

How  the  king-fisher  happened  to  be  chosen  to  figure 
in  that  gentle  legend  of  Halcyone,  or  rather  how  such  a 
delightml  tradition  of  his  origin  ever  arose,  is  a  wonder 
to  me,  for  he  is  associated  with  anything  but  quiet  and 
repose,  and  the  canoeist  on  an  American  river  would 
regard  the  presence  of  our  Oergle  Alcyone  as  an  indica- 
tion of  rough  water,  however  the  quhernator  of  a  Roman 
trireme  might  have  welcomed  the  birds.  He  is,  note, 
too,  as  noisy  as  can  be,  and  the  immortal  Alexander 
Wilson,  whom  nowadays  we  are  too  near  forgetting, 
described  it  perfectly  when  he  compared  it  with  a 
watchman's  rattle. 

Just  where  1  found  these  nests  Goose  Creek  makes  a 
sharp  bend  to  the  right,  sheering  away  from  a  high  wall 
of  rocks  and  plunging  down  some  lively  rapids.  On  the 
right  bank  there  is  a  little  flat,  thinly  covered  with 
bushes  and  young  trees.  Amid  these  were  many  birds, 
and  it  was  a  favorite  resort  of  mine  throughout  the 
whole  vacation.  Here  came  the  shy  little  Carolina 
chickadee,  a  miniature  of  our  northern  black  crested 
one.  with  his  constant  friends,  the  black  and  white 
creepers  and  the  "  sapsuckers,"  the  sad  wood  pewees, 
whose  slender  plaint  always  seems  to  me  significant  of 
blighting  sorrow  courageously  overcome  by  moral 
strength  ;  the  loquacious  bluejay,  more  brilliant  in  this 
warm  latitude  than  ever  I  had  seen  him  North.  You 
hear  many  minstrels  that  you  cannot  see.  Down  the 
creek  a  field  sparrow  is  still  singing  creep,  cree-ep, 
cree-eep,  catch  'em,  catch  'em,  catch  'em,  as  mother 
tells  me  he  sang  it  when  she  was  a  girl.  Up  stream,  the 
few  clear  notes  of  the  mocking  wren,  which  are  all  his 
own,  ring  out  upon  the  air,  and  on  the  other  side  a  cat 
bird  is  personating  a  whole  choir.  Business-like  robins 
are  discussing  with  one  another;  angry  chenricks  are 
bustling  about  in  great  agitation,  making  the  dead 
leaves  fly  from  under  the  briers  as  though  a  small  tor- 
nado vras  dispersing  them  ;  a  pair  of  gold-finches 
are  quarrelling  loudly  out  there  by  a  dead  tree,  and 
altogether  this  little  grove  seems  a  sort  of  avian  ex- 
change. 

Hark !  What  a  keen,  strong,  parrot-like  whistle 
from  that  lofty  hill !  I  splash  through  the  creek, 
scramble  up  the  rocky  wall,  clutching  the  trailing 
hemlock  roots,  and  forgetting  the  things  which  are 
behind,  press  forward  towards  the  matk  of  the  high 
calling  of  that  strange  bird  on  the  hilltop.  How 
aoon  he  would  stop  if  he  knew  whom  his  clarion  was 
guiding!  At  last  I  see  him — a  brave  looking  bird, 
standing  high  upon  his  legs  in  the  top  of  a  tall  ash, 
his  head  crested,  his  tail  is  long  and  restless  ;  above 
he  is  a  ruddy  brown,  below  ash- white  and  yellow. 
I  knew  him — the  great-crested  fly  catcher,  first  cousin 
to  the  kingbird.  Down  he  comes,  dead  !  I  straighten 
him  out,  wrap  him  up  tenderly  and  put  him  away  in 
my  trout  basket.  Then  I  sit  down.  There  is  little 
use  indeed  when  collecting  in  the  woods  to  move 
about  much  ;  the  birds  will  come  to  you  if  you  are 
quiet,  just  as  surely  as  you  can  go  to  them.  There  is  a 
different  sort  up  here,  less  of  the  skulking  bush  and 
pasture  lovers,  and  more  of  the  dendricoline  and 
open  air  birds,  like  this  poor  handsome  fellow  in 
my  basket,  and  that  hawk  coursing  over  yonder 
ridge.  Presently  I  heav  a  fine  squeak  overhead,  and' 
after  a  long  search  discover  a  pair  of  great  catchers 
IPolioptila  coerulea)  laying  the  foundation  of  their  nests. 


which  is  too  elegant  a  structure  to  pass  unheeded.  It 
woTildjust  about  fill  a  coffee  cup,  and  a  thimble  would 
just  about  fill  it.  It  is  matted  of  various  soft  vegetable 
fibres  and  cottony  substances,  particularly  downy  within 
and  encrusted  outside  with  green  and  gray  lichens  and 
bits  of  wood  moss.  The  bird  itself  is  a  tiny,  slendei 
Uttle  sylph,  blue-grey  above  and  white  underneath,  with 
black  bill  and  feet.  They  went  away,  and  returned 
again  and  again,  always  both  together,  vrith  their 
mouths  full  of  fluffy  material.  I  wanted  the  Palioptilaa 
badly,  but  hadn't  the  heart  to  shoot  them  in  their  busy 
bliss ;  so  I  left  them  and  they 

"Perfected  all  their  labor  of  love. 
These  joyous  birds  that  I  tell  you  of." 

The  next  bird  that  attracted  my  attention  was  a  warb- 
ling vireo,  as  firm  and  modest  as  Priscilla,  the  Puritan 
maiden.  It  is  a  common  bird  in  all  our  New  England 
elms  in  May,  and  I  need  not  stop  to  describe  it.  The 
sight  of  the  birds,  together  with  the  ways  of  the  little 
•architects  I  had  just  been  watching,  reminded  me  of  a 
pair  of  red-eyed  vireo  that  I  saw  in  Connecticut  the 
previous  Summer.  One  had  its  beak  full  of  a  great  wad 
of  cotton,  which  it  was  trying  to  mat  into  a  pellet,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  sing  as  loudly  as  its  mate  (with  what 
musical  success  you  may  judge),  very  soon,  of  course, 
dropping  the  cotton.  But  the  other  vireo,  snatching  the 
morsel,  also  tried  to  go  on  singing,  and  dropped  it, 
when  it  was  caught  by  the  first  one,  and  so  on  till  the 
wad  was  suflaciently  compact,  when  they  both  started 
for  the  nest  in  great  glee.  Their  intense  happiness  in  all 
this  was  very  amusing,  being  perfectly  unconscious  of 
my  presence,  although  I  stood  within  six  feet  of  them. 
On  the  way  down  hill,  a  couple  of  Swainson's,  or  tawny 
thrushes,  scudded  away  through  the  underbush,  show- 
ing their  rufous  backs.  Just  on  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
I  shot  a  warbler,  intently  gleaning  in  the  tip-top  of  a 
tail  sapling,  which  proved  to  be  only  a  Parula,  the  blue, 
yellow  back,  readily  distinguished  by  the  bronze  cres- 
cent between  the  shoulders  of  his  blue  mantle  garb,  the 
reddish,  changing  yellow  on  his  breast,  fading  into 
*(vhite  under  the  tail.  A  little  further  down  I  easily 
ascertained  the  whereabouts  of  a  certain  noisy  cardinal, 
or  *'red  bird,"  and  crept  cautiously  up,  for  they  are 
very  shy,  till  near  enough  for  my  fine  shot  to  take  effect, 
and  then  fired  hastily.  Much  to  my  surprise,  he  neither 
flew  away  nor  came  down,  nor  could  I  shake  him  down, 
but  had  at  last  to  climb  the  tree  and  take  him  in  my 
hand,  when  he  awoke  from  his  stupor  (for  he  wasn't  the 
least  injured),  and  resisted  manfully.  His  dark  eye 
dilated  and  flashed  indignant  remonstrance:  his  great 
beak  snapped  viciously  and  unceasingly,  as  if  he  would 
eat  me  up,  if  only  I  were  not  so  provokingly  big ;  his 
strong  claws  clutched  everything  and  held  on  desper- 
ately, but  before  the  next  night  he  felt  better  and  sang 
in  his  cage.  Tou  know  their  song  ;  how  it  is  an  endlessly 
varied  succession  of  whistles,  sharp,  prolonged,  three- 
cornered,  like  their  beaks.  But  the  following  day  brave 
cardinal  died,  and  I  stuffed  his  gay  coat. 

I  had  loitered  so,  that  when  I  got  home  the  purple 
martins  were  wheeling  under  and  over  the  level  rays  of 
sunset,  and  before  long  a  solitary  whippoorwill  began 
calling  down  by  the  creek.  To-morrow  I  must  work 
more  whether  or  not  I  think  less. 

Every  morning  after  this  I  was  out  early  and  home 
about  noon,  so  as  to  have  time  to  skin  iT"  birds  before 
dark.  #  * 

The  preparation  of  the  skins  of  birdt  ^s  a  matter  of 
great  delicacy.  Immediately  upon  shooting  a  bird,  I 
stopped  the  holes  with  cotton,  as  also  the  mouth  and 
nostrils ;  if  the  bird  was  small,  I  thrust  it  head  first  into 
a  cone  of  paper,  prepared  for  the  purpose,  and  folded 
the  open  end  doAvn.  If  any  of  the  feathers  got  crumpled 
or  bent,  they  were  restored  by  dipping  in  hot  water.  I 
skinned  my  specimens  by  carefully  making  an  incision 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  breast  bone.  As  the  skin 
loosened  I  inserted  cotton  to  prevent  its  adhering  to  tho 
body  ;  and  the  legs  were  in  succession  stripped  of  their 
covering  through  the  single  incision  made,  cutting  them 
off  at  one  of  the  lower  joints  with  my  knife,  leaving  the 
feet  attached  to  the  skin.  The  tail  in  like  manner  was 
separated  by  cutting  through  the  last  joints  of  the 
vertebrae.  Then  suspending  the  body  by  a  hook  intro- 
troduced  into  the  lower  part  of  the  back  or  rump,  I  in- 
verted the  skin  and  carefully  loosened  it  from  the  body. 
Every  particle  of  muscle  and  fat  with  the  brain  being 
removed,  I  applied  a  preservative  freely  to  the  inside  of 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


115 


the  skin  and  restored  it  to  its  proper  shape.  I  deferred 
the  Btuflfing  process  until  my  return  home.  This  process 
\&  performed  by  introducing  cotton  through  the  mouth 
into  the  orbits  and  upper  part  of  the  throat  until  these 
acquire  their  natural  shape.  The  rest  of  the  skin  is  then 
filled,  not  quite  full,  with  cotton,  and  the  incision  sewed 

was  successful  in  securing  many  fine  specimens  to 
add  to  my  collection,  and  my  evenings  were  fully  occu- 
pied in  preparing  them  for  removal. 

The  northward  migration  was  at  its  height  by  the  5th 
of  May,  and  I  saw  the  best  of  the  travelers.  I  explored 
all  sorts  of  localities,  one  day  going  to  the  dense  distant 
woods  and  great  second-growth  brier  patches  on  the 
high  hills ;  another  following  the  windings  of  the  creek, 
or  some  one  of  the  many  little  ''runs"  which  tumbled 
down  ravines  that  an  artist  would  love,  for  every  turn 
brought  out  some  new  scene  of  picturesque  loveliness. 
These  narrow  glens  are  beloved  of  the  birds,  and  I  find 
euch  warblers  as  the  Kentucky,  the  hooded,  the  Black- 
bumian,  the  golden-winged,  and  the  worm-eating,  with 
the  ffolden-crowned  thrush,  and  his  rarer  brother,  the 
water-thrush  (Seiurus  ludovicianus),  for  whose  nest  I 
searched  unsuccessfully,  though  it  must  breed  in  this  re- 

fion.  It  was  here,  too,  that  I  was  most  apt  to  find  the  least 
y-catcher,  and  his  brother,  the  green-crested  Acadian  fly- 
catcher, three  of  whose  old  nests  I  came  across  in  one 
morning.  Another  species  of  this  genius  (Empidona)  is 
the  yellow  bellied.  It  has  the  same  olive-green  plumage 
as  the  rest,  but  differs  in  being  bright  lemon  yellow 
underneath.  Its  song  seems  to  one  a  string  of  coquet- 
tish questions,  and  is  very  pretty. 

And  now  I  am  "at  the  end  of  my  bobbin',"  and  haven't 
begun  to  tell  what  I  intended  of  this  vacation  in  the 
Alleghanies,  or  the  birds  and  bird-notes  it  added  to  mj 
acquaintance  ;  for  though  you  may  know  of  many  birds, 
it  takes  time  to  really  get  acquainted  with  even  a  few, 
Perhaps,  too,  I  preach  too  much. 

Prince  Albert's  Wooing, 

THE   STORY   OF    QUEEN  VICTORIA'S  COURTSHIP. 

Her  uncle,  the  late  King  William  IV.,  had  done  all  in 
his  power  to  prevent  their  union  ;  no  less  than  five  other 
marriage  projects  had  been  planned  for  the  young 
princess,  and  William,  though  he  never  mentioned  the 
subject  in  her  presence,  took  special  pains  to  bring  about 
an  alliance  between  her  and  the  brother  of  the  King  of 
Netherlands — Prince  Alexander.  In  consequence  of 
these  views,  his  Majesty  endeavored  to  prevent  the  visit 
of  the  Duke  of  Coburg  in  1836,  but  in  vain  ;  for  the  Duke 
came  over  to  England  with  his  two  sons  and  remained  at 
Kensington  Palace  nearly  four  weeks,  as  guests  of  Vic- 
toria's mother,  the  Duchess  of  Kent.  King  William  died 
in  1837  and  Victoria  ascended  the  throne  on  the  20th  of 
June.  In  1839  Prince  Albert  of  Coburg,  accompanied  by 
his  brother,  made  that  second  journey  to  England  which 
resulted  so  successfully.  The  three  years  which  had 
passed  since  his  last  visit  had  greatly  enhanced  his  per- 
sonal attractions.  Tall  in  figure,  and  manly  in  bearing, 
Albert  was  besides  remarkably  handsome,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mildness  and  inate  refinement,  joined  to  an 
air  of  intellectual  superiority,  which  far  surpassed  any 
mere  regularity  of  features. 

"And  so  the  Queen  fell  in  love  with  him  ?" 

"Very  naturally — and  on  the  14th  of  October  she  made 
known  to  Lord  Melbourne,  who  at  that  time  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  Whig  Ministry,  her  resolution  to  offer  her 
hand  to  Prince  Albert  definitely,  and  the  next  day  he 
was  called  to  an  audience  with  the  Queen.  Victoria,  in 
her  lofty  position,  had  found  herself  in  a  very  peculiar 
embarassment,  for  it  was  necessary  that  she  should  mani- 
fest to  the  Prince  that  his  suit,  if  preferred,  would  be 
successful.  This  was  a  very  delicate  task  for  a  young 
lady,  but  one  which  the  Queen  had  solved  with  rare  tact 
Not  very  long  before,  at  one  of  the  court  balls,  she  took 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  hand  the  Prince  her 
bouquet ;  the  hint  was  not  lost  upon  the  gallant  cavalier, 
and  since  his  close-fitting  uniform  buttoned  tightly  to 
the  throat  did  not  permit  of  his  disposing  of  this  selam, 
80  full  of  promissory  happiness  in  the  usual  fashion,  he 
quickly  took  out  his  penknife,  cut  a  slit  in  the  coat  near 
the  vicinity  of  the  heart,  and  inserted  therein  the  invalu- 
able treasure.  A  second  hint  was  very  opportunely 
g^ven.  Albert  having  expressed  his  thanks  and  apprecia- 
tion of  his  kind  reception  in  England  was  asked  by  th^ 


Qaeen  :  'If  your  Highness  is  pleased  with  this  country 
would  you  be  inclined  to  remain  with  us?'  " 

"  *1  would  sacrifice  everything  in  life  to  remain  at  the 
court  of  your  Majesty,'  was  the  characteristic  reply. 

"When  in  compliance  with  the  request  above  men- 
tioned, the  Prince  repaired  to  the  Queen's  presence,  after 
a  short  conversation  she  declared  to  him  with  a  sincere 
expression  of  sincerity  and  affection,  that  he  had  won 
her  heart,  and  that  it  would  make  her  only  too  happy  if 
he  would  make  the  sacrifice  of  his  life  in  sharing  it  with 
her ;  for  she  said  she  also  regarded  it  in  that  light,  and 
the  only  thing  which  troubled  her  was  the  idea  that  she 
was  not  worthy  of  him.  " 

"How  1  made  such  a  declaration  of  love  to  him  ?  " 

"She  was  obliged  to,  for  the  position  of  a  Queen  de- 
mands imperatively  that  the  marriage  proposal  shall 
come  from  her,  undesirable  as  this  may  appear  to  tho8« 
who  look  at  it  from  the  standpoint  of  private  life,  and 
who  regard  it  as  a  privilege  and  a  fortunate  circumstance 
for  women,  that  their  hands  must  be  sought  for  ani 
need  not  be  offered." 

"And  what  was  the  Prince's  reply?" 

"The  charming  frankness  of  her  Majesty  quite  capti- 
vated the  heart  of  the  favored  young  man,  and  he  was 
entirely  overcome.  The  marriage  was  solemnized  Feb- 
ruary 15th,  1840." 


Facts  Concerning  Giants. 

In  1525,  after  his  return  from  the  circumnavigation  of 
the  globe,  Ferdinand  Magellan  published  a  book,  giving 
a  full  description  of  his  voyage.  In  this  book,  h« 
describes  a  race  of  giants  which  he  discovered  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  South  America,  in  the  country 
now  known  as  Patagonia.  He  says  that  in  stature,  they 
were  fully  ten  feet,  and  that  they  were  very  broad  and 
thickset  in  proportion  to  their  height.  Subsequent  trav- 
elers, such  as  Herrera,  Sebald  Wert,  Oliver  Van  Noort, 
and  others,  corroborated  his  statement,  and  it  became 
established  as  a  positive  fact,  that  a  race  of  men  of  that 
size,  did  actually  exist  in  that  country. 

The  best  authorities  of  a  recent  date,  agree  in  giving 
to  these  giants,  an  average  height  of  about  six  feet  and 
eight  inches.  Out  of  charity,  we  will  say  that  we  be- 
lieve that  the  ancient  navigators  gave  the  height  of  the 
Patagonians  as  nearly  as  they  could  guess.  It  may  seem 
strange  to  some,  that  a  man  should  not  be  able  to  guess 
within  less  than  three  feet  of  another's  height,  yet  such 
we  believe  to  have  been  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 

If  the  experiment  be  tried,  it  will  be  found  that  not 
more  than  one  person  in  ten  who  is  unaccustomed  to 
the  business,  can  guess  within  less  than  three  inches  of 
the  height  of  a  man  of  ordinary  size  ;  and  that  the  taller 
the  man,  the  wider  of  the  mark  are  the  answers.  The 
following  case  will  illustrate  this.  Years  ago,  when  I 
was  a  mere  schoolboy,  a  stout  broad-shouldered  Hercules, 
who  stood  six  feet  two,  attended  the  same  school.  Out 
of  curiosity,  I  once  measured  his  height.  I  was  sur- 
prised at  the  result,  for  I  had  supposed  him  to  be  at 
least  four  inches  taller.  I  asked  my  schoolmates  to 
guess  upon  his  height,  and  of  a  class  of  forty-three 
pupils,  only  two  of  them  guessed  within  three  inches  of 
his  real  stature,  and  several  of  them  thought  him  to  be 
as  much  as  seven  feet. 

Another  anecdote  will  more  forcibly  illustrate  the 
fact.   Several  years  since,  I  went  to  see  a  celebrated 

flant,  who  was  said  to  be  eight  and  a  half  feet  in  height, 
ew  who  saw  him  doubted  th^  assertion.  Many,  even 
thought  him  to  be  much  taller  than  that.  By  standmg 
by  his  side,  I  found  that  I  was  able  to  reach  some  four 
or  five  inches  above  his  head.  When  I  returned  home,  I 
tried  the  experiment,  and  found  that  it  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  I  was  able  to  reach  to  a  height  of 
seven  feet  and  three  inches.  I  am  fully  satisfied  that  he 
was  not  over  six  feet  ten  inches  tall. 

One  thing  which  makes  deception  all  the  more  easy 
is  the  fact,  that  few  persons  know  the  average  height 
of  the  American  people.  Most  persons  suppose  it  to  be 
nearly  six  feet,  whOe  in  reality  it  is  about  four  inches 
less.  The  average  height  of  the  English  is,  stated  by  a 
recent  authority,  at  about  five  feet  seven,  and  of  the 
Irish,  at  five  feet  nine.  The  Swiss  are  the  tallest  of  any 
civilized  nation,  bemg  about  five  feet  eleven  inches. 
The  Germans  come  next  on  the  list,  as  their  average 
height  is  half  an  inch  less. 


THE  GROIVJNG  WORLD. 


Rutherford  B.  Hayes. 

Rutherford  B.  Hayes  was  bom  in  Delaware,  Ohio, 
October  4,  1822,  He  received  a  ^ood  academic  training, 
and  was  graduated  at  Kenyon  College  in  Gambler, 
choosing  the  profession  of  the  law. 

And^  right  here,  we  beg  leave  to  digress  long  enough 
to  call  the  reader's  attention  to  the  fact,  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  great  men,  whose  biographies  have  been 
briefly  outlined  in  the  Growing  World,  have  chosen 
the  law  as  their  profession,  when  they  started  out  in  life 
to  win  a  name  and  fame.  Why  their  minds  should  hav& 
been  so  in  unison  in  regard  to  their  calling  is  mysterious. 

"And,"  whispers  some  young  friend's  voice  in  the 
distance,  "are  we  never  to  have  outlined  something  be- 
side political  characters  ?" 

You  shall  ere  1  ong  have  other  pictures.  Circumstances 
force  us  into  taking  whoever  comes  first  to  hand ;  but 
most  deeply  do  we  realize,  most  feelingly  appreciate  the 
fact  that  there  never  would  have  been  a  successful  battle 
fought,  nor  a  great  victory  won  in  life's  onward  march,  if 
there  had  been  no  one  but  leaders  in  the  field.  The 
privates,  the  non-commissioned  souls,  standing  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  guiding  the  batteries  against  wrong,  making 
forced  foot-sore  marches  through  dangerous  ways,  bear- 
ing the  soldier's  pack  and  ammunition,  facing  hunger, 
thirst  and  galling  privations,  meeting  death  half-way  at 
the  command  of  duty — shall  we  pass  these  by  unen- 
roUed  with  the  great?  Heroes,  martyrs,  Christ-like 
Bouls,  forbid. 

And  while  we  feast  our  ambitious  aspirations  with  the 
successes  of  master-minds  like  Clay,  Calhoun,  and 
Webster,  let  us  bear  in  remembrance  that  sometimes 
the  last  wine  brought  before  the  guests  is  better  than  the 
first. 

To  return :  Mr.  Hayes  began  practicing  in  Cincinnati 
when  thirty-four  years  old.  He  was  soon  appointed 
City  Solicitor  of  Cincinnati ;  and  he  is  said  to  have  dis- 
charged his  duties  acceptably  to  all  parties  concerned. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  Mr.  Hayes  shut  up  his  law 
books,  and  like  many  another  young  man,  entered  the 
volunteer  army.  His  regiment  was  the  Twenty-third 
Ohio,  as  gallant  a  body  of  men  as  ever  responded  vnth 
Jieart-beat  to  drum-beat  in  the  cause  of  the  Union.  He 
developed  a  remarkable  aptitude  in  the  school  of  the 
soldier.  First  appointed  as  Major ;  in  less  than  a  year  he 
was  promoted  to  be  Lieutenant-Colonel. 

He  commanded  the  Twenty-third  in  the  fierce  battle 
at  South  Mountain  in  the  autumn  of  1862.  The  regiment 
at  that  time  formed  a  part  of  Reno's  division ;  and  to 
Lieut. -Col.  Hayes  is  due  the  glory  of  giving  the  Union 
army  a  foothold  on  South  Mountain.  He  was  severely 
wounded  in  the  arm  during  the  contest,  but  gallantly 
held  to  the  regiment  until  the  issue  of  the  battle  was 
decided. 

In  1864,  Colonel  Hayes  was  promoted  to  take  charge 
of  the  division,  and  was  then  made  Brigadier-General. 
His  splendid  record  in  the  field  made  him  the  most 

gopular  candidate  for  Congress  in  his  district.  He  came 
ome  from  the  war  with  unsullied  glory,  and  was  sent 
to  the  Thirty-ninth  Congress  in  October,  1865,  with  the 
daajority  of  3,998  over  his  competitor. 

Of  General  Hayes,  very  little  was  heard  in  the  turbu- 
lent times  after  Johnson  came  into  the  Presidential  seat. 

He  seemed  without  those  qualities  that  creates  such  a 
jostling  too  often  among  jpolitical  aspirants  for  the  front 
position  and  leadership  m  Congress ;  and  he  sat  with 
the  perhaps  wiser  party,  who,  while  being  led,  have 
better  opportunities  to  test  the  calibre  of  the  leaders. 
He  was  on  the  Commitcees  on  the  Library  and  Private 
Land  Claims.  In  1866  he  was  renominated,  but  not  by 
so  large  a  majority  as  when  the  State  read  his  war-record 
with  excited  pulses,  but  still  suflficiently  large  to  show 
the  favor  in  which  the  candidate  was  held.  During  his 
Congressional  term,  Mr.  Hayes  evinced  an  honest  in- 
terest in  genuine  reform. 

Next  his  party  nominated  him  for  Governor  of  Ohio. 
His  term  as  Governor  was  moderately  successful.  Then 
he  had  a  period  of  rest  during  which  he  seemed  to  make 
politics  or  the  art  of  governing  a  study.  His  friends  re- 
turned to  him  again  and  renominated  him  ;  but  as  he 
seemed  to  have  no  vitally  criminal  notoriety  or  fame,  he 
W88  not  brought  conspicuously  before  the  public  until 
the  Convention  of  the  Centennial  year  placed  him  before 
the  people  of  the  United  States  as  the  Republican  candi- 
^late  for  the  Presidency. 


Fortune  has  conspired  to  place  this  unassuming  sol- 
dier hero  in  the  highest  official  position  in  our  glorious 
land.  His  highest  record  up  to  this  time  depicts  him 
neither  of  a  boldly  aggressive  nature,  nor  of  a  weakly 
yielding  character  ;  and  we  only  trust  that  his  adminis- 
tration may  be  marked  with  such  patience  and  Divine 
wisdom  to  each  and  every  section  of  our  heaven-blessed 
land,  that  his  friends  will  love  him  better  as  the  years 
roll  on,  and  his  enemies  may  say,  "  Behold  we  find  no- 
evil  in  him." 


Ireland  in  the  Olden  Time. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

There  was  but  little  difference  between  the  Magi  of 
Ireland  and  the  Druids  of  Britain.  These  fierce  priests 
claimed  also  the  titles  of  sage,  seer  and  statesmen ;  and 
we  Americans  and  people  of  this  enlightened  time  can 
hardly  realize  the  terrors  of  those  dark  ages,  when  in 
the  depths  of  the  almost  unimpenetrable  forests  the  un- 
holy orgies  of  priestcraft  were  performed.  Let  us  speak 
of  the  ghostly  gatherings  of  fierce  visaged  priests,  re- 
treatmg  cautiously  through  the  dark  pathways  in  the 
wood,  pushing  aside  the  tangled  underbrush,  down  the 
rocky  defiles,  up  the  slimy  ravines  they  come  with  mys- 
terious, stealthy  tread  and  treacherous  eyes  glancing 
about  them,  and  cruel  ears  listening  to  the  wind  roaring 
through  the  night,  or,  too  often,  to  the  stifled  gasps 
and  moans  of  the  human  sacrifices  which  they  were 
secretly  bearing  among  them  to  offer  up  as  gifts  on  their 
bloody  altars.  Fierce  eyes  seemed  to  watch  them  from 
under  furze  and  brake  ,•  awful  whisperings  s^junded  in 
the  dense  tree-shadows  above  their  temples ;  faint  and 
fearful  wailings  rose  and  died,  and  rose  again  with  every 
passing  breeze. 

The  Romans  swept  down  upon  the  Druids  of  Britain 
and  routed  the  blood-thirsty  and  demoniac  horde,  but 
the  terrible  rule  of  the  Magi  went  on  in  Ireland ;  and 
just  how  and  when  it  was  ended,  historians  disagree. 

Back  among  Scandinavian  and  Scythian  hordes  who 
wandered  down  from  the  steppes  of  Tartary,  from  the 
forests  of  Germany,  from  the  bleak  and  ice-bound  north, 
from  the  luxurious  coasts  of  Spain  and  Portugal  and 
the  voluptuous  plains  of  Italy,  we  must  go  to  look  fof 
the  ancestry  of  the  people  of  Ireland.  The  Greeks 
called  the  country  lerne,  the  Romans  Hibemia,  and  it 
also  had  the  appellation  of  the  Sacred  Isle.  Of  Ire- 
land's five  provinces,  Meath,  Leinster,  Munster,  Con- 
naught  and  Ulster,  the  former  is  famed  alike  in  song 
and  story,  for  within  its  precincts  were  the  hill  and  hafi 
of  Tara.  Some  of  the  ancient  Irish  kings  were  piratical- 
ly inclined :  so  it  came  to  pass  that  one  MacNial,  a  petty 
sovereign,  coasting  along  the  shores  of  Brittany,  took  ^ 
along  with  other  spoil,  human  captives.  Among  these 
was  a  boy  sixteen  years  of  age.  Possessed  of  a  won- 
derfully thoughtful  mind,  his  vocation  was  such  that  he 
found  himself  much  alone— scaling  the  mountain  paths 
and  treading  the  forest  glades,  where  his  meditations 
were  deep  and  undisturbed,  and  a  firm  religious  element 
-^as  strengthened  in  his  soul.  He  saw  that  the  land  was 
goo 5,  only  ignorant  idolatry  had  cruelly  polluted  the 
people.  Amid  the  bitter  experience  of  his  slave  life  he 
conceived  the  idea  that  the  people's  minds  might  be  en- 
lightened to  that  blessed  extent  that  the  first-bom 
might  not  be  made  a  victim  of  horrible  sacrifice.  When 
this  young  man  was  about  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
Providence  provided  means  for  his  escape,  and  arriving 
safely  in  France,  for  twenty  long  years  he  applied  him- 
self to  the  work  of  obtaining  knowledge. 

Never  abandoning  the  idea  of  working  a  reformation 
in  the  character  of  the  unhappy  people  of  Ireland,  this 
noble  man  obtained  permission  to  preach  the  Gospel 
there.  The  Pope  gave  permission,  and  several  monks 
proposed  to  accompany  him.  Their  strange  and  striking 
appearance  at  first  filled  the  peasantry  with  suspiciou.. 
fear  as  regarded  their  business,  but  their  mild  and  pleas- 
ing manners  soon  won  for  them  a  better  reception,  and 
at  the  halls  of  Tara  they  were  received  with  enthusiasm. 
So  earnest,  so  fervent  was  their  preaching,  so  pure  and 
ennobling  the  doctrine  that  they  presented,  that  ere 
long,  from  simply  attentive  listeners  the  masses  became 
believers  in  the  better  religion  that  denounced  as  demo- 
niacal their  fire-worshipping  and  murderous  creed.  The 
man  who  worked  this  great  and  wonderful  good  for 
Ireland  was  Patrick,  afterwards  honored  with  the  appe? 
lation  of  Saint. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD, 


117 


Francis  Drake,  the  Ferry-Boy. 

Francis  Drake,  one  of  the  founders  of  English  naval 
power,  the  eldest  of  twelve  brothers,  was  the  son  of  a 
most  worthy  sailor  named  Edmund  Drake. 

Francis  was  bom  in  Tavistock,  in  Devonshire,  m  the 
year  1545.  Francis  Russell,  afterward  Earl  of  Bedford, 
stood  as  his  godfather,  and  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  cele- 
brated navigator,  defrayed  the  expenses  of  his  education 
during  the  short  period  he  remained  at  school.  It  was 
in  this  manner  that  the  attention  of  Sir  John  Hawkins 
was  drawn  to  the  boy  :  While  walking  one  day  by  the 
banks  of  the  river  Tamar,  a  few  miles  below  the  town  of 
Tavistock,  Sir  John,  being  overtaken  by  a  shower  of 
rain  took  refuge  under  the  roof  of  an  humble  ferry- 
house,  of  wliicli  the  only  occupant  at  the  time  was  a 
little  boy. 

As  they  sat  together  over  the  fire  of  turf  and  dritt- 
wood,  Sir  John  drew  the  boy,  shy  and  retiring  at  first, 
into  conversation.  They  spoke  much  about  the  great 
navigators  who  had  sailed  away,  and  discovered  lands 
where  strange  people  dwelt,  where  strange  animals 
roved,  where  birds  of  brilliant  plumage  flitted  through 
forests  whose  leaves  faded  not  nor  withered  away,  and 
where  gold  and  jewels  were  to  be  gathered  in  abundance. 

The  boy,  young  Francis  Drake,  listened  eagerly  to  the 
stories  told  by  the  great  sailor,  and  resolved,  as  soon  as 
possible,  to  resign  his  post  as  ferry-boy,  get  his  father's 
permission  to  attend  school  for  a  time,  and  then  begin 
active  life  as  a  sailor.    Sir  John  read  the  boy's  thoughts. 

*'My  lad,"  he  said,  I  return  to  Tavistock  in  the  eve- 
ning. I  wni  see  your  father,  who  liveth  there.  At  my 
expense  you  shall  go  to  school ;  and  if  you  are  attentive 
to  your  lessons  and  obedient  to  your  parents,  1  know  not 
but  that  you  shall  go  with  me  to  those  far-ofE  lands, 
where  rivers  deeper  and  broader  than  our  Tavy  and  Ta- 
mar run  through  channels  of  golden  sands," 

Sir  John  sent  the  boy  to  school. 

When  Elizabeth  came  to  the  throne,  Edmund  Drake 
obtained  an  appointment  among  the  seamen  in  the  navy 
to  read  prayers  to  them,  and  soon  afterward  was  ordained 
deacon,  and  made  vicar  of  Upnor  Church,  on  the  river 
Medway,  within  a  short  distance  of  Chatham,  where  the 
royal  fleet  was  wont  to  be  anchored. 

Thus  passed  the  boyhood  of  Francis,  among  men  who 
had  done  business  in  the  great  waters.  While  yet  in  his 
boyhood,  his  father,  "by  reason  of  his  great  poverty," 
apprenticed  him  to  a  neighbor,  the  master  and  owner  of 
%  small  vessel,  who  carried  on  a  coasting-trade,  and 
made  occasional  voyages  to  France  and  Holland. 

This  master  kept  young  Drake  Close  to  his  work,  and 
when  he  died,  he  bequeathed  to  the  youth  the  bark  and 
its  equipments. 

As  a  master  mariner,  Drake  might  have  gathered  to- 
gether much  money ;  but  he  had  never  forgotten  the  tales 
which  Sir  John  Hawkins  had  told  him  as  they  sat  over 
the  fire  in  the  old  ferry-house  ;  so  he  sold  his  ship,  went 
down  to  Plymouth,  and  joined  Sir  John  Hawkins,  who 
was  setting  out  on  his  last  and  unfortunate  voyage. 

But,  as  the  years  went  on,  Drake  became  famous.  He 
ravaged  the  Spanish  territories  in  America,  and  on  his 
return  from  one  of  his  cruises,  relieved  the  starving 
French  colony  in  Florida.  In  1577,  he  sailed  to  the  Pa- 
cific, plundered  the  coasts  of  Chili  and  Peru,  and  pro- 
ceeding northward  took  possession  of  California  in  the 
name  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  At  a  later  period,  he  took 
St.  Augustine  from  the  Spaniards  ;  so  that  his  name  is 
connected  with  several  points  on  our  territory. 

In  the  words  of  an  old  author,  books,  pictures  and 
ballads  were  published  in  his  praise ;  his  opinion  and 
judgment  concerning  marine  affairs  were  held  in  the 
highest  respect."  There  was  no  port  nor  harbor  in  the 
world  where  his  name  was  not  known  and  feared.  When 
^fter  a  perilous  voyage  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
he  returned  to  the  Thames,  Queen  Elizabeth  dined  with 
the  celebrated  mariner,  on  board  his  ship,  off  Deptford, 
in  the  Thames,  and  after  dinner  she  made  him  a  knight 
of  the  realm. 

Even  to  this  day  the  name  of  Drake  is  honored  in  Ply- 
mouth, and  spoken  of  with  affection,  and  his  memory  is 
drank  daily  in  draughts  of  crystalline  water ;  for  he  de- 
devoted  the  savings  of  his  life  to  the  construction  of  an 
aqueduct  which  brings  a  supply  of  water  from  tbe  Tors 
of  Dartmoor  to  the  town. 

"  He  brought  a  river  to  Plymouth,  three  feet  deep  and 
six  feet  wide,  which  river  in  a  right  line  from  the  town 
to  the  head  thereof  is  eight  miles,  but  in  turning  and 


winding  to  come  from  the  head  to  the  town,  is  two-and* 
twenty  miles." 

Sir  Francis  Drake  acquired  his  greatest  fame  by  driving 
back  and  dispersing  the  ships  of  the  invincible  Armada, 
which  had  been  fitted  out  by  Philip  of  Spain  to  conquer 
England. 

Drake  died  at  sea,  near  Portobello,  December  37th, 
1595,  and  his  body  was  committed  to  the  waters  of  the 
great  deep,  on  which  so  much  of  his  life  was  spent. 


(  The  Pecos  Indians. 

About  twenty-five  miles  east  of  Santa  Fe,  in  New 
Mexico,  formerly  lived  a  tribe  of  Indians  which  was  far 
in  advance  of  the  neighboring  tribes  in  civilization  and 
the  arts,  though  inferior  to  them  in  every  other  respect. 
This  tribe  was  known  as  the  Pecos  Indians.  They  claimed 
to  be  descendants  of,  and  were,  undoubtedly,  in  some 
degree,  allied  to  the  ancient  Aztecs.  The  earliest  histo- 
rians give  to  this  tribe  a  population  of  about  twelve 
hundred  inhabitants,  although  there  is  abundant  proof, 
in  the  ruins  of  cities  built  of  adobe  that  are  found  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  that  the  former 
number  was  many  times  greater. 

Physically  they  were  much  inferior  to  the  othe.' In- 
dians of  the  vicinity,  and  suffered  so  much  from  their 
warfare  that,  in  1830,  the  tribe  consisted  of  but  sixty-five 
persons  of  all  ages  ;  and  eight  years  later,  but  eleven  of 
them  were  alive.  They  then  abandoned  the  village  and 
it  was  supposed  that  the  last  descendant  of  this  Ul-fated 
tribe  perished,  during  a  violent  storm,  six  or  seven 
years  later. 

The  Indians  in  this  vicinity  are  generally  called  Pueb- 
los, but  this  name  cannot  be  applied  to  the  Pecos,  for 
the  word  is  of  Spanish  origin  and  is  used  to  denote  cArw- 
iianized  Indians,  or  those  tribes  which  have  united  with 
the  Catholic  church,  and  this  tribe  has  always  rigidly 
adhered  to  its  own  peculiar  religious  customs.  A  tradi- 
,  tion  prevailed  among  them  that  Montezuma  had  kindled 
a  holy  fire  and  enjoined  them  not  to  allow  it  to  be  extin- 
guished until  his  return,  when  he  would  deliver  them 
from  the  Spaniards.  Consequently  a  careful  watch  was 
kept  over  the  fire,  which  was  built  in  a  deep,  subterra- 
nean vault,  or  cavern,  and  consisted  of  nothing  but  a 
few  dying  embers  covered  with  ashes,  to  prevent  its  go- 
ing out. 

The  task  of  guarding  this  fire  was  given  to  the  war- 
riors, and  they  were  compelled  to  watch  it  for  two  days 
and  two  nights  without  partaking  of  food,  drink  or 
sleep.  The  tradition  also  states  that  Montezuma  would 
come  with  the  rising  sun,  and  every  morning  the  super- 
stitious Indians  were  to  be  seen  eagerly  watching  the 
''king  of  light,"  in  hopes  of  seeing  him  accompanied  by 
their  immortal  sovereign.  They  never  lost  hope  of  the 
final  coming  of  Montezuma  until  as  late  as  1838,  when 
by  some  accident,  or  from  a  lack  of  a  sufficient  number 
of  warriors  to  guard  it,  the  holy  fire  became  extinguished. 
It  was  this  catastrophe  that  induced  them  then  to  aban- 
don their  village.  They  never  afterwards  appeared  to 
have  any  ambition  or  hope,  and  seemed  only  desirous  of 
ending  their  lives  in  the  most  quiet  manner  possible. 

The  Pecos  Indians  are  described  as  being  below  th« 
medium  size,  rather  fine-boned,  and  possessed  a  very  de- 
licate organization.  They  were  of  a  lighter  color  than 
the  Pueblos,  though  this  may  have  been  the  result  of 
their  spending  so  much  of  their  time  in  the  shelter  of 
their  houses.  Their  language  differed  from  that  of  any 
of  the  neighboring  tribes,  though  many  words  of  other 
languages  had,  essentially,  become  incorporated  into  it. 
They  possessed  the  art  of  writing  in  hieroglyphics,  and 
nearly  all  their  pottery  contains  at  least  one  inscription, 
while  their  houses  are  often  completely  covered  with 
hieroglyphical  designs  ;  it  is  not  supposed  that  any  one 
living  is  able  to  read  these  characters,  as  the  Pecos  were 
very  suspicious  of  every  one  who  attempted  to  learn 
them,  and  took  every  possible  means  to  keep  the  knowl- 
edge wholly  among  themselves. 

Of  their  styles  of  architecture,  comparatively  Uttle  can 
be  said,  ''heir  houses  were  generally  square  and  flat- 
roofed.  Adobe  was  the  principal  building  material.  For 
greater  security,  there  were  no  doors  upon  the  sides  of 
the  mansions,  but  instead,  was  a  trap-door  on  the  top, 
which  was  reached  by  a  ladder.  The  ladder  could  after- 
wards be  drawn  up,  and  their  enemies  would  have  no 
visible  means  of  reaching  them,  for  the  windows  were 
much  too  small  to  allow  the  passage  of  any  humao 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ii8 


ROSY  HOURS. 

iu  tbe  sunlight,  in  the  glinting 
Of  the  dewy  Summer  morn, 

When  the  rose's  opening  petals 
Flushed  to  crimson  in  the  dawn; 


When  the  gray  in  eastern  heaven 
Showed  but  one  pale  golden  thread. 

As  the  lark,  sweet  tuneful  minstel, 
Left  its  fragrant  clover-bed; 

Three  sweet  maidens,  straying,  caroled 

(iayly  on  the  terraced  walk. 
Trilled  out  love-songs,  idly  prattled 

Simple,  girlish,  tender  talk. 

Nell,  a  crimson  flower  places, 
Smiling,  in  her  auburn  hair, 

Jealous  zephyrs  seize  and  bear  it 
Far  away  through  perfumed  air. 

Ah!  may  heaven  grant  the  omen 
Point  not  to  thy  hope's  decay. 

That  the  blossoms  of  thy  love  time 
Be  not  borne  by  death  away! 

Laura,  half  defiant,  scatters 
Roses  o'er  the  terrace  wall; 

Belle,  reproving,  turns  to  chide  her— 
Lets  her  fragile  basket  fall. 

Oh,  sweet,  happy,  hopeful  bloomtidel 
Now  each  reckless,  loving  maid 

Sees  not  in  her  heaven  a  cloudlet, 
Sees  not  in  her  sunshine— shade. 


Mjrthical  Beings. 

rhe  Gflants  were  a  distinct  class,  although  their  name 
designates  them  as  sons  of  Earth,  or  Gava,  who  gave 
them  birth  alter  the  defeat  of  the  Titans  by  Jupiter,  and 
out  of  vengeance  against  him. 

According  to  the  common  description,  they  had  bodies 
of  extraordinary  size  and  strength,  some  of  them  with  a 
hundred  hands,  and  with  dragon's  feet,  or  serpents  in- 
stead of  legs.  Their  most  celebrated  undertaking  was 
the  storming  of  Olympus,  the  residence  of  Jupiter  and 
the  other  gods.  In  order  to  scale  this  summit,  they 
heaped  mountain  upon  mountain,  as  CEta,  Pelion,  Ossa, 
and  others.  But  Jupiter  smote  them  with  his  thunder- 
bolts, precipitated  some  of  them  to  Tartarus,  and  buried 
others  beneath  the  mountains.  Tryphon,  or  Typhoeus, 
for  instance,  he  pressed  down  with  the  weight  of  ^tna, 
under  which,  according  to  the  fable,  the  giant  constantly 


Strives  to  lift  himself  up,  and  pours  from  his  mouth  tor- 
rents of  flame. 

^gon  or  Briareus  was  another  giant,  eminent  in  the 
contest,  with  fifty  heads  and  a  hundred  hands.  He 
hurled  against  Jupiter  a  hundred  huge  rocks  at  a  single 
throw.  But  Jupiter  bound  him  also  under  ^tna  with  a 
hundred  chains.  This  war  between  the  giants  and  Jupi- 
ter is  also  explained  by  some  as  an  allegorical  represen- 
tation of  some  great  struggle  in  nature  which  took  place 
in  early  times.  The  Sirens  were  a  sort  of  sea-goddesses, 
said  by  some  to  be  two  in  number,  by  others,  three,  and 
even  four.  Homer  mentions  but  two,  and  describes 
them  as  virgins,  dwellilig  upon  an  island,  and  detainii^g 
with  them  every  voyager  who  was  allured  tMther  by 
their  captivating  music.  They  would  have  decoyed 
even  Ulysses  on  his  return  to  Ithaca,  but  were  not  per- 
mitted. By  others  they  were  described  as  daughters  of 
the  river  god,  Aahelous,  and  companions  of  Proserpina, 
after  whose  seizure  they  were  changed  into  birds,  that 
they  might  fly  in  search  of  her.  In  an  unhappy  contest 
with  the  Muses  in  singing,  they  lost  their  wings  for  a 
punishment  for  their  emulation.  Others  make  them 
sea-nymphs,  with  a  form  similar  to  that  of  the  Tritons, 
with  the  faces  of  women  and  the  bodies  of  flying  fish. 
The  artists  generally  represent  them  as  virgins,  either 
not  at  all  disfigured,  or  appearing  partly  as  birds. 

The  nymphs  of  ancient  fiction  were  viewed  as  hold- 
ing a  sort  of  intermediate  place  between  gods  and 
men,  as  to  the  duration  of  life,  not  being  absolutely 
immortal,  yet  living  a  vast  length  of  time.  Oceanus  was 
considered  their  general  father,  although  the  descent  of 
different  nymphs  is  given  differently.  Their  usual  resi- 
dence was  in  grottos  or  water-caves,  from  which  circum- 
stance they  received  their  name.  They  were  generally 
represented  as  young  and  beautiful  virgins,  partialis 
covered  with  a  veil  or  thin  cloth,  bearing  in  their  hand* 
vases  of  water,  or  shells,  or  grass,  or  having  something 
as,"  a  symbol  of  their  appropriate  offices.    The  several 

fods  are  represented  more  or  less  frequently  as  attende<3 
y  nymphs  of  some  class  or  other,  especially  Neptune, 
Diana,  and  Bacchus.  Under  the  term  of  nymphs,  wer^ 
sometimes  included  the  imaginary  spirits  that  guided 
the  heavenly  spheres  and  constellations,  and  dispensed 
the  influences  of  the  stars  ;  the  nymphs  being  distributed 
by  some  mythologists  into  three  clssses,  those  of  the 
sky,  the  land,  and  the  sea. 


The  Pampas  of  South  America. 

Fortunate  in  its  climate,  and  rich  in  pasture  and  aK 
tbe  varied  productions  of  horticulture,  the  whole  of  the 
middle  and  southern  Pampa  country  is  singularly  desti« 
tute  of  woods  and  minerals.  Historians  inform  us,  that 
the  discoverers  gave  the  name  of  "  El  Rio  de  la  Plata  "  to 
the  mighty  stream  which  flows  along  the  eastern  margin 
of  the  plains,  because  they  found  silver  near  its  mouth. 
If  they  did,  it  must  have  been  in  very  small  quantities, 
and  their  own  was  the  solitary  case  of  such  good  for- 
tune. Later  explorers  have  found  neither  silver  nor  any 
of  the  precious  metals  on  its  banks.  For  hundreds  of 
miles  in  the  Pampa  territory,  no  stones  large  enough  to 
kill  a  sparrow  were  found,  nor  a  cart-load  of  gravel. 

On  account  of  the  total  absence  of  wood  and  stone, 
large  bricks  are  used  for  building  purposes. 

Excepting  the  western  border,  lying  towards  the 
Andes,  the  whole  Pampa  country  is  admirably  adapted 
to  the  products  of  horticulture.  Two  crops  of  potatoes 
are  obtained  yearly.  The  whole  cabbage  family  flourishea 
exceedingly  well,  especially  that  known  as  the  cauli- 
flower. All  varieties  of  the  pea  follow  in  successive 
crops.  The  onion,  however,  bears  off  the  palm  in  this 
region.  It  grows  very  large ;  is  purely  white,  and  ia 
delicious  either  raw  or  cooked.  Some  travelers  imagine 
this  root  to  be  the  identical  descendant  of  the  "  Egyptian 
leek."  The  natives  love  best  the  "sapallo,"  a  specie 
of  pumpkin. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  climate  for  men  on  the  face 
of  the  earth  than  the  Pampas  of  South  America.  The 
beat  is  seldom  oppressive,  and  the  winter  season  only 
3ends  a  slight  chill  along  the  veins.  The  vast  extent  of 
Che  Pampa  range  allows  the  successful  cultivation  of 
jererJs,  fruits,  and  flowers  in  endless  variety.   It  only 

acks  the  vigor,  ambition,  and  intellect  which  our 
northern  latitude  produces  to  makfi  this  country  floiiriai 

n  Eden-like  luxuriance. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


119 


Henry  Clay 

Henry  Clay  was  born  in  that  part  of  Hanover  County, 
Virginia,  known  as  "the  Slashes,"  on  the  12th  of  April, 
1777.  His  father,  the  Reverend  Charles  Clay,  was  a 
Baptist  preacher.  Preachers  of  his  class,  at  that  time, 
in  that  section,  were  scarcely  able  to  secure  a  meagre 
subsistence,  so  that  when  he  died  there  was  but  a  small 
and  encumbered  property  left  to  his  widow  and  seven 
children. 

Of  these  children  Henry  was  the  fifth,  a  bright,  cheer- 
ful, intelligent  lad,  who  gave  no  special  indication  of 
superiority  to  other  children  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded. When  he  was  quite  young  he  was  sent  to 
school,  where  he  learned  to  read  and  write  and  cipher. 

This  was  all  the  school  that  he  ever  attended,  for  his 
widowed  mother  was  not  able  to  do  more  for  him,  and 
soon  he  had  to  take  his  place  on  the  farm  to  assist  in 
cultivating  it.  But  he  did  not  like  the  drudgery  of  this 
life,  and  in  1791,  when  he  was  fourteen  years  old,  his 
mother  obtained  for  him  a  situation  in  a  drug  store  in 
Richmond,  where  he  served  as  clerk  and  errand  boy  for 
a  year. 

In  1792  Mrs.  Clay  married  again.  Her  husband,  Henry 
Watkins,  obtained  for  Henry  a  place  as  copying  clerk  in 
the  office  of  Peter  Tinsley,  Clerk  of  the  High  Court  of 
Chancery.  It  was  decided  that  Henry  should  remain  in 
this  situation.  His  mother  went  to  Kq^itucky  with  her 
new  husband,  and  Henry  never  saw  her  again.  He  ap- 
plied himself  with  diligence  to  the  duties  of  his  posi- 
tion. He  was  not  very  prepossessing  in  appearance  at 
this  time,  being  tail  for  his  age,  slender  and  awkward. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  clothes  that  did  not  add  to 
his  personal  attractions,  as  his  collar  was  most  uncom- 
promisingly starched,  and  his  coat  skirt  braced  off 
boldly  behind  him.  He  was  greeted  with  illy-concealed 
ridicule  by  the  city  clerks  to  whose  companionship  his 
labors  brought  him,  but  something  in  his  manner  for- 
bade open  jeers.  Ere  long  these  city  blades  congratu- 
lated themselves  that  they  had  forborne  their  scoffs,  for 
Henry  Clay  proved  to  be  possessed  of  a  cutting  sarcasm 
and  a  ready  tongue. 

Soon  his  awkward  manners  disappeared,  while  he 
caught  glimpses  of  the  great  men  of  Virginia  that  visited 
the  Court  and  the  Clerk's  office.  He  keenly  felt  the  de- 
ficiencies of  his  education,  and  he  zealously  set  about 
remedying  the  evil.  While  his  companions  were  revel- 
ing in  wild  and  festive  scenes,  he  studied  manfully  to  fit 
himself  for  some  laudable  purpose  in  life  beside  fickle 
and  ravishing  pleasures.  He  was  sound  in  body  and 
soul. 

So  faithful  and  earnest  were  his  attentions  to  duty, 
that  he  came  under  the  favosable  notice  of  Chancellor 
Wythe,  one  of  America's  wisest  men.  The  Chancellor'a 
nerves  were  beginning  to  fail  him,  his  hand  had  begun 
to  tremble,  and  he  was  compelled  to  seek  a  copyist.  He 
chose  Henry  Clay,  because  of  his  neat,  clear  hand- 
writing, and  by  reason  of  discerning  many  admirable  traits 
of  character  in  him. 

For  four  years  Henry  Clay  held  the  position  of  copy- 
ing clerk,  having  to  deal  with  and  transcribe  some  of 
the  most  deeply  learned  papers  ever  penned  by  a  jurist. 

There  was  a  debating  school  in  Richmond,  where 
young  Clay  began  developing  his  talents  as  an  orator. 
He  soon  became  famous  as  the  best  speaker  in  the 
school.  He  was  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  full,  pleas- 
ing, melodious  voice,  which  proved  so  great  a  charm  as 
it  strengthened  and  deepened,  that  thousands,  in  later 
years,  sat  spell-bound  by  its  musical  cadences. 

He  was  aware  of  his  gift,  and  cultivated  it  with  care. 
After  these  four  years  Mr.  Wythe  advised  him  to  study 
law,  and  obtamed  a  situation  for  him  in  the  office  of  the 
Attorney  General.  His  formal  studies  did  not  last  over 
a  year,  for  his  whole  connection  with  George  Wythe  had 
been  a  law  study.  Before  he  had  completed  his  twenty- 
first  year  he  was  licensed  by  the  Court  of  Appeals  to 
practice  law. 

Clay  felt  satisfied  that  the  West  offered  him  a  better 
opening  than  Old  Virginia,  so  he  removed  to  Kentucky, 
then  a  young  and  growing  State,  with  a  population  of 
two  hundred  thousand  souls.  In  1797,  he  crossed  the 
mountains  and  went  into  Kentucky.  Lexington  pleased 
him,  and,  although  there  were  several  lawyers  already 
located  there,  he  immediately  opened  a  successful  and 
lucrative  practice.    His  thrillins:  oratory  made  him  a 


t^marked  man  immediately,  and  his  popularity  was  aston- 
ishing. 

,  In  1799,  he  married  Lucretia,  the  daughter  of  Colonel 
•Thomas  Hart,  a  leading  citizen  of  Kentucky.  He  lived 
happily  with  her  for  fifty-three  years.  She  was  a  pru- 
dent and  able  manager,  so  that  ten  years  after  his  mar- 
riage he  was  independent  of  his  profession.  While 
zealously  attending  to  his  practice,  he  gave  his  attention 
to  politics,  and  ere  long  became  wholly  anti-slavery  in 
principle. 

At  the  age  of  thirty  he  was  Kentucky's  foremost  son. 
He  was  easy,  careless  and  graceful  in  his  manners,  and 
had  an  immense  fund  of  popular  wit.  He  was  above 
hypocrisy  and  meanness,  and,  although  he  had  his  fail- 
ings, his  rare  talents  overshadowed  and  concealed  them. 
His  adopted  State  loved  and  trusted  him.  In  1803  Mr. 
Clay  was  elected  to  the  Lecrislature  of  Kentucky,  In 
1806  he  was  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate.  After 
his  term  had  expired,  he  became  Speaker  of  the  Lower 
House  of  Kentucky.  In  1809  Mr.  Clay  was  ajrain  elected 
to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  In  1811  he  was 
elected  to  the  House  of  Representatives  from  the  Lex- 
ing-ton  Di -strict. 

When  the  cloud  of  war  was  descending  upon  the 
young  American  Colonies,  his  stirring  tones,  his  thrill- 
ing eloquence,  was  used  to  sustain  the  cause  of  liberty. 
His  active  public  life  went  on,  he  being  aprain  and  again 
nominated  to  fill  high  offices,  and  seldom  failing  of 
election,  making  himself  interested  in  all  questions  at 
issue  bearing  upon  the  public  welfare. 

In  the  war  with  Mexico  he  lost  a  son  of  rare  promise, 
which  added  to  his  already  severe  afflictions.  His 
daughters  were  aU  dead,  and  young  Henry,  who  feU  at 
Buena  Vista,  had  been  the  flower  of  his  family. 

We  find  him  at  last  on  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to 
the  Capitol,  asking  a  friend  to  lend  him  an  arm  to 
assist  him  within.  The  great  mental  and  physical 
strain  to  which  he  had  been  subjected  for  years,  was 
bringing  his  brilliant  career  to  a  close. 

Then  followed  his  last  speech,  upon  the  subject  of 
Compromise.  As  he  warmed  with  his  subject,  his  weak- 
ness seemed  to  vanish;  there  was  a  brilliant  sparkle  of 
his  old  fiery  genius,  and  the  awe-struck  assembly  felt 
that  it  was  the  last  glorious  up-flashing  of  his  mighty 
intellect. 

Winning  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  whole 
country  by  his  later  efforts  for  that  country's  future 
good,  his  earthly  life  soon  after  ceased,  amid  ripentny 
honors.  He  died  at  Washington,  on  the  29th  of  June, 
1852,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five. 

In  briefly  glancing  over  the  wonderfully  successful 
career  of  the  statesman,  Henry  Clay,  his  onward  and 
upward  march  from  lowly  life  and  obscurity  to  emin- 
ence and  power,  we  are  led  to  affirm  that  talent  and 
energy  are  infinitely  superior  to  riches  and  noble  birth. 

Perseus  and  Hercules. 

Perseus  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  heroes 
oE  ancient  mythology.  He  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Danae,  educated  by  Polydectes  on  the  island  of  Seriphus. 
His  chief  exploit  was  the  destruction  of  the  gorgon. 
Medusa,  whose  head  he  struck  off  with  a  sword  given  to 
him  by  Vulcan.  From  the  blood  that  fell,  sprang  the 
winged  horse  Pegasus,  on  which  Perseus  afterwards 
passed  over  many  lands.  Of  his  subsequent  achieve- 
ments, the  most  remarkable  were  his  changing  King 
Atlas  into  a  high  rock  or  mountain,  by  means  of 
Medusa's  head,  and  his  deliverance  of  Andromeda, 
when  bound  and  exposed  to  be  devoured  by  sea- 
monsters.  In  connection  with  the  latter  adventure,  he 
also  changed  into  stone,  Phineus,  who  contended  with 
him  for  the  possession  of  Andromeda.  He  inflicted  the 
same  afterwards  upon  Polydectes  for  ill-treatment  tow- 
ards Danae.  To  Perseus  is  ascribed  the  invention  of  the 
discus  or  quoit,  with  which  he  inadvertently  occasioned 
the  death  of  his  grandfather,  Acrisius.  Finally,  he 
founded  the  kingdom  of  Mycenae. 

After  his  assassination  by  Megapenthes,  he  was  placed 
among  the  constellations,  and  several  temples  were 
erected  to  him,  besides  a  monument  between  Argos  and 
Mycenae.  Atlas,  who  on  account  of  his  refusing  hospi- 
tality to  Perseus,  the  latter  is  said  to  have  changed  into 
a  mountain,  is  described  as  the  son  of  Japetus,  and  the 
kins:  of  Mauritania. 


I20 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


He  owned  numerous  flocks  of  sheep  and  beautiful 
gardens  abounding  with  citrons  and  oranges.  His  seven 
daughters,  renowned  for  beauty  and  wisdom,  were  called 
Atlantides  from  their  father,  and  Hesperides  from  their 
mother,  Hesperis.  The  gardens  called  the  gardens  of 
the  Hesperides,^  were  said  to  be  guarded  by  a  dreadful 
dragon  that  never  slept.  The  name  of  Atlas  was  given 
to  the  chain  of  mountains  in  that  part  of  Africa,  and  to 
the  ocean  on  the  west.  Whether  from  reference  to  the 
height  of  those  mountains  or  to  the  astronomical  re- 
searches of  the  king.  Atlas  is  said  to  have  supported 
the  heavens ;  and  accordingly,  artists  have  represented 
him  as  bearing  an  immense  sphere  on  his  shoulders. 

Of  all  the  Grecian  heroes,  no  one  obtained  such  cele- 
brity as  Hercules,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcemena.  Won- 
derful strength  was  ascribed  to  him  even  in  his  infantile 
years.  Eurystheus,  king  of  Mycenae,  imposed  upon  him 
many  difficult  enterprises,  which  he  carried  through 
with  success,  particularly  those  which  are  called  the 
iwdve  labors  of  Hercules. 

These  were  :  To  kill  the  Nemean  lions ;  to  destroy 
the  Lemeaen  hydra  ;  to  catch  alive  the  stag  with  golden 
horns  ;  to  catch  the  Erymanthean  boar ;  to  cleanse  the 
stables  of  Angias ;  to  exterminate  the  birds  of  Lake 
Stymphlis ;  to  bring  alive  the  wild  bull  of  Crete  :  to 
seize  the  horses  of  Diomedas ;  to  obtain  the  girdle  of 
Hippoltya,  queen  of  the  Amazons;  to  destroy  the 
monster  Geryon ;  to  plunder  the  garden  of  Hesperides, 
guarded  by  a  sleepless  dragon,  and  to  bring  from  the 
infernal  world  the  three-headed  dog  Cesberus. 
Many  other  exploits  were  ascribed  to  him  by  which  he 
ave  proof  of  his  extraordinary  strength,  and  exhibited 
imself  as  an  avenger  and  deliverer  of  the  oppressed. 
Such  were  his  slaying  the  robber  Cacus,  so  much  dreaded 
in  Italy ;  the  deliverance  of  Prometheus  bound  to  a 
rock ;  the  killing  of  Busiris  and  Antrseus ;  the  contest 
with  Achelous,  and  the  rescue  of  Alceste  from  the  in- 
fernal world.  Less  honorable  was  his  love  for  Omphale, 
queen  of  Lydia,  by  which  he  sank  into  the  most  un- 
worthy effieminacy.  His  last  achievement  was  the  de- 
struction of  the  centaur  Nessus. 

Nessus  dying,  gave  his  poisoned  tunic  to  Dejanira, 
Hercules  afterwards  receiving  it  from  her,  and  putting 
it  on,  became  so  diseased,  that  he  cast  himself  in  despair 
upon  a  funeral  pile  at  Mount  ^ta. 

.  The  worship  of  Hercules  soon  became  universal,  and 
temples  were  erected  to  his  honor,  numerous  and  majr- 
aificent  [   ^ 

Jonathan  Whipple. 

SELF-TAUGHT  TEACHER  OF  DEAF  MUTE-S. 

Let  us  turn  from  the  broad  highways  of  life  with  the 
noisy  crowd  eager  to  run  the  race  of  wealth  and  ambi- 
tion into  obscure  paths  where  greater  peace  abounds. 

No  doubt,  many  of  our  readers  have  witnessed  great 
fires — conflagrations ;  if  so,  have  they  noted  the  two 
classes  of  workmen  who  aid  in  subduing  the  flames. 
There  are  those  who  seek  conspicuous  places,  who  leap 
from  roof  to  roof,  who  are  seen  by  the  multitude  below 
as  they  shout  their  orders,  or  cheer  on  the  others  ;  and 
down  amid  the  heat  and  smoke  and  falling  timbers  are 
the  still  ones  who  direct  the  hose  or  work  the  brakes — 
and  which  are  of  the  most  use.  Justice  compels  us  to 
assert  that  one  could  do  but  very  little  without  the 
other.  The  shouts  and  commands  of  those  above,  stimu- 
lates those  buried  in  a  canopy  of  smoke  and  cinders, 
while  without  these  latter,  nothing  would  avail  the  calls 
of  the  others.  Divine  economy  is  seen  in  all  things.  It 
is  not  given  us  all  to  occupy  prominent  leading  places. 
Shall  we  become  faint-hearted  and  despondent  ?  No,  no! 
A  first  fiddle  would  be  indifferent  music  if  there  was  no 
accompaniment.  An  actor  would  be  of  no  account  if 
there  were  no  audiences.  The  train  would  be  poorly 
run  with  only  an  engineer  and  no  brakeman,  and  so  on 
indefinitely.  All  we  need  is  to  find  our  position  in  the 
rank  and  file  of  humanity,  then  work  and  hope  for  pro- 
motion. 

Jonathan  Whipple  was  born  in  Preston,  New  London 
County,  Conn.,  in  the  year  1794.  He  never  attended 
schools,  but  it  was  not  from  want  of  inclination,  as  ht, 
most  ardently  desired  learning.  The  little  reader  from 
which  his  mother  taught  him  to  read,  he  learned  so 
thoroughly,  that  he  could  repeat  it  word  for  word.  In 
arithmetic,  he  knew  no  farther  than  the  fundamental 
rules.    His  father  set  him  his  first  copies  in  writing.  In 


this  direction  he  made  rapid  progress.  He  did  not  be- 
come discouraged  by  the  adverse  circumstances  that  sur- 
rounded his  younger  years,  but  was  possessed  of  that 
progressive  spirit  that  believes  we  may  remain  scholars 
all  our  lives. 

He  labored  hard,  and  after  his  marriage,  receiving 
sympathy,  we  may  imagine,  from  an  appreciative  wife, 
he  took  up  the  aim  of  his  life  anew,  studying  and  ob- 

ining  help  from  time  to  time,  until  he  became  qualified 
to  teach  school.  His  seventy  pupils  progressed  to  that 
xtent  that  his  school  was  classed  first  in  the  town. 

He  contributed  articles  for  the  press  on  the  popular 
topics  of  the  times.  In  the  matter  of  temperance,  when 
liberal  drinking  was  the  rule  in  the  first  society,  and 
being  a  total  abstinence  man,  he  threw  his  influence 
heartily  upon  that  side.  The  most  radical  anti-slavery 
principles  were  in  his  heart  before  the  days  of  Garrison 
and  Phillips.  He  was  a  philanthropist,  and,  therefore, 
a  man  of  peace,  rejoicing  in  the  well-being  of  his  fellow 
creatures. 

He  was  kind  and  generous,  and  never  engaged  in  a 
law-suit  in  his  life ;  and  whenever  sickness  visited  his 
vicinity,  he  was  untiring  in  his  ministrations.  In  such 
cases,  however  malignant  the  fever  might  be,  he  labored 
without  thought  of  reward.  When  the  youngest  of  his 
five  children  was  old  enough  to  walk,  Mr.  Whipple  no- 
ticed that,  although  it  seemed  active  enough  and  intelli- 
gent, something  was  amiss  with  him.  When  he  dis- 
covered that  the  little  boy  was  deaf  he  was  sorely 
grieved.  What  an  affliction,  to  be  forever  shut  out  of 
the  world  of  sweet  sounds,  and  doomed  to  endless 
silence. 

He  had  never  heard  of  the  schools  in  Europe  where 
the  deaf  are  taught  articulation  and  lip-reading,  but  no- 
ticing that  the  boy  sometimes  attempted  to  repeat  a 
word,  if  he  was  looking  directly  at  the  speaker's  mouth, 
the  thought  occurred  to  Mr.  Whipple  that  there  was 
something  arbitrary  about  the  manner  in  which  the 
mouth  has  to  form  the  word,  and  so  he  began  the 
arduous  task  of  making  his  son  understand  the  meaning 
of  words  and  the  way  to  utter  them. 

Not  only  his  own  family  depended  upon  him  for  sup- 
port, but  this  wonderful  man  had  the  care  of  some  orphan 
chUdren  besides  ;  but  every  moment  that  he  could  spare 
he  devoted  to  teaching  his  boy.  Other  members  of  the 
family  lent  ready  assistance,  and  as  the  years  passed  on 
he  kept  pace  with  other  boys  of  his  own  age,  and  in 
many  respects  was  their  superior.  He  could  read,  he 
could  write  a  pretty  hand,  and  decipher  poor  penman- 
ship with  remarkable  accuracy,  and  he  could  talk.  To 
such  perfection  was  his  instruction  carried  by  his  faith- 
ful and  energetic  father,  that  after  he  arrived  to  the 
years  of  manhood,  he  transacted  business  with  strangers, 
bought  goods  of  merchants,  etc.,  and  went  away  again 
Yrithout  leaving  a  suspicion  of  his  infirmity. 

But  Mr.  Whipple's  unselfishness  did  not  allow  his 
efforts  to  stop  with  his  own  son.  He  knew  that  scattered 
over  the  land  were  many  children  deprived  of  the  sense 
of  hearing,  who  must  grow  up  mutes  unless  taught  in 
some  especial  manner  to  talk. 

He  made  a  trial  on  a  boy  of  about  his  son's  age,  and 
taught  him  to  articulate  the  alphabet  and  several  words 
distinctly,  but  his  mother  being  poor,  she  was  necessi- 
tated to  send  him  to  Hartford,  where  he  was  taught  the 
finger  and  sign  language. 

Mr.  Whipple  took  in  another  young  man,  who  had  lost 
his  hearing  by  scarlet  fever,  and  taught  him  for  one 
hundred  days,  during  which  time  he  made  such  mar- 
velous progress,  that  his  friends  were  both  astonished 
and  delighted. 

He  met  with  much  opposition  from  the  teachers  of 
sign  language  ;  but  he  proved  by  repeated  experiments, 
that  his  plan  was  feasible  and  best. 

He  took  a  little  girl  of  eight  years  into  his  family,  and 
under  his  supervision  she  learned  to  speak  and  count, 
and  could  tell  the  age  of  each  member  of  the  family  ; 
and  under  his  system  of  teaching  may  become  a  useful 
member  of  society. 

His  heart  has  been  in  all  these  good  works,  and  what 
a  wonder  he  accomplished.  If  he  did  not  cause  the  deaf 
to  hear,  he  caused  the  dumb  to  talk,  and  let  in  encour- 
agement and  sunlight  upon  many  otherwise  desolate 
lives.  And  his  reward  is  foreshadowed  in  the  blessed 
words :  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me."  It  is 
enough. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


121 


Peter  Cooper. 

There  is  no  greater  pleasure  for  our  Hand  and  pen  to 
perform  than  in  recording  the  notable  events  in  the  lives 
of  those  truly  great  men  who  dispose  of  their  wealth  to 
educate  the  masses.  Here,  philanthropy,  morality  and 
religion  unite  in  crowning  them  the  benefactors  of  their 
race — the  corner-stones  of  the  whole  fabric  of  peace  and 
prosperity.  Above  the  most  famous  chieftains,  above 
the  builders  of  empires  and  master-masons  of  lasting 
towers  and  minerets,  place  the  name  of  men,  who  assist- 
ing the  cause  of  educating  the  people,  lift  the  common 
masses  out  of  "the  pits  of  miry  clay"  wherein  wallows 
ignorance  and  debauchery,  and  places  their  feet  in  the 
paths  of  knowledge— of  wisdom — power — development. 

Peter  Cooper  was  born  in  New  Tork,  February  12th, 
1791.  His  father  served  as  a  lieutenant  in  the  War  of 
Independence.  His  mother  was  a  daughter  of  John 
Campbell,  once  mayor  of  New  York,  who  acted  as 
deputy-quarter-master-general  during  the  Revolutionary 
War,  and  who  devoted  his  large  fortune  to  securing  the 
independence  of  his  country^ 

After  the  war  Peter's  father  established  a  hat  factory 
in  New  Tork,  where  his  son  assisted  him  for  a  time,  but 
the  business  was  not  eminently  successful,  and  when  our 
hero  was  seventeen  years  old  he  was  apprenticed  to 
Mr.  John  Woodward,  a  coachmaker ;  and  industry  and 
perseverance  soon  showed  themselves  as  prominent  fea- 
tures of  his  character.  So  willingly  and  energetically 
did  he  labor,  that  his  master  was  delighted  with  him,  and 
good-naturedly  offered  to  set  him  up  in  business,  which 
offer  young  Cooper  declined. 

After  leaving  Mr.  Woodward,  in  1812,  he  started  a 
factory  for  making  patent  machines  for  shearing  cloth, 
but  this  business  soon  ceased  to  be  remunerative,  and  he 
went  into  cabinet-making.  This  enterprise,  also,  failed 
of  success,  and  coming  to  New  Tork,  he  went  into  the 
grocery  trade.  Failure  again  in  this  line,  also  ;  but  re- 
buffs and  reverses  only  developed,  as  it  were,  the  spirit- 
ual muscle. 

Next,  he  went  to  manufacturing  glue  and  isinglass. 
Here  success,  to  a  certain  extent,  awaited  him.  He 
worked  at  this  business,  while  in  his  brain  he  planned 
and  raised  and  peopled  a  structure  which  he  hoped  some 
day  to  rear  in  tangible  form.  Success  having  crowned 
his  efforts  in  the  isinglass  and  glue  business,  he  looked 
about  him  for  a  wider  commercial  undertaking.  Deeply 
impressed  with  the  powerful  resources  of  the  country 
for  the  production  of  iron,  he  erected,  in  1830,  extensive 
Iron  works  near  Baltimore.  He  was  the  first  one  to  apply 
anthracite  coal  to  the  puddling  of  iron,  and  his  business 
so  rapidly  increased  that,  ere  long,  he  established  works 
at  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  where  he  erected  a  rolling  mill 
for  the  manufacture  of  rails.  He  was  the  first  to  roll 
out  wrought  iron  beams  for  fire-proof  buildings. 

In  his  works  at  Baltimore,  Mr.  Cooper  built  the  first 
locomotive  engine  which  ran  in  the  United  States.  It 
was  for  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  RaUroad.  He  has  always 
felt  the  most  lively  interest  both  in  the  railway  and  tele- 
m-aph  systems.  He  has  been  oflBcially  connected  as 
President  or  Director  with  the  principal  lines  in  the 
country;  and  has  done  much  to  develop  these  extra- 
ordinary adjuncts  to  the  commerce  of  the  country.  He 
has  always  seemed  earnestly  interested  in  all  plans  to  aid 
his  fellow  man.  He  has  been,  at  different  times,  a 
member  of  both  chambers  of  the  Common  Council  of 
New  Tork;  and  whUe  serving  on  the  Council,  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  the  zeal  and  ability  with  which  he 
helped  promote  the  establishment  of  the  Croton  Water 
Works. 

But,  you  know,  I  told  you  of  a  noble  structure  with 
which  his  brain  was  busy  all  these  years.  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  it  was  no  fleeting  or  vain  fancy.  I  am  happy 
to  tell  you  that  he  revelled  in  the  noblest  plan  of  elevat- 
ing the  masses — it  was  to  faciliate  the  course  of  edu- 
cation. 

He  was  a  Trustee  of  the  Public  School  Society,  then 
Vice-President  of  the  Board  of  Education,  and,  subse- 
quently, a  School  Commissioner. 

As  the  years  went  on  Mr.  Cooper's  fortune  accumulated 
until  he  found  himself  in  a  position  to  carry  out  the 
design  formed  years  before. 

In  1859  he  executed  a  trust  deed,  which  conveyed  to 
the  Cooper  Union  for  the  advancement  of  science  and 
art,  a  piece  of  land  in  the  intersection  of  Third  and 
Fourth  avenues,  and  on  It  he  erected  the  building  known 


as  the  Cooper  Institute.  The  value  of  the  real  estate 
and  the  money  expended  in  the  construction  of  the 
building  counted  up  to  $630,000. 

The  avowed  object  of  the  institution  was  to  provide 
for  a  complete  technical  education  suited  to  the  working 
classes  of  New  York,  to  be  conducted  at  night,  so  that 
day  laborers  might  have  the  advantages  of  the  school. 

During  the  time  since  the  establishment  of  this  school 
the  revenue  of  the  Union,  amounting  to  several  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  has  been  expended  in  providing  free 
instruction  for  the  working  classes. 

The  only  sHpulation  made  by  Mr.  Cooper  was  that  his 
oldest  lineal  descendent  should  always  be  Trustee. 

The  system  of  instruction  embraces  a  mathematical 
course,  from  the  elements  of  algebra  and  geometry  to 
the  application  of  differential  and  integral  calculus  ;  in 
theoretical  and  practical  mechanics  ;  in  natural  philoso- 
phy and  chemistry  and  their  application  to  the  arts  ;  and 
in  drawing,  free  hand,  mechanical  and  architectural, 
according  to  the  occupation  of  the  pupil.  This  course 
is  systematic  and  thorough,  and  will  be  extended  to  em- 
brace all  branches  connected  with  these  subjects.  Be- 
sides the  regular  instruction,  free  lectures  are  given  at 
night  upon  the  application  of  science  to  the  useful  occu- 
pations of  life  ;  on  social  and  political  science — economy 
and  the  equitable  form  of  government,  based  upon  the 
fundamental  laws  which  should  alike  govern  nations  and 
individuals.  Another  valuable  adjunct  to  this  institution 
is  its  free  musical  instruction  of  the  highest  order.  Many 
ladies  avail  themselves  of  this  matchless  opportunity  to 
acquire  a  musical  education. 

There  is  an  art  school  for  females  here,  where  they  are 
taught  in  postel,  water-color  and  oil  painting. 

One  of  the  most  useful  and  popular  methods  of  occu- 
pying spare  time  by  the  working  class  who  do  not  desire 
to  join  any  of  the  various  schools  of  the  institute,  ia 
found  in  the  great  reading-room  and  library,  which 
affords  rare  opportunities  of  access  to  the  scientific, 
artistic,  mechanical  and  general  literature  of  the  day. 
Foreign  magazines  and  journals,  as  well  as  those  of  our 
own  current  literature,  are  always  obtainable  here. 

The  visitors  to  the  reading-room,  yearly,  number  above 
one  hundred  thousand. 

Mr.  Cooper  after  having  projected  and  accomplished 
so  philanthropic  a  work,  does  not  rest  from  his  work 
and  throw  down  the  laboring  oar.  He  is  an  active  mem- 
ber of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  takes  upon  himself  a  large 
share  of  the  management  and  responsibility  connected 
with  this  noble  enterprise,  and  almost  daily  devotes  some 
hours  to  the  care  of  its  prosperity. 

He  has  been  intimately  connected  with  telegraph  in- 
terests, at  one  time  being  President  of  the  New  York, 
Newfoundland  and  London  Telegraph  Company,  also  of 
the  American  Telegraph  Company,  and  of  the  North 
American  Telegraph  Association. 

He  is  now  old,  but  he  was  wise  in  time.  He  did  not 
plan  a  noble  work  and  allow  others  to  stint  or  spoil  his 
benevolent  purpose  when  he  lay  helpless  in  the  grave. 
He  has  tasted  in  satisfaction  the  fruits  of  his  labor.  He 
has,  without  a  particle  of  egotism  or  vain-glory,  erected 
a  noble  monument  to  keep  alive  his  name  and  fame 
through  coming  generations.  To  attempt  to  subdue, 
eradicate  or  govern  full-grown,  mature  ignorance,  pas- 
sion and  sin,  may  be  likened  to  entering  a  hospital  when 
it  is  reeking  with  malignant,  inveterate,  loathsome  dis- 
ease— the  philanthropist  physician  finds  a  colossal  work 
before  him — full  of  danger  and  infection,  and,  too  often, 
barren  of  good  results ;  whilst  educating  and  elevating 
and  enobling  the  ignorant  youth,  is  like  military  and 
sanitary  laws  exercised  over  a  city  ;  it  does  not  grapple 
and  fight  so  much  with  disease  and  death — it  prevents 
both,  to  a  certain  degree,  by  protecting  the  people  from 
the  causes  that  induce  effects  or  results. 

Blessed  is  the  nation  which  claims  as  her  sons  men 
like  George  Peabody  and  Peter  Cooper;  and  thrice 
blessed,  hearts  like  theirs  which  have  been  instrumental 
in  giving  hearing  to  the  deaf,  so  to  speak,  sight  to  the 
blind,  speech  to  the  dumb  and  strength  to  nie  weak,  for 
all  this,  under  God's  blessing,  education  will  accomplish. 


To  Prevent  Mortar  Cra.cking.— A  German  scientific 
jou'-nal  says  that  the  cracking  of  mortar  through  dryneae 
or  eat  may  be  prevented  by  the  addition  of  chloride  of 
Mortar  so  prepared  will  stick  fast  even  to  glass, 
met  and  similar  substances.  It  is  thought  that  the 
addition  of  g'lycerine  might  answer  the  same  purpose. 


in 


122 


777^  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Duke  of  Portland. 

Few  even  of  his  nearest  neighbors  have  the  slightest 
Idea  how  he  spends  his  time.  He  is  never  seen  at  court, 
and  fashionable  aristocratic  circles  know  him  not.  So 
far  as  society  is  concerned  he  is  dead  to  the  world,  and 
even  the  few  visitors  to  Welbeck  Abbey  seldom  set  eyes 
on  their  host.  He  surrounds  himself  with  an  atmosphere 
of  the  closest  mystery,  and  no  one,  peer  or  commoner, 
is  permitted  to  penetrate  into  the  secrets  of  his  life. 
Even  his  own  solicitors,  the  firm  to  whom  is  intrusted 
the  legal  management  of  his  enormous  estates,  are 
never  allowed  an  interview  with  him,  and  in  aristocratic 
circles  it  is  habitually —but,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter, 
erroneously — asserted  that  the  only  person  who  is  per- 
mitted to  see  him  is  his  confidential  valet.  His  hat  is  of 
an  unusual  height ;  a  long  old-fashioned  wig  reaches 
down  to  his  neck  ;  wet  or  fine,  he  never  stirs  out  without 
an  umbrella  ;  hot  or  cold,  a  loose  coat  is  always  slung 
over  his  arm  ;  and,  whether  the  ground  be  dry  or  muddy, 
his  trowsers  are  invariably  tied  up  below  the  knee  with 
a  piece  of  common  string,  in  exactly  the  same  fashion 
as  is  adopted  by  a  navvy  at  his  work.  His  mind  is  as 
active  and  his  intellect  as  acute  as  those  of  almost  any 
of  his  brothers  in  the  peerage.  He  is  now  just  seventy- 
six  years  of  age,  having  been  born  on  the  17th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1800.  He  is,  of  course,  enormously  wealthy. 
Four  or  five  years  ago  his  annual  income  was  upward  of 
£300,000  and  since  that  time  it  has  very  considerably 
Increased.  He  is  a  very  large  owner  of  land  around 
about  Welbeck  Abbey,  where  he  usually  resides,  and  he 
has  besides  enormously  valuable  property  in  London, 
chiefly  in  the  district  of  Marylebone,  besides  very  large 
estates  in  Northumberland,  in  Derbyshire,  in  Caithness, 
and  Ayrshire.  His  Grace  has  never  been  married,  nor, 
to  the  best  of  living  belief,  has  at  any  time  been  smitten 
by  a  woman's  charms.  His  ruling  passion  is  an  inveter- 
ate love  for  building.  At  Welbeck  Abbey  alone,  for 
many  years,  there  have  been  employed  upward  of  five 
hundred  masons,  and  a  like  number  of  smiths  and 
joiners,  besides  the  staff  necessary  for  the  ordinary  work 
of  the  estate.  His  Grace  is  his  own  architect,  and  all  his 
plans  are  laid  out  in  the  most  methodical  manner.  Be- 
fore he  will  allow  a  new  building  to  be  commenced  he 
makes  the  designs,  and  causes  to  be  constructed,  often 
at  the  cost  of  some  hundreds  of  pounds,  a  large  model 
of  the  work  to  be  put  in  hand.  If  the  model  does  not 
please  him  he  destroys  it,  draws  new  plans,  and  has  a 
fresh  model  made.  During  the  progress  of  the  work  he 
superintends  it  in  person.  His  Grace  is,  by  experience, 
very  clever  in  building  matters.  He  can  detect  the  most 
minute  fault,  even  such  trifling  defects  as  would  escape 
the  eye  of  the  practiced  and  experienced  workman.  K 
a  fault  cannot  be  remedied  by  alteration,  he  causes  the 
building  to  be,  without  ceremony,  razed  to  the  ground, 
and  the  work  commenced  afresh,  until  it  is  done  to  his 
satisfaction. 

He  has  a  deeply-rooted  dislike  to  the  observation  of 
the  outside  world.  He  has  even  sought,  by  various 
clever  expedients,  to  hide  the  old  Abbey  of  Welbeck, 
where  he  constantly  resides,  from  casual  passers  by, 
while  the  approaches  to  the  Abbey  are  entirely  subter- 
ranean. There  are  upwai'd  of  fifteen  miles  of  tunneling 
round  Welbeck  Abbey,  and  no  one  can  approach  the 
house  without  traversing  some  of  them.  This  most 
extraordinary  arrangement  has  taken  many  years  to 
accomplish,  but  it  is  now  complete.  Some  of  these  sub- 
tf  rranean  passages  are  constructed  upon  the  most  ad- 
mirable principles.  They  are  all  well  ventilated  from 
above,  and  are  lighted  by  natural  and  artistic  means  by 
day  and  night.  In  order  to  take  away  the  monotonous 
effect  of  these  underground  passages,  his  Grace  has 
built,  in  some  cases  parallel  with  the  passages,  other 
open  corridors  covered  with  glass,  while  at  distances  of 
every  few  yards  are  to  be  found  statues,  and  other  works 
of  art,  placed  in  niches  in  the  walls.  He  possesses  an 
extensive  stable.  He  has  upward  of  fifty  hunters  bred 
from  the  best  stock  in  the  land,  and  this  although  he  has 
not  for  very  many  years  followed  the  hounds  himself. 
A  gallery  made  of  iron  and  glass,  and  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  length,  has  been  constructed,  in  order  that  the 
horses  may  be  exercised  in  damp  weather ;  his  riding- 
school  is  a  magnificent  affair,  with  a  lofty  glass  dome, 
and  he  has,  besides,  carriage-houses,  hunting  stables,  and 
carriages  of  every  description.  His  liitcheu  and  culintaiy 
offices  are  constructed  on  an  extensive  scale,  although 


here  are  only  his  Grace  to  cook  for,  as,  when  he  (occa- 
,  ionally)  gives  dinner  parties,  the  food  is  sent  in  from 
ilsewhere.  Yet  the  Duke  is  most  simple  in  his  diet.  He 
takes  regularly  but  two  meals  a  day,  and  at  each  he  has 
iialf  a  chicken,  one  chicken  being  killed  and  prepared 
for  him  each  morning.  He  never  eats  animal  meat,  and 
/et  he  enjoys  perfect  health.  He  passes  much  of  his 
time  among  the  workmen,  but  will  seldom  go  near  a 
stranger.  Many  people  write  to  him,  but  he  seldom  or 
never  gives  a  reply.  He  is  a  member  of  four  London 
clubs— Boodle's,  Brooks',  the  Travelers',  and  White's-^ 
but  he  never  goes  near  them.  He  gives  large  hunting 
and  shooting  parties  to  different  members  of  the  Eng- 
lish aristocracy,  but  never  sees  nor  converses  with  them. 


Sir  Walter  Scott's  Friendships. 

We  look  round  and  recognize  few  such  friendships  as 
ire  the  theme  of  moralists  and  historians.  They  are  the 
:reat  alleviations  of  great  minds  under  unusual  pressure 
)f  circumstances ;  but  in  the  more  social  aspect  of  the 
virtue,  our  own  age  has  many  a  pleasant  example.  And 
lotably  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose  heart  was  large  enough 
Lor  troops  of  friends,  each  of  whom  might  have  thought 
limself  pre-eminently  favored.  He  was  equally  great 
a  the  pleasures  and  the  duties  of  the  relation.  His 
nind  quick  to  catch  the  occasion  when  he  might  serve  a 
rieud  ;  his  affections  warm,  and  svmpathy  overflowing, 
vhere  these  alone  found  exerci^.  And  what  he  be- 
stowed, he  also  desired  on  his  own  account.  He  was 
gracious,  but  not  condescending.  The  tenderness  that 
soothed  and  comforted  so  many  in  their  trouble  he  was 
fateful  for  when  his  own  trial  came.  He  had  none  of 
the  reserve,  fastidiousness,  shyness  diffidence,  exclu- 
siveness  which  make  friendship  difficult,  but  felt  what 
is  quoted  in  Cicero — "There  is  enough  in  every  man  that 
is  willing  to  become  a  friend."  "  He  talks  to  all  of  us," 
said  his  poor  neighbors,  "  as  if  we  were  blood  relations." 
Rank  was  no  hindrance,  poverty  no  bar.  He  needed  not 
one  friend,  but  many,  and  of  all  degrees,  to  fit  into  and 
satisfy  the  various  phases  of  his  large  nature.  And  yet 
he  was  not  indiscriminate  ;  he  chose  his  friends  for  what 
was  good  and  worthy  in  them  ;  and  had  some  to  whom 
his  heart  and  thoughts  were  open,  who  were  necessary 
to  him  in  a  more  intimate  and  especial  sense.  To  all  he 
was  faithful ;  nor  do  we  detect  any  trace  of  the  too 
common  effect  of  time  in  slackening  ties  which  demand 
a  tenacious  regard  to  keep  up,  Peor.e's  friends  slip 
from  them  for  want  of  a  vigilant  holdmg  the  absent  in 
remembrance.  Sir  Walter  Scott's  correspondence  con- 
tinues various  and  faithful  to  the  old  names  to  the  end. 
In  no  point  is  he  more  an  example  than  in  this  of  friend- 
ship— not  as  a  feature  of  one  period  of  his  life,  but  as  a 
constant  influence  to  the  end.  No  one  more  uniformly 
and  implicitly  followed  the  rule  laid  down  by  the  son  of 
Sirach — The  man  who  hath  friends  must  behave  himself 
friendly. 


Michael  Angelo  as  a  Workman. 

Through  his  impatience  and  enthusiasm,  Michael 
Angelo  ruined  block  after  block  of  marble  by  working 
with  too  great  vehemence  near  the  surface.  He  had  a 
wonderful  faculty  as  a  mere  workman  in  marble,  but  his 
genius  and  impetuosity  of  temperament  would  not 
brook  the  opposition  of  so  stubborn  a  material,  and  un- 
fitted him  for  those  first  processes  of  roughing  out  into 
shape  the  block,  which  requires  patience  and  precision. 
Too  eager  to  arrive  at  a  point  where  his  true  genius 
would  find  play,  he  assailed  the  marble  with  such 
violence  that  he  often  struck  off  pieces  which  trenched 
into  the  just  limits  of  the  surface ;  and  as  they  could 
not  be  replaced,  he  was  forced  to  finish  as  he  could— not 
as  he  would.  Had  he  confined  himself  more  to  elab- 
orating his  work  in  clay,  and  then  intrusting  the  blocking 
out  in  marble  to  a  mechanical  workman,  we  should  have 
had  not  only  a  much  larger  number  of  grand  works  by 
him,  but  they  would  have  been  freer  of  great  defects. 
For  instance,  the  back  of  the  head  of  Moses  has  been 
3hiseled  away  until  it  is  an  impossible  head.  Again,  the 
David  is  sacrificed  to  the  exigencies  of  the  marble.  And 
the  head  of  his  famous  Day  was  probably  left  unfinished 
because  he  perceived  that  it  was  turned  be3^ond  the 
limit  permitted  to  nature  without  breaking  the  neck- 

...□lED  teacheth  unlawful  things. — Sejjeoa- 


THE  GP  OWING  WORLD. 


123 


Rogers,  the  Sculptor. 

John  Rogers  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  Octobe*  30th, 
1829.  His  father  was  a  merchant,  and  there  were  only 
slight  artistic  traits  among  members  of  his  family.  His 
education  was  received  in  the  New  England  schools. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  was  placed  in  a  dry  goods  store 
in  Boston,  where  he  remained  until  1847.  At  an  early 
age  he  evinced  a  talent  for  drawing,  and  an  artist's  life 
was  his  boyhood's  dream  of  greatness.  His  parents, 
however,  regarding  the  boy's  fancy  as  an  idle  chimera, 
endeavored  to  discourage  him  in  this  respect.  Even- 
tually, this  opposition  led  him  to  a  more  careful  prepa- 
ration for  his  chosen  avocation,  and  so  proved  a  benefit 
rather  than  a  bar  to  success. 

In  1847,  Mr.  Rogers  left  the  store  in  Boston  and  joined 
a  corps  of  engineers  at  work  upon  the  Cochituate  Water 
Works.  Here  his  talent  for  drawing  was  exercised  and 
cultivated,  but  the  work  overtaxed  and  injured  his  eyes 
and  he  was  obliged  to  give  it  up. 

For  the  benefit  of  his  health  he  made  a  trip  to  Spain. 
On  his  return  from  his  brief  sojourn,  in  1848,  he  entered 
a  machine  shop  in  Manchester,  New  Hampshire,  to  leam 
the  trade  of  machinist.  Here,  during  his  seven  years' 
labor,  he  passed  up  from  the  work-bench  to  the  draught- 
ing desk.  While  in  Boston,  after  his  return  from  Spain, 
he  accidentally  saw  a  young  man  modelling  figures  in 
clay.  He  watched  him^  closely,  and  in  a  few  months  had 
learned  the  mechanical  part  of  the  art,  which  in  his 
hands  has  wrought  out  so  much  of  thought  and  beauty, 
and  been  the  delight  of  many  households.  This  art  of 
modelling  opened  up  new  and  perfect  means  of  artistic 
expression.  It  came  as  a  revelation  from  on  high. 
After  leaving  the  young  stranger  who  had  been  the  un- 
conscious instrument  to  develop  the  genius  of  a  mighty 
mind,  Rogers  obtained  some  clay,  and  going  home  began 
a  series  of  studies  which  have  since  shown  such  vast 
results. 

Although  compelled  to  work  in  the  machine  shop  in 
Manchester  from  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  seven 
at  night,  he  found  time  to  vigorously  pursue  his  studies 
in  clay,  frequently  working  out  his  design  by  the  light 
of  a  tallow  candle  at  night.  Ofttimes  sleep  was  driven 
from  his  pillow  by  groups  or  figures  of  beauty  that  had 
birth  in  his  mind,  and  there  was  no  rest  for  him  until 
these  sweet  ideals  stood  embodied  in  the  clay. 

His  fancy  revelling  amid  these  objects  of  surpassing 
beauty  made  his  manual  toil  at  his  trade  extremely  dis- 
tasteful, illustrating  fully  how  hard  it  is  to  serve  bis 
masters. 

In  1856  he  accepted  the  offer  to  take  charge  of  a  rail- 
road machine  shop  at  Hannibal,  Missouri ;  but  in  less 
than  a  year  after  his  removal  thither,  came  the  business 
crisis  that  threw  so  many  people  out  of  employment. 
He  came  East  with  others  at  the  stoppage  of  business, 
and  although  his  means  were  limited,  he  determined  to 
visit  Europe  and  see  the  great  works  of  the  immortal 
masters,  intending  to  study  and  arrange,  If  possible,  to 
follow,  uninterruptedly,  his  chosen  pursuit.  Accord- 
ingly he  visited  Paris  and  Rome.  But  after  months  of 
study,  he  found  that  he  could  not  awake  within  himself 
enthusiasm  for  classic  art.  He  came  home,  for  the  first 
time,  dispirited  and  distrustful  of  his  talent. 

He  looked  about  him  and  found  employment  in  the 
oflSce  of  the  city  surveyor  of  Chicago.  He  was  now 
thirty  years  of  age,  possessed  of  a  trained  eye  and  hand, 
a  cultivated  mind,  and  stainless  character ;  so  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  he  gave  his  employers  entire 
satisfaction. 

He  had  been  In  Chicago  some  months,  when  he 
modelled  a  group  which  he  placed  at  the  disposal  of 
some  ladies  getting  up  a  charitable  fair.  This  work 
"  The  Checker  Players  "  showed  ease,  freedom,  and  life- 
like outline.  His  talent  for  the  first  time  was  recognized 
by  the  public ;  but  his  reputation  was  not  established 
fully  until  after  the  exhibition  of  his ''Slave  Auction" 
in  New  York  in  1859. 

The  group  entitled  "  The  Slave  Auction  "  was  modelled 
at  the  right  time,  and  took  hold  of  popular  feeling  at 
once.  He  now  established  himself  in  a  studio  on  Broad- 
way ;  and,  somehow,  the  public  just  then  felt  infinitely 
greater  interest  in  living  subjects  than  in  classic  beauties. 

Soon  after  "  The  Slave  Auction  "  Mr.  Rogers  added  to 
his  works  "The  Village  Schoolmaster,"  "The  Town 
Pump,"  "  The  Picket  Guard,"  "  Camp-Fire,"  "  Sharp- 


shooters," "Union  Refugees,"  and  "The  Country  Post 
Ofiice,  or  News  from  the  War." 

In  these  models  Mr.  Rogers  embodied  the  vital  ex- 
perience of  the  times,  and  the  heart  of  the  masses 
vibrated  in  response  to  the  tell-tale  figures. 

At  first,  he  practiced  strict  economy,  for  his  works  sold 
low ;  and  he  lived  in  his  studio,  and  even  practiced  the 
culinary  art.  "But  the  lighthouse  of  hope  beamed 
bright  on  him  now."  Among  his  works  produced  be- 
tween 1860-'62,  are  "  The  Fairy's  Whisper,"  and  "  Air 
Castles." 

In  the  former,  the  light,  graceful  form  of  a  fairy  is 
seen  rising  from  the  fern  leaves,  with  its  tiny  mouth 
at  the  ear  of  a  boy,  who  bends  forward  in  listening- 
wonder  and  delight.  In  "  Air  Castles,"  the  young  girl 
at  the  fountain  has  forgotten  her  errand  in  her  day 
dream,  and  the  brook  has  filled  and  is  overflowing  the 
unheeded  bucket  by  her  side.  In  the  face  and  figure 
are  blended  the  rarest  charm  of  pose  and  expressioja. 
During  the  next  three  years  Mr.  Rogers  produced  the 
"  Returned  Volunteer,"  "  Mail  Day,"  "  One  more  Shot," 
"The  Home  Guard,"  "The  Bushwhacker,"  and 
"Taking  the  Oath  and  Drawing  Rations."  There  is  a 
touching  fidelity  about  the  outlines  of  all  these  works, 
and  it  would  be  very  interesting  to  minutely  point  out 
the  beauties  of  each,  but  space  forbids. 

Mr.  Rogers'  later  works  comprise  "  Uncle  Ned's 
School,"  "The  Charity  Patient,"  "The  School  Exam- 
ination," "The  Council  of  War,"  and  "Courtship  in 
Sleepy  Hollow." 

Rogers'  groups  and  figures  have  a  birth-place  in  the 
present  century.  They  are  animate  almost  with  the  life 
of  the  present  hour.  American  ideas  and  customs  are 
embodied  in  solid  form.  He  gives  us  the  citizen  soldier 
of  New  England  ;  the  man  of  the  South  and  the  man  of 
the  West ;  the  negro  ;  the  women  of  both  sections  ;  the 
inventive  genius ;  the  heroism,  the  pride  and  humor 
of  the  people,  with  their  customs  and  costumes.  Grecian 
mythology  and  Grecian  heroism  are  interesting  subjects 
to  anybody,  both  in  song  and  marble,  but  we  are  some- 
what dead  to  their  touch  as  they  are  to  ours,  for  we  can- 
not enter  into  the  experience  of  ancient  Greece,  because 
the  past  ages  are,  as  it  were,  a  dead  language  to  us  ;  but 
reproduce  for  us  incidents  that  commemorate  individual 
suffering  or  national  glory,  and  the  nerves  thrill  and  the 
public  bound  in  sympathetic  life. 

All  honor  to  the  sculptor,  painter,  or  poet,  who  be- 
Ueves  and  renders  immortal  the  sublime  truth  that 

"We  are  living— we  are  striving 
In  a  grand  and  glorious  time. 
When  the  age  on  ages  telling— 
To  he  living  is  sublime." 

And  the  record,  deeply  graven, 
On  the  path  where  we  have  trod. 

Show  the  heart  of  man  is  reaching, 
Up  from  earth  to  Nature's  God. 


His  Choice. 

'  At  eighty  years  of  age,  Voltaire  retained  his  vigor  of 
Intellect  to  a  remarkable  degree.  Some  friends,  compli< 
menting  him  on  the  success  of  his  works,  remarked  that 
the  reputation  he  would  leave  behind  him  was  worth  a 
life-time  of  toil.  "A  century  of  immortality  against 
one  year's  good  digestion  1"  said  the  great  philosopher; 
and  in  these  days  of  dyspeptic  trouble,  many  people 
will  sympathize  in  his  view  of  the  great  life  problem. 
Yet,  under  certain  circumstances,  dyspepsia  is  as  much 
of  a  crime  as  a  misfortune.  The  beasts  of  the  field 
would  not  violate  the  laws  of  health  in  their  habits  of 
eating  to  the  extent  that  some  human  creatures  habitu- 
ally do.  For  instance,  the  glutton  who  recently  took  his 
place  at  a  hotel  table,  opposite  a  well-known  medical 
man.  Somebody  asked  the  glutton  about  his  health. 
He  replied :  "I  am  not  feeling  very  well ;  I  am  suffer- 
ing from  dyspepsia."  Just  then  the  waiter  appeared, 
and  placed  before  the  dyspeptic  gentleman  his  break- 
fast, which  consisted  of  three  boiled  eggs,  two  baked 
potatoes,  a  plate  of  beefsteak,  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
four  buckwheat  cakes.  The  doctor  was  just  then 
in  the  act  of  winding  his  watch,  and  concluded  to  time 
the  victim  of  dyspepsia,  who  startled  him  by  bolting  all 
of  the  edibles  set  forth  in  the  remarkably  short  space  of 
two  minutes  and  ten  seconds.  This  was  not  eating,  it  waa 
gobbling.  The  sufferer  deserved  all  the  dyspepsia  hia 
.g"luttony  brought  him. 


124 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Abraham  Lincoln. 

In  Hardin  County,  Kentucky,  February  12th,  1809,  a 
son  was  bom  to  a  poor,  uneducated  but  worthy  couple, 
and  no  elfish  old  nurse  bending  over  his  cradle  would 
have  thought  to  prophesy  of  the  wonderful  events  that 
were  3  crowd  into  his  after  life.  He  grew  up  a  stout, 
healthy  boy,  and  was  early  put  to  work  on  his  father's 
farm.  When  he  was  seven  years  old  he  was  sent  to 
school,  where  he  learned  to  read.  But  circumstances 
did  not  allow  of  his  remaining  long  at  school,  for  his 
father  determined  to  remove  farther  west.  He  disposed 
of  his  little  place  in  Kentucky  for  about  two  hundred 
dollars,  and,  constructing  a  flat  boat,  the  boy's  father 
embarked  with  his  goods,  without  his  family,  upon  the 
Rolling  Fork  River,  from  which  he  floated  into  the  Ohio, 
en  route  for  Indiana.  Soon  after  entering  the  Ohio  River 
the  boat  capsized  and  the  most  valuable  part  of  the 
cargo  was  lost.  Disposing  of  the  remainder,  the  emi- 
grant succeeded  in  reaching  Spencer  County,  Indiana, 
where  he  located  a  new  farm,  and  then  he  returned  to 
Kentucky  on  foot  to  bring  out  his  family.    Seven  days' 

J'oumey  on  horseback,  through  an  uninhabited  country, 
»rought  them  to  the  new  home. 

All  hands  went  to  work  to  build  a  house.  The  boy, 
with  an  ax,  done  good  service  in  preparing  logs  for  the 
■cabin,  and  neighbors  kindly  assisted  in  the  work,  and  in 
three  days  a  comfortable  log  structure  was  erected.  It 
had  but  one  room  and  the  loft  overhead,  reached  by 
means  of  a  ladder.  This  was  the  boy's  bed  chamber, 
and,  with  a  blanket  and  a  pile  of  straw,  his  sleep  was  as 
sweet  as  that  which  visits  a  downy  couch. 

The  little  feUow  assisted  his  father  in  making  the  fur- 
niture used  in  their  primitive  home,  besides  being  very 
busy  in  the  pleasant  weather  in  procuring  fire  wood  and 
fencing  material.  He  also  learned  to  use  the  rifle ;  but, 
amid  all  this  business,  he  found  time  to  study  both 
reading  and  spelling. 

When  he  was  a  little  more  than  eight  years  old  his 
mother  died,  afliicting  him  with  a  loss  which  the  world 
could  never  repair.  All  through  his  after  life  he  remem- 
bered her  with  reverent  affection.  But  the  family  found 
kindness  in  their  neighbors,  one  of  whom  taught  the 
boy  to  write. 

Some  two  years  after  his  mother's  death  his  father 
married  a  kind  and  excellent  woman,  who  proved  a  sec- 
ond mother  to  the  boy  and  his  sister. 

About  this  time  a  school  was  opened  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  boy  was  delighted  to  be  enrolled  as  a 
pupil  of  the  new  "Academy."  His  quick  perception 
and  retentive  memory  were  of  immense  advantage  to 
the  young  scholar,  and  he  made  the  best  use  of  them. 

His  school  clothes  were  made  of  dressed  buck  skin, 
with  a  cap  made  of  raccoon  skin.  For  six  months  he 
attended  this  school,  and  then  he  was  obliged  to  start 
out  in  the  worM  and  earn  his  own  living.  For  five  years 
he  worked  steadily  in  the  woods,  giving  his  evenings  to 
the  study  of  such  books  as  he  could  obtain  in  the  vicin- 
ity. Figuratively,  he  ate  and  digested  the  better  part  of 
all  the  volumes  which  he  obtained. 

When  he  was  nineteen  years  old  he  was  hired  for  ten 
dollars  a  month  by  a  man  living  near  theni,  to  assist  in 
naTigating  a  flat  boat  loaded  with  stores  to  New  Orleans. 
There  was  but  one  other  man  on  the  boat  with  him,  and 
they  made  the  long  voyage  down  the  Mississippi,  floating 
along  in  the  day  time  and  anchoring  to  the  bank  at 
night.  One  night  ruflBans  attacked  their  boat,  but  were 
driven  o£E,  and  at  length  they  reached  their  destination 
and  profitably  disposed  of  their  stores. 

But  the  young  man's  father,  imbued  with  the  true 
pioneer  spirit,  soon  found  Indiana  too  thickly  settled  for 
his  fancy,  and  again  "pulling  up  stakes"  they  packed 
up  their  household  commodities  into  large  wagons  which 
were  to  be  drawn  by  oxen.    The  young  man  Abraham 
drove  one  of  these,  and  through  the  bottom  lands  along 
their  route  the  male  members  of  the  party  were  often 
obliged  to   wade  in  water  to  their  waists.  Pushing 
along  into  Sangamon  County,  they  settled  upon  a  ten- 
acre  tract  on  the  north  side  of  Sangamon  River.  Here 
again,  the  work  of  erecting  a  cabin  went  on,  and  "  Abe 
began  to  split  out  the  rails  to  fence  the  farm.  Durin 
the  Fall  and  Winter  his  rifle  furnished  the  principal  sup  - 
ply  of  food  for  the  family. 

Abraham  was  now  entering  upon  man's  estate,  and  he 
was  not  satisfied  with  the  narrow  prospect  before  him. 
So  in  1830  he  removed  farther  west,  and  during  the  Sum- 
mer and  Winter  worked  on  a  farm  near  Petersburg.  His 


evenings  he  devoted  to  taitlilul  study,  drilling  away  at 
reading,  writing,  grammar  and  arithmetic.  In  the  Spring 
he  was  hired  by  a  Mr.  OfEut  to  navigate  a  flat  boat— they 
having  first  acted  as  ship  builders  of  the  craft — on  a 
trading  expedition  to  New  Orleans.  The  ability  and  in- 
dustry of  young  Abraham  so  won  upon  the  esteem  of 
his  employer  that  later  he  gave  him  the  chief  position  in 
his  mill  and  store  at  New  Salem  village.  Here  the  young 
man  acquired  his  lifelong  appellation  of  "  Honest  Abe." 

We  next  find  him  a  volunteer  in  the  army  during  the 
Black  Hawk  War.  After  that  he  was  nominated  for  the 
Legislature,  but  was  defeated  by  a  small  majority. 
Then  he  tried  storekeeping  for  himself ;  afterwards  he 
studied  surveying.  Then  again  he  was  nominated  for 
the  Legislature  and  was  elected,  subsequently  being 
three  times  re-elected. 

Ambition  now  began  to  influence  his  thoughts,  and, 
studying  law  with  Hon.  John  T.  Stuart,  in  1836  he  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  Soon  after  this  he  removed  to 
Springfield,  As  a  lawyer  he  was  successful,  and  his  first 
fair  fee  for  winning  a  case  he  devoted  to  providing  a  com- 
fortable home  for  his  kind  and  faithful  step-mother. 

Next  we  find  him  Member  of  Congress,  even  then  ex- 
hibiting a  lively  interest  in  the  abolishment  of  slavery. 
He  declined  re-election.  For  the  next  five  years  he  de- 
voted himself  to  his  profession,  meanwhile  having  mar- 
ried Mary,  daughter  of  Hon.  Robert  S.  Todd,  of  Lexing« 
ton,  Kentucky.  He  developed  the  most  amiable  traits 
of  domestic  affection. 

When  the  Republicans  of  Illinois  presented  Abraham 
Lincoln  as  their  candidate  for  the  Presidency  of  the 
United  States,  there  was  a  sensation  among  all  parties. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  State  Convention  Mr.  Oglesby — 
afterward  Governor  of  Illinois — brought  into  the  hall 
his  old  fence  rails  decorated  with  flags  and  ribbons,  and 
bearing  an  inscription  that  strongly  resembles  a  derisive 
title  given  One  spoken  of  in  the  Gospels.  This  motto  ran 
thus : 

"Abraham  Lincoln:  the  rail  candidate  for  President 

in  1860." 

Then  Mr.  Lincoln  arose  in  the  gallery  and  acknowk 
edged  that  thirty  years  before  he  had  split  rails  in  Macon 
County,  niinois  ;  and  he  had  been  informed  that  those 
two  rails  were  from  a  lot  of  three  thousand  made  by 
himself  and  one  Thomas  Hawks. 

His  party  friends  were  anxious  for  his  election,  and  ad- 
vised him  how  to  defeat  the  Greeley  party  by  promising 
seats  in  the  Cabinet  to  certain  men  named  at  the  time. 
What  a  ring  of  pure  gold  there  was  in  the  answer :  "I 
authorize  no  bargains,  and  will  be  bound  by  none  ! " 

Again,  when  the  committee  waited  on  him  to  inform 
him  of  his  nomination,  he  made  an  appropriate  reply, 
and  then  stood  "  treat "  for  his  guests,  pledging  them  in 
a  glass  of  cold  water,  saying  that  it  was  God's  best  bever- 
age and  all  that  his  (Lincoln's)  family  ever  indulged  in. 

We  all  remember  his  election  and  the  state  of  the 
country  at  that  time,  and  without  regard  to  our  politics 
we  know  that  he  suffered  a  martyr's  death — died  for  the 
(to  him)  right  cause ;  and  we  also  note  with  awe — let  our 
politics  be  what  they  may— that  the  assassin's  heels 
were  tripped  up  by  the  verj  flag  which  he  (figuratively) 
sought  to  rend  and  annihilate.  And  thus  was  his  own 
untimely  end  brought  about.  Lay  aside  all  party  preju- 
dice and  think  what  a  country  we  have.  Ah,  we  do  not 
half  appreciate  it — the  privilege  of  being  a  citizen  of 
America,  the  land  of  the  free !  The  ragged  little  boy 
picking  up  chips  by  the  wayside,  or  drawing  cubes  and 
angles  on  a  board,  may  sometime  rise  up  to  the  Presi- 
dent's, or  statesman's  chair,  to  bid  some  other  strug- 
gling, ambitious  soul  God  speed  in  its  upward  career. 

Through  his  onward  course  during  all  his  successes, 
and  when  he  came  to  the  chief  position  of  the  country, 
Abraham  Lincoln's  unaffected  manner,  his  good  hearted 
humility,  makes  us  admire  him  and  venerate  his 
memory. 

Those  whom  power  or  success  makes  vain  are  to  be 
pitied,  for  the  glory  of  earth  is  as  unstable  and  perish- 
able as  a  bubble  on  the  ocean ;  and  it  is  not  the  position 
to  which  we  attain,  but  the  good  and  wise  uses  to  which 
we  give  our  talents,  that  brings  joy  and  peace  to  the 
heart  and  which  will  shed  a  glory  rich  as  a  Summer  sun- 
set around  our  dying  beds. 

Dear  reader,  let  us  remember  always  that  it  is  the  froit- 
less  branches  of  the  trees  and  the  Ught,  worthless  ears 
.of  grain  that  toss  high  and  emptily  above  their  fellows, 
while  the  more  fruit  the  branches  hold,  the  richer  the 
grain  heads,  the  lower  they  droop. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


CUEIOUS  AUD  INTEEESTING  FACTS 

^BOUT  TO^DB. 

^rhe  Common  Toad  {B.  Americanus,  Le  Conte)  is  very 
'57ell  known.  Glands  appear  on  the  skin  of  the  back  and 
BideSj  which  pour  out  an  acrid  fluid,  capable,  perhaps, 
of  producing  irritation  on  a  very  sensitive  skin,  and  cer- 
tainly desi£paied  as  a  means  of  defence.  A  dog  seizing  a 
boad  immediately  drops  it ;  its  mouth  becomes  rapidly 


under  the  door  of  a  bee-hive  every  fine  evening  and 
dexterously  pick  up  those  bees  who,  overladen  or 
tired,  missed  the  doorstep  and  fell  to  tlie  ground.  H 
lost,  by  some  accident,  an  eye,  and  it  was  observed 
by  some  members  of  the  family,  as  well  as  myself, 
that  he  had  with  it  lost  tlie  ability  to  pick  up  a  bee  at 
the  first  trial — his  tongue  struck  the  gravel  one  side 
of  the  ^bee  ;  but  after  several  weeks  practice  with 
one  eye  he  regained  his  certainty  of  aim.  I  have 
never  seen  our  toad  raise  his  hands  to  crowd  his  food 


THE  FEMALE  PIFA  AND  HER  YOUNG. 


filled  with  an  abundance  of  frothy  saliva,  while  its 
attempts  to  clear  it  away  and  its  mode  of  shaking  its 
iiead,  prove  its  mouth  to  be  unpleasantly  oi  painfully 
affected. 

Toads  Are  easily  rendered  familiar,  and  in  a  little 
time  they  will  come  out  of  their  holes  and  sit  quietly 
to  take  small  slugs  presented  to  them.  This  th  y  do 
like  the  frog,  and  with  so  rapid  a  motion  ^pf,  }^-- 
tongue  as  almost  to  elude  the  eye.  * 

In  the  summers  of  1843-45.  an  old  toad  used  ■<.  .  at 


into  his  mouth,  as  the  European  toads  do,  although 
he  uses  them  freely  to  wipe  out  of  his  mouth  any  in- 
edible or  disagreeable  substance.  When  our  toad 
gets  into  his  mouth  part  of  an  insect  too  large  for  his 
tongue  to  thrust  down  his  throat  (and  I  have  known 
of  their  attempting  a  wounded  humming  bird), 
he  resorts  to  the  nearest  stone  and  presses  the  protrud- 
ing part  of  his  mouthful  against  it,  and  thus  crowds  it 
down  his  throat.  This  can  be  observed  at  any  time  by 
tjin;^-  a  locust's  hind  legs  together  and  throwing  it  be- 


126 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


fore  a  small  toad.  On  one  occasion  I  gave  a  yellow 
striped  locust  to  a  little  toad  in  its  second  summer, 
when  he  was  in  the  middle  of  a  very  wide  gravel  walk. 
In  a  moment  he  had  the  locust's  head  down  his  throat, 
Its  hinder  parts  protruding,  and  started  for  a  stone  or 
clod ;  but  finding  none  at  hand  in  either  direction,  he 
lowered  his  head  and  crept  along,  pushing  the  locust 
against  the  ground.  But  the  angle  with  the  ground  was 
too  small,  and  my  walk  too  well  rolled.  To  increase  the 
angle  he  straightened  his  hind  legs  up,  but  in  vain.  At 
length  he  threw  up  his  hind-quarters,  and  actually  stood 
OL  his  head,  or  rather  on  the  locust,  sticking  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  after  repeating  this  once  or  twice,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  himself  outside  of  his  dinner. 

But  these  instances  of  ingenious  adaptation  to  the  cir- 
cumstances were  exceeded  by  a  four-year  old  toad  at 
Antioch  College.  I  was  tossing  live  earth-worms  while 
digging,  and  presently  threw  him  so  large  a  specimen 
that  he  was  obliged  to  attack  one  end  only.  That  end 
was  instantly  transferred  to  his  stomach,  the  other  end 
writhing  free  in  the  air,  and  coiled  about  the  toad's 
head.  He  waited  until  the  worm's  writhings  gave  him  a 
chance,  swallowed  half  an  inch,  then,  taking  a  nip  with 
his  jaws,  waited  for  a  chance  to  draw  in  another  half 
inch.  But  there  were  so  many  half  inches  to  dispose  of 
that  at  length  his  jaws  grew  tired,  lost  their  firmness  of 
rip,  and  the  worm  crawled  out  five-eighths  of  an  inch 
etween  each  ITalf  inch  swallowing.  The  toad  perceiv- 
ing this,  brought  his  right  hand  to  aid  his  jaws,  grasp- 
ing his  abdomen  with  his  foot,  and  by  a  little  effort 
getting  hold  of  the  worm  in  his  stomach  from  the  out- 
side, he  thus  by  his  foot  held  fast  to  what  he  had  gained 
by  each  swallow,  aad  presently  succeeded  in  getting  the 
worm  entirely  down. 

The  amount  which  a  toad  can  eat  is  surprising.  One 
morning  I  threw  a  squash-bug  to  a  young  toad.  He 
snapped  it  up,  but  immediately  rejected  it,  wiped  his 
mouth  with  great  energy,  and  then  hopped  away  with 
extraordinary  rapidity.  I  was  so  amused  that  I  gathered 
some  more  of  the  same  bugs  and  carried  them  to  a 
favorite  old  toad  at  the  northeast  comer  of  the  house. 
He  ate  them  all  without  making  any  faces.  I  gathered 
all  that  I  could  find  on  my  vines,  and  he  ate  them  all  to  the^ 
number  of  twenty-three.  1  then  brought  him  some 
larvae  phygsera  ministra  three-quarters  grown,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  enticing  him  to  put  ninety-four  on  top  of  his 
squash  bugs.  Finding  that  his  virtue  was  not  proof^ 
against  the  caterpillars  when  1  put  them  on  the  end  of 
a  straw,  and  tickled  his  nose  with  them,  he  at  length 
turned  and  crept  under  the  piazza,  where  he  remained 
three  days  digesting  his  food. 

Do  not  kill  the  toads.  In  Paris  they  are  sold  at  fifty 
cents  a  dozen.  A  toad  will  swallow  the  biggest  kind  of 
a  tomato  worm,  and  one  toad  has  been  known  to  eat 
seven  hundred  and  thirteen  flies  at  a  meal. 

The  dealers  in  this  uninviting  article  keep  it  in 
large  tubs,  into  which  tliey  plunge  their  bare  hands 
and  arms  without  any  fear.  Toads  are  also  kept  in 
vineyards,  where  they  devour  during  the  night  mil- 
lions of  insects  that  escape  the  pursuit  of  nocturnal 
birds. 

An  English  correspondent  says  : — We  .had  an  ex- 
cellent collection  of  Dahlias,  and  they  were  put  to 
' '  start  "  on  a  bed  of  leaves  in  one  of  the  early  vine- 
ries, where  we  were  also  very  much  troubled  with 
earwigs  and  wood-lice  eating  them.  I  got  a  lot  of 
toads  and  placed  amongst  them,  and  found  they  were 
quite  at  home  in  their  new  quarters,  and  soon  rid  us 
of  our  enemies.  My  toads  and  I  got  great  friends, 
and  they  became  so  tame  that  they  would  eat  from 
my  hand,  and  I  was  also  an  eye-witness  to  one  of 
them  taking  off  his  jacket  and  making  it  up  in  a  pill 
and  bolting  it.  One  day,  during  the  month  of  July 
in  the  same  year,  I  was  gathering  strawberries  in 
the  open  garden,  and  came  upon  a  very  large  snake, 
which  I  killed.  Seeing  a  large  lump  about  its  mid- 
dle I  placed  my  foot  on  its  tail  and  took  a  garden 
rake  and  worked  the  lump  upwards,  and  in  much 
less  time  than  it  has  taken  me  to  write,  I  had  worked 
it  out  at  the  snake's  mouth — a  fine  live  toad.  He 
winked  and  blinked  a  bit  and  then  hopped  off,  no 
doubt  well  pleased  with  his  clianga 


A  French  gardener  is  said  to  have  experimented  with 
a  view  to  aseertaining  how  far  a  toad  could  be  used  in 
the  capacity  of  a  carrier  pigeon.  Observing  one  that 
spent  hours  daily  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  hive  on  the 
'chance  of  snapping  up  a  few  of  its  inmates,  it  was  by 
him  made  the  subject  of  an  experiment.  A  pink  ribbon 
was  tied  around  his  neck,  and  was  carried  to  a  distance 
of  nine  miles  from  the  place  and  there  left.  Forty-eight 
hours  later  the  toad  again  sat  watching  the  bees  darting 
to  and  fro  from  the  hive. 

The  toad  has  been  known  to  live  thirty-five  or  forty 
years,  and  it  is  tLougtit  to  attain  a  considerably  greater 
age.  It  can,  like  many  other  reptiles,  live  a  long  time 
without  food,  and  with  a  very  small  supply  of  air  ;  but 
the  alleged  instances  of  their  having  been  found  im- 
bedded in  solid  stone  or  the  heart  of  a  tree,  with  no 
possible  commuuication  with  the  external  worlds  have, 
no  doQbt  arisen  from  errors  of  observation,  though  much  re- 
mains unexplained  about  the  facts  upon  which  this  popular  be- 
lief is  based,  and  though  toads  have  been  taken  from  places 
where  it  seemed  impossible  that  they  could  have  obtained 
food,  air,  or  moisture,  it  cannot  be  admitted  that  they  have 
been  hermetically  sealed.  With  Mr.  Thomas  Bell,  it  may  be 
said:  "  To  believe  that  a  toad,  enclosed  within  a  mass  of  clay 
or  other  similar  substance,  shall  exist  wholly  without  air  or 
food  for  hundreds  of  years,  and  at  length  be  liberated  alive  and 
capable  of  crawling,  on  the  breaking  up  of  the  matrix  now  be- 
come a  solid  rock,  is  certainly  a  demand  upon  our  credulity 
which  few  would  be  ready  to  answer." 

That  toads,  frogs,  snakes,  and  lizards,  occasionally  issue  from 
stones  that  are  broken  in  a  quarry,  or  in  sinking  wells,  and 
even  from  a  strata  of  coal  at  the  bottom  of  a  coal  mine,  may  be 
readily  admitted,  but  Dr.  Buckland  remarked  that  "the  evi- 
dence is  not  perfect  to  show  that  the  reptiles  were  entirely  in- 
closed in  a  solid  rock."  No  examination  isif  ver  made  until  the 
reptile  is  first  discovered  by  the  breaking  of  the  mass  in  which 
it  was  contained,  and  then  it  is  too  late  to  ascertain,  without 
carefully  replacing  every  fragment  (and  in  no  case  that  I  have 
seen  reported  has  this  been  done),  whether  or  not  there  wa» 
any  hole  or  crevice  by  which  any  animal  may  have  entered  the 
cavity  from  which  it  was  extracted.  Without  previous  exami- 
nation, it  is  almost  impossible  to  prove  that  there  was  no  suck 
communication.  In  the  case  of  rocks  near  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  in  stone  quarries,  reptiles  find  ready  admission  to 
holes  and  fissures. 

In  digging  up  a  garden  near  Orsay,  some  workmen  unearthed 
recently  some  terra  cotta  vessels,  which  they  at  first  supposed 
to  contain  treasure.  On  breaking  them,  however,  two  live 
toads  were  found,  clad  in  green  velvet.  This  strange  attire 
showed  that  they  must  be  at  least  two  hundred  years  old,  as  an 
.ancient  treatise  on  magic  and  demonology  mentions  that  at  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  sorcerers  dressed  up 
toads  in  this  manner  for  the  achievement  of  certain  charms. 

While  Dr.  Schliemann  was  making  excavations  on  the  sup- 
posed site  of  ancient  Troy,  in  1872,  he  came  upon  two  toads  im- 
prisoned  among  the  blocks  of  stone  unearthed  at  a  depth  of 
from  39>^  to  52^  feet.  The  event  furnishes  some  pleasant 
moralizing  from  the  archaeologist,  upon  the  fact  that  these 
toads  had  survived  among  the  ruins  of  the  Homeric  city  for  at 
least  three  thousand  years.  At  the  same  time  and  i)lace,  a 
small,  but  very  poisonous  snake  was  discovered.  This  crea- 
ture, however,  the  doctor  thinks  may  have  wriggled  his  way 
down  from  the  surface  at  a  later  period.  Shortly  after  this  first 
interesting  discovery,  a  second  pair  of  toads  were  found  be 
tween  the  stones  of  old  Troy,  at  a  depth  of  43^  feet  from 
the  surface.  The  venerable  antiquities  hopped  off  as  soon  as 
they  were  free.  The  naturalist  will  regret  that  Dr.  Schliemann 
did  not  make  such  careful  observations  with  regard  to  the  posi- 
tion of  these  exhumed  animals  as  to  settle  all  doubt  as  to  the 
time  and  manner  of  their  getting  into  the  apparently  tight 
place  from  which  they  were  liberated. 

Similar  instances  of  liberating  toads  are  of  frequent  occur- 
rence, but  space  will  not  allow  of  other  examples. 

Now  the  first  effort  of  the  young  toad,  as  soon  as  it  has  left 
the  tadpole  state  and  emerged  from  the  water,  is,  doubtless,  to 
seek  shelter  in  holes  and  cre\ices  of  rocks  and  trees.  An  in- 
dividual which,  when  young,  may  then  have  entered  a  cavity 
by  some  very  narrow  aperture,  would  find  abundance  of  food 
by  catching  insects,  which,  like  itself,  seek  shelter  within  such 
cavities,  and  may  have  soon  increased  so  much  in  bulk  as  to 
render  it  impossible  to  go  out  again  through  the  narrow  aper- 
ture at  which  it  entered.  A  small  hole  of  this  kind  is  very 
likely  to  be  overlooked  by  the  workmen,  who  are  the  only  peo- 
ple whose  operations  on  wood  and  stone  disclose  cavities  in  the 
interior  of  such  substances.  Dr.  Buckland  made  some  experi- 
ments on  this  subject.  He  caused  twelve  cells  to  be  prepared 
in  a  large  block  of  coarse  oolitic  limestone.  Each  cell  was 
about  one  foot  deep  and  five  inches  in  diameter,  and  had  a 
groove  or  shoulder  in  its  upper  margin,  fitted  to  receive  a  circu- 
lar plate  of  glass  and  a  circular  slate  to  protect  the  glass.  The 
margin  of  this  double  cover  was  closed  round,  and  rendered 
impenetrable  to  air  and  water  by  a  luting  of  soft  clay. 

Another  block  of  compact  siliceous  sandstone  was  made  to 
contain  twelve  smaller  cells.  A  live  toad  was  placed  in  each  of 
these  twenty-four  cells,  and  the  glass  and  slate  cemented  down 
by  a  coating  of  clay.  The  blocks  were  then  buried  in  D'f. 
Buckland's  garden,  three  feet  deep. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


127 


The  result  tJf  Ur.  Backland''8  experiment  was,  that  all  the 
toads,  with  the  exception  of  several  large  ones,  were  dead  at 
the  end  of  thirteen  months,  a  fate  that  befell  all  before  the  ex- 
piration of  the  second  year.  These  last  were  examined  several 
times  during  the  second  year,  through  the  glass  covers  of  their 
cells.  They  appeared  always  awake,  with  open  eyes,  and  never 
Jn  a  state  of  torpor ;  but  at  each  examination  they  became 
tnore  and  more  meagre,  till  at  last  they  were  found  dead. 
When  Dr.  Buckland  inclosed  these  toads  in  stone,  he  at  the 
same  time  placed  four  other  toads,  of  moderate  size,  in  three 
holes,  cut  for  that  purpose  on  the  north  side  of  the  trunk  of  an 
apple  tree.  These  were  carefully  closed  with  plugs  of  wood, 
so  as  to  exclude  access  of  insects,  and  were  apparently  air- 
tight. Every  one  of  these  toads  thus  *'  pegged  "  in  the  knotty 
entrails  of  the  tree,  was  found  dead  and  decayed  at  the  end  of 
the  first  year.  We  mav  therefore  conclude,  as  did  Dr.  Buck- 
land,  that  toads  cannot  live  a  year  excluded  from  atmospheric 
air. 

The  eggs  of  amphibia  are  enveloped  in  a  sort  of  delicate 
mucous,  permeable  membrane.  They  are,  when  excluded, 
most  frequently  agglomerated,  either  in  glutinous  masses  or 
chaplets,  and  increase  considerably  after  they  are  plunged  in 
the  water.  There  are,  however,  some  curious  modifications  of 
the  disposition  of  eggs  in  certain  species.  In  one  species  of 
toad  {Bufo  obsietricam),  the  male,  after  the  exclusion  of  the 
eggs,  takes  up  the  chaplets  and  disposes  them  round  his  thighs, 
something  in  the  form  of  a  figure  eight.  He  is  then  said  to 
carry  them  until  the  eyes  are  visible,  when  he  carries  his 
progeny  to  some  stagnant  piece  of  water  and  deposits  them, 
when  the  eggs  break  and  the  tadpoles  come  forth  and  swim 
about.  The  pipa  toad  (P.  Americana,  Laur.),  found  in  Susmam, 
Guiana,  and  Brazil,  manages  its  eggs  in  a  different  manner.  As 
the  female  ppovides  them,  the  male  spreads  them  over  her  flat 
and  broad  back.  When  this  is  effected  the  skin  of  the  back 
suffers  a  sort  of  inflammatory  action;  numerous  pustules,  or 
rather  pit-margins,  arise,  which  seem  to  absorb  the  eggs,  one  in 
each  pit,  so  that  the  entire  back  resembles  a  portion  of  honey- 
comb. Here  the  eggs  are  duly  hatched,  and,  what  is  more  ex- 
traordinary, here  the  tadpoles  undergo  their  transformation 
and  become  complete,  emerging  as  men  development  takes 
place,  which  is  not  precisely  at  the  same  period  of  time.  The 
average  interval,  however,  from  the  spreading  of  the  eggs  on 
the  back  of  the  female,  is  eighty-two  days.  In  a  short  time 
the  skin  of  the  back  regains  its  usual  appearance.  The  young, 
when  they  quit  the  cells  of  the  parent,  are  very  small,  not  ex- 
ceeding a  lentil  in  size,  but  their  limbs  are  perfectly  formed. 

The  toad,  like  all  the  reptiles  and  amphibia,  yearly  sheds  its 
skin,  a  new  one,  of  brighter  tints,  being  prepared  beneath. 
Mr.  Bell  has  described  the  way  in  which  this  process  takes 
place.  "  Having  often  found,"  he  says,  "  among  several  toads 
which  I  was  keeping  for  the  purpose  of  examining  their 
habits,  some  of  brighter  colors  than  usual,  and  with  the  surface 
moist  and  smooth,  I  had  supposed  that  this  appearance  might 
have  depended  on  the  state  of  the  animal's  health,  or  the  influ- 
ence of  some  peculiarity  in  one  or  other  of  its  functions. 

"  On  watching  carefully,  however,  I  one  day  observed  a  large 
one,  the  skin  of  which  was  particularly  dry  and  dull  in  its 
color,  with  a  dark  streak  down  the  mesial  line  of  the  back,  and, 
on  examining  farther,  1  observed  a  corresponding  line  along  the 
belly.  This  proved  to  be  a  slit  in  the  old  skin  or  cuticle, 
which  exposed  to  view  the  new  cuticle  beneath.  Finding, 
therefore,  what  was  about  to  happen,  I  watched  the  whole  de- 
tail of  this  curious  process.  I  soon  observed  that  the  two 
halves  of  the  skin,  thus  completely  divided,  continued  to  re- 
cede farther  and  farther  from  the  centre,  and  became  folded 
and  wrinkled,  and  after  a  short  space,  by  means  of  the  con- 
tinued twitching  of  the  animal's  body,  it  was  brought  down  in 
folds  at  the  sides.  The  hinder  leg,  first  on  one  side  and  then 
on  the  other,  was  brought  forward  under  the  arm,  which  was 
pressed  down  upon  it,  and  the  hinder  limb  being  withdrawn. 
Its  cuticle  was  left  inverted  under  the  arm.  That  of  the  an- 
terior extremity  was  then  loosened,  and  at  length  drawn  off  by 
the  assistance  of  the  mouth.  The  whole  cuticle  was  then  de- 
tached, and  was  now  pushed  by  the  hands  into  the  mouth, 
rolled  in  the  form  of  a  little  ball,  and  swallowed  at  a  single 
gulp." 

In  the  "Natural  History  of  Selborne,"  the  Rev.  Gilbert 
White  says  :  "  That  toads  are  not  noxious  to  some  animals,  is 
plain,  for  ducks,  buzzards,  owls,  stone  curlews,  and  snakes  eat 
them,  to  my  knowledge,  with  impunity.  And  I  well  remember 
the  time,  but  was  not  an  eye  witness  to  the  fact  (though  num- 
bers of  persons  were),  when  a  man  at  this  village  ate  a  toad  to 
make  the  people  stare.   Afterwards  he  drank  oil. 

"I  have  been  informed,  also,  that  some  ladies  (ladies,  you 
will  say,  of  peculiar  taste)  took  a  fancy  to  a  toad,  which  they 
nourished  Summer  after  Summer  for  many  years,  till  he  grew 
to  a  monstrous  age,  with  the  maggots  which  turn  to  flesh-flies. 
The  reptile  used  to  come  forth  every  evening  from  a  hole  under 
the  garden  steps,  and  was  taken  up,  after  supper,  on  the  table, 
to  be  fed.  But  at  last  a  tame  raven,  seeing  him  as  he  put 
forth  his  head,  gave  him  such  a  severe  stroke  with  his  horny 
beak,  as  to  put  out  one  eye.  After  this  accident  the  creature 
languished  for  some  time,  and  died." 

Mr.  Derham,  in  "  Kay's  Wisdom  of  God  in  the  Creation," 
concerning  the  migration  of  toads  from  their  ponds,  subverts 
the  foolish  opinion  of  these  creatures  dropping  from  the  clouds 
in  rain,  showing  that  it  is  from  the  grateful  coolness  and  moist- 
ure of  these  showers  that  they  are  tempted  to  set  out  on  their 
travels,  which  they  defer  till  these  fall.  How  wonderful  is  the 
economy  of  Providence  with  regard  to  the.  limbs  of  these  rep- 


tiles !  While  it  is  an  aquatic,  it  has  a  fish-like  tall  and  no  legs. 
As  soon  as  the  legs  sprout,  the  tail  drops  off  as  useless,  and 
the  animal  betakes  itself  to  the  land  !  We  have  seen  myriads 
of  these  emigrants  in  the  paths  and  fields,  no  larger  than  our 
little  finger  nail. 

In  conclusion,  then,  the  toad  is  a  harmless  creature,  capable 
of  becoming  attached  to  man,  to  whom  it  is  exceedingly  useful. 
Let  us  then  never  abuse  it,  but  take  to  heart  the  "Lesson  of 
Mercy  "  taught  by  Alice  Cary  in  the  following  verses  : 

A  boy  named  Peter,  Then  he  gave  the  poor  toad. 

Found  once  in  the  road  With  his  warm  nose  a  dump, 

All  harmless  and  helpless,  And  he  woke  and  got  off 

A  poor  little  toad  ;  With  a  hop  and  a  jump. 

And  ran  to  his  playmate.  And  then  with  an  eye 

And  all  out  of  breath  Turned  on  Peter  and  John, 

Cried,  "John,  come  and  help.   And  hanging  his  homely  head 
And  we'll  stone  him  to  death!"     Down,  he  went  on. 

And  picking  up  stones,  "We  can't  kill  him  now,  John," 
The  two  went  on  a  run.  Says  Peter,  "that's  flat. 

Saying,  one  to  another,  In  the  face  of  an  eye  and 
"Oh,  won't  we  have  fun?"       An  action  like  thati  " 

Thus,  primed  and  all  ready       "  For  my  part,  I  haven't 
They'd  got  nearly  back.  The  heart  to,"  says  John; 

When  a  donkey  came  "But  the  load  is  too  heavy 

Dragging  a  cart  on  the  track.     That  donkey  has  on, 

Now  the  cart  was  as  much  Let's  help  him."  So  both  lada 

As  the  donkey  could  draw,  Set  off  with  a  will, 

And  he  came  with  his  head  And  came  up  with  the  cart 

Hanging  down;  so  he  saw.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

All  harmless  and  helpless.  And  when  each  a  shoulder 
The  poor  little  toad,  Had  put  to  the  wheel, 

A-taking  his  morning  nap  They  helped  the  poor  donkey 
Right  in  the  road.  A  wonderful  deal. 

He  shivered  at  first;  When  they  got  to  the  top. 
Then  he  drew  back  his  leg        Back  again  they  both  run, 

And  set  up  his  ears.  Agreeing  they  never 
Never  moving  a  peg.  Had  had  better  fun. 


Length  of  Life  of  Animals  of  the  Higher 
Species. 

It  was  suggested  by  Buffon  that  the  duration  of  the 
lives  of  such  animals  is  in  proportion  to  the  time  ex- 
pended in  reaching  maturity.  Flowrens,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  suggestion,  observed  that  the  larger  animala 
live  about  five  times  as  long  as  the  time  expended  in 
reaching  maturity.    Thus : 


The  camel  grows  for  8  years,  and  lives  40 

The  horse       "       5     ^         "  25 

The  ox           «       4    «        cv  15  or  20 

The  lion         "       5     "         «  20 

The  dog         "       2    "  10  or  12 

The  man        "      20    "        "  100  or  more. 


The  physical  analogy  would  therefore  show  that  the 
life  of  man  should  be  not  less  than  a  hundred  years. 
How  much  it  may,  and  often  is  shortened  by  the  viola- 
tion of  natural  laws,  the  intelligent  reader  will  not  f^a 
to  consider. 


Taken  from  the  Street. 

Many  a  boy  is  ruined  by  bad  company,  who  might 
have  been  saved  by  attention  and  hearty  sympathy.  A 
kind  and  hearty  sympathy.  A  kind  look  at  the  right 
moment  may  shape  an  entire  life.  Nearly  a  century 
ago,  a  warm-hearted  Irish  minister  stopped  in  a  village 
street  to  watch  a  group  of  boys  play  marbles. 

One  of  them,  dirty  and  ragged,  amused  him  by  his 
ready  wit.  The  minister  talked  with  the  boy,  and  in- 
vited him  to  his  house.  In  spite  of  dirt  and  rags,  he 
felt  drawn  to  him  by  admiration  of  his  brightness.  The 
boy  had  not  been  to  school,  and  the  minister  agreed 
to  give  him  private  lessons.  Progress  was  so  rapid  that 
he  was  soon  sent  to  a  neighboring  school,  and  held  hia 
own  with  the  best  scholars. 

Many  years  after,  the  boy  grown  to  manhood,  and  re- 
cognized as  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  a  leader  iai  Parliament, 
found  one  day  an  old  gentleman  in  his  room.  He  re- 
cognized at  once  the  friend  of  his  boyhood,  and  rushing 
to  his  arms,  said  : 

"  This  room  is  yours  ;  you  gave  me  all  these  things  ; 
you  made  a  man  of  me." 

The  minister  listened  with  delight  to  the  brilliant  con- 
versation of  his  protege,  but  his  tears  flowed  freely  in 
the  evening,  as  he  sat  entranced  by  the  eloquence  of 
Curran  in  the  House  of  Commons,  felt  that  boj» 
were  worth  saving. 


128 


THE  GkuWII^G  JVORLD. 


Franklin's  Visit  to  His  Mother. 

Dr,  Benjamin  Franklin,  after  the  decease  of  his 
father,  returned  to  Boston,  in  order  to  pay  his  respects 
to  his  mother,  who  had  resided  in  that  city.  He  had 
been  absent  some  years,  and  at  that  period  of  life  when 
the  greatest  and  most  rapid  alteration  is  made  in  the  hu- 
man appearance — at  a  time  when  the  querulous  voice  of 
the  stripling  assumes  the  commanding  tones  of  the 
adult,  and  the  smiling  features  of  the  youth  are  suc- 
ceeded by  the  strong  lines  of  manhood.  The  doctor 
was  sensible  such  was  the  alteration  of  his  person  that 
his  mother  could  not  know  him,  except  by  that  instinct 
which  it  is  believed  can  cause  a  mother's  heart  to  beat 
violently  in  the  presence  of  a  child,  and  point  the  mater- 
nal eye  with  quick  and  sudden  glance  to  a  beloved  son. 

To  discover  the  existence  of  this  instinct  by  actual  ex- 
perience, Franklin  resolved  to  introduce  himself  as  a 
stranger  to  his  mother,  and  to  watch  narrowly  for  the 
moment  in  which  she  should  discover  her  son,  and  then 
determine  with  the  cool  precision  of  the  philosopher 
whether  that  discovery  was  the  effect  of  that  instinct  of 
affection— intuitive  love — ^that  innate  attachment,  which 
is  conjectured  to  cement  relatives  of  the  same  blood, 
and  which,  by  according  the  passions  of  parent  and 
child,  like  a  well-tuned  viol,  would  at  the  first  touch 
cause  them  to  vibrate  in  unison,  and  at  once  evince  that 
they  were  but  different  chords  of  the  same  instrument. 

On  a  sullen,  chilly  day  in  the  month  of  January,  in  the 
afternoon,  the  doctor  rapped  at  his  mother's  door  and 
asked  to  speak  with  Mrs.  Franklin.  He  found  the  old 
lady  knitting  before  the  parlor  fire,  and  introduced  him- 
self by  observing  that  he  had  been  informed  she  enter- 
tained travelers,  and  requesting  a  night's  lodging.  She 
eyed  him  with  that  cool  look  of  disapprobation  which 
most  people  assume  when  they  imagine  themselves  in- 
sulted, by  being  supposed  to  exercise  an  employment 
but  one  degree  below  their  real  occupation  in  life — as- 
sured him  that  he  had  been  misinformed,  that  she  did 
not  keep  tavern  ;  but  it  was  true,  to  oblige  some  mem- 
bers of  the  Legislature,  she  took  a  number  of  them  into 
her  family  during  the  session — that  she  then  had  four 
members  of  the  Council  and  six  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives who  boarded  with  her;  that  all  the  beds 
were  full ;  and  then  betook  to  her  knitting  with  the  in- 
tense application  which  expressed,  as  forcibly  as  action 
could,  if  you  have  concluded  your  business,  the  sooner 
you  leave  the  house  the  better.  But  upon  the  doctor's 
wrapping  his  cloak  around  him,  affecting  to  shiver  with 
the  cold,  and  observing  it  was  very  chilly  weather,  she 
pointed  to  a  chair  and  gave  him  leave  to  warm  himself. 

The  entrance  of  her  boarders  precluded  all  further  con- 
versation. Coffee  was  soon  served,  and  the  doctor  par- 
took with  the  f amUy.  To  the  coffee,  according  to  the 
good  old  custom  of  the  times,  succeeded  a  plate  of  pip- 
pins, pipes,  and  a  paper  of  McEntire's  best,  when  the 
whole  family  formed  a  cheerful,  smoking  semi-circle  be- 
fore the  fire.  Perhaps  no  man  ever  possessed  the  collo- 
quial powers  to  a  more  fascinating  degree  than  did  Dr. 
Franknn,  and  never  was  there  an  occasion  when  he  dis- 
played those  powers  to  greater  advantage  than  at  this 
time.  He  drew  the  attention  of  the  company  by  the 
solidity  of  modest  remarks,  instructed  them  by  the 
varied,  new,  and  striking  lights  in  which  he  placed  the 
subject,  and  delighted  them  with  apt  and  amusing  anec- 
dotes. Thus  employed,  the  hours  passed  merrily  along 
until  eight  o'clock,  when,  punctual  to  a  moment,  Mrs. 
Franklin  announced  supper.  Busied  with  her  household 
affairs,  she  farcied  the  intruding  stranger  had  quitted 
the  house  immediately  after  ijoffee,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty she  could  restrain  hei  resentment  when  she  saw 
him,  without  molestation,  seat  himself  at  the  table  with 
the  freedom  of  a  member  of  the  family. 

Immediately  after  supper  she  called  an  elderly  gentle- 
man, a  member  of  the  Coun(  11,  in  whom  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  confide,  to  anothei  room,  complained  bitterly 
of  the  rudeness  of  this  stranger,  told  the  manner  of  his 
introduction  to  the  house,  J^bserved  that  he  appeared 
like  an  outlandish  man — she  thought  he  had  something 
very  suspicious  in  his  appearance — concluded  by  solicit- 
ing her  friend's  advice  with  respect  to  the  way  in  which 
she  should  most  easily  rid  herself  of  his  presence.  The 
old  gentleman  assured  her  that  the  stranger  was  a  young 
man  of  education,  and  to  all  appearance  a  gentleman  ; 
that,  perhaps,  being  in  agreeable  company,  he  paid  no 
attention  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  advised  her  to. 


call  him  aside  and  repeat  to  Mm  ner  inability  to  lodge 
him.  She  accordingly  sent  her  maid  to  him,  and  then, 
with  as  much  temper  as  she  could  command,  recapitu- 
lated the  situation  of  her  family,  observed  that  it  grew 
late,  and  mildly  intimated  that  he  would  do  well  to  seek 
himself  a  lodging.  The  doctor  replied  that  he  would  by 
no  means  discommode  her  family,  but  that,  with  her 
leave,  he  would  smoke  one  more  pipe  with  her  boarders, 
and  then  retire. 

He  returned  to  the  company,  filled  his  pipe,  and  at  the- 
first  whiff  his  powers  of  converse  returned  with  double 
force.  He  recounted  the  hardships,  he  extolled  the  piety 
and  policy  of  their  ancestors.  A  gentleman  present 
mentioned  the  subject  of  the  day's  debate  in  the  House 
of  Representatives. 

A  bill  had  been  introduced  to  extend  the  prerogative 
of  the  royal  Governor.  The  doctor  immediately  entered 
upon  the  subject,  supported  the  colonial  rights  with  new 
and  forcible  arguments,  was  familiar  with  the  names  of 
the  influential  men  in  the  House  when  Dudley  was  Gov- 
ernor, recited  their  speeches,  and  applauded  the  noble 
defense  of  the  Chambers  of  Rights. 

During  a  discourse  sf  appropriately  interesting  to  the 
company,  no  wonder  the  clock  struck  eleven  unper- 
ceived  by  the  delighted  circle;  nor  was  it  wonderful 
that  the  patience  of  Mrs.  Franklin  grew  quite  ex- 
hausted. She  now  entered  the  room,  and  before  the 
whole  company,  with  much  warmth  addressed  the  doc- 
tor— told  him  plainly  she  thought  herself  imposed  on, 
observed  that  it  was  true  she  was  a  lone  woman,  but 
that  she  had  friends  who  would  protect  her,  and  con- 
cluded by  insisting  on  his  leaving  the  house.  The  doc- 
tor made  a  slight  apology,  deliberately  put  on  his  great- 
coat and  hat,  took  a  polite  leave  of  the  company  and  ap- 
proached the  street  door,  lighted  by  the  maid  and  at- 
tended by  the  mistress.  While  the  doctor  and  his  com- 
panions had  been  enjoying  themselves  within,  a  most 
tremendous  snow-storm  had  without  filled  the  streets 
knee-deep,  and  no  sooner  had  the  maid  lifted  up  the 
latch  than  a  roaring  northeaster  forced  open  the  door, 
extinguished  the  light,  and  almost  filled  the  entrv  with 
drifted  snow  and  hail.  As  soon  as  the  candle  was  re- 
lighted the  doctor  cast  a  woeful  look  towards  the  door, 
and  thus  addressed  his  mother ;  My  dear  madam,  can 
you  turn  me  out  of  your  house  in  this  dreadful  storm  ? 
I  am  a  stranger  in  this  town,  and  shall  certainly  perish 
in  the  streets.  Tou  look  like  a  charitable  lady ;  I 
shouldn't  think  you  would  turn  a  dog  from  your  door 
on  this  tempestuous  night." 

Don't  tell  me  of  charity,"  said  the  offended  matron ;. 
"charity  begins  at  home.  It  is  your  own  fault  you 
tarried  so  long.  To  be  plain  with  you,  sir,  I  do  not  like 
your  looks  or  your  conduct,  and  I  fear  you  have  some 
bad  designs  in  thus  introducing  yourself  into  my 
family." 

The  warmth  of  this  parley  had  drawn  down  the  com- 
pany from  the  parlor,  and,  by  their  united  interference, 
the  stranger  was  permitted  to  lodge  in  the  house  ;  and, 
as  no  bed  could  be  had,  he  consented  to  repose  on  an 
easy  chair  before  the  parlor  fire.  Although  her  boarders 
appeared  to  confide  perfectly  in  the  stranger's  honesty, 
it  was  not  so  with  Mrs.  Franklin.  With  suspicious  cau- 
tion she  collected  her  silver  spoons,  pepper  box  and  por- 
ringer from  her  closet,  and,  after  securing  the  parlor 
door  by  sticking  a  fork  over  the  latch,  carried  the  plate 
to  her  chamber,  charged  the  negro  man  to  sleep  with  his 
clothes  on,  to  take  the  great  cleaver  to  bed  with  him, 
and  to  waken  and  seize  the  vagrant  at  the  first  noise  h'? 
made  in  attempting  to  plunder  the  house.  Having  thus 
taken  every  precaution,  she  retired  to  bed  with  her 
maid,  whom  she  had  compelled  to  sleep  in  her  room. 

Mrs.  Franklin  rose  before  the  sun,  roused  her  domes- 
tics, unfastened  the  parlor  door  with  timid  caution,  and 
was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  her  guest  quietly  sleep- 
ing in  the  chair.  A  sudden  transition  from  extreme  mis- 
trust to  perfect  confidence  was  natural.  She  awakened 
him  with  a  cheerful  good  morning,  inquired  how  he  had 
rested,  and  invited  him  to  partake  of  her  breakfast, 
which  was  always  given  previous  to  that  of  her  board- 
ers. "And  pray,  sir,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  she  sipped 
her  chocolate,  "  as  you  appear  to  be  a  stranger  here,  to 
what  distant  country  do  you  belong  ?  " 

"  I,  madam  ?  I  belong  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia  ?  " 

At  the  mention  of  Philadelphia  the  doctor  declared 
that  he  had  for  the  first  time  perceived  any  emotion  iD 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


129 


"Philadelphia?"  said  she;  and  the  mother  suffused 
her  eye.  "If  you  live  in  Philadelphia,  perhaps  you 
know  our  Ben.  ?" 

"Who,  madam?" 

"  Why  Ben.  Franklin,  my  Ben. ;  oh,  he  is  the  dearest 
child  that  ever  blessed  a  mother  1 " 

"  What,"  said  the  doctor,  "is  Ben.  Franklin,  the  print- 
er, your  son  I  Why  he  i«  my  most  intimate  friend ;  he 
and  I  lodged  in  the  same  room." 

"  Oh,  God  forgive  me ! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  rais- 
ing her  watery  eyes  to  heaven ;  and  I  have  suffered  an 
acquaintance  of  my  Benny  to  sleep  on  this  hard  chair 
while  I  myself  rested  on  a  good  bed  ! " 

How  the  doctor  discovered  himself  to  his  mother  he 
has  not  informed  us  ;  but,  from  the  above  experiment, 
he  was  firmly  convinced,  and  was  often  afterwards  heard 
fco  declare,  that  natural  affection  does  not  exist 


Salem  Town,  L.  L.  D.  ^ 

While  noble  enterprises  and  great  achieve^^uts 
among  any  nation  or  people  win  our  admiration,  and 
while  we  wish  all  laudable  endeavors  a  full  success, 
irrespective  of  position,  sex  or  color,  we  still  are  con- 
scious of  deeper  thrills  of  pride  and  triumph— if  we  may 
use  those  two  words  in  connection  with  our  weak  mortal 
struggles  and  attainments — when  we  find  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  poverty,  hemmed  in  by  the  obstacles 
besetting  the  pathway  of  the  poor  and  humble,  bravely 
surmounting  the  difficulties  of  their  station  and  rising 
step  by  step  Howard  success  and  fame. 

The  name  of  Salem  Town,  L.  L,  D.,  is  familiar  as  a 
household  word,  by  reason  of  his  connection  with 
educational  books.  He  w*6  born  in  Belchertown,  Mass., 
March  5th,  1779,  during  the  dark  days  of  the  Revolution. 
His  earliest  recollections  were  connected  with  the  season 
of  exhaustion  and  poverty  following  the  establishment 
of  American  Independence. 

His  parents  were  poor,  and  his  opportunities  for 
gaining  knowledge  from  books  extremely  limited  ;  but, 
as  I  have  said  before,  obstacles  sometimes  operate  as 
incentives  to  success,  if  the  ardent  mind  is  powerful 
enough  to  grapple  with  them. 

His  thirst  for  learning  was  insatiable,  and  from  all  the 
available  sources,  scanty  though  they  were,  he  gathered 
up  knowledge.  Desiring  a  college  education,  he 
obtained  his  father's  consent,  the  Summer  that  he  was 
twenty  years  old,  that  after  the  farm  work  of  Autumn 
was  finished  he  might  study  six  weeks  with  the  minister 
of  the  town,  if,  during  the  Summer,  he  would  commit  to 
memory  the  Latin  grammar  without  interfering  with 
the  necessary  labor. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  why  the  father  proposed  this 
task,  unless  he  unwisely  fixed  upon  it  as  a  penance  for 
his  son's  aspiring  aims.  We  hope  some  nobler  purpose 
moved  him  to  the  proposition.  But  young  Town  was 
able  to  meet  the  difficulty.  He  tied  the  book  to  the 
plow  and  studied  as  he  toiled  along  the  furrows,  and  in 
this  manner  committed  the  whole  book  to  memory. 
With  like  perseverance,  toiling  in  the  Summer  and 
attending  school  only  a  few  weeks  in  the  Winter,  he 
struggled  on,  his  brave  soul  cheered  by  some  inward 
assurance  of  success,  until,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two, 
he  was  prepared  to  enter  Middlebury  College,  Vermont, 
where  he  completed  his  regular  course  with  well  won 
success. 

His  design  was  to  enter  the  ministry  *,  but  after  spend- 
ing nearly  a  year  in  reviewing  his  studies,  extending  his 
researches  into  science  and  reading  history  and  various 
standard  works,  he  engaged  in  teaching,  and  directly 
became  so  interested  in  this  work  as  to  resolve  to  devote 
his  life  to  it.  His  success  as  a  teacher  soon  secured  him 
a  call  to  take  charge  of  the  Granville  Academy,  New 
York,  where  he  remained  for  sixteen  years.  In  1823,  he 
went  by  invitation  to  Powalton,  Georgia,  and  took  charge 
of  a  large  academy  there  for  three  years,  but  did  not 
remove  his  family.  A  year  later  he  returned  North  and 
fixed  his  permanent  residence  at  Aurora,  on  the  eastern 
shores  of  Cayuga  Lake,  where  he  took  charge,  for  many 
years,  of  the  oldest  academy  in  Western  Ne\/  vDrk. 
Who  can  number  the  minds  which,  during  has  many 
faithful  years'  labors,  he  molded  to  win  eminent  posi- 
tions in  the  world,  and  who  can  number  the  blessings 
called  down  upon  his  noble  life  by  those  whom  his 
precept  and  example  won  to  the  right  way  of  knowledge 
and-auccfiS8i» 


His  reputation  for  tact  and  fidelity  in  imparting  learn- 
ing created  for  him  so  enviable  a  reputation,  that  various 
Counties  and  State  Superintendents  of  schools  invited 
him  to  devote  himself  to  conducting  Teachers' 
Institutes,  in  which  work  he  continued  as  long  as  his 
years  and  strength  permitted.  He  became  known  in 
this  work  in  seven  of  the  States,  and  organized  and  pre- 
sided over  forty  different  institutes,  and  had  such  a  *hing 
been  possible,  he  could  have  had  the  charge  of  as  many 
more. 

Dr.  Town  possessed  rare  talents  for  teaching.  Being 
himself  a  careful  student,  practical,  clear  and  simple  in 
views  and  aims,  he  was  able  to  present  problems  and 
the  intricacies  of  study  in  so  plain  and  simple  a  form  as 
to  make  everything  easily  understood  by  his  scholars. 
He  rightly  ranked  the  teacher's  profession  above  all 
others,  because  of  its  power  to  make  or  mar  the  young 
and  plastic  character.  Having  experienced  in  his  own 
,  early  struggles  the  imperfections  of  the  current  school 
books,  he  undertook  to  correct  the  evil. 

His  first  work  was  the  famous  "  Analysis  of  Derivative 
Words  in  the  English  Language,"  and  it  being  the  first 
work  of  the  kind  published,  after  successive  revisions  it 
has  become  a  standard  book.  The  same  taste  for 
language  led  him  to  prepare  a  "  Spelling  Book  "on  an 
entirely  new  plan,  which  is  widely  known  and  approved, 
together  with  his  "  Series  of  Readers,"  which  were  so 
popular  that,  after  many  years,  they  created  a  demand 
for  another  series.  His  interest  and  labor  in  simplifying 
the  processes  of  education  should  entitle  him  to  the 
lasting  gratitude  of  the  student  world. 

Dr.  Town  was  a  model  of  industry.  He  rightly  con- 
sidered idleness  as  a  vice,  and  to  his  latest  days  work 
was  his  especial  delight,  for  he  fully  realized  that 
without  persistent  mental  and  physical  labor — bound, 
as  was  his  youth,  in  the  chains  of  poverty — he  never 
could  have  reached  the  prosperous  eminence  of  his  later 
years. 

He  was  faithful  and  punctual.  He  made  it  a  point  to 
do  all  that  he  could,  binding  it  down,  however,  under 
the  greater  law  of  doing  whatever  he  undertook  to  do 
as  well  as  he  could.  He  was  of  a  kind  and  loving  nature, 
and  his  attachments  without  "variableness  or  the 
shadow  of  turning."  Hopeful,  cheerful,  smiling,  he 
was  like  embodied  sunlight  in  the  pathway  of  life.  Full 
of  charity,  he  loved  all  mankind.  He  was  a  patriot,  and 
his  native  land  was  an  object  of  reverence,  and  he  most 
earnestly  prayed  for  its  peace  and  prosperity.  His  life 
reached  from  the  early  struggle  for  independence  to  the 
terrible  disruption  of  our  later  war.  But  being  a 
Christian,  humble,  ardent,  and  full  of  faith,  he 
"  Trusted  in  Jesus 
To  bear  us  safely  through." 
He  lived  almost  to  his  eighty-fifth  birthday,  dying 
February  24th,  1864.  He  died  at  a  son's  residence,  in 
Greencastle,  Indiana,  and  was  buried  in  a  spot  chosen  by 
himself,  on  a  beautiful  hillock  overlooking  the  lake,  on 
whose  pleasant  shores  he  had  spent  many  years  of  his 
useful  life. 

What  a  lesson  this  good  man's  life  affords  1  Full  of 
care  for  fellow  man,  searching  out  for  them  the 
smoothest  pathway  to  earthly  success,  molding  their 
minds  to  embrace  the  glorious  watchword  "Excelsior," 
and  at  last,  when  he  had  done  what  he  could,  his  life 
going  out  here  in  full  and  perfect  peace  like  a  Summer 
day's  sweet  decline  1 

Dr.  Town  evidently  strove  to  interest  the  scholar's 
mind.  This,  no  doubt,  was  his  reason  for  simplifying, 
or  making  plain,  many  studies ;  and  if  it  were  only 
possible  for  parents  to  realize  what  a  responsibility  rests 
upon  them  in  regard  to  the  training  of  their  children 
before  they  are  old  enough,  or  before  circumstances  will 
allow  them  to  be  brought  under  school  discipline,  we 
can  but  believe  that  the  list  of  criminals  in  our  land 
would  be  sensibly  diminished.  Do  not  turn  your  little 
ones  into  the  street  for  the  sake  of  getting  rid  of  their 
noise ;  do  not  let  them  run  at  large  with  unknown  or 
vicious  associates.  When  your  own  time  is  unavoidably 
occupied,  strive  to  give  them  a  few  good  books,  or  teU 
them  of  good  men  and  women,  whose  lives,  like  Dr. 
Town's,  have  been  fully  occupied  with  noble  endeavors 
[or  the  elevation  of  the  masses  of  mankind.  Stamp 
apon  your  soul  the  terrible  significance  of  the  fact  that 
in  unoccupied  mind  is  like  a  dangerous  waste,  liable  to 
be  infected  and  permanently  occupied  by  unclean  and 
savacje  beasts. 


THE  GROWING  TVORLD. 


Daniel  Drew. 

In  taking  notes  of  the  life  of  Daniel  Drew,  we  find  that 
he  comes  into  the  list  of  America's  eminent  men,  who 
have  carved  their  pathway  up  the  hill  of  fame  with 
energetic  and  persistent  endeavors.  In  the  common 
reading  of  the  day,  wo  find,  too  often,  the  account  that 
a  sort  of  fairy  god-mother,  or  rich  uncle  from  India, 
eteps  in  to  aid  and  insure  success  to  struggling  genius. 
Fortunately  for  the  youth  of  America,  in  all  these  truth- 
ful biographies,  they  will  find  none  of  this  unreal,  per- 
nicious delusion  cliuging  to  the  life  of  the  heroes.  The 
road  which  they  traveled ;  the  success  to  which  they 
attained,  is  possible  for  every  young  reader  to-day. 

Daniel  Drew  was  bom  in  humble  life  in  the  town  of 
Carmel,  Putnam  County,  New  York,  on  the  29th  of 
July,  1797.  He  was  a  farmer's  boy,  with  only  a  chance 
at  the  district  school  during  the  winter  terms  to  gain  a 
knowledge  of  reading,  writing,  geography,  arithmetic, 
and  history.  His  father's  death  occurred  when  he  was 
fifteen  years  old,  and  the  war  with  Great  Britain  being 
in  progress  at  the  time,  Daniel  came  to  New  York  City 
in  a  North  River  sloop,  and  hired  himself  out  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  a  drafted  soldier. 

Having  served  out  his  time  in  the  army,  he  returned 
to  Putnam  County.  At  that  time,  the  Hudson  River 
counties  supplied  the  City  of  New  York  with  nearly  all 
the  food  which  it  consumed.  It  was  the  custom  of 
drovers  to  scour  those  counties  for  every  description  of 
live  stock :  even  turkeys  were  brought  in  in  droves  to 
the  New  York  markets.  These  drovers  were  shrewd, 
energetic  men,  with  a  taste  for  their  roving  and  uncer- 
tain life.  Young  Drew  took  naturally  to  this  business. 
It  afforded  peculiar  scope  for  his  independent  character. 
Used  to  active  labor  in  out-of-door  employments,  he  was 
especially  fitted  to  this  business  ;  and  his  success  soon 
became  marked  and  secure.  His  habits  were  regular 
and  his  word  reliable.  He  particularly  prided  himself 
upon  his  reputation  for  truthfulness  and  fair  dealing, 
and  once  an  Orange  County  farmer  hesitated  about 
trusting  him  with  a  steer  until  he  should  get  returns 
from  his  drove.  Much  enraged,  young  Drew  remarked, 
that  in  five  years  he  would  own  the  ground  upon  which 
they  were  then  standing,  and  before  the  allotted  time, 
he  did  own  it,  and  it  remains  In  possession  of  the  Drew 
family  yet. 

In  l8a9,  he  made  New  York  his  permanent  place  of 
residence,  establishing  himself  at  the  comer  of  Thurd 
Avenue  and  Twenty-third  street,  where  he  continued  in 
the  cattle  trade.  His  means  had  increased  rapidly,  and 
he  purchased  the  first  large  drove  of  cattle  that  ever 
crossed  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  and  at  that  time  he 
must  have  been  worth  at  least  $40,000.  This  drove 
numbered  two  thousand  head,  and  had  been  bought  in 
the  villages  of  Ohio  and  Kentucky.  The  journey  to 
jnarket  occupied  two  months'  time,  and  the  cattle  cost 
twelve  dollars  a  head  to  transport  them.  Now,  they 
could  be  moved  by  rail  that  distance  in  six  daj^fc  Thii 
proved  a  fortunate  speculation,  and  so  his  business 
steadily  increased. 

Mr.  Drew's  connection  with  the  steamboat  interest 
was  the  result  of  an  accident.  In  1834,  the  steamboat 
General  Lee,  running  from  New  York  to  Peekskill,  blew 
up  at  Grassy  Point.  In  the  new  boat  which  succeeded 
this  one,  Mr.  Drew  was  induced  by  a  friend,  to  take  a 
$1,000  share.  Commodore  Vanderbilt  built  another 
boat,  and  put  her  on  this  line  as  a  rival  steamer.  Thus, 
these  two  powerful  men  were  pitted  against  each  other, 
but  Drew's  "Waterwitch"  had  the  public  sympathy, 
which  probably  brought  about  the  compromise  between 
the  rival  factions,  and  Vanderbilt's  boat  was  taken  off 
the  line. 

In  1836,  Mr.  Drew  placed  two  steamers  on  the  night 
Hne  to  Albany,  reducing  the  fare  two-thirds.  Of  course 
a  war  ensued  between  these  rivals,  and  another  compro- 
mise was  effected,  order  was  restored,  and  the  rival 
lines  agreed  to  divide  the  trade  and  the  profits. 

In  1839,  Drew  &  Co.,  with  Mr.  Isaac  Newton,  for  many 
years  known  in  connection  with  the  North  River  interests, 
and  who  had  just  completed  two  fine  boats,  the  "  North  " 
and  "South  America,"  formed  a  joint  stock  company 
under  the  name  of  the  Peoples'  Line,  in  which  Mr. 
Drew  became  the  largest  shareholder.  This  line,  under 
his  management,  has  been  popular  with  the  public. 
From  time  to  time  new  boats  were  added,  and  in  1845,  the 


a  palace— three  hundred  feet  long,  and  contained  five 
hundred  sleeping  berths.  She  and  another  new  boat, 
the  "New  York,"  were  floating  palaces  on  the  night 
line.  In  1857,  it  cost  for  new  machmery  and  to  refit 
and  refurnish  these  two  boats,  a  Quarter  of  a  million 
dollars. 

Afterwards,  the  "Dean  Richmond," thb  "St.  John," 
and  "  Daniel  Drew  "—unequalled  by  any  steamers  in  the 
world— were  built  and  added  to  those  already  on  the 
line. 

Since  Mr.  Drew  became  interested  In  steamboat  busi* 
ness,  the  great  railways  of  the  West  have  been  con- 
stmcted,  and  the  business  of  New  York  city  has  mar- 
velously  increased.  Mr.  Drew  changed  the  character 
and  appointments  of  his  boats  to  meet  the  wants  of  the 
times,  hence  his  success,  although  at  the  start,  Mr. 
Vanderbilt  thought  unfavorably  of  Mr.  Drew's  ability 
to  manage  this  special  branch  of  business,  and  advised 
him  not  to  embark  extensively  in  it. 

His  attention  had  gradually  ebbed  away  from  the 
cattle  trade  and  merged  into  railroad,  steamboat,  and 
stock  operations.  But  he  speculated  on  the  knowledge 
of  facts,  and  not  with  a  gambler's  reckless  passion. 

He  ventured  carefully  at  first  into  Wall  Street  broker- 
age business.  He  had  for  some  time  discounted  notes, 
and  been  a  sort  of  general  banker  for  the  New  York 
drovers  in  their  extensive  transactions. 

For  twelve  years  Mr.  Drew  was  associated  with  Nelson 
Robinson  and  R.  W.  Kelly  in  the  brokerage  business  on 
an  immense  scale.  When  the  two  partners  died,  with 
but  a  few  years  between  their  deaths,  Mr.  Drew  was  left 
sole  proprietor  of  an  immense  business,  varied,  compli- 
cated, and  involving  many  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
While  disentangling  this  web  of  speculative  enterprises, 
he  remained  sort  of  isolated,  and  pushed  on  the  business 
with  herculean  energy. 

In  1850,  he  and  Commodore  Vanderbilt  purchased  a 
controlling  interest  in  the  Stonington  and  Boston  Rail- 
road. They  built  the  handsome  steamers  "  Commodore 
and  "C.  Vanderbilt,"  and  engaged  in  transporting 
freight,  passengers  and  mail  between  New  York  and 
Boston.  Mr.  Drew  was  the  principal  owner  of  the 
Ohamplain  transportatioii,  and  kept  five  boats  running 
between  Whitehall  and  Canada.  He  sold  out  his  in- 
terest, however,  in  1856,  and  connected  himself  with  the 
Erie  Railroad.  He  invested  much  money  here,  and 
eaved  the  route  from  the  dangers  of  insolvency. 

In  1857,  he  became  director  of  the  Harlem  road,  which, 
at  that  time,  was  much  depressed  in  credit.  His  name, 
and  that  of  VanderbLlt,  here  acted  as  a  buoy  to  keep  the 
tnteresta  of  the  road  from  sinking,  and  restored  its 
credit. 

lis  speculations  were  bold,  partaking  of  the  hazardous 
by  times,  yet  unparalleled  success  crowned  his  enter- 
prises. But,  his  success  was  based  upon  fundamental 
principles  that  seldom  allow  a  man  to  be  wrecked.  He 
was  diligent,  economical,  intelligent,  and  temperate. 
Through  every  period  of  his  career  as  a  drover,  a  steam, 
boat  owner,  and  speculating  broker,  we  find  that  he  ap- 
plied himself  with  increasing  perseverance  to  his  work, 
and  after  he  became  independent  in  monetary  matters, 
be  relaxed  not  a  muscle  in  his  long  and  steady  efforts  to 
bring  his  fortune  to  the  highest  leveL  That  fortune 
soon  counted  up  into  the  millions. 
"  Interested  in  religious  matters,  he  erected  in  his  native 
place,  a  handsome  church,  at  a  cost  of  $20,000.  At 
Sharon,  a  few  miles  distant  from  this  church,  he  largely 
assisted  in  building  another.  He  gave  to  the  church  in 
New  York,  with  which  he  was  connected,  something 
near  the  sum  of  $50,000.  He  gave  for  the  building  of  a 
theological  seminary  in  Madison,  New  Jersey,  the 
princely  donation  of  $500,000.  To  this,  other  buildings 
were  added,  and  a  beautiful  tract  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  acres  of  land.  We  mention  these  as  his  latest  gifts, 
but  as  he  is  not  considered  parsimonious^  we  may  safely 
credit  him  with  many  lesser  benefactions.  He  was 
noted  for  his  firmness  of  character;  and  as  he  never 
meddled  with  affairs  beyond  his  ready  comprehension, 
he  was  a  small  talker — being  noted,  in  fact,  as  a  man  of 
work  instead  of  a  man  of  words. 

While  we  neither  endorse  nor  condemn  speculation, 
allowing  every  person  free,  unbiased  conviction  upon 
the  matter,  yet  we  can  safely  applaud  that  temperance, 
energy,  and  steady  enterprise,  that  won  for  Danie) 
Drew,  and  will  win  for  others,  financial  success.  Mean- 


"  Isaac  Newton  "  waa  i»*ilt  for  this  company.  5?»«<J!ji«3s,^>vhile,  young  ttud  old  reader,  whether  you  are  possessed 


THE  GROWrNG  WORLD. 


of  the  one  or  the  five  talents ;  whether  you  are  ruler 
over  the  few  or  the  many  things,  remember  that  "the 
earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fullness  thereof,"  and  we,  but 
His  stewards  abiding  for  a  time,  and  of  whom  sure 
record  will  be  kept,  and  strict  account  demanded.  Im- 
prove every  talent— there  are  divers  gifts  for  different 
natures— and,  you  know,  if  you  make  good  use  of  the 
faculties,  the  strength,  the  genius,  which  God  has  given 
you  by-and-by,  there  will  come  a  "  well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant,"  that  will  recompense  the  toil  and 
privations  of  life  and  time. 

Salmon  P.  Chase. 

Salmon  P.  Chase  was  bom  at  Cornish,  New  Hamp- 
shire on  the  13th  of  January,  1808.  His  father  died  when 
Salmon  was  nine  vears  of  age,  leaving  only  a  pittance 
for  the  support  of  his  family.  But  the  mother  was  a 
woman  of  great  thrift  and  with  the  superior  energy  of 
character  derived  from  her  Scottish  blood  ;  therefore  she 
kept  her  family  comfortable  and  respectable.  The  sub- 
ject of  this  biography  received  his  first  instruction  from 
her,  but  was  afterwards  sent  to  a  public  school  at 
Keene,  from  which  he  passed  into  a  boarding-school  at 
Windsor,  Vermont,  kept  by  one  of  his  father's  friends. 

He  made  rapid  progress  in  Latin,  Greek  and  mathe- 
matics. 

In  the  spring  of  1830,  Bishop  Chase — Salmon's  uncle — 
.offered  to  receive  the  boy  into  his  family  and  educate 
him.  Mrs.  Chase  accepted  the  offer,  and  during  the 
summer  Salmon  set  out  on  the  then  long,  toilsome  jour- 
ney to  Ohio.  The  tiresome  way  was  gotten  over  at  last, 
and  the  boy  safely  reached  his  uncle  in  the  interior  of  the 
State.  Here  he  was  set  to  earning  his  own  living 
directly,  being  put  to  the  menial  tasks  of  a  "  boy  of  all 
work." 

His  tasks  were  so  many  and  troublesome  that  his 
studies  were  seriously  interfered  with,  and  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  could  he  keep  up  with  his  class.  He 
did  keep  up,  however,  and  in  1831  he  was  Greek  Orator 
at  the  Commencement  exercises  of  the  bishop's  school. 

He  exhibited  great  proficiency  in  English  branches 
and  composition.  He  is  represented  as  pure-minded, 
utterly  abominating  anything  vicious  or  dishonorable. 
He  was  industriously  attentive  to  business,  and  his  farm 
labors  interfered  often  with  his  recitations  ;  but  having 
so  great  a  fondness  for  books  and  study,  he  managed  to 
surpass  youths  of  his  own  age  who  had  had  greater  ad- 
vantages. He  was  quite  indifferent  to  mere  external  ap- 
pearances, finding  greater  enjoyment  in  internal  culture 
than  in  external  adornments. 

In  1833  Bishop  Chase  was  .elected  president  of  the 
college  at  Cincinnati,  whither  Salmon  went  with  his 
uncle's  family.  Here  his  position  was  bettered.  There 
was  less  hard  work  and  more  leisure  for  study.  He 
entered  the  freshman  class,  and  had  reached  the  sopho- 
more class,  when  his  uncle  resigned  his  position  and 
devoted  himself  to  the  task  of  establishing  Kenyon  Col- 
lege, which  owes  its  existence  to  him. 

This  project  of  the  bishop  necessitated  his  taking  a 
voyage  to  England,  and  so  the  whole  current  of  the 
young  man's  plans  were  changed.  He  was  obliged  to 
return  to  New  Hampshire.  He  made  the  larger  part  of 
the  journey  on  foot,  and  reached  Keene  in  the  fall  of 
1833.  He  obtained  the  position  of  teacher  in  the  public 
school ;  then,  as  soon  as  practicable,  at  Royalton  Aca- 
demy he  prepared  himself  to  enter  college.  In  1836  he 
was  an  honorary  graduate  of  Dartmouth  College. 

At  this  time  Salmon's  uncle  was  in  Washington,  Senator 
from  Vermont,  The  young  man  applied  to  the  bishop 
to  obtain  a  clerkship  for  him.  His  relation  refused,  as 
he  said,  to  ruin  the  nephew's  prospects  by  helping  him 
to  a  government  office. 

Young  Chase  then  opened  a  school  in  Washington. 
Among  his  pupils  were  sons  of  Henry  Clay,  William 
Wirt  and  other  distinguished  men.  Every  spare  mo- 
ment, when  not  engaged  with  his  school  duties,  he 
studied  law  under  the  brilliant  Attorney  General  of  the 
United  States,  William  Wirt.  He  continued  his  school 
until  he  had  finished  his  law  studies  and  was  admitted 
to  the  bar  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  in  February  1830. 
He,  however,  elected  to  return  to  Ohio  to  practice  his 
profession.  While  struggling  with  the  vicissitudes  of 
fortune,  he  prepared  a  compilation  of  the  Statutes  of 
Ohio,  prefaced  with  a  history  of  the  State,  and  enriched 
with  numerou'3  notes.     This  work,  comprising  three 


large  volumes,  was  a  monument  of  industry,  and  soon 
took  the  place  of  all  other  similar  works.  This  achieve- 
ment won  Mr.  Chase  a  high  reputation ;  and  in  1834  he 
was  given  the  position  of  Solicitor  of  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States  in  Cincinnati.  4n  a  little  time  he  was 
given  charge  of  the  business  of  another  of  the  city 
banks,  and  his  practice  steadily  increased. 

About  this  time  the  politics  of  the  country  were  in  a 
huge  ferment— anti-slavery  and  pro-slavery  elements 
svarring  against  each  other — Mr.  Chase  took  sides  with 
ihe  anti-slavery  party,  bringing  prophecies  of  ruin  upon, 
himself.  However,  in  1843,  the  Ohio  Legislature  elected 
'.um  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  In  1855  Salmon 
F.  Chase  was  elected  Governor  of  Ohio.  Afterwards  he 
was  urged  to  accept  the  nomination  for  the  Presidency, 
but  declined  to  do  so,  and  instead,  gave  hi.«!  support  to 
jcneral  Fremont  after  his  nomination  at  the  Conven- 
aon. 

Mr.  Chase's  reputation  as  a  statesman  steadily  increased. 
En  1860  he  gave  his  talents  to  support  the  party  which 
aominated  Mr.  Lincoln  for  President.  Lincoln  appointed 
Mr.  Chase  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  but  he  reluctantly 
accepted  the  office  :  he  also  assumed  a  part  of  the  duties 
of  the  Secretary  of  War.  We  find  him  a  prominent  actor 
during  the  financial  crisis  of  the  great  struggle.  He 
was  active  in  effecting  the  issue  of  government  bonds, 
and  in  instituting  the  National  Bank  system.  Greatly 
assisted  by  his  enterprise,  the  government  was  enabled 
to  meet  the  demands  upon  it  during  our  exhausting 
war. 

Overtaxed  by  his  severe  and  trying  labors,  wMcilwere 
not  fully  appreciated,  in  1864  Mr.  Chase  resigned  his 
secretaryship,  feeling  that  he  was  not  longer  needed  to 
sustain  the  important  changes  which  his  enterprise  had 
effected. 

On  the  death  of  Chief  Justice  Taney,  Mv.  Lincoln  ap- 

gointed  Mr.  Chase  as  his  successor.  In  this  position  he 
ut  added  to  his  previous  laurels.  His  decisions  com- 
mand the  respect  of  nations,  they  are  marked  by  extra- 
ordinary force  and  ability.  He  discharged  the  onerous 
duties  falling  to  his  situation  with  that  delicate  tact  and 
fine  judgment  that  robbed  the  decisions  of  the  sting  of 
partiality  or  partisanship,  and  hushv>d  even  the  criticisms 
of  political  enemies. 

But  the  mind  and  body  are  so  hinged  together  that  the 
over-pressure  or  taxing  of  one  affects  the  other. 

Mr.  Chase's  overstrained  nerves  gave  warning  of 
haustion.  However,  he  continued  to  discharge  his 
duties  until  late  in  the  spring  of  1870.  His  failing 
strength  then  warned  him  to  seek  a  respite  from  toil. 
Alas  1  too  late  he  heeded  the  voice  of  prudence.  He 
was  stricken  with  paralysis,  and,  although  under  medi- 
cal treatment,  he  partially  recovered,  in  about  two  years 
after  the  first  attack  the  second  and  fatal  stroke  bore 
him  beyond  the  woes  and  wants  of  time.  He  died  May 
17th,  1873,  aged  sixty-five. 
One  more  of  America's  illustrious  and  self-made  men. 


Pompeii. 

Excavations  in  this  "  city  ot  the  plains,-*  buried  many 
centuries  ago,  show  us  that  the  bakers  had  their  imprint 
on  the  bottom  of  the  loaves,  that  they  used  pastry  molds 
not  very  unlike  those  used  in  New  York  and  other  cities 
to-day.  They  had  urns  for  hot  water  similar  to  ours, 
some  few  glass-bottles,  steel-yards  for  weighing,  com- 
passes, parallel  rules,  and  scores  of  other  articles  which 
we  sometimes  fancy  are  wholly  of  modern  date.  The  hot 
baths  of  the  city,  like  those  in  Roman  Italy,  are  the  ad- 
miration of  the  present  generation,  not  merely  for  their 
extent  for  which  there  is  no  match  in  modem  times,  but_ 
for  the  perfection  of  their  arrangement.  In  architec" 
ture,  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  usefulness  of  modem 
styles  ;  this,  at  least,  will  be  confessed,  that  in  beauty 
we  hardly  equal  the  ancients. 

The  ruins  of  the  Foram  at  Pompeii  has  pillars,  the 
architecture  of  which  is  some  of  the  richest  in  the  world. 

While  we  admire  the  beauties  uncovered  in  Pompeii, 
we  shudder  at  the  tales  thus  unfolded  to  the  day — the 
sudden,  flreydoom  that  overwhelmed  them — the  tidal 
wave  of  molten  heat  overtook  and  destroyed  them  even 
as  they  fled  with  hands  laden  with  gems  and  gold,  and 
only  in  that  day  when  oil  secrets  shall  be  reavealed  can 
we  know  why  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum  were  taken  and 
1  other  cities  left  unscorched. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


FAME. 

BT  J.  P. 
I. 

The  Orator  spoke,  and  the  crowd  was  hush'd, 
Men  held  their  breath  as  the  quick  words  rushed; 
Stern  eyes  grew  tearful,  cold  hearts  grew  hot; 
Though  the  hours  sped  by  they  heeded  them  not; 
And  they  swore  not  their  fault  if  they  liv'd  not  to  see 
The  tyrant  dead  and  their  country  free. 

The  Orator  ceases— the  curtain  falls, 
The  echoes  die  through  the  tenantless  walls — 
They  fought  in  vain,  for  the  Orator's  word 
Stayed  not  the  sweep  of  the  tyrant's  sword. 
And  the  riveted  chain  clanked  on  as  before. 
And  the  orator's  words  are  remembered  no  more, 

Scanty  his  guerdon,  scanty  his  fame, 

He  lives  in  story,  only  a  name. 

II. 

The  Poet  sang  and  the  earth  grew  still. 
And  he  moulded  men's  hearts  at  his  own  sweet  will; 
And  they  ask'd  his  name  that  it  mi^ht  be  enroU'd 
With  the  names  of  earth's  greatest  in  letters  of  gold — 
And  his  pale  cheek  flush'd  and  his  heart  beat  high. 
And  he  said — "Nor  my  name  nor  my  song  shall  die." 

He  paus'd,  and  earth's  voices,  silent  so  long. 

Grew  sevenfold  louder,  and  drown'd  his  song. 

As  the  tide  of  time  thro'  the  centuries  roU'd 

The  rust  eat  in  thro'  the  letters  of  gold; 

And  newer  songs  seemed  sweeter  to  men. 

And  the  Poet's  songs  are  not  heard  again. 

Save  by  a  few,  with  less  heart  than  head. 

Who  grope  for  his  thoughts  in  a  tongue  that  is  dead. 
Scanty  his  guerdon,  scanty  his  fame. 
He  left  in  story  scarce  aught  but  a  name. 

III. 

The  Thinker  eat  pale  in  his  lonely  cell. 

And  mus'd  on  the  thoughts  be  had  shap'd  so  well; 

And  his  keen  eye  iook'd  through  the  coming  years, 

And  he  saw,  thro'  the  haze  of  his  happy  tears. 

His  shapely  thought  thro'  the  world  expand 

Till  its  impress  was  stamped  on  the  sea  and  the  land; 

And  he  thought  to  himself,  'mid  his  vision  of  fame, — 

"  Surely  the  world  will  remember  my  name." 

And  the  Thinker  died,  and  his  thought  went  forth 

To  the  east  and  the  west,  to  the  south  and  the  north; 

But  talent  such  changes  on  genius  rang 

That  the  world  forgot  from  whose  brain  it  sprang; 

And  men  deem'd  that  the  fruit  of  the  thought  of  the  sage 

Waa  the  slow  grown  produce  of  many  an  age. 

Scanty  his  guerdon,  scanty  his  fame, 

He  left  in  story  not  even  a  name. 


t    --TT—  .  ■  - 

Eli  "Whitney  and  the  Cotton  G-in. 

One  day  in  the  fall  of  1792,  a  number  of  Georgiaf 
planters  were  assembled  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Nathaniel 
Greene,  widow  of  the  famous  General  Greene  of  the 
Revolution.  The  conversation  naturally  turned  upon 
the  depressed  condition  of  the  Southern  States  since 
the  close  of  the  war.  The  planters  were  generally  deeply 
in  debt ;  their  plantations  were  heavily  mortgaged,  and 
there  was  little  hope  of  their  ever  being  able  to  pay 
them  off. 

Cotton,  the  chief  product,  although  there  was  a  ready 
sale  for  it,  hardly  paid  for  raising,  on  account  of  the 
immense  amount  of  labor  required  to  separate  it  from 
the  seeds.  A  gentleman  present  suggested  that  it  might 
be  possible  to  invent  a  machine  which  would  gin  the 
cotton  (as  the  process  was  called),  thus  saving  the  great 
expense  of  picking  it  over  by  hand. 

At  this  juncture,  Mrs.  Greene,  who  had  been  an  at- 
tentive listener  to  the  conversation,  interrupted  them 
with  the  remark  that  she  would  refer  them  to  her  young 
friend,  Mr.  "Whitney,  saying,  "  He  can  make  anything." 
Eli  Whitney  was  callea  in  from  another  room,  and  the 
subject  of  the  conversation  stated  to  him.  He  replied 
•that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  process  of  ginning  cotton, 
and  that  he  had  never  even  seen  any  of  the  material  in 
its  raw  state.  The  conversation  soon  drifted  into  another 
channel,  and  the  subject  was  soon  forgotten  by  all  save 
young  Whitney. 

Let  us  now  review  a  brief  sketch  of  the  life  of  Eli 
Whitney.  He  was  one  of  those  sturdy,  self-reliant 
Massachusetts  boys,  who,  like  many  other  i  dnkee  boys, 
had  worked  his  way  unaided  through  college.  Having 
graduated  with  high  honors,  he  had  come  to  Georgia 
for  the  purpose  of  teaching.  While  here  he  had  been 
taken  sick,  and,  being  without  money,  and  without 
friends,  had  been  invited  by  Mrs.  Greene  to  make  her 
house  his  home  until  his  recovery.  During  his  residence 
with  her  he  had  constructed  for  her  many  household 
articles  which  gave  ample  proof  of  great  mechanical 
ingenuity.  Hence,  her  advice  :  "  Apply  to  Mr.  Whit- 
ney ;  he  can  make  anything." 

After  the  conversation  above  recorded,  Whitney  re- 
paired to  the  wharf  at  Savannah,  where  he  had  no  diflfi- 
culty  in  procuring  a  small  quantity  of  cotton  as  it  came 
from  the  field.  He  carried  it  to  his  room  and  com- 
menced to  experiment  with  it. 

Many  of  our  readers  have  never  seen  a  cotton  ball  or 
pod.  To  those  we  will  say  that  the  pod  grows  to  about 
the  size  of  a  hen's  egg,  when  it  bursts  open  and  a  large 
snow-white  bunch  of  cotton  pours  out.  Adhering  firmly 
to  the  fibers  are  several  seeds,  resembling  the  seeds  of  a 
lemon  in  size  and  shape.  These  seeds  must  be  separated 
from  the  cotton  before  it  can  be  of  any  use,  and  to  do 
this,  required  so  much  labor  that  cotton  raising  was  a 
poor  paying  business. 

All  the  winter  Whitney  labored  on  the  construction  of 
the  cotton  gin,  and  by  spring  he  had  it  completed.  A 
number  of  planters  were  invited  in  to  see  it  work.  A 
few  balls  of  cotton  were  thrown  into  the  hopper  and 
were  quickly  cleaned.  It  proved  a  complete  success. 
With  the  machine  one  man  could  do  the  work  of  a  hun- 
dred without  it.  It  was  so  simple,  too,  that  it  seems 
almost  wonderful  that  it  had  never  been  invented  before. 

It  consisted  of  nothing  but  a  number  of  small  parallel 
wires,  so  close  together  that  the  seeds  could  not  pass 
through.  Under  this  trough  saws  revolved,  snatching 
the  cotton,  and  separating  it  from  the  seeds. 

How  much  good  did  this  invention  do  Eli  Whitney? 
Not  one  cent's  worth.  Although  the  invention  was 
patented,  it  was  so  simple  that  infringements  without 
number  were  made  upon  it.  Suit  was  brought,  but 
Whitney  was  a  Northern  man,  and  no  Southern  jury 
would  give  him  a  verdict.  In  1808  his  patent  expired, 
and  he  withdrew  from  the  contest  a  poorer  man  than 
when  he  carried  those  few  balls  of  cotton  into  Mrs. 
Greene's  basement^  

Lbabning  Versus  Education.— It  does  not  follow  that 
every  learned  man  is  an  educated  man.  That  man  is  educated 
who  knows  himself,  and  takes  accurate,  common-sense  views 
of  men  and  things  around  him.  Some  very  learned  men  are 
the  greatest  fools  in  the  world ;  the  reason  is,  they  are  not 
educated  men.  Learning  is  only  the  means,  not  the  end ;  ita 
value  consists  in  giving  the  means  of  acquiring,  the  use  of 
which,  properly  managed,  enlightens  the  mind. 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD 


133 


Lafayette. 

Although  General  Lafayette  was  a  son  of  France,  yet 
so  intimately  is  he  connected  with  the  birth  of  our  na- 
tional independence,  that  we  claim  him  as  one  of  our 
great  men  by  right  of  adoption. 

He  was  bom  at  Charagnac,  France,  September  6, 1757. 
One  of  his  ancestors  was  a  distinguished  Marshal,another, 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  ornaments  of  the  Court  of 
Louis  XIV.  His  father  fell  in  the  battle  of  Minden,  and 
his  mother  dying  in  1770,  he  was  left  heir  of  an  immense 
estate.  He  was  educated  at  the  College  of  Plessis,  and 
at  an  early  age  married  a  lady  of  rank.  He  was  just  en- 
tering upon  vigorous  manhood,  when  republican  ideas — 
■owing  to  the  outbreaking  of  the  American  Revolutioh — 
were  filling  Europe  with  fierce  unrest. 

While  at  dinner,  in  company  with  several  notable 
French  officers,  he  listened  to  the  arguments  for  and 
^.gainst  the  revolt  of  the  Colonies,  and  every  pulse  of  his 
fiystem  beat  in  sympathy  with  the  brave,  independent 
thinkers  of  the  New  World.  He  then  and  there  resolved 
to  come  to  America  and  offer  his  sturdy  right  arm  for 
the  upholding  of  her  colonial  liberty. 

He  immediately  sought  a  secret  interview  with  the 
American  envoy,  then  at  the  Court  of  France,  and  offered 
his  services  to  Congress.  The  envoy  objected  on  ac- 
'Count  of  his  youth,  but  Lafayette  pleaded  with  ardent 
zeal,  and  so  conquered  the  envoy's  scruples  that  an 
agreement  was  then  made  and  signed,  wherein  the 
youthful  hero's  services  were  secured  to  this  country. 

The  sacrificing  ardor  of  his  purpose  was  seen,  as  he 
gave  up  fortune,  the  endearments  of  home,  and  his  high 
position  to  aid  our  cause  of  freedom.  He  concealed  his 
intentions  from  all  but  a  few  chosen,  confidential  friends. 
Meanwhile,  distressing  news  came  from  America.  There 
was  the  retreat  from  Long  Island,  the  consequent  loss  of 
New  York,  the  battle  of  White  Plains,  and  to  make  the 
disastrous  chapter  complete,the  retreat  from  New  Jersey. 

Then  some  of  the  Americans  in  France,  becoming  dis- 
heartened, tried  to  persuade  young  Lafayette  to  abandon 
his  purpose.  His  noble  response  should  forever  be  en- 
graven on  the  hearts  of  American  people.  He  listened 
to  our  envoy,  Mr.  Deane,  and  said  :  "  You  have  until 
now,  only  seen  my  ardor  in  this  cause.  That  it  is  not 
an  idle  sentiment,  I  will  now  show  you.  I  shall  pur- 
chase a  ship  to  carry  out  officers.  We  must  feel  confi- 
dence in  the  future,  and  it  is  especially  in  this  hour  of 
•danger  that  I  wish  to  unite  my  fortune  with  yours. "  He 
jsecretly  raised  money  to  purchase  arms  and  equip  a  ship, 
and  the  better  to  conceal  his  movements,  he  made  a 
journey  to  England  and  was  presented  to  the  British 
king.  He  attended  a  ball  given  by  Lord  Grenville ; 
visited  Lord  Rawdon,  afterwards  distinguished  in  the 
revolutionary  struggle ;  met  at  the  opera  Sir  Henry  Clin- 
ton, whom  he  met  next  on  the  battlefield  of  Monmouth, 
and  breakfasted  with  Lord  Shelboume,  a  warm  friend  of 
America. 

While  Lafayette  concealed  his  Intentions,  he  openly 
avowed  his  sentiments.  He  defended  the  uprising  of 
the  Colonies,  and  so  rejoiced  over  their  success  at  Tren- 
ton, that  he  won,  as  above  stated,  the  invitation  to 
breakfast  with  Lord  Shelboume. 

When  he  returned  to  France  he  found  that  his  plans 
had  been  discovered,  and  his  departure  was  forbidden  by 
the  king.  He  continued  his  preparations  undaunted, 
and  in  May,  1877,  sailed  for  America.  Arriving,  after  a 
stormy  passage,  at  Georgetown,  he  proceeded  forthwith 
to  Philadelphia,  where  he  addressed  this  remarkable 
-epistle  to  Congress  : 

"After  my  sacrifices,  I  have  the  right  to  ask  two 
favors — one  is,  to  serve  at  my  own  expense  ;  the  other  to 
t)egin  to  serve  as  a  volunteer."  Brave  words  !  Noble, 
heroic  friend!  Is  his  name  sufficiently  honored  by 
Americans  to-day  ?  Do  her  children  fully  appreciate  the 
voffering  that  this  man  laid  upon  the  altar  of  freedom  ? 

Congress,  in  consideration  of  his  zeal  and  his  illustrous 
aname  and  station,  immediately  gave  him  the  rank  of 
Major-General  of  the  American  army,  and  he  reported 
4iirectly  to  General  Washington,  by  whom  he  was  invited 
to  become  a  member  of  his  military  family. 

At  the  battle  of  Brandy  wine,  while  rallying  the  retreat- 
ing Americans,  he  was  badly  wounded  in  the  leg.  Soon 
after  he  was  appointed  to  command  an  expedition  into 
Canada,  but  as  it  proved  that  treachery  and  artifice 
caused  this  intended  movement,  it  was  abandoned.  On 
^'he  night  of  May  19,  1777,  General  Grant  undertook  to 


surprise  Lafayette,  at  Barren  Hill,  Philadelphia,  but  waa 
foiled.  At  Monmouth,  he  attacked  the  British  with 
vigor  and  success,  until  Lee  ordered  him  to  fall  back. 

When  he  had  been  in  America  some  fifteen  months, 
news  reached  him  that  war  was  likely  to  be  declared 
between  France  and  England. 

His  heart,  loyal  to  his  native  land,  now  urged  him 
home.  He  petitioned  Congress  to  let  him  return  home 
for  a  season,  promising,  however,  if  circumstances 
would  permit,  to  come  back  to  America.  His  petition 
was  granted,  a  sword  given  him,  and  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation written  in  bis  behalf  to  the  King  of  France, 
and  the  text  of  the  letter  of  Congress  was  : 

"  He  is  wise  in  council,  brave  in  battle  and  patient 
under  the  fatigues  of  war." 

He  was  received  with  great  distinction  everywhere,  but 
he  never  forgot  our  country,  and  often  found  himself 
wishing  that  the  cost  of  the  banquets  given  in  his  honor 
could  be  poured  into  the  Colonial  treasury. 

The  threatened  danger  that  had  called  him  home 
passed  over,  a  heavy  cloud  exhausting  its  thunder  and 
lightning  in  the  political  atmosphere  ;  then  he,  with 
Franklin,  used  all  his  influence  to  induce  his  Government 
to  send  a  fleet  and  army  to  America.  He  received  this 
aid,  which  was  afterwards  sent  to  us  under  Rocham- 
beau.   He  (Lafayette)  rejoined  Washington  in  May, 

He  aguin  plunged  ardently  into  the  service.  He  was 
one  of  the  court  that  tried  and  condemned  poor  Andre. 
Early  in  1781  he  was  sent  with  a  small  force  of  twelve 
hundred  men  to  assist  in  defending  Virginia.  From  his 
own  funds  he  supplied  shoes,  hats  and  tents  for  the 
destitute  army. 

Pursued  by  Comwallis,  he  skilfully  retreated  until 
joined  by  Wayne's  force  of  eight  hundred  men,  when  he 
advanced  and  placed  himself  between  the  British  army 
and  large  quantities  of  military  stores  at  Charlottesville. 
Continuing  his  retreat,  Comwallis  at  last  took  post  at 
Yorktown.  Here  Lafayette  cut  off  his  retreat  into  the 
Carolinas  and  held  him  until  the  arrival  of  Washington 
and  Rochambeau.  For  his  service  at  the  siege  of  York- 
town,  Lafayette  was  thanked  by  Washington  in  public. 
The  success  of  the  United  States  wedded  him  etemally 
to  republican  sentiments. 

After  the  surrender  of  Comwallis,  Lafayette  retumed 
to  France,  having  expended  in  the  service  of  Congress 
seven  hundred  thousand  francs — a  free  and  generous  gift 
to  the  cause  of  liberty. 

At  home  he  proved  a  great  attraction  in  the  highest 
social  circles,  and  even  in  the  presence  of  monarchy  he 
dauntlessly  advocated  republican  sentiments  and  sym- 
pathies. 

Six  years  after  the  independence  of  America,  the 
French  Revolution  broke  out,  and  he  took  an  active  in- 
terest in  the  cause  of  the  people,  as  opposed  to  the  rale 
of  kings.  In  1789,  when  he  was  commander-in-chief  of 
the  National  Guards,  and  the  abolition  of  titles  was 
decreed,  he  laid  down  his  of  Marquis,  and  was  known 
only  as  General.  In  1792,  he  was  sent  to  guard  the 
frontier.  But  his  brilliant  victories  at  Philippeville, 
Maubeurge  and  Florennes  did  not  save  him  from  Jacobin 
hate  and  envy,  and  he  was  ordered  to  be  arrested.  He 
thought  to  seek  an  asylum  in  Holland  as  a  neutral 
country,  but  at  an  Austrian  outpost  he  was  taken  pris- 
oner and  placed  in  the  dungeons  of  Olmutz,  where  his 
wife,  as  soon  as  possible,  joined  him.  Here,  in  spite  of 
all  that  England  and  America  could  say,  he  was  held  a 

grisoner  for  five  years,  and  it  was  not  until  General 
onaparte  exercised  his  almost  omnipotent  authority 
that  the  noble  prisoner  was  released. 

On  his  return  to  France  the  Government  there  helped 
him  to  recover  a  competent  estate,  and  when  the  Bour- 
bons were  restored,  an  indemnity  of  four  hundred  and 
ft^y  thousand  francs  was  allowed  him. 
.  When  affairs  were  settled  in  his  own  country,  he 
visited  the  United  States,  urged  hither  by  his  love  for 
his  commander-in-chief,  Washington.  Their  affection 
was  deep  and  strong,  like  that  which  should  exis-t  be- 
tween father  and  son.  On  this  visit  he  tarried  twelve 
days  at  Mount  Vernon,  receiving  the  most  cordial  hospi- 
tality, and  on  his  departure  a  large  cavalcade  accom- 
panied him  far  on  the  road  to  Bajtimore. 

Once  more,  after  a  lap»e  vi  /ears,  the  hero  came  to 
our  country  bt;pmg  to  aTgain  clasp  the  warm  hand  of 
Wasnington  ;  instead,  sorrowing  tears  rained  from  his 
ejes  upon  tjie  tomb  at  Mount  Vernon. 


134 


THE  GROIV'ING  WORLD. 


David  Livingstone. 

America  has  her  great  men,  and  Europe  has  her  great 
men,  and  other  countries  have  theirs,  while  there  are 
other  great  men  who  belong  to  us,  and  to  the  whole 
Xforld.  They  are  a  blessing  to  all  countries  and  king- 
doms ;  all  nations  benefit  by  their  great  or  heroic  deeds  ; 
every  mind  capable  of  reflection  and  appreciation,  in- 
In voluntarily  do  them  homage.  Therefore,  we  give  in 
brief,  the  biography  of  Dr.  David  Livingstone, 

He  was  bom  at  Bantyre,  in  Lanarkshire.  Scotland,  in 
1817.  At  the  age  of  ten  he  became  a  ''piecer"  in  a 
cotton  factory,  and  for  years  was  engaged  in  hard  labor 
as  a  factory  operative.  An  evening  school  furnished 
him  with  the  opportunity  of  acquiring  some  knowledge 
of  Latin  and  Greek,  and,  finally,  after  attending  a  course 
of  medicine  at  Glasgow  University,  and  the  theological 
lectures  of  the  late  Dr.  Wardlaw,  professor  of  theology 
to  the  Scotch  Independents,  he  offered  himself  to  the 
London  Missionary  Society,  by  whom  he  was  ordained 
as  a  medical  missionary  in  1840. 

He  believed  himself  called  of  God  to  explore  the  un- 
known and  dangerous  country  of  Africa ;  to  open  new 
avetiues  for  commerce  and  civilization,  and  to  add  ma- 
terially to  the  world's  geography. 

In  the  summer  of  1840  he  landed  at  Port  Natal  in  South 
Africa. 

Circumstances  brought  him  into  pleasant  intimacy 
with  the  Rev.  Robert  Moffat,  himself  a  distinguished 
missionary  of  that  section.  It  was  Mr.  Moffat's  daughter 
who  subsequently  became  Dr.  Livingstone's  wife. 

For  sixteen  years  he  was  a  zealous,  faithful,  untiring 
servant  of  the  Mission  Society.  During  that  time,  the 
most  important  results  of  his  explorations  were,  the 
discovery  of  Lake  Ngami,  (August  1st,  1849),  and  his 
crossing  the  continent  of  South  Africa,  from  the  Zam- 
bezi (or  Lecambye)to  the  Congo,  and  thence  to  Loando, 
the  capital  of  Angolo,  which  took  him  nearly  a  year  and 
a  half  (from  January,  1853,  to  June,  1854).  In  Septem- 
ber of  the  same  year,  he  left  Loando  on  his  return  across 
the  continent ;  reached  Linzanti  (in  latitude  18  deg.  17 
min.,  S.,  and  longitude  24  deg.  50  min.,  E,),  the  capital 
of  the  great  Makololo  tribe,  and  from  thence  proceeded 
along  the  banks  of  the  Lecambye  to  Quilimane  on  the 
Indian  Ocean,  which  he  reached  May  20th,  1856.  He 
took  ship  and  visited  England,  arriving  in  December  of 
that  same  year.  His  countrymen  awarded  him  a  de- 
servedly enthusiastic  reception — warm,  affectionate. 
This  was  not  owing  wholly  to  the  discoveries  which  he 
had  made — although  they  could  scarcely  be  over-esti- 
mated— but  to  the  frank,  cordial,  simple  yet  heroic 
character  of  the  traveler. 

In  1857  he  published  his  missionary  travels  and  re- 
searches in  South  Africa ;  a  work  of  great  interest  and 
value  to  the  public. 

"In  all  his  various  Journeying,"  said  Sir  Roderick 
Merchison  at  a  meeting  of  the  Royal  Geographical  So- 
ciety held  shortly  after  Livingstone's  return,  "he  trav- 
eled over  no  less  than  11,000  miles  of  African  territory." 

By  his  astronomical  observations,  he  had  determined 
the  sites  of  numerous  places,  hills,  rivers,  and  lakes, 
nearly  all  of  which  had  hitherto  been  unknown,  while 
he  had  seized  upon  every  opportunity  for  describing  the 
physical  features,  climate,  and  geological  structure  of 
the  land  which  he  explored;  and  he  pointed  out  new 
sources  of  commerce,  hitherto  beyond  the  knowledge 
and  enterprise  of  British  merchants.  In  1856,  the  British 
Government  appointed  him  consul  at  Quilimane,  whither 
he  returned  in  the  course  of  the  year.  A  portable  steam- 
boat had  been  constructed  for  his  use  in  this  country, 
and  the  explorer,  with  several  scientific  associates  and  a 
crew  of  natives,  started  up  the  river  Zambesi  to  malie 
discoveries  in  the  countries  south  of  the  equator.  His 
movements  were  anxiously  watched,  and  any  unusual 
length  of  silence,  or  rumor  of  disaster,  thrilled  the 
public  mind  with  sorrowful  fear.  He  traveled  to  Ujiji, 
and  beyond  Lake  Langanyika  in  quest  of  the  sources  of 
the  Nile. 

Those  who  have  read  Dr.  Livingstone's  books  must 
have  wondered  at  his  perseverance  and  moral  courage, 
Isolating  himself,  as  he  did,  from  civilization  and  the 
luxuries  and  refinement  of  the  literary  world,  through 
all  the  best  years  of  his  life  ;  continually  in  proximity  to 
the  brutal,  and,  too  often,  utterly  hideous  black  in- 
habitants of  that  tropical  country ;  often  'differing  from 
hunger  and  thirst. 


Many  instances  are  narrated  fai  his  books,  where 
famine  drove  him  to  greedily  eat  of  the  insects  and 
worms  that  he  might  chance  to  find  on  the  hot,  shifting 
and  barren  sands  of  the  savage  deserts.  How  often  had 
his  little  party  to  defend  themselves  from  marauding 
and  murderous  natives — his  heroic  wife  accompanying 
him  on  many  of  his  journeys,  and  finally  dying  in  this 
wild  country,  and  being  laid  in  her  eternal  rest  under  a 
gigantic  Baobab  tree  near  the  Zambesi  River. 

Dr.  Livingstone's  persistent  perseverance  in  his  ex- 
plorations suggest  the  idea  that  it  was  the  engrossing 
object  of  his  soul  and  life  ;  and  also  leads  the  thinking 
mind  to  ask  :  "  Was  not  he  predestined  by  God  to  do 
just  this  same  herculean  work  ?" 

Think  of  this  hero-martyr,  self-exiled  from  all  his 
kind — for  by  times  it  taxes  our  faith  to  believe  that 
many  of  the  natives  of  Interior  Africa  are  of  the  same 
species  as  man — self-centered ;  his  intellect  without 
outlet  or  inlet — all  overwrought  feelings — every  keen 
emotion  fermenting  within  his  own  mind,  until  the 
keenly  imaginative  and  sympathetic  spirit  feels  cramped 
and  suffocated  for  him.  What  privations  he  endured  I 
Hungered  by  times  unto  the  borders  of  starvation ;  suf- 
fering the  fierce  fever  of  thirst,  with  no  kindred  near  to 
lighten  the  horrors  of  banishment ;  and,  finally,  meeting 
death  in  a  heathen  land — ^for  what  purpose  ?  The  good 
of  posterity.  To  open  up  new  routes  to  commerce,  to 
carry  the  light  of  the  Gospel  to  benighted  Pagans.  It 
is  hard  for  the  slothful  lover  of  ease  and  comfort  to 
understand  the  compensation  of  sacrifice  ;  it  is  harder 
for  the  selfish  soul  to  realize  that  "  it  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive  ;"  and  it  is  hardest  for  the  scornful 
skeptic  to  believe  that  God  can  call  a  man  or  woman  to 
fulfil  an  appointed  mission,  and  so  gird  up  their  soula 
with  His  strength  that  "they  shall  run  and  not  faint" 
until  they  come  down  where  eternity's  sea  is  washing 
the  shores  of  time,  but  His  hand  is  mighty  to  uphold. 

David  Livingstone  is  our  great  man,  regardless  of  his 
nationality — all  countries  may  claim  him  as  an  earnest 
worker  and  benefactor  of  the  race. 

As  we  gaze  upon  his  pictured  face,  so  earnest  and 
soul-full,  we  love  to  think  of  the  "  diviner  man"  in  the 
completeness  of  the  heavenly  existence,  wearing  the 
victor's  crown  of  victory  and  immortality. 


The  End  of  Four  Great  Men. 

Alexander,  after  having  climbed  the  dizzy  heights  of 
ambition,  stood  with  his  temples  bound  with  the  chap- 
lets  dipped  in  the.  heart's  blood  of  countless  thousands, 
and  looking  down  upon  a  conquered  world,  wept  that 
there  was  "no  other  world  to  conquer.  He  died  in  a 
scene  of  debauch. 

Hannibal,  after  having  to  the  astonishment  and  con- 
sternation of  Rome,  passed  the  Alps,  and  put  to  flight 
the  mistress  of  the  world,  stripping  "three  bushels  of 
rings  from  the  fingers  of  slaughtered  knights,"  and. 
made  Rome's  very  foundations  quake,  at  last  fled  his 
country,  tormented  with  fear  of  the  very  ones  who,  at 
one  time,  done  him  the  greatest  homage,  and  in  despair 
put  an  end  to  his  own  life,  dying  in  a  foreign  country 
unknown  and  unwept. 

Caesar,  after  having  conquered  eight  hundred  cities, 
and  dying  his  garments  with  the  blood  of  a  million  of 
his  foes:  after  having  pursued  his  only  rival  to  death, 
was  finally  assassinated  by  his  friends. 

Bonaparte,  whose  mandate  kings  and  popes  obeyed^ 
who  filled  the  earth  with  terror  and  deluged  it  with 
blood,  for  whose  deeds  Europe  sweat,  as  it  were,  great 
drops  of  blood,  and  for  which  the  world  would  fain  have 
worn  sackcloth  and  ashes,  died  in  exile  just  where  he 
could  see  his  country's  banner  waving  over  the  deep, 
but  which  did  not  and  could  not  succor  the  mighty^ 
fallen  emperor. 

These  four  men,  standing  as  has  relief  pictures  for  all 
time,  point  a  moral  to  the  world.  "The  wicked  flee 
when  no  man  pursueth,  but  the  righteous,  are  as  bold  as 
a  lion." 

What  haunting  horrors  were  their  nightly  guests  ;  but 
for  the  humble,  unknown  believer  in  the  Divine  doctrine 
of  the  lowly  Nazarine,  whose  aspiring  to  follow  that 
Lovely  Master,  has  led  him  to  lift  up  the  oppressed  and 
lighten  the  burdens  of  the  weary,  a  memory  of  those 
acts  of  love,  shall  be  like  music  at  midnight  around 
•their  peaceful  pillow. 


/ 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  135 


Calhoun. 

John  Caldwell  Calhoun  was  bom  on  his  father's  farm 
in  Abbeville  District,  South  Carolina,  March  18th,  1783. 
He  was  grave  and  thoughtful  as  a  child,  inheriting  much 
of  his  father's  ardent  Irish  nature,  persevering  habits, 
and  love  of  politics. 

Political  discussions  which  he  heard  at  the  tender  age 
of  five  years  seemed  to  indellibly  impress  his  mind. 
Reading,  history  and  metaphysics  were  his  favorite 
books.  So  earnestly  did  he  study,  that  at  the  age  of 
thirteen  his  health  was  seriously  impaired. 

The  father,  Patrick  Calhoun,  dying  in  1795,  left  but 
little  property  for  the  support  of  his  widow  and  chil- 
dren. Young  Calhoun  continued  to  live  with  his 
mother,  being  simply  a  farmer's  boy  of  the  middle 
classes.  Though  intensely  anxious  to  acquire  an  educa- 
tion, he  nobly  resolved  not  to  cause  any  sacrifice  of 
comfort  on  his  mother's  part  to  assist  him  in  defraying 
school  expenses.  So  he  toiled  hard  on  the  farm  for  the 
next  five  years. 

In  1800,  his  eldest  brother,  who  held  a  situation  in  a 
mercantile  house  in  Charleston,  came  home  on  a  visit. 
He  was  struck  with  the  intelligence  of  his  younger 
brother,  and  urged  him  to  prepare  himself  for  the  study 
of  law.  Young  Calhoun  was  willing  to  do  this  if  he 
could  arrange  to  be  thorough  in  the  course,  otherwise 
he  chose  to  be  a  plain  farmer  rather  than  a  half  learned 
professional  man. 

His  only  sister  had  married  Dr.  Waddell,  who  taught 
an  academy  in  Columbia  County,  Georgia.  This  school 
had  long  been  considered  the  best  in  the  South.  The 
mother  and  elder  brother  decided  John  should  enter  this 
school  and  prepare  for  college. 

So  diligent  and  earnest  was  he  in  his  studies,  that  less 
than  two  years'  time  at  this  school  fitted  him  to  enter  the 
Junior  Class  at  Tale. 

Young  Calhoun's  father  had  been  an  ardent  democrat; 
but  at  Yale  the  son  had  the  opportunity  of  having  other 
political  views  presented  to  him.  He  was  a  close  stu- 
dent, and  he  cultivated  the  art  of  extempore  speaking. 
In  his  senior  year  he  was  in  a  class  of  seventy,  with 
only  two  or  three  besides  himself  holding  to  republican 
views. 

Dr.  Dwight,  the  distinguished  president  of  the  college, 
once  asked  Calhoun,  "  What  is  the  legitimate  source  of 
power  ?" 

"  Th£.  people,''^  instantly  answered  Calhoun,  exciting 
the  doctor  to  a  lengthy  argument,  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
usual  recitation.  So  successfully  did  Calhoun  meet  and 
parry  the  learned  doctor's  assertions,  so  fluently  did  he 
reason  out  his  views,  that  the  President  of  Yale  after- 
wards declared  to  a  friend  that  the  young  man  possessed 
talents  that  would  enable  him  to  become  Chief  Magistrate 
of  the  United  States. 

In  1804,  Calhoun  graduated  and  spent  the  next 
eighteen  months  in  a  law  school  at  Litchfield,  Connecti- 
cut. He  studied  hard  and  soon  won  the  reputation  of 
being  an  excellent  debater,  and  was  noted  for  his  good 
habits  and  pure  morals.  He  also  afterwards  studied 
at  a  law  oflice  in  Charleston.  He  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  1807. 

Some  brilliant  and  happy  speches  which  he  had  occa- 
sion to  make  soon  after  this,  in  regard  to  affairs  of  the 
government,  won  for  him  an  election  to  the  Legislature 
of  the  State.  His  grave  courteousness  won  him  many 
friends  who  were  irresistibly  drawn  towards  him  by  his 
pleasing  manners  and  the  sterling  worth  of  his  character. 

In  1811,  he  married  and  soon  after  removed  to  Bath, 
on  the  Savannah  River. 

In  November,  1811,  Mr.  Calhoun,  in  Congress,  was 
appointed  by  Henry  Clay,  who  was  a  speaker,  to  a 
membership  of  the  Committee  of  Foreign  Affairs.  Now 
at  the  age  of  twenty-nine,  Calhoun  had  fairly  entered 
upon  his  political  life.  He  soon  took  a  prominent  part 
in  Congress,  and  before  the  close  of  the  session  was 
regarded  as  a  leading  member  from  the  South. 

His  speeches  are  reported  as  able  and  brilliant,  and 
he  was  ranked  next  to  Clay  for  eloquence  and  talent. 

Alter  his  six  years'  term  in  Congress  had  expired,  he 
withdrew  from  the  House  and  accepted  the  position  of 
Secretary  of  War,  in  the  Cabinet  of  President  Monroe. 
He  soon  after  removed  his  family  to  Washington,  where 
he  resided  for  the  next  seven  years. 

So  marked  were  Calhoun's  abilities  as  Secretary  of 
Wax.  tiMt  tha  ru^xKAxfji]  State  of  Pennsylvania  *'*»«a4:ded 


fAm.  as  a  statesman  of  broad  national  views,  and'enlTrely 
'free  from  sectional  prejudices.  About  this  time  he  was 
nominated  to  the  Vice-Presidency,  and  was  elected  by  a 
handsome  majority  ;  John  Quincy  Adams  being  elected 
to  the  Presidency  in  1825.  Before  Calhoun  entered  iipon 
the  duties  of  his  office,  he  removed  his  family  to  Fort 
HiU,  in  Pendleton,  now  Pickens  District,  South  Carolina, 
on  an  estate  left  Mrs.  Calhoun  by  her  mother.  He  was 
again  nominated  for  the  Vice-Presidency,  on  the  ticket 
with  General  Jackson,  and  was  elected. 

We  find  Mr.  Calhoun's  political  career  very  active, 
and  like  his  father  in  many  of  his  views,  he  was  radical 
to  a  fault;  but  history  records  him  sincere.  Yet,  of 
course,  so  talented  a  man  found  much  opposition  to  his 
views,  and  not  a  few  political  enemies.  This  is  the  fate 
of  all  eminent  statesmen  ;  but  where  a  Webster,  a  Clay, 
and  a  Calhoun  met  in  unity  or  opposition,  it  must  have 
been  an  interesting  and  potent  era. 

But  as  he  yielded  his  opinions  to  no  adverse  argument, 
necessarily  his  opponents  were  overbearing  and  aggres- 
sive, until  Calhoun,  in  a  measure,  withdrew  his  brilliant 
intellect  from  the  world  and  became  cold  and  self-con- 
tained ;  so,  naturally,  his  influence  fell  off  in  the  Senate 
Chamber. 

Miss  Martineau  speaks,  or  complains,  of  his  icy  Intel' 
lectual  front,  and  says  of  his  softer  moods,  that  like 
tears  on  the  face  of  a  soldier,  they  touch  and  appeal  tc 
the  heart. 

During  President  Jackson's  administration  a  coldness 
sprang  up  between  him  and  the  Vice-President,  causing 
Calhoun  finally  to  resign.  He  returned  to  the  Senate  in 
1832. 

After  his  many  terms  there,  in  March,  1843,  we  find 
Calhoun  retiring  from  the  Senate.  At  this  time  Webster 
was  in  the  Cabinet,  and  Clay  in  private  life.  In  1844,  he 
was  appointed  Secretary  of  State  by  President  Tyler. 
In  this  capacity  he  negotiated  the  annexation  of  Texas. 

Afterwards  President  Polk  offered  him  the  English 
Mission,  which,  however,  he  declined.  Then  he  was  re- 
turned to  the  Senate  by  South  Carolina.  Thus  his  active 
public  life  went  on  until  he  was  sixty-eight  years  old. 
He  died  March  31st,  1850. 

Daniel  Webster,  Calhoun's  ablest  opponent,  spoke  oi 
him  when  his  death  was  announced  in  the  Senate,  in 
this  wise  :  *'  His  intellect  was  plain,  strong,  wise,  con 
densed,  concise;  sometimes  impassioned,  always  severe. 
Without  ornament  or  flourishes,  he  was  earnest  and 
energetic  of  manner.  Those  are  the  grand  qualities  that 
have  enabled  him  always  to  command  attention.  His 
dignified,  respectful,  decorous  manner  to  all  is  appre- 
ciated and  venerated  by  his  compeers.  The  last  time 
that  he  spoke  in  the  Senate,  his  clear,  thrilling  tones, 
erect  carriage  and  impressive  style,  might  easily  have 
beguiled  us  to  imagine  that  a  Senator  of  Rome  was 
speaking  as  when  Rome  survived.  In  public  and  private 
life  he  was  assiduous  in  the  discharge  of  duty.  He  pos- 
sessed an  unspotted  character,  and  honor  unimpeached." 

Let  Calhoun  stand  outside  of  political  criticism  ;  this 
brief  biography  of  his  active  career  is  not  given  to  argue 
for  nor  against  his  personal  acts.  If  he  erred,  let  us 
think  that  it  was  not  intentionally.  We  hold  him  up  be- 
fore the  world  to  show  what  he  accomplished  single- 
handed,  so  that  we  may  point  out  to  the  boys  and  young 
men  of  to-day  the  significant  fact. 

John  C.  Calhoun,  the  peer  of  Wesbter  and  Qay,  and 
the  great  minds  of  that  era,  was  the  son  of  poor  L-ish 
immigranU;  and  the  highway  to  eminence  which  he  un- 
dauntedly trod  is  open  for  you  to-day. 

May  you  walk  in  wisdom's  way  and  find  your  paths 
pleasant  and  peaceful. 


The  following  cure  for  neuralgia  is  well  worth 
trying :  "A  friend  of  ours,  who  suffered  horribly  from 
pains  from  neuralgia,  hearing  of  a  noted  physician  in 
Germany,  who  invariably  cured  the  disease,  crossed  the 
ocean  and  visited  Germany  for  treatment.  He  was  per- 
manently cured  after  a  short  sojourn,  and  the  doctor 
freely  gave  him  the  simple  remedy  used,  which  was 
nofhing  but  poultice  and  tea  made  from  our  common 
field  thistle.  The  leaves  are  macerated  and  used  on 
the  parts  affected  as  a  poultice,  while  a  small  quantity 
of  the  leaves  are  boiled  down  to  a  pint,  and  a  small  wine 
glass  of  the  decoction  drank  before  each  meal.  Our 
friend  says  he  has  never  known  it  to  fail  of  giving  relief, 
while  in  almost  every  case  it  has  effected  a  cure.'^ 


136 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD, 


Winfield  Scott. 

Near  Petersburg,  Virginia,  on  the  13th  of  June,  1786, 
Winfield  Scott  was  bom.  He  was  of  Scottish  descent, 
and  was  named  for  his  maternal  grandfather,  who  was 
regarded  in  his  time  as  the  richest  man  in  Virginia. 
When  Scott  was  six  years  old  his  father  died,  and  the 
boy  was  reared  by  his  excellent  mother.  He  grew  up  on 
the  farm  and  was  sent  to  school  in  the  neighborhood. 
When  he  was  seventeen  years  old  his  mother  died,  and 
the  same  year  he  went  to  Richmond  and  entered  the 
high  school  taught  by  James  Ogilrie,  where  he  remained 
a  year  preparing  for  college.  In  William  and  Mary  Col- 
lege, where  he  entered  in  1805,  he  devoted  himself 
chiefly  to  the  study  of  chemistry,  natural  and  experi- 
mental philosophy,  and  a  general  course  of  reading  in 
the  law.  He  remained  in  college  about  a  year  and  then 
went  to  Petersburg,  where  he  entered  as  a  student  the 
office  of  David  Robinson,  an  eminent  lawyer.  He  studied 
here  two  years  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1807,  just 
before  he  attained  his  majority.  On  his  first  circuit  he 
witnessed  the  trial  of  Aaron  Burr,  at  Richmond,  for 
treason. 

In  June,  1807,  occurred  the  outrage  on  the  frigate 
Chesapeake,  which  sent  a  thrill  of  indignation  through 
the  country.  President  Jefferson  called  for  troops  to 
protect  the  harbors  of  the  United  States  against  the 
war  vessels  of  Great  Britain.  Scott  dropped  his  law 
books  and  joined  the  volunteer  troop  of  cavalry  at 
Petersburgh.  The  troop  was  ordered  to  the  vicinity  of 
Lynn  Haven  Bay,  where  a  strong  fleet  of  British,  under 
Sir  Thomas  Hardy,  Nelson's  old  flag  captain,  lay  at 
anchor.  The  volunteers  were  encamped  near  the  bay, 
with  orders  to  prevent  the  British  from  obtaining  fresh 
water  or  provisions  from  the  shore.  Scott  was  appointed 
a  corporal,  and  in  his  zeal,  captured  a  midshipman  and 
boat's  crew  belonging  to  the  ships  as  they  sought  to 
pass  up  a  creek  in  pursuit  of  provisions. 

The  affair  was  reported  to  headquarters,  the  prisoners 
were  released,  and  Scott  ordered  to  moderate  his  zeal  in 
the  future.  After  this  excitement  died  out  he  returned 
to  his  practice. 

Before  he  had  established  himself  the  rumors  of  war 
with  England  increased,  and  Scott  having  a  taste  for  mar- 
tial life,  applied  to  President  Jefferson  for  a  commission 
in  the  army.  In  the  summer  of  1808  he  received  a  cap- 
tain's commission  in  the  flying  artUlery  of  the  United 
States.  He  set  to  work  to  recruit  a  company,  which  he 
did  at  Petersburg  and  Richmond,  in  a  short  time.  He 
was  then  ordered  with  it  to  Norfolk,  from  which  place 
he  embarked  for  New  Orleans,  meeting  with  a  long  and 
stormy  passage.  But  garrison  life  proved  monotonous, 
and  calm  following  excitement,  in  the  summer  of  1809 
he  once  more  turned  his  mind  to  civil  pursuits,  and  he 
sailed  for  Virginia. 

Then  followed  some  misunderstanding  or  misrepre- 
sentation, and  a  penalty  was  imposed  upon  him  of  sev- 
eral months  suspension.  In  the  winter  of  1811-'12  he 
was  appointed  aide-de-camp  to  General  Wade  Hampton. 

In  the  spring  of  1812,  as  war  was  imminent,  General 
Hampton  sailed  from  New  Orleans  for  Baltimore,  en 
rowie  for  Washington,  Avith  his  two  aids — Captain  Scott 
and  Lieutenant  Gardner.  They  reached  Washington  the 
next  day  after  war  was  declared  with  England.  Scott 
found  himself  soon  raised  to  the  grade  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel.  Then  followed  attacks,  skirmishes  and  defeats 
— the  fortunes  of  war.  He  was  taken  prisoner,  paroled, 
then  exchanged.  In  March,  1813,  he  was  appointed 
Adjutant-General,  besides  being  made  Colonel  of  his 
regiment. 

His  talent  for  organization  and  discipline  soon  distin- 
guished him  above  his  brother  ofl&cers,  as  an  officer  of 
great  ability.  In  the  battles  where  he  was  engaged  during 
this  turbulent  time,  his  prowess  was  upon  the  nation's 
tongue.  At  the  battle  of  Lundy's  Lane  he  was  unhorsed 
several  times  and  severely  wounded,  but  his  gallantry 
was  rewarded  with  the  rank  of  Major-General.  Con- 

fress  ordered  a  gold  medal  to  be  struck  and  presented  to 
im,  as  a  reward  of  merit.  After  the  army  was  restored 
to  a  peace  footing,  the  President  was  urged  to  appoint 
Scott  Secretary  of  War,  but  the  proposition  did  not  meet 
with  Scott's  approval.  In  1815  he  went  to  Europe,  partly 
on  a  mission  for  the  Government,  and  partly  for  rest 
and  recreation.  He  met  with  flattering  receptions 
abroad,  and  soon  after  his  return  from  a  year's  absence, 
he  married  Miss  Mary  Mayo  of  Richmon(^  Virginia. 


doven  children  were  given  them  by  this  marriage,  four 
of  whom  died  young.  In  1821,  Scott  published  his  "Mili- 
tary Institutes,"  and  later  his  "Tactics"  for  the  army. 
In  1827,  he  visited  Europe  again,  and  spent  more  than 
a  year  abroad.  Upon  the  breaking  out  of  the  Black 
Hawk  War  in  1832,  Scott  was  ordered  to  the  West,  to 
take  command  of  the  troops.  To  his  humanity  and 
energy  is  ascribed  the  peaceful  subsequent  removal  of 
the  Indians  beyond  the  Mississippi.  There  was  some 
trouble  between  the  President  and  General  Scott  about 
Lhe  time  of  the  Florida  War,  but  the  soldier  was  soon 
acquitted  of  the  charges  made  against  him. 

Scott  was  employed  in  the  winter  of  1837-'38  as  Am- 
bassador, to  arrange  the  difficulties  likely  to  be  made  by 
the  Canadian  insurgents,  and  their  sympathizers  in  New 
York.  When  this  atmosphere  was  war-like  and  threat- 
ening, he  succeeded  in  restoring  order,  and  the  matter  of 
the  North-eastern  Boundary  was  settled  by  a  treaty.  In 
1841  he  became  General-in-Chief  of  the  entire  Army; 
and  establishing  his  head-quarters  at  Washington,  he 
devoted  his  time  to  promoting  the  efficiency  and  disci- 
pline of  the  army. 

In  1846  came  the  war  between  the  United  States  and 
MexicOc  At  his  own  earnest  solicitations  he  was  allowed 
to  proceed  with  a  strong  force  to  the  scene  of  action. 

We  have  not  space  to  follow  him  in  detail,  we  can  but 
outline  his  wonderful  military  career.  First,  he  bom- 
barded and  captured  Vera  Cruz ;  then  came  the  battle  of 
Cerro  Gordo — a  mountain  pass  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Cordilleras.  His  force  was  but  8,500  men  opposed  to 
Santa  Anna's  12,000 ;  but  Scott  drove  the  enemy  before 
his  invincible  attack.  Following  this,  was  the  capture 
of  the  fortress  of  Perote,  on  the  22d  of  April.  On  the 
15th  of  May,  he  occupied  the  city  of  Puebla. 

Some  time  followed  in  idleness,  because  of  the  reduced 
quota  of  the  army,  owing  to  sickness  and  the  expiration 
of  the  time  of  service  of  many  of  the  volunteers.  Scott 
received  orders  from  the  Secretary  of  War,  which  his 
clear  judgment  saw  would  lead  to  trouble.  To  levy  con- 
tributions upon  Mexicans  for  the  support  of  the  troops 
would  not  allay  but  increase  antagonism,  and  thus  he 
represented  the  matter;  and  a  controversy  arose,  and 
finally  Scott  declared  that  the  commander  in  the  field 
understood  the  management  of  the  army  better  than  the 
Secretary  of  War  a  thousand  miles  away.  Reinforce- 
ments were  at  length  received  from  the  United  States. 
They  reached  Puebla  in  July,  and  on  the  7th  of  August 
General  Scott  resumed  his  advance  upon  the  city  of 
Mexico,  with  a  force  of  ten  thousand  men.  The  route 
is  described  as  laying  through  a  beautiful  upland  country, 
abounding  in  water,  and  rich  in  varied  and  beautiful 
scenery.  The  troops  pressed  forward,  and  on  the  10th  of 
August,  the  summit  of  the  Cordilleras  was  passed,  and 
the  City  of  Mexico  burst  upon  their  view,  lying  in  the 
midst  of  its  lovely  valley,  and  surrounded  by  the  strong 
works  erected  for  its  defence.  General  Scott  could 
readily  have  captured  the  city  if  it  had  been  possible  for 
him  to  have  advanced  upon  it  directly  after  his  occupa- 
tion of  Puebla,  but  matters  were  different  now.  It  had 
been  fortified  and  reinforced,  and  the  American  engin- 
eers sent  out  to  reconnoitre,  reported  that  it  would  cost 
at  least  3,000  lives  to  capture  it ;  but  Scott,  by  the  aid  of 
his  skillful  engineers,  led  his  army  through  ravines  and 
chasms  that  the  Mexican  commander  had  pronounced 
impassable,  and  had  therefore  left  unguarded.  In  suc- 
cession, one  out-post  or  fortffication  after  another  fell 
before  the  invincible  soldier-chief.  Each  breast-work 
was  stormed,  each  barracade  burst  through,  and  on  Sep- 
tember 14th,  1847,  the  American  army  entered  the  cap- 
tured City  of  Mexico,  and  hoisted  the  flag  of  the  free 
over  the  government  buildings.  Negotiations  for  peace 
soon  followed  the  ffU  of  the  capital,  and,  although 
American  citizens  enthusiastically  lauded  the  hero  of 
so  many  battles  and  victories,  it  may  serve  to  sustain 
other  deserving  natures,  similarly  accused,  to  know  that 
General  Scott's  success  brought  into  existence  many 
bitter  personal  enemies,  who  sought  with  all  the  strength 
of  their  small  natures  to  tarnish  the  victor's  fame  ;  but 
he  came  out  of  all  these  petty  assaults  with  honorable 
acquittal.  After  this  trouble  was  soothed  to  peace,  he 
again  resumed  his  position  of  commander  of  the  wnole 
army. 

In  1859,  when  the  dispute  about  the  island  of  San 
Juan  in  Puget's  Sound,  came  near  embroiling  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain  in  war.  General  Scott  was  dis- 
patched to  the  scene,  and  succeeded  in  diverting  the 


THE  GROJVING  JVORLD. 


137 


^trouble  by  a  sort  of  diplomatic  compromise. 

In  1852  he  had  been  nominated  for  the  Presidency,  but 
was  defeated  by  Pierce,  the  Democratic  candidate.  At 
the  time  of  the  Secession,  General  Scott,  although 
a  Virginian  by  birth,  could  see  no  prosperity  for  the 
-country  but  m  Union,  and  gave  his  whole  strength 
to  support  it. 

But  a  younger  and  more  active  man  was  needed  at  the 
head  of  the  armies  of  the  United  States,  and  on  the  31st 
jf  October,  1861,  he  reliquished  his  position,  and  retired 
from  active  service.  In  consideration  of  his  great  ser- 
':Vices,  Congress  passed  a  special  act  continuing  his  pay 
and  allowances.  In  1861  he  again  sailed  for  Europe  for 
his  health,  but  made  no  great  stay  abroad.  He  lived  to 
eee  his  beloved  country  emerge  from  the  fiery  furnace  of 
its  fearful  warfare,  and  died  at  West  Point,  May  29th, 
1866. 

He  was  a  man  of  herculean  strength  and  endurance, 
opposed  to  strife — an  advocate  of  peace ;  of  irreproach- 
able moral  character,  and  invincible  courage,  the  hero  of 
many  battles,  and  yet  a  lenient  foe  and  victor.  Would 
that  all  great  men  were  as  brave  and  honorable. 

Vanderbilt. 

However  much  opinions  may  differ  in  regard  to  irw 

freatness,  yet  all  must  acknowledge  that  he  who  single- 
anded  works  his  way  up  to  competence  and  financial 
success,  from  the  ranks  of  poverty  or  obscurity,  has 
•done  something  worthy  of  record. 

The  ancestors  of  Vanderbilt  were  of  good  old  Holland 
stock,  such  as  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago  settled 
in  New  York.  His  father,  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  was  a 
farmer  in  comfortable  circumstances,  dwelling  Mpon 
Staten  Island,  in  New  York  Harbor,  and  here  the  future 
commodore  was  bom,  May  27,  1794. 

The  father  conveyed  his  farm  produce  to  New  York  by 
way  of  a  boat,  and  by  this  means  the  young  Cornelius 
early  acquired  a  taste  for  sailing  craft.  At  the  age  of 
sixteen,  this  enterprising  young  fellow  induced  his 
parents  to  lend  him  a  hundred  dollars  with  which  he 
i)urchased  his  first  boat,  and  commenced  business  for 
"himself,  carrying  farm  produce,  passengers,  or  anything 
that  offered,  between  New  York  and  Staten  Islaud.  He 
was  eager  for  and  willing  to  accept  any  job,  however 
liumble,  whereby  he  could  earn  the  honest  penny. 

It  was  not  long  ere  he  had  established  a  good  and 
paying  business,  which  necessitated  the  purchasing  of 
larger  boats.  When  only  eighteen  years  of  age  he  was 
part  owner  and  captain  of  one  of  the  largest  ferry  boats 
in  New  York  harbor.  His  life  at  this  time  was  very 
active.  He  spent  his  days  and  nights  almost  entirely 
upon  the  water,  carrying  freight  and  passengers,  board- 
ing ships^  and  doing  everything  that  came  to  hand. 

It  is  said  of  him  that  his  energy,  skill  and  daring  be- 
■came  so  well  known,  and  his  word,  when  he  gave  it, 
«ould  be  relied  upon  so  implicitly,  that  he  was  sought 
tax  far  and  near  when  any  important  or  hazardous  ex- 
pedition was  to  be  undertaken.  Neither  wind,  rain,  ice 
tior  snow  ever  prevented  his  fulfilling  his  engagements. 

In  1817  he  engaged  in  steamboat  transportation,  and  in 
1829  established  steamboat  lines  on  the  Hudson,  the 
Sound  and  elsewhere.  He  built  better  and  faster  boats 
than  his  competitors,  and  ran  them  at  the  lowest  paying 
rates.  He  furnished  transportation  and  good  accommo- 
dations at  such  low  prices  that  his  rivals  were  unabie  to 
compete  with  him.  In  1850  he  established  a  semi- 
monthly line  of  steamers  to  California  by  way  of  Nicar- 
agua, which  at  once  became  the  favorite  route  to  Cali- 
fornia. 

In  1853  Vanderbilt  had  become  a  man  of  great  wealth, 
and  he  conceived  the  idea  of  making  a  tour  to  Europe 
with  his  family,  in  a  large  steamboat  of  his  own.  For  a 
single  individual  to  build  and  equip  a  noble  specimen  of 
model  architecture — a  floating  palace  on  the  ocean — and 
visit  all  the  courts  of  Europe  in  style  and  dignity,  must 
have  been  powerfully  suggestive  to  the  Old  World  of 
the  make  and  muscle  and  ability  of  the  American 
citizen.  This  steamship  was  named  the  North  Star,  and 
the  commodore  and  his  famUy  set  sail  May  11th,  1855. 
He  was  cordially  received  by  the  authorities  everywhere, 
and  his  vessel  won  universal  admiration. 

After  his  return  he  established  an  independent  line  of 
steamers  between  New  York  and  Havre.  In  the  spring 
»f  1862,  when  the  government  needed  immediately  large 
additions  to  its  navy,  he  gave  to  his  country  the  steamer 


"  Vanderbilt,"  which  cost  $800,000,  and  made  the  quick' 
est  time  on  previous  record  in  crossing  the  Atlantic. 

Soon  after  this  he  be^an  to  withdraw  from  marine 
enterprises  and  engage  m  railway  investments.  He 
Started  with  the  Harlem  Railroad,  the  stock  of  which 
had  sold  as  low  as  forty  dollars  a  share,  and  had  been 
under  extremely  bad  management.  Obtaining  a  con- 
trolling interest  in  it,  he  so  pervaded  the  enterprise  with 
his  invincible  energy  and  proverbial  success,  that  from 
being  one  of  the  poorest  roads  in  New  York,  it  soon  be- 
came one  of  the  best.  The  stocks  went  up  to  1175  per 
share.  He  next  bought  into  the  Hudson  River  and  I^w 
York  Central  Roads,  bought  up  or  leased  all  the  branches 
and  collateral  roads  that  he  could,  and  consolidated 
them  into  one  great  line.  He  soon  had  control  of  the 
Lake  Shore,  SovUhern  Michigan,  Chicago  and  Rock 
Island,  and  numerous  other  roads.  He  controlled  rail- 
way property  to  the  amount  of  three  hundred  millions 
of  dollars,  and  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  America, 

Several  years  ago,  Vanderbilt  became  interested  in 
Rev.  Dr.  Deems*^  efforts  to  establish  a  church  for 
strangers  in  New  York.  He  purchased  University  Place 
church  and  presented  it  to  Dr.  Deems  to  be  dedicated  as 
a  spiritual  home  for  strangers. 

And  now  Commodore  Vanderbilt,  at  the  advanced  age 
of  eighty-two,  has  been  called  to  join  that  "  innumerable 
caravan"  where  earthly  riches  and  earthly  power  avail 
them  not ;  and  in  one  sense  we  must  call  him  a  great 
man— a  successful,  and  therefore  a  powerful  man,  like 
Astor  and  Stewart ;  yet  take  heart,  toiling  brother  and 
sister,  opposite  whose  names  the  word  success  is  not 
written,  if  ye  "have  done  what  ye  could,"  like  the 
widow  of  old,  for  the  good  of  others,  there's  room  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  for  you. 

Vanderbilt's  success  in  this  life  points  an  excellent 
lesson  to  the  young — a  lesson  which  they  should  learn 
and  imitate.  His  word  was  as  good  as  his  note.  When 
he  promised  to  do,  no  ordinary  circumstance  or  warring 
of  the  elements  could  prevent  his  fulfilling  his  engage- 
ment. Herein,  depend  upon  it,  lay  the  secret  of  his 
prosperity.  A  vacillating  nature,  turning  with  every 
prejudice  which  it  may  encounter,  is  sure  to  make  life  a 
failure.  Let  a  man  or  woman,  girl  or  boy,  be  prompt  to 
act  and  sure  to  perform  as  they  promise,  and  people 
who  deal  with  them  soon  learn  to  lean  upon  them  as 
upon  a  strong  staff. 

Young  reader,  if  your  principles  are  known  to  be  pure 
and  right,  and  your  word  such  that  it  need  be  neither 
warranted  nor  defended,  the  comer  stone  of  success  is 
laid  for  you. 

"Old  John  Lawrence." 

One  of  the  earliest,  if  not  the  earliest  book,  written 
on  the  trotting  horse,  was  written  by  John  Lawrence,  of 
England,  in  1800.  It  is  interesting  to  note  how  accurate 
his  observations  were  :  "Ha  young  trotter  be  obtained, 
It  will  be  perceived  in  an  instant  whether  he  has  a  natu- 
ral great  bent  of  speed.  But  if  not,  granting  that  he  be 
thorough  shaped,  and  can  trot  a  mile  in  four  minutes 
handsomely,  he  may  improve  and  become  capital  for  a 
long  distance.  In  training  a  young  trotter,  take  a  long 
time ;  keep  him  almost  always  within  himself ;  never  trot 
him  with  a  slack  rein,  nor  suffer  him  to  hitch,  lead  with 
one  leg,  or  get  into  a  confused  mn  between  trot  and 
gallop,  but  accustom  him  to  pull  well  and  steadily  at  you. 
Always  oblige  him  to  finish  his  trot  in  a  walk,  never  in 
eitherjcanter  or  gallop  ;  in  which  latter  case  cause  him  to 
turn  round,  as  is  the  custom  in  trotting  race.  No  hack 
is  fit  to  trot  any  considerable  distance  untU  rising  six 

J rears  old ;  but  it  is  remarkable  that  trotters,  unlike  gal- 
opers,  do  not  lose  their  speed  from  old  age,  many  hav- 
ing been  kown  to  trot  as  fast  at  twenty,  and  even  near 
thirty  years  of  age  as  they  did  in  their  prime — a  solid 
recompense,  surely,  for  the  extraordinary  care  which 
these  horses  demand.  As  it  is  obvious  that  the  damage 
which  trotters  receive  in  their  feet,  joints  and  sinews, 
arises  from  their  violent  and  incessant  thumping  the 
hard  road,  common  sense  will  naturally  prescribe  mode- 
rate and  sparing  exercise  and  soft  ways.  And  whenever 
you  see  a  feUow  wantonly  rattling  his  horse  over  a  pave- 
ment, you  may  fairly  presume  a  natural  affinity  between 
the  skull  of  the  jockey  and  the  materials  with  which  his 
course  is  strewed ,  and,  even  if  you  go  so  far  as  to  wish 
a  happy  contact  between  them  humanity  herself  will 
forgive  you." 


138 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


G-eorge  Peabody. 

George  Peabody  was  a  direct  descendant  of  one  of  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers,  who  sought  in  New  England  the 

freedom  to  worship  God,"  which  their  own  country 
did  not  afford  them. 

George  was  born  at  Danvers,  Massachusetts,  February 
18th,  1795.  When  eleven  years  of  age,  he  entered  the 
service  of  Mr.  Sylvester  Proctor,  who  kept  a  country 
grocery  in  the  southern  part  of  Danvers.  Mr.  Proctor 
seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  fine  character,  and  to  his 
counsel  and  example  are  due,  no  doubt,  the  aptitude 
and  interest  which  developed  themselves  as  the  boy 
grew  to  manhood. 

In  1810,  George  visited  his  grandfather  in  Vermont, 
where  he  tarried  for  a  year,  after  which  he  entered  a  dry 
goods  store  at  Newburyport,  Mass.,  owned  by  his  brother 
David,  But  scarcely  was  the  enterprise  started  ere  a 
disastrous  fire  burned  the  store  and  its  contents,  to- 
gether with  the  business  part  of  the  town.  His  next 
move  was  to  join  his  uncle  John,  who  was  about  to 
establish  himself  in  business  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 

In  May,  1812,  George  was  in  Georgetown  conducting 
his  uncle's  business  in  a  satisfactory  manner.  That  year 
there  came  a  British  fleet  up  the  Potomac,  threatening 
the  capitol  and  neighboring  ports.  George  Peabody 
joined  a  volunteer  artillery  company,  and  was  placed  on 
duty  at  Fort  Warburton.  The  fort,  however,  was  not 
attacked,  and  the  company  was  shortly  disbanded. 
Peabody  had  for  a  messmate  there,  Francis  S.  Key,  the 
author  of  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner." 

George  remained  two  years  with  his  uncle.  At  that 
time,  a  Mr.  Elisha  Biggs,  proposed  to  set  him  up  in 
business  ;  and,  although  Peabody  was  only  nineteen 
years  old,  the  partnership  of  Biggs  &  Peabody  proved 
successful,  and  in  1815  the  house  was  removed  to  Balti- 
more. Here  the  business  increased  so  rapidly,  that  in 
1822,  branches  were  established  in  Philadelphia  and 
New  York. 

Seven  years  later,  Peabody  became  the  senior  partner ; 
Mr.  Biggs  retiring  from  business  and  locating  his  home 
in  New  York. 

The  first  fifteen  years  after  the  establishment  of  the 
house  in  Baltimore,  were  years  of  constant  and  per- 
sistent labor  to  Mr.  Peabody.  He  made  long  and  fa- 
tiguing tours  to  collect  his  bills,  through  the  wildest 
regions  of  Virginia  and  Maryland,  and  often  at  the  most 
inclement  season  of  the  year.  But  his  strong  constitu- 
tion and  good  health  carried  him  on,  undaunted  by 
obstacles,  undeterred  by  reverses. 

So  it  went  on  until  1827,  when  he  made  his  first  visit 
to  Europe  to  purchase  goods.  After  this  time,  his  visits 
there  were  frequent,  and  in  1837  he  took  up  his  abode 
in  England.  Although  thus  becoming  a  foreign  resi- 
dent, his  sympathies  were  intensely  American.  Many  a 
poor  wanderer  In  London  has  received  his  liberal  aid ; 
many  a  stranger  shared  his  social  hospitality.  In  1852, 
Mr.  Peabody  commenced  the  series  of  his  munificent 
donations  for  the  public  good,  and  which  through  the 
two  countries  has  marked  him  as  a  princely  giver. 

His  warmest  memories  seemed  to  cluster  around  the 
town  of  his  birth. 

On  the  18th  of  June,  1852,  Danvers  was  to  celebrate 
her  two  hundredth  anniversary  of  its  township.  It  was 
a  gala-day,  and  invitations  were  sent  to  all  parts  of  the 
world  wherever  a  townsman  was  known  to  be,  and 
among  the  rest  to  George  Peabody.  He  was  not  able 
to  be  present,  but  he  forwarded  a  sentiment,  the  envelope 
of  which  was  not  to  be  opened  until  his  name  should  be 
called  in  due  course  at  the  dinner  table.  His  wish  was 
respected,  and  when  the  hour  arrived,  the  envelope  was 
opened  and  the  following  was  found.  ''Education — a 
debt  due  from  the  present  to  future  generations,"  and 
then  followed,  to  his  native  town  for  educational  pur- 
poses, a  donation  of  twenty  thousand  dollars. 

He  proposed  the  erection  of  a  lyceum  building,  where 
lectures  could  be  given  and  a  library  founded.  After- 
wards he  gave  another  ten  thousand  and  still  farther 
additions  until  the  sum  reached  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

A  handsome  structure  was  erected  called  Peabody 
Institute  ;  it  was  eighty-two  feet  in  length  by  fifty  feet 
in  breadth,  built  of  brick,  ornamented  with  freestone, 
and  it  made  a  very  imposing  addition  to  the  architecture 
of  the  town.  A  handsome  lecture  hall  and  commodious 
lecture  room  carried  out  the  intentions  of  the  donor,  and 


soon  began  to  exercise  a  perceptible  influence  over  the 
youth  of  the  vicinity.  The  corner  stone  was  laid  on  the 
20th  of  August,  1853,  and  the  dedication  occurred  on  the 
29th  of  September,  1854,  and  Hon.  Rufus  Choate  was  the 
orator  of  the  occasion.  Donations  of  books  were  soon 
received  from  Mr.  Peabody.  The  ablest  lecturers  were 
secured  for  the  benefit  of  the  institution.  The  institute 
has  ever  since  flourished  and  increased  in  importance, 
and  during  the  year  1865  Mr.  Peabody  made  an  addition 
of  three  thousand  five  hundred  volumes.  Since  all  these 
princely  gifts  were  made,  Mr.  Peabody  added  one  hun- 
dred thousand  to  his  former  endowment;  so  that  the 
Peabody  Institute  at  Danvers  ranks  amongst  the  most 
important  institutions  of  the  country. 

In  1852,  Mr.  Henry  Grinnell  had  generously  offered  his 
vessel,  the  Advance^  for  a  second  voyage  to  the  Arctic 
regions  under  Dr.  Kane,  and  had  applied  to  Congress 
for  means  of  outfit,  etc.  Mr.  Peabody  wrote  to  a  friend 
in  New  York,  speaking  of  his  interest  in  the  expedition, 
and  saying  if  government  should  fail  to  respond  to  the 
request  to  call  on  him  for  ten  thousand  dollars.  Govern- 
ment did  not  feel  interested,  and  Mr.  Peabody's  money 
fitted  out  the  enterprise.  Ere  long  he  visited  his  native 
land,  but  strenuously  refused  all  ovations  or  public  re- 
ceptions. 

During  his  visit  to  the  United  States  he  exhibited  his 
gratitude  to  his  adopted  State,  Maryland,  by  founding 
in  the  City  of  Baltimore  a  second  institution  similar  to- 
that  of  Danvers.  To  accomplish  this  great  work  he  gave 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  on  the  spot,  and  pledged 
two  hundred  thousand  more  as  they  might  need  it.  He 
crowned  this  act  with  the  noblest  provision,  that  the 
constitution  should  in  no  wise  be  influenced  or  governed 
by  bigotry  or  sectarianism  in  either  religion,  politics,  or 
philosophy. 

In  March,  1862,  Mr.  Peabody  presented  the  City  of 
London  the  sum  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
pounds  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor.  This  sum,  this  mag- 
nificent bounty,  was  wisely  intended  to  benefit  the  in- 
dustrious and  deserving  poor;  and  he  purposed  that 
commodious  buildings  should  be  erected  in  different 
parts  of  London — at  Spittalfields,  Chelsea,  Bermondsey, 
Islington,  and  Shadwell.  These  buildings  were  to  have 
suits  of  rooms  for  the  working  poor  to  rent  and  occupy 
as  homes  at  the  outlay  of  only  a  few  shillings  a  week. 

In  the  spring  of  1865,  Mr.  Peabody  contemplating: 
leaving  England  for  another  visit  to  America  invited  the 
the  trustees  of  the  "  poor  fund  "  to  his  table  to  dinner. 
On  that  occasion  he  made  the  following  remarks  ; 

"  Gentlemen  :  When  I  made  my  donation  of  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  for  the  benefit  of  the 
poor  of  London,  in  March,  1862,  it  was  my  intention,  if 
my  life  was  spared  until  my  retirement  from  business, 
and  Providence  continued  me  in  prosperity,  to  place  in. 
your  hands  a  farther  gift  for  the  same  object.  I  now 
intend  to  make  over  to  you  by  deed,  as  soon  as  possible, 
one  hundred  thousand  pounds  more."  What  astonish- 
ing generosity  this  man  displayed. 

No  wonder  that  Queen  Victoria  sent  him  a  letter  of 
thanks,  and  an  elaborate  portrait  of  herself  as  a  souvenir. 
The  latter  was  deposited  in  his  native  town. 

If  George  Peabody  sought  fame,  how  inspiring  was  his 
method  to  obtain  it.  It  will  be  lasting  and  untarnished. 
Contrast  his  method  of  winning  laurels  to  that  of  the 
Caesars  and  Alexanders.  They  crushed  and  subjugated 
the  masses  beneath  their  bloody  and  despotic  heels ;  he 
strove  to  raise  them  from  mean  and  grovelling  state  and 
surroundings  to  lofty  aims  and  laudable  ambitions. 

"Educate  the  masses  "  should  be  the  motto  of  every: 
philanthropist.    Ignorance  and  sin  go  hand  in  hand. 

And  how  many  a  struggling  and  feeble  mental  plant,, 
so  to  speak,  coming  under  the  infiuence  of  George  Pea- 
body's  educational  bounty,  has  been  watered,  revived,  and 
struck  root  until  it  grew  a  mighty,  towering  tree,  to 
beautify  the  landscape  and  afford  shelter  and  protection 
to  things  of  weaker  growth.  Is  it  not  written  of  such 
§18  he:  "Thou  hast  been  faithful  over  the  few  things— 
thou  Shalt  be  ruler  over  many." 


O,  that  I  lesB  could  fear  to  lose  this  being,  wMch  like  * 
snowball  in  my  coward  hand,  the  more  it  is  grasped,  the 
faster  melts  away  I 

If  you  would  be  well  with  a  great  mind,  leave  him  with  a 
favorable  impression  of  j'ou  ;  if  with  a  little  mind,  leave  hiofe 
with  a  favorable  opinion  of  himself. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


139 


THE  DATS  OF  FALCONRY  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD, 

How  the  Sport  was  Carried  On. 


Falconry — the  art  of  training  falcons  or  otber  birds  of 

grey  for  the  chase — the  sport  itself  being  called  in 
Inglish,  hawking ;  in  French,  le  vol.  A  falconry  is  also 
the  place  where  such  birds  are  kept.  The  sport  seems 
to  have  been  first  introduced  into  "merrie  England,"  as 


Louis  XIV.,  the  Gand  Falconer  took  his  oath  from 
the  hands  of  the  king.  He  controlled  royal  forests, 
named  to  a  host  of  minor  offices,  sent  yearly  certain 
birds  to  neighboring  monarchs,  received  the  birds- 
sent  in  state  by  the  Grand  Master  of  Malta;  and,  of 
course,  when  majesty  galloped  out  to  hawk,  this  ex- 
alted officer  had  the  right  to  place  the  bird  on  the 
royal  wrist,  and  to  present  to  him  the  head  of  the 
quarry  struck  by  the  royal  bird. 


AFTER  THE  HUNT.— FEEDING  THE  HAWKS. 


it  used  to  be  called,  from  the  north  of  Europe. 

It  is  amazing  what  importance  the  pleasures  of  the 
great  acquired  in  the  olden  time.  England  and 
France  try  to  keep  up  some  of  the  old  spirit  of  the 
ehase;  but  in  these  days  of  railroad  and  printing 
presses,  field  sports  sink  by  their  own  weight.  It  is 
ks  impossible  to  save  them  from  extinction  as  it  would 
be  to  drive  steam  out  of  modem  works. 

Yec.  what  an  institution  hawking  was  !  Under 


'rhe  sport,  as  a  royal  one,  dates  from  the  thirteent. 
century.  It  was  at  its  height  during  the  Middle- 
Ages.  _  At  the  beginning  of  the  last  century  it  fell 
into  disuse,  and,  like  many  other  usages  of  the  past, 
was  swept  away  forever  in  the  shock  caused  to  Europr 
by  the  French  Revolution. 

The  Falcon  Family  were  alone  employed  in  the 
sports  that  prevailed,  and  two  or  three  species  were 
used  in  preference  to  others      Of  those  Dosses? 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


tag  long  wings,  the  falcon  proper  and  the  ger- falcon, 
and  of  the  short- winged,  the  goshawk  and  the  spar- 
row-hawk were  in  special  request  ;  and  next  to 
these,  the  hobby,  the  kestrel,  the  merlin,  and  the 
buzzard  were  preferred.  The  female,  which  in  all 
the  varieties  of  this  tribe  is  considerably  larger  than 
the  male,  was  alone  employed  in  sport,  and  the  com- 
inon  names  of  all  the  species  apply  to  that  sex,  the  male 
having  usually  some  distinctive  appellation.  Thus,  the 
male  of  the  ger-falcon  was  called  the  Jerkin,  of  the 
/alcon  proper,  the  Fierce  Qentle,  of  the  goshawk,  the 
Fiercel;  and  of  the  sparrow-hawk,  the  Mmket.  The 
word  gentle,  moreover,  so  often  used,  has  no  reference 
to  the  disposition  of  the  bird,  but  to  its  being  reclaimed 
and  duly  trained  for  falconry. 

The  attire  of  one  of  these  birds,  which  was  used  from 
the  first,  is  worthy  of  notice.  A  leathern  hood,  sur- 
mounted with  gay  feathers,  was  worn  on  the  head,  to 
blind  the  eyes ;  straps,  called  jesses,  were  fitted  to  the 
Jegs ;  a  small  silver  bell  was  attached  to  each  of  them  ; 
and  the  leash,  a  long  slender  strap,  sometimes  length- 
ened by  a  creance,  or  common  cord,  was  used  as  a  tether, 
while  it  made  a  considerable  allowance  for  free  motion. 
The  bird  was  first  mayined — that  is,  used  to  the  presence 
of  human  beings.  When  it  did  right,  it  was  fed ;  when 
otherwise,  it  was  left  hungry ;  and,  when  very  refractory, 
B.  stream  of  water  was  directed  at  its  head.  One  object 
was  to  teach  the  bird  to  fly  at  its  proper  game,  and 
another  to  bring  it  back  to  its  master's  hand.  The  first 
was  sought  in  the  case  of  long  winged  birds  by  a  lure, 
consisting  of  a  stick  or  cord^  at  the  end  of  which  were 
pieces  of  flesh  with  a  bunch  of  feathers,  or  an  actual  re- 
semblance of  the  intended  prey.  A  falcon  being  set 
loose  by  one  man,  another,  standing  at  a  distance,  waved 
the  lure  round  his  head,  and  thus  tempted  the  bird  to 
advance  and  strike  at  it.  A  whistle  was  used  to  bring 
back  the  hawk,  which,  when  kept  on  the  hand,  required 
venr  strong  gloves  as  a  defence  from  its  talons. 

The  bird  even  showed  rank.  To  be  seen  bearing  a 
hawk  stamped  one  as  of  gentle  birth.  The  ger-falcon 
was  appropriated  to  the  king;  the  falcon-gentil  to  a 
prince  ;  the  falcon  of  the  rock  to  a  duke  ;  the  merlin  to 
a  lady.  A  yeoman  could  not  presume  to  go  higher  than 
a  goshawk. 

The  blindfolded  bird  was  fastened  by  a  chain  to  the 
wrist  of  its  owner.  He  was  then  carried  Into  the  fields, 
and  when  a  wild  fowl  or  heron,  or  any  suitable  prey  was 
jseen,  the  bird  was  unhooded  and  let  fly.  The  amuse- 
ment, which  was  rather  a  cruel  one,  consisted  in  seeing 
ihe  falcon  strike  down  its  prey.  The  art  of  falconry,  or 
hawking,  was  such  a  fashionable  amusement  that  people 
of  rank  hardly  ever  stirred  out  without  their  hawks 
perched  on  their  wrists ;  and  a  man  called  a  falconer 
was  employed  to  feed  and  take  care  of  them. 

In  the  fifteenth  century,  they  were  even  taken  Into 
church  by  their  owners.  When  thus  carried,  the  bird 
was  hooded  with  a  cap  of  leather  or  velvet,  sur- 
mounted by  a  tuft  of  feathers. 

The  great  authority  on  the  subject  in  England  was 
the  work  of  Dame  Juliana  Berne rs,  whose  rules  for 
the  difficult  training  and  use  of  the  birds  were  de- 
>cisive. 

In  the  houses  of  princes  the  hawks  were  under  the 
care  of  pages,  youths  of  the  noblest  families  ;  and  a 
.scene  such  as  Monginot  draws  (see  illustration)  was 
not  uncommon.  The  two  youths  are,  evidently,  im- 
pressed with  the  importance  of  their  office.  The 
birds,  who  have,  assuredly,  well  earned  their  meal, 
are  gathering  to  receive  the  delicate  slices  of  beef, 
mutton  or  pork,  well  cleared  of  fat  or  sinew,  which 
are  royally  presented  on  a  metal  dish.  The  quarry, 
proof  of  their  skill,  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  castle  steps, 
to  be  taken  in  when  the  birds  have  been  fed.  A 
young  deer,  wild  geese  and  ducks,  a  pheasant,  would 
do  well  for  a  morning's  hawking. 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.,  Sir  Thomas  Munson  is 
said  to  have  given  £1,000  for  a  cast  of  hawks— a 
.cast  denoting  two,  as  a  Use  did  three. 

The  sports  of  those  times,  as  of  later  date,  were  not 
without  their  difficulties  and  perils.  Hall  relates,  in- 
deed, that  Henry  VIII.,  on  one  occasion,  nearly  lost 
his  life  when,  engaged  in  hawking.    It  was  the  cus- 


tom not  only  to  cast  ofE  the  falcon  and  follow  it  on 
horseback,  but  also,  where  the  ground  was  broken, 
covered  with  wood,  or  intersected  by  marshes  or 
water,  to  pursue  the  pastime  on  foot;  in  the  latter 
case,  each  sportsman  carried  a  long  pole  to  aid 
him  in  jumping  over  rivulets  and  ditches.  Vault- 
ing over  a  ditch  at  Hitchin,  in  Hertfordshire, 
Henry's  pole  broke  and  he  fell  head  downward  into  the 
deep  mud,  which  almost  smothered  him ;  and  there  he 
would  have  died  but  for  one  John  Moody,  a  serving 
man,  who  happening  to  be  near,  leaped  into  the  ditch 
and  rescued  the  king.  "And  so,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"God  in  his  goodnesse  preserved  hym." 

Of  falconry  there  are  many  traces  in  our  choicest 
literature.  Boccacio,  in  one  of  his  most  touching  stories, 
relates  that  a  reduced  gentleman  long  wooed  a  lady  un- 
successfully ;  but  at  length,  on  her  visiting  him,  having 
no  other  means  of  entertaining  her,  sacrificed  his  falcon 
for  her  meal,  and  thereby,  though  without  design,  gained 
her  affections.  Dante  and  Spencer,  as  well  as  Chaucer, 
allude  to  this  royal,  princely  and  noble  pastime.  Shakes- 
peare, thinking  of  the  hawk  in  her  flights,  makes  Othello 
excTaim,  respecting  the  suspected  Desdemona : 

"  I'll  whistle  her  oflF,  and  let  her  down  the  wind. 
To  prey  at  fortune." 

As  hawks  were  kept  hooded  until  they  were  ready  to  fly,  we 
have  the  word  hood-wink^  meaning  to  blind  by  covering  the 
eyes.  Thus  Shakspeare  says : 

We  will  blind  and  hood-wink  him." 

The  greatest  falconer  of  modem  times  was  one  of  the  Lord 
Oxfords,  who  died  towards  the  close  of  the  last  century.  He 
is  said  to  have  incurred  an  expense  of  £100  per  annum  for 
every  hawk  he  kept,  for  it  had  its  separate  attendant,  and  was 
sent,  like  its  fellows,  on  occasional  voyages  to  the  Continent, 
for  the  preservation  of  its  plumage  and  courage. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made  in  England,  in  recent 
times,  to  revive  the  sport  of  falconry,  but  the  enclosure  of 
farms,  equally  with  a  change  in  public  taste,  is  against  it. 

The  Grand  Falconer  was  one  of  the  most  illustrious  ofBcers 
of  the  courts  of  Europe.  In  the  year  1828,  the  Duke  of  St., 
Albans,  the  hereditary  Grand  Falconer  of  England,  gave  a  dis- 
play of  this  practice  at  Redboume,  near  St.  Albans.  The  birds, 
eight  fine  falcons,  were  each  chained  to  a  section  of  a  cone  of 
wood,  about  fifteen  inches  in  height  and  ten  inches  in  diame- 
ter at  the  base.  They  were  hooded  and  belled,  and  mostly  sat 
at  the  top  of  their  poets.  Six  of  them  were  taken  for  the  sport 
of  the  day.  A  dog  having  pointed,  a  hawk  was  unhooded  and 
loosed ;  it  rose  wheeling  over  the  heads  of  the  party  sweeping 
to  the  right  and  left;  now  ascending  into  the  mid-air  in  the 
distance,  and  now  obeying  the  hawker's  call.  A  partridge  was 
flushed  and  flew  with  the  wind  towards  the  company,  when 
the  hawk  suddenly  crossed  its  line  of  flight,  and  seizing  it  at 
a  height  of  thirty  or  forty  yards,  bore  it  m  his  beak,  scream^ 
ing  and  bleeding,  over  the  heads  of  the  company,  conveying 
it  down  to  the  belt  of  an  adjoining  plantation.  The  falcon 
was  recovered.  Other  flights,  which  it  is  needless  to  describe, 
were  not  so  successful,  and  some  of  the  falcons  flew  off",  and 
could  not  be  recovered  to  the  hand  of  the  falconer. 

In  Prance  falconry  was  most  practiced  in  the  time  of  Francis 
I.,  1515-'47.  He  was  the  first  who  appointed  a  ''Grand  Falconer 
la  France;"  the  predecessors  of  that  functionary  were  simply 
called ''the  King's  falconers,"  The  grand  falconer  of  Francis 
I.  bad  an  annual  revenue  of  4,000  florins,*  and  had  under  him 
fifty  gentlemen  and  fifty  falconers,  the  whole  establishment 
costing  annually  40,000  florins.  Under  Louis  XIV.  the  institu- 
tion was  yet  more  expensive.  Louis  XVI.  tried  to  reduce  the 
expense  of  the  royal  falconry,  but  without  success;  and  finally 
the  revolution  swept  it  away. 

The  sport  retained  its  existence  in  Germany  till  toward  the 
close  of  the  18th  century.  In  Italy  falconry  was  a  favorite 
pastime.  In  the  Bast,  the  Persians  are  skilful  in  training 
falcons  to  hunt  all  manner  of  birds  and  even  gazellea. 

While  it  flourished  in  Europe,  hawking  was  the  principal 
amusement  of  gentlemen  and  ladies.  Knights  courted  ladies 
by  attention  in  the  hawking  field,  flying  their  birds,  and  res- 
toring them  to  their  mistresses'  wrists.  A  knowledge  of  the 
management  of  hawkst  was  an  essential  piece  of  noble  educa- 
tion. The  vocabulary  of  hawking  was  as  extended  as  its  ordi- 
nances, and  several  of  its  terms  have  been  adopted  into  the 
language.  Hawks'  legs  were  their  arms ;  their  talons,  poun- 
ces ;  wings,  sails ;  tail,  the  train.  When  the  hawk  fluttered  to 
escape,  it  bated;  to  sleep  was  to  jouk;  to  stretch  one  wing 
back  was  to  mantle ;  to  recross  its  wings  again  was  to  worble. 

Mr.  Atkinson  describes  a  species  of  falconry  in  use  among 
the  Kirghiz.  The  party  whom  he  accompanied  set  out  with  an 
eagle  and  a  falcon,  and  had  not  gone  very  far  before  they  dis- 
covered several  large  deer.  In  an  instant  the  eagle  was  un- 
hooded, and  his  shackles  removed,  when  he  sprang  from  hia 

*  A  florin  is  about  $2.25.       ^  j  .    ,  •  ^     ,  *u 

tHawk  is  a  name  indiscnmmately  applied  to  birds  of  the 
falcon  f  ami^. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


perch  and  soared  up  Into  the  air.  Having  risen  to  a  consider- 
able height,  he  seemed  to  poise  himself  for  about  a  minute, 
and  giving  two  or  three  flaps  with  hia  wings,  swooped  ofl'  in 
a  straight  line  towards  his  prey.  He  went  with  great  rapidity ; 
his  keepers  followed  him  at  full  gallop,  and  were  about  200 
yards  off  when  the  eagle  struck  his  prey.  The  deer  gave  a 
bound  forward  and  fell.  The  eagle  had  struck  one  talon  in  his 
neck  and  the  other  into  his  back,  and  with  his  beak  was  tear- 
ing  out  the  animal's  hair.  The  Kirghiz  sprang  from  his  horse, 
slipped  the  hood  over  the  eagle's  head  and  the  shackles  upon 
his  legs,  and  removed  him  from  his  prey  without  difficulty. 
The  keeper  mounted  his  horse,  the  eagle  was  placed  on  his 
perch,  and  he  was  ready  for  another  flight. 

The  falcon  is  a  very  long-lived  bird  ;  there  is  a  tale  that  one 
belonging  to  James  I.  in  1610,  with  a  gold  collar  bearing  that 
date,  was  found  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in  1793,  and  though 
more  than  180  years  old,  was  said  to  be  possessed  of  consider- 
able vigor.  As  an  example  of  their  speed  may  be  mentioned 
the  falcon  of  Henry  IV.  of  France,  which  flew  from  Fontain- 
bleau  to  Malta  (1,000  miles,)  in  a  day ;  and  many  similar  in- 
stances are  on  record. 

The  falcons  are  found  throughout  the  world,  regardless  of 
climate.  There  is  considerable  variety  at  the  different  ages  in 
birds  of  the  United  States  and  Europe. 

The  common  or  peregrine  falcon  i^F.  peregrinus^  Linn)  meas- 
ures in  length  about  16>^  inches,  the  extent  of  wings  30,  bill 
1>^,  tarsus  1}4,  and  middle  toe  inches,  This  bird,  which  is 
also  called  the  great-footed  and  the  duck-hawk,  according  to 
Audubon,  was  formerly  rare  in  the  United  States,  which  it  can 
now  hardly  be  said  to  be.  It  flies  with  astonishing  rapidity, 
turning  in  its  course  in  the  most  surprising  manner.  A  favor- 
ite prey  is  the  duck,  which  it  seizes  by  the  wing,  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  or  on  land ;  when  within  a  few  feet  of  its 
victim  it  stretches  out  the  legs  and  claws  and  drops  upon  the 
trembling  bird  almost  perpendicularly ;  if  light  it  flies  off  with 
it  immediately  to  some  quiet  place;  if  too  heavy,  it  kills  and 
devours  it  in  the  nearest  convenient  place.  Turning  the  bird 
it  has  caught  belly  upward,  it  claws  off  the  feathers  from  the 
breast,  and  tears  the  flesh  to  pieces  with  avidity.  This  species 
is  solitary,  except  during  the  pairing  of  the  breeding  season, 
which  is  in  very  early  spring ;  it  is  found  in  all  parts  of  the 
United  States.  The  nest  is  made  of  coarse  sticks,  generally 
on  the  shelf  of  some  precipitous  rock. 

The  peregrine  falcon  is  distributed  over  temperate  Europe, 
where  the  country  is  mountainous  and  the  sea  coast  precipi- 
tous. This  bird,  when  in  full  plumage  and  good  condition, 
for  its  compact  muscular  form,  great  strength,  boldness  and 
ferocity,  may  be  taken  as  the  very  type  of  aT)ird  of  prey;  it  is, 
among  nirds  what  tne  lion  and  tiger  are  among  mammals, 
fearless  in  attack,  swift  in  pursuit,  strong  and  cruel. 

The  merlin  {Falco  cesalon,  Willoughby,)  is  one  of  our  small- 
est falcons,  but  its  form  is  perfect  m  symmetry.  It  does  not 
rise  above  its  prey  and  rush  down,  but  it  instantly  gives  chase, 
closely  following  the  victim  through  all  its  turns  and  wind- 
ings, and  is  generally  successful,  unless  cover  is  at  hand. 

"The  merlin,"  says  Mr.  Lloyd,  "is  a  very  bold  bird,  and 
seems  afraid  of  nothing.  I  one  day  winged  one  as  he  was 
passing  over  my  head  at  a  great  height.  The  little  fellow, 
small  as  he  was,  flung  himself  on  his  back  when  I  went  to  pick 
him  up,  and  gave  battle  most  furiously,  darting  out  his  talons 
(which  were  as  sharp  as  needles)  at  everything  tnat  approached 
him.  We  took  him  home,  however,  and  I  put  him  into  the 
walled  garden,  where  he  lived  for  more  than  a  year.  He  very 
soon  became  tame,  and  came  on  being  called  to  receive  his 
food,  which  consisted  of  birds,  mice,  &c.  So  fearless  was  he 
that  he  flew  instantly  at  the  largest  kind  of  a  seagull  or  crow 
that  we  gave  him.  When  hungry,  and  no  other  food  was  at 
hand,  he  would  attend  the  garden,  when  digging,  and  swallow 
the  large  earth-worms  when  turned  up.  To  my  great  regret, 
we  found  the  little  bird  lying  dead  under  the  tree  where  he 
generally  roosted;  and  though  I  examined  him  carefully,  I 
could  not  find  out  the  cause  of  his  death." 

Mr.  Eoss  Cox  describes  a  curious  adventure  with  a  hawk. 
He  and  his  party  stopped  one  very  sultry  day  about  noon  to 
rest  their  horses  and  enjoy  the  cooling  shade  offered  by  a  clump 
of  sycamore  trees,  with  a  refreshing  draft  from  a  neighboring 
spring.  Several  large  hawks  were  flying  about  the  spot,  two 
of  which  were  brought  down,  and  from  their  great  size,  huge 
claws  and  large  hooded  beaks,  it  was  clear  they  could  easily 
have  carried  off  a  common-sized  duck  or  goose. 

Close  to  the  resting  place  was  a  low  hill,  round  the  top  of 
which  Mr.  Cox  saw  the  hawks  assemble;  and  judging  that  a 
nest  was  there,  he  determined,  by  himself,  to  find  it  out.  He 
therefore  cautiously  ascended  the  eminence,  on  the  summit  jf 
which  he  perceived  a  nest  larger  than  a  common-sized  market 
basket,  formed  of  branches  of  trees,  one  being  laid  regularly 
over  the  other,  and  the  least  of  them  being  an  inch  in  circum- 
ference. Around  it  were  scattered  skeletons,  bones,  and  half- 
mangled  bodies  of  pigeons,  sparrows,  humming  and  other 
birds.  Next  to  a  rattlesnake  and  a  shark,  his  greatest  aversion 
Is  a  hawk,  and  this  was  not  diminished  by  observing  the  re- 
mains of  the  feathered  tribes,  which  had  from  time  to  time 
been  greedily  devoured.  "I  therefore  determined,"  he  says, 
*'to  destroy  the  nest  and  disperse  its  inhabitants;  but  I  had 
scarcely  commenced  the  work  of  demolition  with  my  dagger, 
when  old  and  young  flew  out  and  attacked  me  about  my  face 
and  eyes.  In  the  meantime  I  roared  out  lustily  for  help,  and 
laid  about  me  with  the  dagger.  Three  men  promptly  ran  up 
the  hill  and  called  out  to  me  to  shut  my  ej'es  and  throw  myself 
on  the  ground.   I  obeyed  their  directions ;  and  just  as  I  began 


to  kiss  the  earth  a  bullet  from  one  of  their  rifles  brought  down- 
a  large  hawk,  apparently  the  father  of  the  gang.  He  fell  close 
to  my  neck,  and  in  his  expiring  agonies  made  a  desperate  bite 
at  my  left  car,  which  I  escaped,  and  in  return  gave  him  the 
coup-de-orace  by  thrusting  about  four  inches  of  my  dagger 
down  his  throat.  The  death  of  their  chieftain  was  followed 
by  that  of  two  others,  which  completely  dispersed  them,  and 
vve  retired  after  breaking  up  their  den. 

The  following  strange  incident  occurred  a  few  months  since 
a  short  distance  from  this  city  : 

One  of  our  well-known  merchants  had  gone  out  on  a  visit  to 
a  friend,  at  whose  house  there  was  a  bright  little  boy,  and  one 
day,  to  please  the  child,  he  manufactured  a  very  large  kite, 
and  as  the  wind  was  strong  enough,  the  kite  was  raised  at 
once.  After  it  had  goaae  up  nearlv  half  a  mile,  a  large  crowd 
of  country  people  collected  to  admire  it,  as  such  a  magnificent 
toy  had  never  been  seen  in  that  section  before.  While  the 
spectators  were  admiring  it,  a  very  large  hawk  was  seen  to  fly 
slowly  out  of  a  neighboring  grove  and  go  directly  toward  the 
kite.  The  hawk  approached  within  a  few  feet  of  the  strange 
looking  object,  and  then  circled  about  under  it  for  perhaps 
five  minutes,  when  he  flew  above  it  and  again  circled  around 
several  times.  Suddenly  he  hovered  directly  over  the  kite, 
and  after  looking  at  it  intently  for  a  short  time,  darted  down- 
ward, and  striking  the  paper,  passed  directly  through  the  kite, 
coming  out  on  the  under  side.  After  this  strange  experience, 
which  no  doubt  puzzled  the  hawk  vastly,  he  Ifew  off  a  short 
distance  for  reflection,  but  still  keeping  the  kite  in  view.  Not 
being  disposed  to  give  it  up  so,  he  quickly  returned  to  the 
charge,  and  this  time  fastened  on  a  long  string  of  rags  that 
were  used  as  a  tail  to  the  kite,  which  he  tore  and  scattered  in 
the  air  in  a  savage  manner.  Finding,  however,  no  resistance 
on  the  part  of  the  kite,  he  became  disgusted  or  scared,  and  flew 
away  towards  the  woods,  from  whence  he  came.  The  gentle- 
man says  that  whenever  the  hawk  made  an  attack  he  would 
retreat  a  little,  as  if  he  expected  the  strange  bird  was  going  to 
return  the  assault. 

Hawks,  and  indeed  birds  of  prey  generally,  are  almost  always 
shot  at  when  they  come  within  range  of  a  gun,  without  any 
particular  reason,  except  that  they  are  hawks,  and  of  a  fero- 
cious disposition;  they  do  no  great  mischief  beyond  the  oc- 
casional stealing  of  a  chicken,  hare,  grouse,  or  pigeon,  which 
otherwise  would  fall  a  victim  to  man's  appetite;  and  they  are 
really  of  positive  advantage  to  the  agriculturalist  by  destroy, 
ing  noxious  reptiles  and  animals  and  oirds  injurious  to  vegeta' 
tion. 

The  falcon  has  been  thus  described  by  Proctor: 
"The  falcon  is  a  noble  bird ; 
And  when  his  heart  of  hearts  is  stir'd, 
He'Jl  seek  the  eagle,  though  he  run 
Into  his  chamber  near  the  sun. 
Never  was  there  brute  or  bird. 
Whom  the  woods  or  mountains  heard. 
That  could  force  a  fear  or  care 
From  him— the  Arab  of  the  airy 


Sponge  Fishing  in  G-reece. 

Greece  has  one  hundred  and  fifty  boats  engaged  in  the' 
sponge  fisheries,  forty  of  which  have  English  diving  appa- 
ratus. The  divers  remain  under  water  six  hours  a  day  when 
they  go  fishing,  many  of  them  dying  of  suffocation,  and  all  of 
them  losing  their  hearing  after  a  few  years  of  this  under-water 
work. 

In  the  series  of  articles  by  Jules  Vernes,  to  be  commenced 
in  the  December  15th  number  of  the  Gkowing  World,  will  be 
given  a  full  description  of  sponges ;  their  varied  shapes  ;  beau- 
tiful appearance  in  the  water,  and  their  manner  of  growing^ 
also,  a  description  of  the  divers  at  work  as  viewed  by  the  in- 
mates of  his  powerful  segar-shaped  submarine  vessel,  while  it 
was  sailing  down  deep  under  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea. 
From  this  vessel  they  could  behold  all  the  dangers  to  which 
the  divers  were  exposed,  and  in  some  instances  were  the 
means  of  saving  them  from  the  jawb  of  sharks  and  other  fierce, 
voracious  monsters  of  the  deep. 

The  strange  and  thrilling  experiences  of  these  submarine 
voyagers  in  their  segar-shaped  vessel,  will  be  infatuatingly  in- 
teresting to  both  old  and  young,  and  we  are  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity of  presenting  them  in  the  Gkowing  Wokld  for  the 
benefit  of  our  readers. 


Every  girl  ought,  if  she  has  a  mother,  to  confide  in  her.  And 
it  is  natural  for  girls  to  do  this  if  their  mothers  encourage  such 
confidence.  If  a  girl  is  motherless,  then  she  had  ought  to  have 
some  other  safe  adviser.  An  affectionate  aunt,  or  her  pastor's 
wife,  or  some  woman  who  was  her  mother's  friend,  comes 
next  to  a  mother  for  such  a  parpose.  Her  adviser  should  be  a 
woman,  and  older  than  herself,  and  of  a  devout,  religious 
character.  A  girl  who  has  such  a  counselor  may  escape  many 
a  trouble— many  a  snare  that  would  otherwise  cause  her  much 

inovancft  and  sorrow. 


142 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Jonas  Chickering. 

Jonas  Chickering,  the  founder  of  the  firm  of  Chicker- 
ing &  Sons,  was  born  at  New  Ipswich,  N.  H.,  on  the  5th 
of  April,  1798.  His  father,  Abner  Chickering,  was  a 
steady,  industrious,  good-natured,  and  sensible  man, 
possessing  but  a  very  moderate  supply  of  this  world's 
goods,  and  in  no  way  particularly  distin^ished  from 
the  common  men  around  him.  By  profession  he  was  a 
blacksmith,  but  the  demand  upon  his  professional  skill 
was  not  great,  owing  to  the  thinly  settled  section  of 
country  in  which  he  lived.  In  connection  with  working 
at  his  trade,  he  cultivated  a  small  farm  to  help  support 
his  family. 

The  early  years  of  our  hero's  life  were  passed  much 
like  those  of  other  boys.  He  helped  on  the  farm,  and 
assisted  sometimes  in  the  blacksmith  shop ;  but  in 
neither  occupation  were  his  tastes  suited.  He  had  great 
constructive  powers.  He  manufactured  whistles  and 
knick-nacks  with  his  knife  in  leisure  hours,  yet  there 
was  nothing  remarkable  about  this ;  many  a  boy  has 
done  the  same.  He  appeared  to  be  only  of  average 
ability ;  and,  boys,  he  earned  Ms  success  out  of  no  better 
materials  than  lie  closely  at  your  hands. 

He  had  few  facilities  to  acquire  an  education  com- 
pared with  this  time  ;  books  were  scarce,  reading  matter 
a  luxury.  Jonas  appreciated  the  value  of  knowledge, 
and  availed  himself  of  such  opportimities  as  he  could 
obtain  to  secure  it ;  but  he  lacked  that  intense  thirst  for 
learning  that  characterizes  some  natures,  and  which 
gives  success  ;  only  he  had  energy,  perseverance,  and  a 
willingness  to  work,  that  are  better  characteristics  than 
brilliant  spasmodic  endeavors  and  achievements. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  was  sent  to  learn  the 
cabinet-making  trade,  at  which  he  served  an  aprentice- 
ship  of  three  years.  He  was  faithful,  and  became  a 
skillful  workman.  He  knew  his  business  thoroughly, 
and  that,  of  itself,  is  an  element  of  success.  Wliile 
working  at  his  trade,  Jonas  developed  that  mechanical 
skill  which  afterwards  was  of  great  service  to  him  in  a 
more  elevated  sphere. 

He  had  a  great  taste  for  music ;  learned  to  play  on  the 
the  fife,  and  became  quite  an  authority  in  his  circle  in 
regard  to  musical  matters.  After  the  fife  he  became 
familiar  with  the  clarionet,  and  learned  to  read  music 
with  great  readiness.  He  was  twenty-one  when  he  first 
became  acquainted  with  the  pianoforte,  there  being  but 
one  in  town.  This  was  a  disorganized  and  disarranged 
one,  sadly  needing  repairs. 

Jonas  being  a  mechanic,  and  rather  a  professor  in 
music,  was  allowed  to  manage  this  one  about  as  his 
fancy  dictated.  He,  therefore,  took  this  one  apart,  in- 
spected its  formation,  studied  the  uses  of  the  vanous 
parts,  discovered  the  nature  of  its  injuries,  and  success- 
fully repaired  them,  thus  receiving  his  first  practical 
lesson  in  the  future  business  of  his  life.  It  is  believed 
that  to  this  incident  is  due  the  "new  departure  "  which 
carried  him  into  other  than  the  cabinet-making  business. 

In  1818  he  went  to  Boston,  obtained  employment  with 
a  cabinet  maker,  but  deep  in  his  heart  was  the  project 
as  soon  as  it  should  become  practical  to  make  piano- 
fortes. Both  his  mechanical  tastes  and  his  love  for 
music  pointed  out  this  course.  In  1819  he  entered  the 
employment  of  a  pianoforte  manufacturer.  His  ardor, 
his  industry,  his  love  for  his  work  soon  won  him  the 
reputation  of  being  a  capable,  trustworthy  workman. 
He  studied  all  the  intricate  branches  of  the  manufactory, 
and  became  master  of  the  elaborate  machinery.  Piano- 
fortes, not  introduced  into  England  until  1757,  were  a 
scarce  article  in  this  country,  and  only  rarely  found  even 
in  the  families  of  the  wealthy.  But  two  names  precede 
that  of  Chickering  in  the  annals  of  piano  making  ;  they 
are  Osborne  and  Thurston.  So  he  commenced  with  an 
open  field  for  labor  and  a  wide  reach  for  improvements. 

Perceiving  that  the  existing  instrument  possessed 
many  imperfections,  he  bent  his  talents  to  the  work  of 
improving  it  and  removing  its  defects.  He  studied  to 
increase  its  volume  and  tone  ;  to  enlarge  its  compass  ; 
finally,  to  place  within  the  piano-forte  frame,  as  it  were, 
the  soul  of  music.  He  studied  the  most  intricate  and 
abstract  principles  as  applied  to  music,  like  the  influence 
>f  atmospheric  changes,  the  theory  of  vibration,  and  the 
science  of  acoustics  in  its  every  application,  in  fact,  he 
bent  his  whole  mind  and  acute  energies  to  attain  a 
standard  of  excellence  in  his  chosen  occupation. 

In  1823  he  formed  a  partnership;  but  the  firm  of 


Stewart  and  Chickering  "  was  not  long  lived  -  and  then 
he  went  on  alone,  hampered  for  want  of  capital  but  im- 
proving in  knowledge  of  his  business.  In  1830  he  asso- 
ciated himself  with  Captain  John  Mackay,  a  retired 
shipmaster,  who  took  charge  of  the  financial  part  of  the 
business,  leaving  Mr.  Chichering  master  of  the  mechani- 
cal department. 

Business  now  went  on  prosperously.  A  new  building 
was  erected  that  would  accommodate  a  hundred  work- 
men, which,  at  that  time,  was  considered  an  enormous 
provision,  but  every  department  was  reduced  to  a  fine 
system,  and  they  began  importing  their  own  materials. 
The  business  was  conducted  on  that  generous  scale  that 
warranted  success.  Constantly  throwing  their  profits 
back  into  the  enterprise,  their  progress  was  wonderful. 

In  1841  Mr.  Chickering  was  unfortunate  in  the  un- 
timely death  of  his  partner,  who  was  wrecked  at  sea  and 
perished.  Mr.  Chickering  undertook  to  buy  out  the 
interest  of  the  deceased  partner  at  a  cost,  it  was  re- 
ported, of  half  a  million  dollars.  He  met  all  his  notes  at 
maturity  without  one  failure.  The  establishment  turned 
out  fifteen  hundred  pianos  annually. 

In  1853  a  deplorable  fire  burned  his  factory  to  the 
ground.  His  pecuniary  loss  was  reckoned  at  $200,000. 
Undaunted  by  misfortune,  he  set  about  erecting  another 
establishment — an  immense  building,  second  only  to  the 
Capitol  at  Washington.  We  give  the  statistic  of  this 
building :  It  fronts  245  feet  on  Tremont  street,  with  two 
wings,  each  262  feet  in  length  ;  the  width  of  the  buUd- 
ing  being  50  feet.  In  it  are  five  acres  of  floor  room, 
lighted  by  900  windows  contauiing  in  all  11,000  panes  of 
glass,  and  heated  by  steam  through  11  miles  of  iron 
pipe.  In  the  erection  of  this  building  were  used  9,000 
perch  of  stone,  1,665,000  feet  of  lumber,  3,000,000  brick, 
2,500  casks  of  lime  and  cement,  and  300  casks  of  nails. 

In  one  department  of  the  building  is  always  stored 
$50,000  worth  of  lumber  in  order  that  it  may  be  per- 
fectly seasoned  for  use  ;  that  used  for  sounding-boards 
is  kept  one  year  in  a  room  heated  by  steam  to  a  tempera- 
ture of  ninety  degrees.  Mr.  Chickering  did  not  live  to 
see  the  completion  of  his  manufactory.  He  died  in  1853 
of  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel.  His  sons,  however,  fol- 
lowed out  their  father's  plan,  and  the  firm  held  the  title 
of  "Chickering  &  Sons."  The  business  under  their 
management  gave  employment  to  five  hundred  hands, 
turning  out  about  forty  pianos  a  week. 

We  are  happy  to  have  it  stated,  that  Mr.  Chickering's 
success  did  not,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  render  him 
selfish  and  uncharitable.  He  was  kind  to  his  laborers, 
and  generous  in  his  business  life. 

f  There  is  one  pleasing  incident  connected  with  Jonas 
Chickering's  life  which  will  interest  the  reader.  One 
day,  Richard  Storrs  Willis,  brother  of  the  scholar  poet, 
N.  P.  Willis,  wandered  into  the  establishment.  He  was 
only  a  boy,  but  a  passionate  lover  of  music,  and  no  mean 
performer  even  tnen  ;  and,  sitting  down  to  a  piano,  he 
began  playing  an  air  from  Beethoven.  Struck  by  the 
masterful  touch  on  the  ivory  keys,  Mr.  Chickering 
offered  the  boy  a  situation  in  the  establishment ;  but  the 
boy  kindly  refused  the  offer  and  went  away.  Years 
after,  as  a  man,  Richard  Willis  returned,  and  chanced 
again  to  enter  the  building.  Again  he  began  playing, 
and  Chickering's  acute  senses  recognized  the  wizard 
touch.  Appreciative  of  that  master  hand,  he  frankly 
inquired  into  the  stranger's  prospects,  and  offered  him 
five  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  four  years  musical  study 
in  Europe.  Young  Willis  was  wise  enough  to  accept 
this  philanthropical  offer  to  attain  the  object  of  his 
hopes  and  aspirations — a  musical  education.  His  suc- 
cess in  life,  as  a  composer  and  musical  writer,  he  attri- 
buted wholly  to  Jonas  Chickering's  benevolent  and 
providential  assistance. 


Seward- 
William  Henry  Seward  was  born  at  Florida,  in  Orange 
County,  New  York,  on  the  16th  of  May,  1801.  He  was 
the  son  of  Dr.  Samuel  Seward,  a  prominent  citizen  of 
New  York,  who  was  for  seventeen  years  the  Judge  of 
tne  County  Court  of  Orange;  young  Seward  was  a  bright, 
intelligent  lad,  and  learned  rapidly  at  the  country  school 
at  which  he  began  his  education.  He  made  such  rapid 
progress  that  when  he  was  but  nine  years  old,  his  father 
sent  him  to  the  Farmer's  Hall  Academy,  at  Goshen,  the 
country  seat.  He  spent  several  years  there,  then  re- 
turned to  his  native  town,  where  he  completed  his  prep- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


143 


aration  for  College.  In  1816,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he 
entered  Union  College  ;  he  studied  hard  and  maintained 
A  high  position  in  his  class,  excelling  in  moral  philoso- 
phy, rhetoric  and  the  classics.  In  1819,  he  entered  the 
fienior  class,  and  during  that  year  spent  six  months  in 
the  South  teaching  school.  Late"  In  the  year  he  returned 
to  College  and  graduated  with  distinction. 

He  decided  to  adopt  the  law  as  a  profession,  and  for 
that  purpose  entered,  as  student,  the  law  office  of  John 
Anthon,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  Afterwards  he  returned  to 
Orange  County,  and  completed  his  studies  under  John 
Duer  and  Ogden  Hoffman.  In  January,  1822,  he  was 
Admitted  to  the  bar,  and  removing  to  Western  New 
York,  located  himself  at  Auburn,  where  he  formed  a  law 
partnership  with  Judge  John  Miller,  of  that  town.  This 
was  destined  to  become  a  closer  tie,  for  two  years  later, 
Mr.  Seward  married  the  Judge's  youngest  daughter. 
Mr.  Seward  devoted  himself  with  great  zeal  to  his  prac- 
tice, and  soon  found  himself  in  possession  of  a  large  and 
lucrative  practice.  He  soon  won  the  reputation  of  being 
-a  learned  counsel  and  eloquent  speaker.  He  was  natur- 
ally a  politician  ;  in  1824,  though  but  twenty-three  years 
of  age,  he  was  chosen  to  draw  up  the  "Address  to  the 
People,"  issued  by  the  Republican  Convention,  of  Cayuga 
County ;  it  was  pronounced,  by  competent  judges,  to 
be  a  very  able  address. 

In  1837  he  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  Greece,  then 
struggling  against  Turkey,  and  made  many  speeches  in 
behalf  of  the  patriot  cause.  He  took  a  leading  part 
during  the  Presidential  campaign  that  ultimately  seated 
General  Jackson  in  the  chair  of  State. 

In  1830  he  was  nominated  for  the  State  Senate,  and 
was  elected,  and  took  his  seat  as  the  youngest  member 
of  that  body  ;  he  spoke  often  and  ably  upon  the  subject 
of  reform,  and  was  looked  upon  as  a  leader  by  his  party. 
He  favored  the  repeal  of  the  law  that  imprisoned  for 
■debt,  and  urged  that  the  free  school  system  should  be 
inaugurated  on  a  better  basis. 

In  the  summer  of  1833,  Mr.  Seward  made  a  brief  visit 
to  Europe  for  rest  and  pleasure.  During  his  absence  he 
corresponded  regularly  with  the  Albany  "Evening  Jour- 
nal." His  letters  were  widely  read  and  won  him  consid- 
■erable  credit.  Returning  in  the  fall  of  1833,  he  was  in 
his  place  at  the  opening  of  the  Senate  in  the  winter  of 
1833-'4.  The  controversy  over  the  National  Bank,  in 
1832,  gave  rise  to  the  Whig  party,  with  which  Mr.  Seward 
soon  united  himself.  In  1834  he  was  nominated  as  the 
Whig  candidate  for  Governor  of  New  York ;  William  L. 
Marcy,  his  opponent,  was  elected.  In  1838,  however, 
Mr.  Seward  was  the  successful  candidate  for  the  position. 
In  1840  he  was  re-elected.  His  enemies  even,  admitted 
that  he  made  an  excellent  Governor.  During  his  term, 
various  reforms  were  inaugurated,  in  banking  systems. 
In  the  management  of  prisons,  in  election  laws,  besides 
imprisoning  for  debt  was  abolished. 

In  his  administration  of  justice  to  offenders,  neither 
arguments  nor  intimidation  moved  him  from  his  course. 
In  1843,  Seward  declined  a  "third  term,"  and  for  the 
next  six  years  devoted  himself  to  his  practice.  His 
business,  during  that  period,  lay  chiefly  in  the  higher 
courts  of  the  State,  and  in  the  District  and  Supreme 
Courts  of  the  United  States.  He  was  very  successful  as 
a  lawyer,  and  is  described  as  a  man  generous  to  the  un- 
fortunate, and  willing  to  defend  the  oppressed.  Some 
instances  are  on  record  of  his  being  ridiculed  for  chival- 
ric  support  to  human  but  unpopular  subjects. 

He  supported  General  Taylor  for  the  Presidency  in 
1848,  and  "stumped"  the  States  of  New  York,  Pennsyl- 
Tania,  Ohio  and  Massachusetts  in  his  behalf. 

Mr.  Seward  was  a  bold  anti-slavery  man  and  advocated 
that  no  compromise  should  be  allowed  upon  the  subject. 
He  astounded  the  whole  country,  at  that  time,  when,  in 
connection  with  the  subject  of  slavery,  he  announced 
that  "There  is  a  Higher  Law  than  the  Constitution." 

He  favored  the  passage  of  the  Homestead  Law,  and 
was  one  of  the  earliest  friends  of  the  Pacific  Railway. 

When  the  Kansas  and  Nebraska  Bill  came  up  he  threw 
all  his  force  against  attaching  slavery  to  those  territories. 
Yet,  among  the  Southern  Senators  he  had  many  warm, 
personal  friends. 

In  spite  of  his  activity  in  Congress,  he  found  time  to 
give  to  other  public  services ;  in  1854  he  delivered  the 
annual  oration  before  the  literary  societies  of  Yale  Col- 
lege, and  in  October  of  that  year,  argued  the  celebrated 
"McCormick  Reaper  Case,"  in  the  United  States  Circuit 
Court,  and  one  of  the  most  famous  causes  in  our  annals. 


In  1855  Mr.  Seward  was  returned  to  the  Senate  for  a 
second  term  of  six  years,  in  spite  of  the  most  determined 
opposition  of  antagonistic  politicians. 

In  1859  Mr.  Seward  made  a  second  visit  to  Europe,  and 
was  absent  some  months. 

In  the  Spring  of  1860,  the  National  Convention  of  the 
Republican  Party  met  at  Chicago  to  nominate  a  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency ;  Mr.  Seward  wa&  looked  upon 
as  the  first  man  of  his  party,  and  the  first  ballot  gave 
Seward  173  votes,  to  100  cast  for  Mr.  Lincoln  ;  but  Mr. 
Greeley  was  at  that  time  offended  with  Seward,  therefore 
he  threw  all  his  influence  on  the  side  of  Lincoln,  and  so 
the  nomination  was  secured  for  the  latter. 

The  decision  was  accepted  by  the  defeated  candidate 
with  unruffled  front.  Upon  the  inauguration  of  Presi- 
dent Lincoln,  Mr.  Seward  was  appointed  Secretary  of 
State.  He  accepted  the  position,  and  gave  his  whole 
energy  to  the  support  of  the  Union.  He  possessed  the 
entire  confidence  of  the  President,  and  his  conduct  of 
the  State  Department  was  of  such  decided  and  statesman- 
like character,  that  perhaps,  no  other  man  could  have 
so  well  filled  the  situation,  although,  of  course,  he  had 
many  political  enemies. 

The  criticisms  upon  Mr.  Seward's  measures  became  so 
pointed  and  severe,  that  his  party  thought  it  wise  to 
suggest  his  resignation  of  office ;  but  Mr.  Lincoln  trusted 
him,  in  spite  of  all  that  critical  enemies  might  say,  and 
after  his  inauguration  for  the  second  term,  he  continued 
him  at  the  head  of  the  Cabinet. 

Early  in  April,  1865,  while  driving  through  Washing- 
ton, Mr.  Seward  was  thrown  from  his  carriage  and 
seriously  injured ;  his  arm  was  broken  and  both  sides  of 
his  lower  jaw  were  punctured ;  he  was  conveyed  to  his 
residence,  and  for  some  time  it  was  believed  that  his 
hurts  would  prove  fatal.  While  lying  in  this  helpless 
condition  he  came  near  falling  a  victim  to  the  conspiracy 
that  resulted  in  the  murder  of  President  Lincoln.  One 
of  the  conspirators  was  assigned  the  duty  of  assassinating 
the  Secretary  of  State  as  he  lay  helpless  on  his  bed.  The 
murderer  forced  his  way  into  Seward's  chamber  about 
the  same  moment  that  the  fatal  shot  was  fired  at  the 
President,  and  severly  wounded  Frederick  Seward,  who, 
unarmed,  sought  to  defend  his  father.  The  man  acting 
as  nurse  was  struck  down,  and  the  assassin  sprang  to 
the  bedside,  stabbed  the  helpless  Secretary  three  times 
in  the  face  and  then  fled,  supposing  that  the  victim  was 
knied.  Mr.  Seward  rallied,  and  after  some  weeks  was 
on  his  feet  again.  He  remained  at  the  head  of  the  Cabi- 
net for  the  next  four  years. 

Mr.  Seward  had  much  to  do  with  negotiating  the  pur- 
chase of  Russian  America,  which  is  known  to  us  as 
Alaska. 

He  was  much  criticized  and  misrepresented  by  his 
enemies  and  those  who  differed  with  him  in  opinion 
•—the  certain  fate  of  statesmen  and  all  successful  people. 
Mr.  Seward  done  well,  in  not  allowing  each  accusation 
against  him  to  result  in  recrimination  and  quarrels.  He 
left  it  for  time  and  history  to  pronounce  upon  his  char- 
acter. 

On  the  4th  of  March,  1869,  he  withdrew  from  public 
life.  A  few  months  later  he  made  a  visit  to  Mexico, 
from  Mexico  he  went  to  California.  In  August  of  that 
year,  having  been  joined  by  several  members  of  his  fam- 
ily, he  sailed  from  San  Francisco  to  Japan,  and  succes- 
sively visited  that  country,  China,  India,  Palastine, 
Egypt,  and  the  principal  countries  of  Europe. 

He  was  received  with  appreciation  abroad,  and  in  1871 
he  returned  home  and  began  the  preparation  of  a  nar- 
rative of  his  "Travels  Around  The  World."  While 
engaged  in  the  task  he  was  seized  with  his  last  illness, 
and  died  on  the  10th  of  October,  1872. 

The  American  people  have  already  come  to  appreciate 
his  talents  and  labor  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  when 
he  lived ;  for  alas, 

"Lives  of  great  men 

All  remind  us, 
That  the  nobly  striving  soul. 

Scarce  receives  a  tithe  it  merits, 
TUl  His  past  life's  trying  goal.'''' 


A  Poky  Eight  Inches  High. — His  Highness,  the 
Nawab  of  Lohare,  sent  a  remarkably  diminutive  iNepah 
pony,  which  is  only  eight  inches  high,  to  the  young 
Maharajah  of  Batiala.  The  pony  is  a  perfect  miniature 
of  a  well-bred  horse,  and  is  highly  valued  by  the  natives. 


144 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ATHIBST. 

High  is  the  summer  sun, 

And  the  cattle  pant  in  the  heat, 

But  with  their  foolish  feet 

They  find  their  way,  every  one — 

They  find  their  way  to  the  stream. 

Where  the  willows  gloom  and  gleam 

Over  the  shady  pool. 

The  water  is  sweet  and  cool. 

And  the  tall  grass  cool  and  sweet ; 

They  stand  in  the  midst  of  the  stream. 

And  drink,  and  the  water  drips 

From  their  full  contented  lips. 

Then  to  the  shady  place. 

From  her  nest  among  the  reeds, 

Her  brood  the  wild  duck  leads, 

And  the  water  lilies  rise, 

Each  seeking  with  upturned  face, 

To  drink  the  light  of  the  skies. 

And  each  has  all  that  it  needs.  * 

In  the  wind  the  willow  waves. 

The  flower  has  all  that  it  craves, 

And  glows  to  its  heart  of  gold. 

Sunshine  and  shadow  meet — 

The  harmony  is  complete. 

Perfect  and  manifold. 

Only  let  man  intrude— 
Man  with  his  spirit  pain, 
Man  with  his  search  in  vain 
For  an  infinite  endless  good— 
And  where  is  the  harmony  then  ? 
Away  his  search  hath  a  goal. 
Tell  me  not,  leaden-tongued  seer, 
No  water  of  life  is  here 
For  man  with  his  living  soul 
Athirst  for  a  living  Goa. 


One  Great  Lesson. 

In  onr  journey  through  life,  wherever  we  are  and 
whatever  our  situation  or  avocation,  we  are  continually 
learning  lessons.  Life  might  be  termed  a  grand  school 
and  we  the  students,  for  no  rational  being  can  live  with- 
out this  constant  learning  of  something.  These  lessons 
may  be  simple,  but  they  are  numerous,  and  engage  our 
time  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

Though  these  lessons  may  be  simple  and  easily  ac-» 
quired,  there  is  one  very  important  lesson  in  life  that  is 
not  to  be  acquired  in  a  day,  or  even  in  years,  by  some. 
Many,  Indeed,  have  spent  their  whole  life  without  learn- 
ing it.  It  is  simply  to  learn  how  little  we  know  and  how 
much  we  do  not  know.    SimpAe  as  this  ma?  seem  to 


some,  there  is  much  embraced  in  it,  and  I  think  whea 
this  lesson  has  been  once  mastered  by  any  one,  he  has., 
learned  the  greatest  and  most  important  lesson  to  be 
known  in  life. 

It  seems  very  natural  for  us,  in  this  age  of  the  world,, 
to  overestimate  the  V"  s  of  man's  acquirements,  knowl- 
edge and  progress  in  the  arts  and  sciences  and  in  the- 
hidden  secrets  of  nature.  This  age  is  so  vastly  superior 
to  former  ages  in  advantages,  that  many  seem  to  think 
that  man  has  reached  his  highest  perfection  of  knowl- 
edge. But  this  cannot  be  true,  for  something  must  yet 
remain  to  learn,  no  matter  what  the  extent  of  his  knowl- 
edge. 

We  do  live,  truly,  in  an  enlightened  age.  For  six 
thousand  years  man  has  existed  on  the  earth,  and  has 
continued  to  progress,  so  that  we  have  before  us  the  in- 
ventions and  discoveries  of  preceding  ages,  and  on  this 
foundation  our  knowledge  is  built. 

But  have  the  great  discoveries  all  been  made  ?  And  is 
there  no  room  for  further  progress  ?  If  we  believe  those 
who  are  capable  of  knowing,  we  shall  find  that  in  their 
opinion  we  are  just  entering  the  great  age  of  discover- 
ies, and  that  man's  knowledge,  compared  with  what  re- 
mains to  be  known,  is  infinitely  small. 

Some  may  ask  where  is  the  field  for  progress.  They 
are  directed  to  the  sciences.  Astronomy  is  a  science 
nearly  two  thousand  years  old,  but  is  it  complete  ?  Do 
we  know  all  that  is  to  be  known  about  it  ?  Far  from  it. 
Natural  philosophy  and  geology,  too,  are  old,  yet  regard- 
ing them,  hundreds  of  unanswerable  questions  might  be 
asked.  Chemistry  is  in  its  infancy,  and  so  on  through 
the  whole  catalogue  we  see  there  is  plenty  of  room  for 
genius  to  develop  itself. 

Through  every  day  of  our  lives  we  experience  the 
light  and  heat ;  no  one  can  tell  us  what  they  are.  Though 
man  has  made  electricity  his  servant  and  one  of  the  most 
important  agents  in  civilization,  he  knows  nothing  of  its 
nature. 

Then,  too,  how  little  we  know  of  man  himself  and  his 
relation  to  the  Infinite  !  What  is  his  future  to  be  and  what 
is  his  eternal  soul,  and  in  what  manner  does  it  operate 
on  his  material  body  ?  Will  the  future  answer  it  ?  The 
present  cannot. 

In  art,  too,  there  is  room  for  work.  Inventions  are 
called  for  every  day  which  are  as  yet  unknown.  But 
the  future  will  surely  bring  them  out. 

Genius  must  not  slumber.  There  is  plenty  of  wo<A 
and  plenty  of  room.  What  the  past  has  left  undone  the 
future  must  accomplish. 

So  we  see  knowledge  is  boundless.  Having  learned 
all  we  could  on  earth,  something  would  remain.  Man. 
inay  progress  as  long  as  he  remains  in  this  world,  and  it 
13  only  fair  to  presume  that  the  process  continues  in  the 
next,  and  that  with  enlarged  capabilities  he  continues- 
to  learn. 

We  see  from  this  that  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a 
complete  education,  at  least  on  earth.  But  it  is  not  sel- 
dom that  we  hear  of  persons  who,  having  graduated  at 
some  college  or  place  of  learning,  are  spoken  of  as  hav- 
ing completed  their  education.  Such  persons  sometimes 
boast  that  they  have  learned  all  there  is  to  know,  and  are 
hence  incapable  of  receiving  instruction.  How  mistaken 
this  idea  I  'One  thing  is  lacking  in  such  :  they  know  not 
how  little  they  do  know.  The  greatest  and  wisest  men 
that  ever  lived  considered  themselves  but  little  nearer 
a  perfect  education  than  the  child  or  youth.  Here,, 
then,  is  the  application  of  our  great  le&«on :  Having 
learned  how  little  we  know,  we  are  wise.  axe  then 

ready  to  progress  onward,  knowing  ourselves,  to  X  '"'hat 
we  really  are,  mere  beginners  in  the  greai  fielit  '^f^ 
knowledge.  Then,  too,  we  should  try  to  progres*>. 
Though  we  may  never  become  eminent  or  notorious,, 
though  the  world  may  never  hear  of  us,  we  may  become 
useful  and  honorable  members  of  society  by  the  ac- 
quirement of  whatever  degree  of  knowledge  lies  in  our 
power. 

Though  we  may  never  become  Newtons  m  every  re- 
spect, we  may  in  one,  and  that  is  in  a  knowledge  of  our 
own  insignificance.  Near  the  close  of  his  illustrious  and 
eventful  life,  he  gave  utterance  to  these  beautiful  and 
touching  words,  which  are  so  applicable  to  us  that  all 
should  remember  them:  **I  seem,"  he  said,  "to  have 
been  only  like  a  boy  playing  on  the  s«a  shore,  and  divert- 
ing myself  in  now  and  then  finding  a  smoother  pebble 
or  a  prettier  shell  than  ordinary,  whilst  the  great  oeeuK 
of  truth  lay  all  undiscovered  before  me." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


145 


Farragut. 

BY  M.  J.  CUMMING8. 

In  glancing  over  the  lives  of  our  great  men  it  is  hard 
to  say  who  shall  have  precedence,  so  mechanically  tak- 
ing the  first  one  that  comes  to  hand  we  have  before  us 
the  veteran  hero,  Farragut.  He  was  bom  at  Knoxville, 
Tennessee,  July  5,  1801.  His  father  emigrated  from  the 
island  of  Minorca  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  mar- 
rying a  Scotch  girl  of  North  Carolina.  Soon  after  the 
marriage  they  migrated  to  Knoxville,  where  Admiral 
•David  Glascoe  Farragut  was  born.  A  part  of  his  name 
was  given  him  in  honor  of  his  father's  friend,  David 
Porter,  a  well  known  naval  officer.  His  influential  name- 
sake. Commodore  Porter,  took  him  on  board  the  Essex 
in  the  rank  of  midshipman  when  he  was  but  eleven  years 
old.  His  first  cruise  was  two  years  in  length.  When  he 
was  thirteen  he  entered  school  at  Chester,  Penn.,  where 
he  was  taught  military  and  naval  science.  After  a  year's 
study  he  obtained  a  position  on  the  flagship  of  the  Med- 
iterranean squadron,  where  two  years  were  passed.  So 
promising  were  his  abilities  that  he  was  thus  early  pro- 
moted to  a  lieutenantcy,  and  served  three  years  under 
Lieut.-Com.  Kearney,  and  was  engaged  in  capturing 
piratical  establishments  about  Cuba.  Following  closely 
his  eventful  career,  we  now  find  him  for  a  term  of  years 
on  shore  duty  in  Norfolk  Navy  Yard.  Here  he  mar- 
ried his  first  wife.  Miss  Loyall,  a  daughter  of  a  prominent 
citizen  of  the  place.  Then  we  find  him  longing  for  the 
sea  again,  where  he  serves  in  the  Brazilian  squadron  two 
years  more,  meantime  losing  his  first  wife,  and  after- 
wards marrying  her  sister,  by  whom  he  had  one  son, 
Loyall  Farragut. 

On  shore  again  for  some  years,  until  he  is  ordered  on 
board  the  war-sloop  Natchez  as  Lieut. -Commander, 
bound  for  the  West  Indies.  In  1840  he  was  promoted 
commander  of  the  sloop-of-war  Decatur  for  a  cruise  in 
the  South  Atlantic.  Three  years  after  we  find  this  won- 
derful man  enjoying  his  first  leave-of-absence,  but  he 
was  ere  long  back  again  to  Norfolk,  taking  command  of 
the  receiving  ship  Pennsylvania.  After  this  one  more 
year  in  the  West  Indies ;  then  inspector  of  Ordnance, 
from  whence  he  gradually  found  himself  stationed  in 
New  York.  He  was  at  Norfolk  when  the  rebellion  broj^e 
out,  and  his  friends  clustered  about  him  to  secure  his 
services  for  the  South  ;  but  birth  and  natural  ties  weigh- 
ed nothing  in  the  hero's  breast  against  the  fine  and  inborn 
sense  of  loyalty.  As  they  insisted  upon  his  joining 
Confederacy,  he  looked  toward 

"  The  old  flag  floating  still, 
That  o'er  our  fathers  flew, 
With  bands  of  white  and  rosy  light 
And  field  of  starry  blue 

and  answered  his  tempters  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  will  see  you 
accursed  before  I  will  lift  an  arm  to  strike  that  flag." 

When  the  navy  yard  was  destroyed  by  Commodore 
McCauley,  Farragut  left  the  city  and  returned  to  New 
York.  Here  he  had  an  interview  with  McCauley,  and 
learned  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  noble  vessels  at  Norfolk.  "How  could  you 
do  it?"  questioned  the  veteran  hero,  with  his  eyes 
swimming  in  tears  at  the  thought  of  the  sacrifice. 

''My  officers  were  false;  I  had  no  one  to  depend 
upon." 

"Why  did  you  not  send  forme?"  vehemently  ques- 
tioned the  invincible  officer ;  I  could  have  been  trusted." 

While  Grant  filled  regimental  rolls  in  Governor  Yates' 
office,  and  mustered  eager  volunteers  into  the  army,  Far- 
ragut's  genius  worked  ceaselessly  ou  duties  connected 
with  the  navy.  By-and-by,  Donalson  was  won,  and 
Shiloh's  battle  fought ;  then  there  issued  the  order  for 
Farragut  to  go  and  aid  Butler's  army  at  New  Orleans, 
Out  from  Hampton  Roads  his  good  ship  Hartford  sailed, 
flymg  aloft  the  flag  of  the  free.  To  the  fleet  was  added 
a  formidable  squadron  of  bomb-vessels  under  command 
of  Admiral  Porter.  His  orders  were,  with  such  ves- 
sels as  might  be  detached  from  the  blockading  squad- 
ron, to  ascend  the  Mississippi,  capture  New  Orleans, 
and  then  pass  on  to  meet  the  fleet  at  Cairo.  Of  the  two 
entrances  to  New  Orleans,  by  Lake  Borgne  and  Lake 
Pontchartrain,  and  by  the  Mississippi,  that  by  the  lakes 
was  undefended,  the  shallowness  of  the  water  being 
sufficient  protection.  On  the  defenses  no  skill  nor  ex- 
pense had  been  spared.  Fort  St.  Phillip  and  Fort  Jack- 
son, built  by  the  United  States,  had  been  strengthened 
by  water-batteries  and  gunboats. 


Farragut,  by  indefatigable  labors,  worked  his  forty-sbt 
vessels  across  the  bar  and  commenced  a  bombardment. 
Taking  the  utmost  precautions  to  protect  the  squadron, 
the  fleet  being  signalled  prepared  to  pass  the  forts.  Ii 
is  seldom  that  history  records  anything  so  exciting  a« 
the  terrible  two-hours'  fight  that  followed.  Farragut 
was  the  victor ;  the  rebel  fleet  was  captured  ;  the  forts 
silenced,  and  the  watery  highway  to  New  Orleans  waa 
clear ;  and  soon  the  gallant  officer  held  possession 
of  the  city.  Following  the  surrender  of  Baton  Rougq 
and  Natchez,  he  went  on  to  Vicksburg.  After  the  bom- 
bardment there  of  June  26th  and  27th,  Farragut's  fleet 
passed  the  fort  and  united  with  the  Western  flotilla. 

In  the  year  following,  our  naval  hero,  now  ranking  aa 
Rear- Admiral,  took  command  of  the  Mississippi  and  Red 
River  operations  in  conjunction  with  the  army.  Near 
the  end  of  January,  Grant's  army  and  the  Mississippi 
fiotilla,  under  Rear-Admiral  Porter,  commenced  the 
seige  of  Vicksburg.  On  March  14th,  he  ran  by  Port 
Hudson,  and  communicating  with  the  Union  comman- 
ders, he  blockaded  the  Red  River,  preventing  all  sup- 
plies from  Texas  reaching  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson. 
In  May  he  returned  to  New  Orleans,  but  continued  to 
direct  operations  against  Port  Hudson  until  its  capture. 
He  subsequently  turned  over  to  Admiral  Porter  the 
command  of  the  squadron  north  of  New  Orleans.  The 
Mississippi  flotilla  at  the  end  of  the  year  numbered  100 
vessels  carrying  462  guns  and  5,500  men ;  thirteen  of  these 
vessels  were  iron-clad.  The  operation  of  the  We  st  Gulf 
squadron  in  the  succeeding  year  was  chiefly  confined  to 
the  blockade  of  Mobile  Bay. 

In  July,  1864,  he  made  an  effort  to  reduce  Mobile. 
For  this  purpose  a  large  fleet  was  assembled  the  Hart- 
ford still  being  his  flag-ship. 

In  commanding  his  battle-ships  Farragut  made  it  a 
rule  to  attack  the  enemy  at  floodtide,  so  that  if  a  vessel 
became  disabled  she  would  drift  with  the  current  into 
the  fight.  In  this  battle  Farragut  allowed  the  Brooklyn 
to  lead  in  the  attack,  and  these  are  his  reasons  for  so 
doing : 

"I  yielded  to  the  urgent  request  of  the  captains  and 
officers,  and  permitted  the  Brooklyn  to  be  the  leading 
ship  of  the  line,  because  she  had  four  chase  guns  and  an 
apparatus  for  picking  up  torpedoes,  and  also  because 
they  said  that  the  fiag-ship  must  not  be  too  much  ex- 
posed. I  believe  this  to  be  an  erroneous  movement,  for 
exposure  and  danger  is  the  penalty  paid  for  rank." 

It  was  during  this  engagement  that  the  heroic  naval 
officer  lashed  himself  to  the  rigging  of  the  flag-ship, 
that  as  commander  he  might  view  the  whole  fight.  His 
vessel  and  the  Brooklyn  were  lashed  side  by  side,  the 
Brooklyn  lying  nearest  the  enemy's  fort.  He  won  this 
fight,  and  the  promotion  to  Vice-Admiral,  afterwards 
returning  to  blockading  duty  in  the  Gulf.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  war  he  was  sent  to  James  River,  and  after 
peace  was  declared  he  was  sent  in  the  Franklin  to  cruise 
in  European  waters,  where  he  met  with  that  distinguish- 
ed admiration  which  he  deserved. 

Soon,  alas,  his  health  failed  him,  and  suffering  keenly, 
death  at  last  came  as  a  relief  to  the  hero ;  and  after 
"Life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well." 

Not  tempest  tost,  not  in  the  fierce  affray,  not  grandly 
lashed  to  the  mast  with  his  eagle  eye  scanning  the 
conflict  did  he  meet  death — but  like  a  stout  ship-of-war 
battered  by  the  enginery  of  conflict,  scarred,  wounded, 
with  a  firm  hand  at  the  helm,  creeping,  creeping  safely, 
tremblingly  into  the  peace-calmed  haven — rocking,  ris- 
ing, falling,  settling  to  a  restful  grave— so  went  the  hero, 
down  through  the  vale  of  the  dying  up  to  the  land  of 
the  living ;  and  to-day  a  prosperous  nation  remembers 
her  earthly  saviors,  and  kneels  by  their  graves  with  gar- 
lands in  her  hands,  and  as  ye  strew  the  flowers  around, 
forget  not  the  resting  place  of  David  Glascoe  Farragut. 

A  Good  Daughter. — "My  daughter  keeps  my 
farm  accounts,  sir ;  and  she  is  as  systematic  and  particu- 
lar as  ever  my  son  was,  who  kept  them  before  he  leit 
home.  I  tell  you  it  does  girls  (and  he  might  have  added 
boys  also)  good  to  give  them  some  responsibility,  and  set 
them  to  watching  things  about  the  farm  and  household. 
They  learn,  I  find,  economy  by  it,  and  soon  discover  that 
their  oldfatheris  not,  necessarily,  a  crabbed  old  curmud- 
geon because  he  doesn't  loosen  his  purse-string  whenever 
they  see  something  they  happen  to  fancy ;  for  they  dis- 
cover the  real  reason  why  the  purse  should  not  be  opened. " 
So  said  a  progressive  farmer,  a  kind,  appreciative  and 
proud  father,  and  a  big-hearted  man  on  general  principles, 


146 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Benjamin  Franklin. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  born  at  Boston,  Mass.,  on  the 
17th  of  January,  1706.  His  father  was  a  native  of  Eng- 
land, and  was  a  soap-boiler  and  tallow  chandler  by  trade. 
At  the  age  of  eight  years  young  Franklin  was  sent  to  a 
grammar  school  in  Boston,  where  he  remained  two  years, 
studying  hard  and  obtaining  the  rudiments  of  an  Eng- 
lish education.  When  Benjamin  was  ten  years  of  age, 
his  father  took  him  into  his  shop  to  learn  him  the 
trade,  but  the  business  proved  so  distasteful  to  the  boy 
that  at  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  apprenticed  to  his 
brother  James,  to  learn  a  printer's  trade.  This  employ- 
ment proved  congenial  to  him,  and  he  made  rapid  pro- 
gress in  the  printer's  art.  He  had  a  great  zeal  for  learn- 
ing, and,  figuratively  speaking,  devoured  all  the  books 
which  he  could  obtain.  In  this  manner  he  secured  an 
immense  fund  of  useful  information.  In  1721,  James 
Franklin  began  printing  the  New  England  Courant,  the 
fourth  paper  started  in  America.  Early  in  its  publica- 
tion anonymous  articles  appeared,  of  so  much  merit 
Uiat  they  attracted  general  attention.  Benjamin  was 
the  author  of  these,  and  he  determined  to  persevere  in 
iiis  efforts  at  literary  composition.  His  care  and  atten- 
tion soon  made  his  style  noticeable  for  simplicity  and 
purity.  The  growing  popularity  of  the  paper  was  due 
as  much  to  young  Franklin's  thorough  hand-work  as  to 
his  brain  labor.  But  he  so  scathingly  rebuked  hypo- 
cricy  and  religious  knaves,  that  the  publication  got  into 
trouble.  And  James,  not  caring  to  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  maintaining  the  paper  in  its  theories,  surren- 
dered its  publication  to  his  brother,  and  it  was  issued  in 
the  name  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  but  Benjamin  did  not 
choose  to  remain  in  Boston,  as  his  liberal  opinions  had 
brought  him  into  public  disfavor;  and  his  brother  was 
neither  kind  nor  agreeable  to  him.  Therefore,  in  Octo- 
ber, 1723,  when  he  was  but  seventeen  years  old,  he  took 
passage  on  board  a  sloop  and  sailed  for  New  York. 

He  was  unable  to  procure  employment  in  New  York, 
and  so  resolved  to  continue  on  to  Philadelphia.  He 
went  to  Amboy  in  a  sailing  vessel,  and  from  that  place 
walked  to  the  Delaware  at  Burlington.  Embarking  in  a 
small  boat  for  Philadelphia,  he  was  obliged  to  help  row; 
and  so,  with  sorely  blistered  hands  and  but  a  dollar  in 
his  pocket,  and  without  a  friend,  he  set  foot  in  the 
strange  city.  Still  he  was  possessed  of  a  rich  capital — 
robust  health,  habits  of  sobriety,  and  a  fixed  determina- 
tion to  succeed.  Besides  all  this,  powerful  genius  stim- 
ulated his  soul. 

He  purchased  three  rolls  at  a  baker's  shop  to  stay  his 
hunger,  and  with  one  under  each  arm,  he  walked  up  the 
street  in  quest  of  employment.  At  that  time  there  were 
but  two  printers  in  Philadelphia.  One  of  these  employed 
the  young  man,  and  ere  long  his  excellent  habits  began 
to  win  him  friends.  Governor  William  Keith,  of  Penn- 
sylvania, took  a  great  liking  to  him,  invited  him  to  his 
house  and  gave  him  access  to  his  library. 

Although  Franklin  was  so  young,  the  Governor  advised 
him  to  set  up  a  printing  ofiice  of  his  own,  promising  to 
assist  him  if  he  would  go  to  London  and  procure  an 
outfit.  So  Franklin  sailed,  the  Governor  promising 
to  send  on  board  with  the  mail  letters  to  enable  him 
to  procure  credit  in  England.  The  letter-bag,  on  being 
opened,  showed  that  Governor  Keith  had  forgotten  or 
neglected  to  fulfil  his  agreement.  Yet  Franklin  had 
embarked  and  must  continue  on,  and  he  found  himself 
landed  in  London  in  worse  plight  than  when  he  reached 
PhiladelpMa.  He  lost  no  time,  but  immediately  sought 
and  found  employment  as  a  journeyman  printer. 

He  remained  in  London  two  years,  when  he  returned 
to  the  States  as  a  clerk  to  a  merchant  named  Denham. 
Denham  died,  and  Franklin  returned  to  the  office  of  his 
old  employer  in  Philadelphia.  His  genius  was  such  that 
he  could  engrave  on  copper,  make  wood-cuts,  design 
letters  and  make  printers'  ink.  After  working  some  time 
in  this  oflfice  he  set  up  in  business  for  himself,  with  Mr. 
Meredith  for  partner.  This  partnership  did  not  continue 
long,  and  he  went  on  by  himself.  In  spite  of  care  and 
economy,  he  got  in  debt  and  difficulty,  from  which  he 
was  relieved  by  his  generous  friends;  and  then  to  his 
printing  business  he  added  a  stationary  shop.  Business 
soon  began  to  prosper  with  him.  He  married  an  estima- 
ble lady,  who  bore  him  a  son  and  a  daughter. 

For  literary  enjoyment  he  formed  a  club  of  intellec- 
tual people.  Their  studies  and  commentations  went 
beyond  the  field  of  literature  into  the  precia«tS^iJf, 


science.  This  club  led  him  to  conceive  the  idea  ol 
founding  a  public  library,  to  be  supported  by  the  sub- 
scriptions of  its  patrons.  The  noble  institution  grew 
into  the  present  Philadelphia  Library.  In  1732,  Franklin 
began  the  publication  of  ''Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 
Its  quaint  maxims,  dry  humor  and  sterling  sound  sense 
brought  it  great  popularity.  He  issued  it  regularly  for 
twenty-£ve  years,  selling  annually  over  ten  thousand 
copies.  ^ 

It  was  Benjamin  Franklin  who  suggested  the  institu- 
tion which  has  since  expanded  into  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  years  he  was  appointed  printer 
to  the  General  Assembly  of  Pennsylvania,  and  in  1736, 
was  elected  clerk  of  that  body.  In  1737.  he  was  appointed 
postmaster  of  Philadelphia.  He  next  organized  the  first 
fire  company  ever  established  in  this  country. 

During  King  George's  war  the  savages  ravaged  the 
Pennsylvania  border,  and  as  the  House  of  Assembly 
took  no  action  to  draw  out  the  militia,  Franklin  called 
for  volunteers.  In  a  short  time  ten  thousand  men  offered 
their  services.  Franklin  accompanied  two  expeditions, 
holding  for  a  time  command  of  the  volunteers.  He  was 
no  orator,  but  his  short,  pithy  sentences  vetoed  many 
a  bill.  His  paper  advocated  freedom  of  speech  and 
freedom  of  the  press. 

"The  judgment  of  a  whole  people,"  he  said,  "if  un- 
biased by  faction,  and  undeluded  by  tricks  of  designing 
men,  is  iafallible." 

In  1753,  he  was  appointed  Deputy  Postmaster-General 
of  the  British  Colonies.  He  moved  from  one  post  of 
honor  to  another,  but  never  lost  sight  of  his  scientific 
studies.  He  devoted  a  considerable  part  of  his  time  to 
experiments  in  electricity,  of  which  he  published  ac- 
counts. He  conceived  the  idea  that  the  electric  fluid 
and  lightning  were  identical,  and  he  sought  to  verify  the 
theory.  In  1752,  he  made  a  kite  of  silk,  to  the  upright 
stick  of  which  he  attached  an  iron  point.  The  string 
used  was  of  hemp,  excepting  the  part  which  he  held  in 
his  hand  ;  that  was  of  silk,  and  a  key  was  tied  where  the 
string  of  hemp  ended. 

On  the  approach  of  a  thunder-storm,  he  went  out  into 
the  field  and  raised  his  kite.  A  cloud  sailed  sluggishly 
over  it,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  electricity.  The  phil- 
osopher felt  a  keen  disappointment;  but  in  a  moment  he 
saw  the  loose  hempen  fibres  begin  to  quiver,  and  then 
stand  upright.  He  immediately  presented  his  knuckles 
to  the  key,  and  received  a  strong  spark.  The  experi- 
ment had  proved  successful,  and  the  truth  of  his  theory 
was  established.  He  immediately  published  an  account 
of  his  discovery,  which  at  once  rendered  him  famous 
both  in  America  and  Europe.  A  practical  use  of  his 
discovery  soon  suggested  itself  to  him,  and  he  invented 
the  lightning  rod.  He  it  was  who  taught  his  family  to 
catch  the  lightning  in  its  swift  leaps  between  sky  and 
earth,  compelling  it  to  ring  bells  in  warning  as  it  passed 
on  its  rapid  way. 

He  became  celebrated  both  in  the  Old  World  and  in 
the  New.  His  mental  activity  was  very  great.  The  fire- 
place stove  bearing  his  name  resulted  from  his  experi- 
menting. 

Franklin's  religious  sentiments  differed  much  from  the 
masses  of  his  time.  He  respected  faith  that  was  based 
upon  reason  rather  than  tradition.  Escaping  from  the 
extremes  of  fixed  decrees  and  free  will,  with  increasing 
years  and  increasing  knowledge  he  learned  to  trust  fully 
the  God  who  created  the  universe  and  himself.  He  saw 
revealed  in  Nature's  laws  the  laws  of  God.  In  all  his 
career  he  was  unselfish  in  his  dealings  with  brother  man. 
Although  his  scientific  studies  and  investigations  showed 
him  the  sublimity  and  massive  grandeur  of  the  universe, 
it  taught  him  respect  also  for  the  simplest  thing  created, 
as  all  things  have  their  mission  and  are  amply  fitted  to 
fill  it. 

For  many  years  he  remained  abroad  the  companion  of 
learned  men.  He  was  one  of  the  first  men  to  detect  the 
purpose  of  the  English  aristocracy  to  destroy  the  liber- 
ties of  the  colonies.  He  wrote  his  countrymen  concern- 
ing it.  He  remonstrated  with  the  British  Ministers,  and 
warned  them  of  the  result  of  their  meditated  taxation. 
The  result  of  the  Stamp  Act  proved  as  he  predicted; 
then  the  Ministers  turned  to  him  for  advice.  This  placed 
him  in  a  delicate  position.  He  must  stand  by  his  coun- 
try, yet  if  he  offended  Parliament  he  might  injure  the 
Colonial  cause.  But  he  spoke  calmly,  he  argued  clearly , 
and  brought  forward  to  confront  them  unnleasant  truths. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


147 


Fearlessly  he  set  before  them  the  certain  results  of  their 
attempted  oppression.  He  dauntlessly  met  the  disagree- 
able experiences  arising  from  the  stand  which  he  had 
taken.  He  still  remained  in  England  although  his  lib- 
erty, if  not  his  life,  was  threatened. 

It  was  Franklin  who  interested  the  French  Govern- 
ment in  the  Colonies;  and  when  the  war  was  over,  he 
had  the  satisfactioo  of  knowing  that  no  one  had  con- 
tributed more  to  obtain  this  successful  end  than  himself. 

In  March,  1785,  at  his  repeated  and  urgent  request,  he 
had  a  successor  appointed  as  Minister  to  France,  and  he 
sailed  for  home.  At  this  time  he  had  grown  quite  old 
and  iniirm,  and  the  many  friends  which  he  had  made 
bade  him  a  regretful  farewell.  Franklin  reached  Phila- 
delphia, and  was  joyfully  welcomed  by  his  feilow-coun- 

^'^SnThe  17th  of  April,  1790,  the  statesman  and  philoso- 
pher died  at  Philadelphia  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty- 
four  years.  He  was  buried  with  great  public  honors. 
Congress  ordered  a  general  mourning  for  him  through- 
out the  Union  for  a  month.  Funeral  orations  were  pro- 
nounced for  him  in  Paris.  The  National  Assembly  or- 
dered its  members  to  wear  mourning  for  three  days 
in  commemoration  of  the  event.  The  Assembly  also 
sent  a  letter  of  condolence  to  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States  in  regard  to  their  irreparable  loss.  Such  honors 
as  these  France  never  before  paid  to  any  foreign  citizen. 

No  wonder  that  foreign  powers  should  marvel  over 
institutions  or  governments  that  would  permit  a  printer, 
the  son  of  a  soap-boiler  and  tallow  chandler,  to  work  his 
way  up  with  only  Nature's  patent  of  nobility,  until  he 
should  stand  pre-eminent  among  the  lords,  the  nobles 
and  the  crowned  heads  of  the  world ! 

Long  live  America  !  May  God  forever  bless  the  land 
of  the  free  ! 


his  artificial  and  perhaps  unworthy  place  In  company  shfa 
reminds  you  of  the  lessons  taught  him  in  early  days  by 
the  torrent,  in  the  gloom  of  the  pine  woods  where  he 
wandered,  the  companion  of  the  wild  birds  or  the  hunter 
of  the  deer.  Or  you  may  find  him  in  some  lowly  bethel 
by  the  sea-side,  where  the  hard-featured,  scarred,  and 
wrinkled  Methodist  becomes  the  poet  of  the  sailor  and 
fisherman,  while  he  pours  out  the  abundant  streams  of 
his  thought  through  a  language  all  glittering  and  fiery 
with  imagination.  A  man  who  never  knew  a  looking- 
glass  or  a  critic  ;  a  man  whom  college  course  or  patron- 
age never  made,  whom  praise  cannot  spoil ;  a  man  who 
carries  his  audience  by  infusmg  his  soul  into  them,  who 
speaks  by  the  right  of  being  the  person  in  the  assembly 
who  has  the  most  to  say,  and  so  makes  the  other  speak- 
ers appear  little  and  cowardly  before  his  face.  For  a 
time  he  throws  all  others  into  the  shade,  and  every  listener 
gladly  consents  to  be  nothing  in  his  presence,  surprised 
and  carried  away  in  the  new  flood  of  his  eloquence.  He 
instructs  or  he  is  instructed,  for  1  am  thinking  of  a  man 
who  showed  well  the  power  of  man  over  men ;  that 
man  is  a  mover  to  the  extent  of  his  using  and  having 
this  power,  and  in  contrast  to  the  efiiciency  he  suggests 
our  actual  life  and  society  appears  a  sleeping-room. 
Who  can  wonder  at  the  influence  of  eloquence  on  young 
and  ardent  minds  ?  Uncommon  boys  follow  uncommon 
men,  and  I  think  every  one  of  us  can  remember  when 
our  first  experience  made  us  for  a  time  the  admirer  or 
the  worshiper  of  the  first  master  of  this  art  whom  we 
happened  to  hear  in  the  court-house  or  in  the  caucus. 

Rax,ph  Waldo  Emerson. 


ViRTUB  is  the  first  title  of  nobility. 


MOLIEEE. 


Eloquence. 

The  art  of  speech,  the  art  of  eloquence,  is  that  art 
which  flourishes  in  free  countries.  It  is  an  old  proverb 
that  every  people  has  its  prophet,  and  every  class  of  peo- 
ple its.  Our  community  runs  through  a  long  scale  of 
mental  power,  from  the  highest  refinement  to  savage 
ignorance.  There  are  not  only  the  wants  of  the  intellec- 
tual, the  learned,  the  poetic  men  and  women  to  be  met, 
but  also  the  vast  interests  of  property,  public  and  pri- 
vate. The  mining,  the  manufacturing  interests,  trade, 
railroads — all  these  must  have  their  advocates  of  each 
improvement  and  each  interest.  Then  there  are  the 
political  questions  which  agitate  millions,  and  which 
find  or  form  a  class  of  men,  by  nature  or  habit,  fit  to  dis- 
cuss and  deal  with  them,'  and  makes  them  intelligible 
and  acceptable  leaders.  So  with  education,  art,  or  phi- 
lanthropy. Eloquence  shows  the  power,  the  possibilities 
of  men.  Here  is  one  of  whom  we  took  no  note,  but  on  a 
certain  occasion  it  appears  that  he  has  a  great  virtue, 
never  before  suspected ;  that  he  can  paint  what  has  oc- 
curred and  what  must  occur  with  such  clearness  to  a 
company  as  though  they  saw  it  done  before  their  eyes. 
By  leading  their  thought  he  leads  their  will,  and  can 
make  them  do  gladly  what  an  hour  ago  they  could  not 
believe  they  would  be  led  to  do  at  all.  He  makes  them 
glad,  or  angry,  or  penitent,  at  his  pleasure ;  of  course 
makes  friends,  and  fills  desponding  men  with  hope  and 
joy.  After  Sheridan's  speech  in  the  trial  of  Warren 
Hastings,  Mr.  Pitt,  the  Prime  Minister,  moved  an  ad- 
journment, that  the  house  might  recover  from  the  over- 
powering effect  of  Sheridan's  oratory— the  delight  that 
sudden  eloquence  gives  at  the  moment  is  so  rich.  An 
old  Greek  orator  once  said  he  had  a  way  to  cure  the  dis- 
tempers of  men's  minds  by  words.  The  orator  is  that 
physician,  whether  he  speak  from  the  capitol  or  on  a 
cart ;  he  is  the  benefactor  that  lifts  men  above  them- 
selves and  creates  a  higher  longing  than  he  satisfies. 
The  orator,  in  short,  is  he  whom  every  man  is  seeking 
when  he  goes  into  the  courts,  into  the  conventions,  into 
the  popular  assemblies— -though  often  it  has  been  with 
disappointment,  yet  never  giving  over  the  hope  ;  he  finds 
him-  perhaps,  in  the  Senate,  when  the  forest  has  cast  out 
some  wild,  heavy-browed  bantling,  to  show  the  same 
energy  in  the  court  or  forum  which  he  had  learned  in 
driving  the  cattle  to  the  hills  or  in  scrambling  through 
thickets  in  the  Winter  frost,  or  through  the  swamp  in 
search  of  his  game.  In  the  nobility  of  his  brow,  in  the 
majesty  of  his  mien,  nature  has  marked  her  son  ;  anj  in 


Lord  Brougham's  Residence. 

I  conscientiously  declare  that  as  far  as  my  rather  ex- 
tended knowledge  of  Europe  goes,  there  does  not  exist 
within  its  limits  so  arid,  so  monotonous,  so  ugly,  and  so 
every  way  unattractive  a  region  as  Provence.  I  entered 
it  from  Italy  by  Nice ;  passing  by  the  ugly,  tasteless, 
treeless,  dust-enveloped  little  roadside  suburban  villa 
with  its  vulgar-looking  gilt-headed  iron  rails  in  front, 
for  which  Lord  Brougham  deserts  the  lovely  banks  of 
the  Lowther  and  the  magnificent  groves  and  truly  noble 
hills  of  Brougham.  The  bay  of  Cannes  is  certainly 
pretty,  and  its  gleaming  waves  and  wooded  banks  form 
the  distant  view  from  the  house ;  but  the  immediate 
foreground  and  neighboring  land  have  about  as  much 
charm  as  the  garden  which  intervene  between  the  new 
road  and  one  of  the  houses  in  that  not  highly  picturesque 
locality.  Beyond  the  little  town  of  Cannes  the  road 
crosses  a  range  of  partially  wooded  hills  called  Les 
Maurer,  from  having  been  infested  by  Saracen  brigands 
in  the  good  old  times  of  poetry  and  romance,  broken 
heads  and  cut-throats.  The  porphyri  rocks  of  whi(ih 
they  are  composed  take  fantastic  and  rather  picturesque 
shapes  ;  which,  added  to  the  mingled  foliage  of  the  coric 
and  stone  pine,  together  with  here  and  there  a  distant 
peep  of  the  sunlit  Mediterranean,  form  a  landscape  of 
some  beauty.  But  when  the  traveler  has  rattled  down 
their  western  slope  and  passed  through  the  dirty  little 
town  of  Frejus,  he  has  nothing  before  him  but  dull, 
parched  plains  and  barren  stony  hills.  In  the  midst  of  a 
region  of  low,  calcareous  undulations  producing  com, 
vmie,  oil  and  dust  in  astonishing  quantities,  stands  Aix, 
the  ancient  Capital  of  Provence,  the  city  of  good  Roi 
Bene,  the  home  by  predilection  of  the  Troubadours. 
The  special  headquarters  of  poetry,  love,  gallantry,  and 
festivity.  I  remained  two  days  in  Aix  for  King  Rene's 
sake.  It  seemed  hard  to  believe  that  all  that  gay  and 
gallant  time,  with  its  parliament  of  love,  its  jousts  and 
tournaments,  its  jongleun  and  troubadours,  should  have 
passed  and  left  no  trace,  no  visible  impress;  or  some  me- 
morial, if  not  strictly  visible,  at  least  appreciable  to  the 
eye  of  histrionic  faith.  But  no  1  nothing  1  A  more  ut- 
terly uninteresting  provincial  town  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive.  In  vain  I  poked  among  its  obscure  lanes  and 
filthy  courts.  I  found  nothing  to  reward  my  enthusiasm. 
The  few  remaining  ruins  of  the  couii-s  of  Provence  were 
removed  some  years  ago  to  make  place  for  a  bran  new 
and  tasteless  Hotel-de-Ville.  J.  J.  w. 


The  gibbet  is  a  species  of  fiattery  to  the  human  race. 
Tliree  or  four  persons  are  hung  from  time  to  time  for 
tiie  sake  of  making  the  rest  believe  that  they  are  vir- 
tuous. SajtulL-Dubay. 


148 


THE  GROPVING  WORLD, 


John  Charles  Fremont. 

It  has  always  appeared  to  us  that  the  services  and 
daring  enterprise  of  this  explorer  has  never  been  fully 
appreciated  by  the  world,  and  in  connection  with  him 
there  comes  to  mind  these  lines : 

"Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
That  the  nobly  striving  soul, 
Scarce  receives  a  tithe  it  merits 
'Till  'tis  past  life's  trying  goal." 

John  Charles  Fremont  was  born  on  the  2l8t  of  Janu- 
ary, 1813.  The  usual  residence  of  his  family  was  in  the 
city  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  His  father,  who 
bore  the  same  name,  was  deeply  interested  in  studying 
the  character  of  the  North  American  Indians,  and  spent 
the  last  years  of  his  life  in  visiting  many  of  their  tribes. 
On  these  excursions  he  took  his  family  with  him,  and 
moved  slowly,  stopping  leisurely  at  the  larger  towns 
and  points  of  chief  interest.  During  one  of  these  jour- 
neys the  subject  of  this  memoir  was  bom  in  the  city  of 
Savannah.  The  father,  following  his  favorite  pursuit, 
subsequently  visited  with  his  family,  and  remained  for 
greater  or  less  periods  of  time,  in  various  parts  of 
Georgia,  Tennessee,  the  Carolinas  and  Virginia.  The 
mother,  celebrated  for  her  beauty  and  worth,  was  Ann 
Beverly  Whiting,  a  native  of  Gloucester  County,  Vir- 
ginia. Her  family  was  connected  with  many  dis- 
tinguished names,  including  that  of  Washington,  to 
whom  she  was  nearly  related. 

Hie  father  died  in  1818,  leaving  a  widow  and  three 
children — ^two  sons  and  a  daughter.  Colonel  Fremont 
is  the  sole  sumvor  of  his  family,  excepting  the  daughter 
of  his  brother,  who,  since  she  was  nine  years  of  age,  has 
been  a  member  of  his  family. 

After  the  death  of  her  husband,  Mrs.  Fremont  re- 
mained for  some  time  in  Virginia ;  and  at  Dinwiddle 
Court  House  John  Charles  received  the  rudimentary 
lessons  of  his  education.  She  moved  back  ere  long  to 
Charleston  and  continued  the  educating  of  her  children ; 
and  although  left  in  limited  circumstances  she  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  meet  with  the  sympathy  and  assistance 
that  her  worthiness  deserved. 

When  John  Charles  was  thirteen  years  of  age,  a  lawyer 
of  Charleston — John  W.  Mitchell,  Esq. — no  doubt  per- 
ceiving more  than  usual  abilities  in  the  boy,  took  him 
into  his  oflBce  intending  to  make  a  lawyer  of  him  ;  but 
some  subsequent  revelation  of  the  boy's  character 
caused  him  to  place  young  Fremont  with  Dr.  Robertson, 
a  learned  instructor,  of  Charleston.  Dr.  Robertson 
published  an  edition  of  Xenophon's  Anabasis  in  1850,  in 
which  he  makes  this  mention  of  Fremont : 

"  For  encouragement  I  will  mention  a  remarkable  in- 
stance of  patience,  diligence  and  indomitable  persever- 
ence.  In  1827  as  I  returned  from  Scotland  to  my  classes 
in  Charleston,  a  very  respectable  lawyer  came  to  my 
school — I  think  it  was  in  the  month  of  October — bring- 
ing a  slender,  well-formed  and  handsome  youth,  some- 
where between  the  ages  of  fourteen  and  sixteen.  The 
keen  eye  and  noble  forehead  of  the  boy  bespoke  him  a 
genius.  The  lawyer  stated  that  the  youth  had  been 
about  three  weeks  learning  the  Latin  rudiments,  and  he 
had  resolved  to  place  him  under  my  care  for  the  purpose 
of  learning  Greek,  Latin  and  mathematics  sufficiently  to 
qualify  him  to  enter  Charleston  College.  Gladly  I  re- 
ceived him,  as  I  immediately  perceived  that  he  was  no 
common  boy,  for  the  dark  eye  and  beaming  face  gave 

Eromise  of  a  progressive  future.  I  put  him  into  the 
ighest  class,  which  was  just  beginning  to  read  "  Caesar's 
Commentaries ;"  and,  although  at  first  inferior,  his  pro- 
digious memory  and  enthusiasm  of  application  soon  car- 
ried him  up  to  and  past  the  best  scholars.  Beginning  Greek 
he  also  excelled  the  others,  and  in  the  space  of  one 
short  year,  at  odd  hours,  he  had  read  four  books  of 
Caesar,  Cornelius  Nepos,  Sallust,  six  books  of  VirgU, 
nearly  all  of  Horace,  and  two  books  of  Livy.  He  had 
read  all  Graeca  Minora,  about  the  half  of  the  first  volume 
of  Graeca  Majora,  and  four  books  of  Homer's  Iliad.  And 
whatever  he  read  he  retained.  He  seemed  to  learn  so 
readily  and  rapidly  that  I  was  delighted  and  astonished 
at  his  progress. 

"  Although  it  was  hinted  that  he  was  destined  for  the 
phurch,  there  was  the  fearlessness,  the  powerful  genius, 
the  instinctive  admiration  for  bold,  heroic  and  warlike 
deeds  that  could  hardly,  and  not  readily,  be  subdued  in 
consonance  with  the  ministering  of  the  Gospel  to  the 


world.  But  he  had  no  appearance  of  vice  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  was  a  model  of  virtue  and  modesty.  His  ex- 
traordinary pro^'ress,  his  noble  manhood,  captivated  my 
love.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  some  day  he  would  arrive 
to  an  eminence.  He  developed  poetical  talents  of  a 
superior  order ;  and  in  mathematics  he  made  such  fine 
progress  that  at  the  end  of  one  year  he  triumphantly  en- 
tered the  Junior  Class  of  Charleston  College,  where  the 
average  young  man  toils  at  his  studies  four  years  to  even 
enter  the  Sophomore  Class. 

In  1828  I  left  Charleston,  where  he  for  some  time 
taught  mathematics,  at  the  same  time  having  charge  of 
an  evening  school,  and  every  one  familiar  with  this  oc- 
cupation will  sympathize  with  him  in  his  labors  to  sup- 
port a  widowed  mother  and  her  family." 

What  energy,  what  endurance  were  developed  in  this 
man  ?  Dauntless  and  daring  in  his  whole  career,  who 
appreciates  his  merits  fully?  Alas,  but  few.  While 
toiling  for  his  mother,  an  incident  of  no  mean  import- 
ance brought  him  into  favorable  notice  and  secured  him 
employment  from  those  whose  patronage  would  pay. 

There  was  a  lawsuit  concerning  a  certain  rice  field 
near  Charleston,  and  being  at  the  height  of  the  sickly 
season,  the  surveying  and  locating  of  the  property 
involved  so  much  danger  that  it  seemed  quite  impos- 
sible to  get  any  one  to  undertake  it.  Fremont,  however, 
carried  the  work  through  so  boldly  and  successfully 
that  he  won  the  admiration  of  all  parties  concerned. 
Soon  after  this  he  was  engaged  in  the  survey  of  a  rail- 
road leading  from  Charleston  to  Hamburg.  Next  we 
find  him  on  board  the  sloop-of-war  Natchez  as  mathe- 
matical instructor  of  the  midshipmen  during  her  cruise 
to  the  Brazilian  coast.  Then  a  board  of  examiners 
commissioned  him  as  professor  of  mathematics  in  the 
navy,  and  assigned  him  to  the  frigate  Independence, 
where  was  soon  conferred  upon  him  the  degrees  of 
Bachelor  and  Master  of  Arts.  Then  under  the  presi- 
dent's call  for  civil  engineers  of  great  skill  to  survey 
plans  and  estimate  routes  for  roads  and  canals  of  na- 
tional importance  in  a  commercial  or  military  point  of 
view,  Fremont  received  an  appointment  in  this  branch 
of  public  service,  where,  eventually,  wide  renown  was 
to  await  him.  During  President  Jackson's  administra- 
tion, associated  with  Captain  Williams,  an  eminent 
topographical  engineer,  he  commenced  on  the  mountain- 
ous routes  of  the  Carolinas  and  Tennessee ;  and  after- 
wards they  were  together  in  surveying  the  Cherokee 
country,  and  he  assisted  in  preparing  the  military  map 
resulting  from  that  expedition. 

Under  Mr.  Van  Buren's  act  passed  and  approved  in 
1833,  Fremont  obtained  a  lieutenant's  commission  in  the 
topographical  engineers,  ordered  to  explore  the  vast  re- 

fion  north  of  the  Missouri  and  west  of  the  Mississippi. 
Ir.  Nicholet,  a  distinguished  astronomer,  was  appointed 
to  join  this  expedition.  He  wished  a  companion,  young, 
energetic  and  courageous,  with  scientific  knowledge. 
Fremont  was  named  as  the  suitable  person,  and  he 
promptly  accepted  the  situation  when  offered  him.  The 
years  1838  and  1839  were  spent  in  this  way  and  the  whole 
country  was  explored  up  to  the  British  line.  Fremont 
assisted  zealously  in  this  work  and  also  in  making  up 
the  map  of  the  region.  In  these  surveys  under  Mr. 
Nicholet,  there  were  seventy  thousand  meteorological 
observations,  and  the  topography  was  minutely  deter- 
mined by  proper  calculations  at  innumerable  points. 
The  map  thus  constructed  has  been  the  source  from 
which  all  subsequent  ones  relating  to  that  region  have 
been  derived. 

In  1841,  Lieutenant  Fremont  commanded  a  party  to 
survey  the  Des  Moines  River ;  and  in  October  of  that 
year  he  was  married  in  the  City  of  Washington  to  Jessie, 
daughter  of  Hon.  Thomas  H.  Benton,  Senirtor  in  Con- 
gress from  Missouri.  To  all  insinuations  of  wealthy  and 
influential  friends  that  Jessie  might  have  secured  a 
higher  position  than  this  offered  by  Lieutenant  Fremont 
she  turned  a  deaf  ear.  Her  woman's  heart  preferred 
Fremont  to  position,  and  woman's  wisdom  and  love  then 
and  there  made  a  happy  choice.  Ere  long,  awake  or 
awakening  to  the  genius  of  his  son-in-law,  Hon.  T.  H. 
Benton  placed  Fremont  in  his  heart  from  which  death 
had  borne  his  own  sons,  and  he  was  proud  to  acknow- 
ledge the  wise  choice  of  his  daughter.  We  wDl  now 
briefly  glance  at  Fremont's  expeditions,  their  object  and 
success. 

In  1842  his  first  expedition  started  out.  His  object 
Was  to  examine  the  country  between  the  Missouri  River 


THE  GROiVING  PVORLD. 


149 


and  the  Rockv  Mountains,  along  the  line  of  the  Kansas 
and  the  Great  Platte  or  Nebraska  rivers. 

The  incidents  and  adventures  connected  with  this  ex- 
pedition are  as  interesting  and  exciting  as  a  bewitching 
fiction,  and  which  we  regret  cannot  be  narrated  In  an 
article  like  this.  "We  cannot  forego  copying  the  closing 
paragraph  in  Fremont's  journal  concerning  this  journey. 

Four  of  the  best  buffalo  skins  were  sewed  together 
With  sinew  and  stretched  over  a  basket  or  willow  frame. 
The  seams  were  then  covered  with  ashes  and  tallow,  and 
the  boat  was  left  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  sun  for 
the  greater  part  of  one  day,  which  was  sufficient  to  dry 
and  contract  the  skin,  and  make  the  whole  work  solid 
and  strong.  It  was  eight  feet  long  Ln(^  rive  broad,  and 
drew  with  four  men  about  four  inches  of  water.  We 
found,  however,  that  we  could  not  navigate  the  river  in 
this  skin  boat,  so  we  went  forward  on  foot,  and  by  walk- 
ing steadily,  a  little  befor^  dark  we  overtook  the  rest  of 
our  people  at  their  evening  camp,  having  gone  a  dis- 
tance of  twenty-two  miles  that  day.  The  next  morning 
we  crossed  the  Platte  and  continued  our  course  along  a 
plainly  defined  pathway.  On  the  morning  of  October 
1st,  at  break  of  day,  we  heard  the  cowbells  on  the  Mis- 
souri farms." 

St.  Louis  was  reached  on  the  17th,  and  on  the  23d 
Lieutenant  Fremont  reported  himself  to  the  chief  of  the 
corps  at  the  City  of  Washington. 

His  second  expedition  took  the  route  of  Kansas,  Salt 
Lake,  Columbia  River,  Sierra  Nevadas  and  California. 
Only  a  full  and  lengthened  detail  of  the  toilsome  way, 
the  dangers  from  savage  and  wily  red  men,  the  pressing 
through  inaccessable  mountain  heights,  the  night 
watches,  the  cold,  the  driving  storms,  the  starvation  and 
death  that  was  experienced  can  give  one  a  realizing 
sense  of  the  indomitable  fortitude  and  amazing  moral 
strength  of  this  hero  of  our  day. 

In  1845,  the  President,  with  the  consent  and  advice  of 
the  Senate,  conferred  upon  Lieutenant  Fremont  a  brevet 
commission  of  captain  in  the  corps  of  topographical 
engineers. 

In  the  fall  of  that  year  he  started  on  his  third  expedi- 
tion. This  was  under  the  authority  of  Government. 
His  route  this  time  embraced  Arkansas,  the  Great  Basin, 
Hawks'  Peak  and  the  Sierras,  Klamath  Lake,  etc. 

Unexpected  and  political  entanglements  wound  around 
this  expedition  ;  but  his  health  was  not  broken  nor  his 
enterprising  spirit  stifled.  His  zealous  and  adventurous 
nature  was  not  one  to  be  crushed  by  opposition  nor  ad- 
versity. Ormard  was  his  watchword ;  success  the  goal 
he  believed  in. 

His  fourth  expedition  was  carried  through  with  great 
suffering  to  himself  and  his  companions.  He  mapped 
out  his  route— to  ascend  the  Del  Norte  to  its  head,  de- 
scend  the  Colorado  and  so  across  the  Wahsatch  moun- 
tains, coming  into  the  settled  parts  of  California  near 
Monterey,  Mexico. 

He  reached  his  destination  after  enduring  untold  hard- 
ships, and  eventually  secured  the  famous  Mariposa 
claim  which  was  destined  to  be  a  fortune  to  him. 

Throwing  out  all  the  prejudice  of  politics,  every  care- 
ful reader  of  John  Charles  Fremont's  life  must  find  a 
something  in  the  heart  to  do  him  homage,  so  few  are 
the  people  who  will  voluntarily  sign  away  ease  and  the 
luxuries  of  home,  and  repeatedly  subject  themselves  to 
priy&tion  for  the  benefit  of  a  future  generation. 


Longfellow's  Residence. 

Few  private  houses  in  the  United  States  are  so  well 
known  as  the  residence  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfel- 
low, at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  so  often  has  it  been  described 
by  affectionate  antiquarians  and  enthusiastic  pilgrims. 
It  is  not  only  the  home  of  our  most  celebrated  poet ,  it 
also  surpasses  in  historic  interest  any  building  in  New 
England,  with  the  sole  exception  of  Faneuil  Hall,  Its 
age,  as  compared  with  that  of  other  Cambridge  houses, 
is  not  great.  It  was  built  in  in  1759,  by  Colonel  John  Vas- 
sall,  a  firm  loyalist,  who  fled  to  England  in  1775,  his 
property  in  Cambridge  and  Boston  having  been  confis- 
cated. Its  next  occupant  was  Colonel  John  Glover,  a 
bold  little  Marblehead  soldier,  who  quartered  some  of 
his  troops  in  the  spacious  structure.  When  Washington 
rode  into  Cambridge,  on  Sunday,  June  2,  1775,  he  was 
greatly  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the  house,  and, 
having  had  it  cleaned,  he  established  himself  therein 
during  the  same  month.   Martha  Washington  arrived  at 


the  house  in  December,  and  Washington  remained  in  it 
until  April  of  the  following  year.  The  south-east  room 
on  the  first  floor  Washington  took  for  his  study,  in  which 
the  councils  of  war  were  all  held  during  the  stay  of  the 
Commander-in-Chief  in  Cambridge.  He  slept  just  over- 
head, always  retiring  at  9  o'clock.  The  spacious  room 
behind  the  study,  which  Longfellow  now  uses  for  his 
library,  was  occupied  by  Washington's  military  family, 
as  a  rule  a  pretty  large  one.  A  General's  "military 
family,"  in  English  parlance,  comprised  his  whole  staff. 
Washington  was  not  averse  to  a  certain  amount  of  offi^ 
cial  splendor,  and  was  luckily  rich  enough  to  carry  out 
his  whim  in  the  matter  of  making  his  assistants  a  part 
of  his  ordinary  household.  Trumbull,  the  artist,  com- 
plained, rather  sarcastically  that  he,  for  one,  could  not 
keep  his  head  up  in  the  magnificent  society  of  the  house. 
''I  now  found  myself,"  he  averred,  "in  the  family  of 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  age,  surround- 
ed at  his  table  by  the  principal  officers  of  the  Army,  and 
in  constant  intercourse  with  them.  It  was  further  my 
duty  to  receive  company  and  do  the  honors  of  the  housq 
to  many  of  the  first  people  of  the  country."  But  Wash> 
ington  was  thrifty  and  frugal  personally ;  and  his  gen- 
erous maintenance  at  his  owti  cost  of  a  sort  of  court  waq 
of  great  service  to  the  colonial  cause.  The  owners  of 
the  house  after  the  Revolution  were  Nathaniel  Tracy, 
(whom  Washington  visited  for  an  hour  in  1789,)  Thomas 
Russell,  and  Dr.  Andrew  Craigie.  Talleyrand  and  La- 
fayette slept  in  it,  and  in  1833  Jared  Sparks  commenced 
to  keep  house  within  its  historic  rooms.  Everett  and 
Worcester,  the  lexicographer,  also  occupied  it  for  a  time, 
and  Mr.  Longfellow  took  up  his  abode  in  it  in  1837.  At 
first  he  merely  rented  a  room,  establishing  himself  in 
Washington's  south-east  bed-chamber.  Here  he  wrote 
"Hyperion"  and  "Voices  of  the  Night."  In  the  dwel- 
ling, in  one  room  and  another,  almost  all  his  books,  save 
the  two  which  date  from  his  Bowdoin  professorship, 
have  been  produced.  Longfellow  had  not  long  been  an 
occupant  of  the  house  before  he  bought  it.  Its  timbers 
are  perfectly  sound.  The  lawn  in  front  is  neatly  kept, 
and  across  the  street  there  stretches  a  green  meadow  as 
far  as  the  banks  of  the  Charles,  bought  by  the  poet  to 
preserve  his  view.  Mr.  Longfellow  himself,  as  he  draws 
near  seventy,  is  a  fine  picture  of  beautiful  manhood. 
It  has  been  remarked  by  his  friends  that  his  health  has 
much  improved  since  he  delivered  his  poem,  "  Morturi 
Salutamus,"  at  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  gradua- 
tion. And  all  Cambridge,  down  to  coal-heavers  and  hod- 
carriers,  reveres  him  for  his  benignity,  and  remembers 
him  not  only  as  a  poet  but  as  a  kind  and  gentle  man. 


A  Great  Engineer. 

George  Stephenson  is  emphatically  the  engineer  to 
whose  intelligence  and  perseverance  we  owe  the  intro- 
duction of  railroads  info  England,  and  consequently 
into  the  United  States.  He  was  born  at  Wylam,  near 
Newcastle-on-Tyne,  June  9,  1781.  His  parents  were  in 
the  lowest  ranks  in  life,  but  were  industrious,  respect- 
able and  amiable. 

When  he  was  an  infant,  his  father  noticed  his  fond- 
ness for  every  piece  of  machinery,  and  took  delight  in 
amusing  him  with  it. 

The  first  employment  of  George  was  to  drive  the  crows 
from  a  wheat-field,  his  wages  being  twopence  a  day. 
He  was  now  eight  years  old,  and  employed  the  intervals 
of  this  occupation  in  making  whistles  out  of  reeds,  and 
engines  out  of  clay.    He  was  nineteen  years  old  before 
he  learned  to  read,  and  felt  very  proud  when  he  could 
write  his  own  name. 
In  1801  he  married  Fanny  Henderson,  a  young  servant 
1  in  a  neighbor's  farm  house,  and  in  1803  his  only  son, 
bert,  was  bom — one  of  the  few  instances  where  a  son 
1  inherits  the  peculiar  tastes  of  his  father.    This  son,  who 
is  a  little  less  distinguished  than  himself,  he  educated 
i  by  mending  his  neighbors'  clocks  and  watches  at  night 
after  his  daily  labor  was  done. 

On  the  27th  of  September,  1525,  the  Stockton  and  Dai* 
lington  Railway  was  opened  for  traffic,  and  George  Ste- 
phenson drove  the  first  engine.  The  train  consisted  of 
six  wagons,  laden  with  com  and  flour,  th«n  the  passen- 
gers' coach,  with  directors  and  friends,  followed  by 
twenty-seven  wagons — in  all,  a  train  of  thirty-eight  car- 
riages. 

He  died  on  the  12th  of  August,  1848,  at  the  age  of  six- 
ty-seven. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Elihu  Burrett,  the  Learned  Blacksmith. 

God  is  no  respecter  of  persons."  All  good  gifts  are 
not  bestowed  on  the  wealthy,  the  high-bom,  nor  the 
proud.  Nature  does  not  lock  up  her  store-house  from 
the  poor  and  the  lowly.  From  her,  to  the  patient,  delv- 
ing soul,  comes  the  command,  "Ask  and  ye  shall  re- 
ceive ;  seek  and  ye  shall  find ;  knock  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you." 

Come  with  us,  dear  reader,  to  the  pleasant  town  of 
New  Britain,  Connecticut.  This  state  lies  the  most 
south-westerly  of  the  New  England  states.  The  climate 
is  healthy  and  the  soil  fertile,  and  among  the  hills  and 
valleys  lies  New  Britain  ;  a  town  not  remarkable  above 
other  towns,  perhaps,  and  not  especially  noteworthy, 
only  as  it  was  the  birth-place  of  a  remarkable  boy. 
Pass  that  nice  house  to  the  right,  pause  not  at  the  ele- 
gant edifice  on  the  left,  for  I  want  to  take  you  to  the 
home  of  a  shoemaker,  and  into  his  family  of  ten  chil- 
dren. Here  is  the  youngest  boy — the  youngest  child. 
Note  Ms  full,  wide  brow,  his  keen,  deep-set  eye  and 
thoughtful  face.  Barefooted,  and  wearing  a  dilapi- 
dated skull  cap  with  boyhood's  careless  air — who  should 
guess  the  history  lying  down  his  future  years  ? 

The  few  months'  district  schooling  which  it  was  his 
privilege  to  have  before  his  father  apprenticed  him  to 
the  village  blacksmith,  was  like  opening  a  portal,  and  al- 
lowing an  eager  eye  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  untold  beau- 
ties within.  Hungering  and  thirsting  after  knowledge, 
the  few  books  which  the  boy  could  procure  from  the 
village  library  he  read  and  re-read,  retaining  within  his 
memory  the  most  valuable  portion  of  their  contents. 
An  older  brother,  who  had  acquired  sufficient  education 
to  become  a  school  teacher,  was  the  boy's  tutor  for 
months  after  his  apprenticeship  was  ended.  During  this 
time  of  hard  and  persistent  study  he  gained  consider- 
able insight  into  mathematics,  Latin  and  French. 

Now,  how  many  boys  would  have  said :  "  Well  it  isn't 
any  use  to  try  to  do  anj^hing,  or  to  be  anybody,  when  I 
have  got  to  go  back  to  the  smut  and  griminess  of  the 
forge."  How  many  would  have  replied,  sajdng:  **It  is 
discouraging,  disgraceful  for  anybody  with  the  natural 
gifts  and  abilities  which  I  possess  to  to  come  to  this  low, 
menial  toil  for  bread."  Not  so  said  this  young  hero. 
Instead,  so  gratified  was  he  with  the  progress  which  he 
had  made  in  the  few  months'  study  that  ne  resolved  that 
no  obstacle  should  beset  his  path  to  success,  but  that 
he  would  surmount  or  remove  it.  Neither  did  he  feel 
that  honest  labor  degraded  his  Intellect ;  instead  he  felt 
that  he  exalted  menial  employment.  He  did  not  help- 
lessly yield  to  his  hard  circumstances,  murmuring  that 
if  the  world  had  lost  anything  because  his  poverty  hem- 
med him  in,  it  might  thank  itself  for  not  looking  after 
its  geniuses.  Morning,  noon  and  night  he  set  witfin  the 
store-house  of  his  mind  some  useful  knowledge.  He 
had  an  overruling  love  for  the  languages.  From  time 
to  time  he  worked  away  upon  the  Spanish,  Greek,  He- 
brew, Syriac,  Danish  and  Bohemian  tongues.  He  laid 
out  some  lesson  for  the  day  and  beat  it  into  his  memory 
with  blow  upon  blow  on  his  forge.  Surely,  never  was  a 
more  successful  "anvil  chorus"  rung.  If  the  reader  catch- 
es a  glimpse  of  the  invincible  young  man's  diary  at  this 
time,  he  will  smile,  besides  having  a  feeling  of  veneration 
spring  up  in  his  soul  for  such  indomitable  perseverance. 

Monday,  June,  etc.— Headache ;  studied  forty  pages  of 
Cuvier's  Theory  of  the  Earth  ;  read  sixty-four  pages  of 
French,  and  beat  my  forge  eleven  hours  of  the  day. 

Tuesday. — Sixty-five  lines  Hebrew,  thirty  pages  French, 
ten  pages  Theory  of  the  Earth,  eight  lines  of  Syriac,  ten 
of  Danish,  ten  of  Bohemian,  nine  of  Polish ;  learned 
names  of  fifteen  stars  ;  worked  ten  hours  at  the  forge. 

Wednesday. — Twenty-five  lines  of  Hebrew,  five  pages 
of  Astronomy,  eleven  hours  forging. 

Thursday.— Fifty-five  lines  of  Hebrew,  ditto  Syriac, 
eleven  hours  forging. 

Friday. — Not  well ;  twelve  hours  forging. 

Saturday. — Not  well ;  fifty  pages  Natural  Philosophy, 
ten  hours  at  the  anvil. 

Sunday.— Lesson  for  Bible  class. 

There,  reader,  you  have  a  record  of  this  wonderful 
youn^  scholar  for  one  week,  it  being,  doubtless,  a  sam- 
ple of  successive  months  and  years. 

The  extraordinary  talent  of  this  young  man  penetrated 
abroad.  Governor  Everett  sent  him  an  invitation  to 
visit  Boston.  When  he  arrived  there,  men  interested  in 
his  behalf  made  him'  kind  aSers  of  assistance :  among: 


others,  to  send  him  to  Harvard  College  ;  but  with  a  na- 
tive and  laudable  independence  he  declined,  and  came 
back  to  the  forge,  having,  seemingly,  become  attached 
to  the  inspirational  "  ring,  ring,"  of  his  anvil.  But  when 
he  came  back  this  time  he  was  not  the  same  young 
blacksmith  that  went  away  to  visit  Boston.  Feeling 
himself  somewhat  appreciated  by  the  world,  had  been 
like  draughts  of  new  wine.  From  all  sides  divine  in- 
spiration seemed  pouring  in  upon  him.  Not  vain  or 
proud  of  his  attainments,  which  ever  way  that  he  turned 
wider  fields  of  knowledge  appeared  opening  up  before 
his  enraptured  vision.  His  was  one  of  those  rare,  di- 
vinely blessed  natures  that  could  never  graduate — or  call 
his  studies  finished — could  never  accept  a  diploma,  and 
the  certificate  that  he  was  no  longer  a  scholar.  The 
more  knowledge  that  he  had  obtained  the  more  he  saw 
that  there  was  to  obtain ;  leading  him  to  the  full  and 
fixed  belief  of  eternal  progression. 

After  his  return  from  his  visit  to  Boston  he  translated 
a  series  of  papers  from  the  Icelandic,  Samaritan,  Arabic, 
and  Hebrew  languages,  which  were  published  in  the 
American  Eclectic  Review.  And  during  the  winter  of 
that  year  he  delivered  no  less  than  sixty-eight  lectures. 
In  the  spring  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  Ethiopia, 
Persian  and  Turkish  languages. 

While  this  wonder  child  of  Nature  pondered  over  the 
holy  inspirations  of  his  Hebrew  Bible,  he  was  led  to 
look  upon  the  masses  of  mankind  as  stars,  so  to  speak, 
only  varying  in  magnitude  one  above  the  other.  He 
read  that  God  made  of  one  jlesh  all  the  children  of  the 
earth.  This  assertion  of  sacred  writ  bore  heavily  upon 
his  mind.  Could  he  accept  this  as  God's  word  ?  In  his 
most  solemn  meditations  he  was  forced  to  believe  that 
not  only  had  God  said  but  that  God  meant  it.  Then  the 
crimes  of  slavery  and  war  stood  up  hydra-headed  and 
terrible  before  him.  He  resolved  to  use  his  influence 
for  the  benefit  of  the  down-trodden  and  oppressed. 
Like  all  great,  benevolent  minds  into  which  God  pours 
the  divine  stimulus  of  His  shielding,  enlightening  love, 
he  wished  every  creature  of  the  Divine  Creator  to  enjoy 
untrammelled  the  full  benefits  of  existence.  The  degra- 
dation of  slavery,  to  his  mind,  was  transgressing  the 
law,  as  of  mie  Jiesh  God  created  all  the  nations  of  the 
fearth. 

"Peace,"  he  cried,  continually,  "peace  and  the  rights 
of  men  are  engraven  on  my  standard."  The  few  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  which  he  had  accumulated  he  devoted  to 
the  publishing  of  a  paper  for  the  upholding  of  peace, 
progress  and  the  liberty  of  all  mankind. 

When  in  his  thirty-fourth  year,  or  thereabouts,  he 
visited  England,  and  keenly  observant  and  sensitive  to 
the  interests  of  nations  and  people,  he  resolved  to  de- 
vote his  whole  energies  to  advocating  the  common  bro- 
therhood of  all  kinds  of  and  colors  of  men.  Most  zea- 
lously he  labored  to  establish  international  courts  of  ar- 
bitration, where  the  disputes  and  difficulties  that  arise 
among  the  different  governments  may  be  referred  for  set- 
tlement without  recourse  to  the  sword.  How  the  friends 
of  humanity  should  rejoice  over  a  man  like  this — ^not  a 
renowned  warrior,  not  a  great  diplomatist,  not  an  able 
politician,  but  an  advocate  of  equal  rights  and  peace. 

A  British  periodical  speaks  of  this  remarkable  young 
man  as  the  originator  and  able  advocate  of  the  cheap 
intemation  postage  law  ;  which  matter  he  and  Rowland 
Hill  continued  to  agitate  until  success  crowned  their  ef- 
forts, and  the  whole  civilized  world  accords  them  grate- 
ful thanks.  America  to-day  is  proud  of  her  self-made 
sons,  whose  patent  of  nobility  is  not  granted  them  from 
entailed  estates  nor  lordly  pedigree,  but  upon  whose 
foreheads  and  in  whose  palms  is  set  the  seal  of  greatness, 
unto  whom  God  has  given  the  talents  that  have  been 
Improved  upon  until  indeed  their  possessors  are  fitted  to 
rule  over  great  dominions. 

High  up  on  the  records  of  laudable  fame  engrave  the 
name,  Elihu  Burrett,  the  Learned  Blacksmith.  And 
down  deep  into  brain  and  heart,  brothers  and  sisters,  in- 
sWl  this  truth— what  has  been  done  may  be  done  again. 
The  road  to  success  is  a  highway  open  to  all ;  and  if  we 
eet  our  whole  mind  upon  attaining  a  great  good,  possi- 
bly we  may  fail ;  but  there  is  more  honor  in  failure 
while  striving  to  attain  a  glorious  success  than  in  weakly 
yielding  to  base  influences  that  degrade  the  faculties 
Which  God  has  bestowed  upon  us.  

Faults  of  the  head  are  pxmished  in  this  world, 
those  of  the  heart  in  another  ;  but  as  most  of  our  vioei 
are  compoxind,  so  also  is  their  punishment.  Coi-ton. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


151 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

The  name  of  tliis  bird  is  derived  from  the  Saxon, 


This  charming  bird  may  be  traced  from  England, 
through  Germany,  Poland,  France,  Italy,  and  Pales- 

^^'it  is  the  largest  of  all  the  warblers,  being  about 


1 


"ON  MOONLIT  BUSHES,  WHOSE  DEWY  LEAFLETS  ARE  BUT  HALF  DISCLOSED, 
YOU  MAY  PERCHANCE  BEHOLD  THEM  ON  THE  TWIGS." 


night,  and  galan,  to  sing;  or,  the  night-singer. 
Antony  calls  Cleopatra  his    nightingale,"  and  says: — 

*•  The  nightingale,  if  she  could  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren." 


seven  inches  in  length,  and  between  ten  and  eleven 
in  the  extent  of  its  wings.  The  upper  parts  are  of  a 
deep  yellowish-brown,  inclining  to  reddish  brown;  the 
quills  and  greater  coverts  are  dusky  brown,  with  red- 
dish-brown margin;  the  tail  deep  reddish-brown. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


and  very  slightly  forked  ;  the  sides  of  the  neck,  ear 
coverts,  breast  and  flanks,  pale  ash-gray,  passing 
into  grayish-white  on  the  throat  and  lower  parts  ;  an 
obscure  dusky  streak  going  from  the  gape  down  the 
side  of  the  neck,  and  into  the  gray  of  the  breast.  The 
colors  of  the  female  are  like  those  of  the  male.  The 
bill  is  wood-brown,  with  the  basal  end  of  the  lower 
mandible  pale,  yellowish-brown;  the  tarsi,  which 
are  long,  and  the  toes,  are  of  the  same  color. 

It  is  a  migratory  bird,  passing  the  winter  in  north- 
ern Africa,  but  in  the  summer  found  over  the 
greater  part  of  Europe,  even  to  Sweden  and  temper- 
ate Russia.  It  is  said  not  to  be  found  in  Great  Brit- 
ain north  of  the  Tweed,  and  is  plentiful  in  some 
parts  of  England  and  is  never  heard  in  others.  The 
writer  has  frequently  listened  to  the  song  of  the 
nightingale  in  different  places  in  the  neighborhood 
of  London,  and  in  its  finest  voice  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
near  St.  Lawrence.  It  is  found  in  Sussex,  Dorset- 
shire, Somersetshire,  and  in  the  east  part  of  Devon- 
shire, but  not  in  Cornwall.  It  frequents  a  greater 
part  of  Yorkshire ;  but  is  unknown  in  Lancashire, 
though  it  has  been  heard  in  Carlisle. 

Sir  John  Sinclair  endeavored  to  introduce  this  de- 
lightful songster  into  the  groves  of  Scotland, 
exchanging  the  eggs  of  robins  for  those  of  nightin- 
gales. The  young  birds  were  hatched  and  brought 
up  by  their  foster  parents;  they  migrated  in  Septem- 
ber, their  usual  time,  but  never  returned  to  the 
place  of  their  birth.  A  similar  experiment  was  made 
at  Swansea  with  the  same  result.  Enos  is  its  Welsh 
name,  but  Wales  is  not  known  to  possess  it.  Leyden 
asks: 

"  Sweet  bird !  how  long  shall  Teviot's  maids  deplore. 
Thy  song  unheard  along  the  Woodland  shore?  " 

And  the  same  lament  may  arise  from  the  daughters 
of  Erin.  The  nightingale  begins  to  appear  in  the 
middle  of  France  about  the  first  week  in  April,  and 
in  England  a  week  or  ten  days  later.  The  males 
first  venture  across  the  channel,  disperse  themselves 
over  the  country,  resort  to  thick  hedges,  copses  and 
plantations,  pour  forth  their  songs  at  eve,  and  await 
the  arrival  of  their  mates,  which  is  sometimes  de- 
layed beyond  a  few  days  by  cold  and  uncongenial 
weather.  Most  artfully  and  carefully  concealed  are 
the  nests  they  build.  Composed  externally  of  dried 
leaves  and  grass,  or  of  the  skeleton  leaves  which 
strew  the  banks  and  thick  bottoms  of  hedges,  the 
little  dwelling  is  lined  with  hair  and  soft  fibers. 
Calculated  to  deceive  the  eye,  it  is  placed  low  down 
in  a  thick  bush,  or  luxurious  hedge,  among  inter- 
tangled  stems.  The  eggs,  of  a  greenish- brown,  are 
five  in  number. 

Nightingales  are  very  shy,  remaining  concealed  as 
much  as  possible  among  the  foliage.  Although  their 
song  is  heard  at  intervals  during  the  day,  it  excites 
the  greatest  admiration  on  quiet  evenings  an  hour  or 
two  after  sunset.  When  the  moon  is  nearly  full, 
and  the  weather  is  serene  and  still,  it  may  be  heard 
till  midnight,  and  is  then  exceedingly  pleasing. 

Virgil  and  other  classical  poets,  from  the  melan- 
choly character  of  part  of  its  song,  call  it  miserdbile 
earmen;  though  it  would  seem  an  insult  to  modern 
poets  to  hint  that  the  song  of  the  nightingale  has 
been  ever  estimated  in  comparison  with  that  of  other 
native  or  foreign  birds,  some  have  gone  to  the  ex- 
treme of  regarding  it  as  inferior  to  that  of  many 
thrushes;  its  natural  song  is  certainly  very  sweet, 
but  not  more  so,  in  the  opinion  of  Audubon,  than 
that  of  the  black- capped  warbler,  and  but  little,  if 
at  all,  superior  to  that  of  the  woodlark  ;  the  song  of 
the  skylark  is  far  more  spirited,  more  prolonged,  and 
of  much  greater  compass,  though  less  sweet;  the 
notes  of  the  American  mocking-bird  are  very  much 
sweeter,  more  varied,  and  of  greater  compass,  power, 
and  duration;  and  many  bir(j^.  which  naturally  have 


no  song,  like  the  bullfinch,  can  be  taught  to  sing  in 
perfect  time  and  tune,  which  the  nightingale  cannot. 
But  take  it  as  a  whole,  it  must  be  confessed  to  be 
superior  at  least  to  that  of  all  British  songsters. 

Isaac  Walton  observes  of  this  noted  song-bird: 
"He  that  at  midnight,  when  the  very  laborers  sleep 
securely,  should  hear,  as  I  have  heard,  the  clear  air, 
the  sweet  descants,  the  natural  rising  and  falling,  the 
doubling  and  redoubling  of  her  voice,  might  well  be 
lifted  above  the  earth,  and  say.  Lord!  what  music 
hast  thou  provided  for  thy  saints  in  heaven,  when 
thou  affordest  bad  men  such  music  on  earti  ?  " 

The  males  only  sing,  and,  like  other  migratory 
birds,  never  during  the  winter  in  cages,  and  not  until 
after  the  spring,  moult.  They  are  short-lived  in 
captivity  from  being  kept  too  warm  and  from  im- 
proper food;  this  should  be  chiefly  insects,  or  small 
bits  of  meat  and  fruits. 

Dr.  Latham  states  that,  "as  is  usual  with  the  mi- 
grating warblers,  the  male  remains  on  the  spot  to 
which  it  first  resorts,  attracting  the  female  by  its 
song;  and  if  by  accident  the  female  is  killed,  the 
male,  which  had  become  silent,  resumes  his  song, 
and  will  continue  to  sing-  late  in  the  summer,  till  he 
fintis  &D.oit\ef  ttialh,  in  ^liich  <ase  ^hey  tviW  breed  at 
a  later  season. 

"  Can  there  be  a  man,"  says  Belon,  an  old  French 
writer,  "so  deprived  of  judgment  as  not  to  take  ad- 
miration in  hearing  such  melody  come  out  of  the 
throat  of  a  little  bird?  "  Crashaw  has  the  same  idea  in 
his  "Music  Duel,"  where  he  describes  the  nightingale 
as  trailing 

"  Through  the  sleek  passage  of  her  open  throat, 
A  clear,  unwrinkled  song ;  then  doth  she  point  it 
By  short  diminutions, 

That  from  so  small  a  channel  should  be  raised 
The  torrent  of  a  voice,  whose  melody 
Could  melt  into  such  sweet  variety." 

Hurdis  says  :— 

"Now,  I  steal  along  a  woody  lane, 
To  hear  thy  song  so  various,  gentle  bird, 
Sweet  queen  of  night,  transporting  Philomel. 
I  name  thee  not  to  give  my  feeble  line 
A  grace  else  wanted,  for  I  love  thy  song. 
And  often  have  I  stood  to  hear  it  sung, 
When  the  clear  moon,  with  Cytherean  smile 
Emerging  from  an  eastern  cloud,  has  shot 
A  look  of  pure  benevolence  and  joy 
Into  the  heart  of  night.  Yes,  I  have  stood 
And  marked  thy  varied  note,  and  frequent  pause, 
Thy  brisk  and  melancholy  mood,  with  soul 
Sincerely  pleased.  And  oh !  methought  no  note 
Can  equal  thine,  sweet  bird,  of  all  that  sing 
How  easily  the  chief  1  yet  have  I  heard 
What  pleases  me  still  more— the  human  voice 
In  serious  sweetness  flowing  from  the  heart 
Of  unaffected  woman.  I  could  hark 
Till  the  round  world  dissolved  to  the  pure  strain 
Love  teaches,  gentle  modesty  inspires." 
"The  nightingale,"  it  has  been  truly  said,  "passes  from  grave 
to  gay ;  from  a  simple  song  to  a  warble  the  most  varied ;  and 
from  the  softest  trillings  and  swells  to  languishing  and 
lamentable  sighs,  which  he  as  quickly  abandons  to  return  to 
his  natural  sprightliness." 

Milton  has  said  :— 

"  Sweet  bird !  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy ; 
Thee,  chantress,  of  the  woods  among 
I  woo,  to  hear  thy  evening  song." 

To  this  Coleridge  replies:— 

"And,  harkl  the  nightingale  begins  its  song, 
'  Most  musical,  most  melancholy '  bird. 
A  melancholy  bird  ?  oh  1  idle  thought ! 
In  nature  there  is  nothing  melancholy. 
— 'Tis  the  merry  nightingale 
That  crowds,  and  hurries,  and  precipitates 
With  fast,  thick  warble,  his  delicious  notes, 
As  he  were  fearful  that  an  April  night, 
Would  be  too  short  for  him  to  utter  forth 
His  love-chant,  and  disburden  his  full  soul 
Of  all  its  music  1 

"And  I  know  a  grove 
Of  large  extent,  hard  by  a  castle  high, 
Which  the  great  lord  inhabits  not ;  and  so 
This  grove  is  wild  with  tangling  underwood. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


153 


And  the  trim  walks  are  broken  up,  and  grass, 
Thin  grass  and  kingcups,  grow  within  the  paths ; 
But  never,  elsewhere,  in  one  place  I  knew 
80  many  nightingales ;  and  far  and  near. 
In  wood  and  thicket,  over  the  wide  grove. 
They  answer  and  provoke  each  other's  song, 
With  skirmishes  and  capricious  passagings. 
And  murmurs  musical  and  swift,  jug,  jug. 
And  one  low  piping  sound,  more  sweet  than  all — 
Stirring  the  air  witn  such  an  harmony, 
That  should  you  close  your  eyes,  you  might  almost 
Forget  it  was  not  day  1   On  moonlit  bushes, 
Whose  dew'y  leaflets  are  but  half  disclosed. 
You  may,  perchance,  behold  them  on  the  twigs, 
Their  bright,  bright  eyes,  their  eyes  both  bright 
and  full, 

O-listening,  while  many  a  glow-worm  in  the  shade 
Lights  up  her  love- torch. 

"And  oft  a  moment's  space. 
What  time  the  moon  was  lost  behind  a  cloud. 
Hath  heard  a  pause  of  silence ;  till  the  moon 
Emerging,  hath  awakened  earth  and  sky 
With  one  sensation,  and  the  wakeful  birds 
Have  all  burst  forth  in  choral  minstrels}% 
As  if  some  sudden  gale  had  swept  at  once 
A  hundred  airy  harps !" 
INo  wonder  that  the  rustic  English  poet,  Clare,  remarks 

"I've  often  tried,  when  tending  sheep  or  cow. 
With  bits  of  grass  and  peels  of  water  straw. 
To  whistle  like  the  birds.   The  thrush  would  start 
To  hear  her  song  of  praise,'  and  fly  away ; 
The  blackbird  never  cared,  but  sang  again  ; 
The  nightingale's  pure  song,  I  could  not  try. 
And  when  the  thrush  would  mock  her  song,  she 
paused. 

And  sang  another  song  no  bird  could  do. 

She  sang  when  all  were  done,  and  beat  them  all." 

According  to  Buckstein,  "  The  first  good  quality  of  a  night' 
4ngale  is,  undoubtedly,  its  fine  voice."  He  then  states  that  this 
bird  expresses  kis  difierent  emotions  by  suitable  ones,  and 
particular  intonations.  The  most  unmeaning  cry  when  he  is 
alone,  appears  to  be  the  simple  whistle,  "fitt;"  but  if  the 
syllable  "  err"  be  added,  it  is  then  the  call  of  the  male  to  the 
female.  The  sign  of  displeasure,  or  fear,  is  "  fit  t,"  repeated 
rapidly  and  loudly  before  adding  the  terminating  "err;" 
while  that  of  satisfaction,  pleasure  and  complacency,  is  a  deep 
*'tack,"  Avhich  maybe  imitated  by  smacking  the  tongue.  In 
anger,  jealoasy,  rivalry,  or  any  extraordinary  event,  he  uttere' 
hoarse,  disagreeable  sounds,  somewhat  like  a  jay,  or  a  cat. 
Lastly,  in  the  season  of  pairing,  during  their  playful  gambols, 
a  gentle,  subdued  warbling  is  all  that  is  heard.  But  when 
their  young  are  hatched,  their  song  ceases. 

"Nature,"  he  continues,  "has  granted  these  tones  to  both 
sexes;  but  the  male  is  endowed  with  so  very  striking  a 
musical  talent,  that,  in  this  respect  he  surpasses  all  birds,  and 
has  acquired  the  name  of  the  king  of  songsters. 

"  Twenty-four  different  strains  or  couplets  may  be  reckoned 
in  the  song  of  a  fine  nightingale,  without  including  its  delicate 
little  variations ;  for  among  these,  as  among  other  musicians, 
there  are  some  great  performers,  and  many  middling  ones.  The 
song  is  so  articulate  that  it  may  very  well  be  \vritten. 

"  The  nightingales  of  all  countries,  the  bouth  as  well  as  the 
North,  appear  to  sing  in  the  same  manner;  but  there  is  as  has 
been  observed,  so  great  a  difference,  that  we  cannot  help 
<acknowl edging  that  one  has  a  great  superiority  over  another. 
On  points  of  beauty,,however,  . where  the  senses  are  the  judges, 
each  has  his  own  peculiar  taste.  If  one  nightingale  has  the 
talent  of  dwellins^  agreeably  on  his  notes,  another  utters  his 
with  peculiar  brilliancy;  a  third  lengthens  out  his  strain  in  a 
peculiar  manner;  and  a  fourth  excels  in  the  silveriness  of  his 
voice.  All  four  may  excel  in  their  style,  and  each  will  find  his 
admirer;  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  decide  which  merits  the 
palm  of  victory.  There  are,  however,  individuals  so  very 
superior,  as  to  unite  all  the  beauties  of  power  and  melody  • 
these  are  generally  birds  which,  having  been  hatched  with  the 
necessary  qualifications,  in  a  district  well  supplied  with  night- 
ingales, appropriate  whatever  is  most  striking  in  the  song  of 
«ach.  As  the  return  of  the  males  in  spring  always  precedes 
that  of  the  females  by  seven  or  eight  days,  they  sing  before 
and  after  midnight,  in  order  to  attract  their  companions  on 
their  journey  during  the  fine  nights.  If  their  aims  succeed 
they  keep  silence  during  the  night,  and  salute  the  dawn  with 
their  first  accents,  which  are  continued  through  the  day.  Some 
persist,  in  their  season,  in  singing  before  and  after  midnight 
whence  they  have  obtained  the  name  of  nocturnal  nightin- 

fales.  After  repeated  experiments  for  many  successive  years, 
think  I  am  authorized  in  affirming  that  the  nocturnal  and 
diurnal  nightingales  form  distinct  varieties  which  propagate 
regularly ;  for  if  a  young  bird  be  taken  out  of  the  nest  of  a 
night  singer,  he  will  in  turn  sing  at  the  same  hours  as  his 
father,  not  the  first  year,  but  certainly  in  the  following ;  while 
on  the  other  hand,  the  young  of  a  day  nightingale,  will  never 
sing  in  the  night,  even  when  it  is  surrounded  by  nocturnal 
nightingales.  I  have  also  remarked  that  the  night-singers 
prefer  mountainous  countries,  and  even  mountains  themselves 
whilst  the  others  prefer  plains,  valleys,  and  the  neighborhood 
of  water.  I  will  also  affirm  that  all  the  night  singers  found  in 
toe  plains,  have  strayed  from  the  mountains." 


The  nightingale  Is  capable  of  forming  strong  attachments  to 
individuals.  When  the  bird  has  become  acquainted  with  the 
person  who  takes  care  of  it,  it  distinguishes  his  step  before  it 
comes  within  sight,  welcomes  him  witn  a  cry  of  joy,  and  during 
the  moulting  season,  makes  efforts,  though  vainly,  to  sing  and 
shows  its  emotions  in  the  gaiety  of  his  movements  and  the 
expression  of  its  looks,  when  it  cannot  give  them  a  vocal 
utterance.  Should  it  lose  its  benefactor,  it  nas  been  known  to 
pine  to  death;  and  should  it  survive,  it  is  long  before  it  be- 
comes accustomed  to  another.  Its  attachments  are  long,  be- 
cause they  are  not  hasty,  which  is  the  case  with  all  mild  and 
timid  dispositions. 

A  white  nightingale,  valued  at  six  thousand  sesterces,  was 
once  presented  by  the  Empress  Agrippina,  to  one  of  her 
friends.  Pliny  tells  that  some  nightingales  belonging  to  the 
two  sons  of  the  Emperor  Claudius,  spoke  Greek  and  Latin,  and 
made  new  phrases  every  day  to  divert  their  masters.  Gesner 
describes  two  others,  belonging  to  an  innkeeper  at  Batisbon, 
which,  more  wonderful  still,  conversed  all  night  on  the  politics 
of  Europe  ;  but  he  adds,  they  did  no  more — enough  certainly— 
than  repeat  at  aight  the  conversation  they  had  heard  during 
the  day. 

Jason  and  the  Argonauts. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  enterprises  of  the  heroic 
ages,  one  which  forms  a  memorable  epoch  in  the 
Grecian  history,  a  sort  of  separation  point  between  the 
fabulous  and  the  authentic,  was  the  Argonautic  expedi- 
tion. This  was  a  voyage  from  Greece  to  Colchis  in  order 
to  obtain  the  golden  fleece,  conducted  by  Jason,  the  son 
of  jEson,  king  of  Thessaly.  The  undertaking  was  im- 
posed upon  him  by  his  uncle  Pelias.  He  invited  the 
most  illustrious  heroes  of  Greece  to  unite  fn  the  expedi- 
tion, and  among  those  who  joined  him  were  HerculeSf 
Castor  and  Pollux,  Felens,  Pirithous,  and  Thesics.  The 
vessel  built  for  the  purpose  was  named  Argo,  which 
after  various  adverse  events  arrived  at  ^a,  the  capital 
of  Colchis,  ^etius  was  then  king  of  Colchis,  and  pro- 
mised to  Jason,  the  golden  fleece  only  on  certain  most 
diflicult  conditions. 

Although  Jason  fulfilled  these  conditions,  yet  ^etius 
was  unwilling  to  permit  him  to  take  the  desired  booty, 
and  sought  to  slay  Jason  and  his  companions.  This 
purpose  was  betrayed  by  Medea,  the  king's  daughter, 
by  whose  assistance  and  magical  art,  Jason  slew  the 
dragon  that  guarded  the  fleece,  and  seized  the  treasure. 
He  immediately  fled,  accompanied  by  Medea,  but  was 
pursued  by  her  father.  Medea  put  to  death  her  brother 
Absyrtus,  cut  his  corpse  into  pieces,  and  strewed  them 
in  the  way  m  order  to  stop  her  father's  pursuit.  Jason 
was  afterwards  faithless  to  her,  and  married  Creusa,  or 
as  others  name  her,  Glauce,  a  daughter  of  Creon,  king 
of  Corinth.  Medea  took  vengeance  by  causing  the  death 
of  Creusa,  and  also  of  her  children  she  had  herself  bom 
to  Jason.  After  death,  Jason  received  the  worship  be- 
stowed on  heroes,  and  had  a  temple  at  Abdera. 

Castor  and  Pollux,  who  were  among  the  Argonauts, 
were  twin  sons  of  Jupiter  and  Seeda,  and  brothers  to 
Helena.  On  account  of  their  descent  they  were  called 
Dioscuri.  Castor  distinguished  himself  in  the  manage- 
ment of  horses,  and  Pollux  in  boxing  and  wrestling. 
The  last  exploit  of  the  Dioscuri,  was  their  contest  with 
Lynceus  and  his  brother  Idas.  Castor  was  slain  by 
Lynceus,  and  Lynceus  by  Pollux ;  and  as  Idas  was  about 
to  avenge  his  brother,  Jupiter  smote  him  with  lightning. 
The  festival  called  Dioscuria  was  in  honor  of  these 
brothers,  celebrated  especially  by  the  Spartans.  On  this 
occasion,  the  gifts  of  Bacchus  were  very  freely  shared. 
It  was  amidst  the  drinking  at  the  feast  in  honor  of 
Castor  and  Pollux  which  Alexander  held  in  Bactra,  that 
he  madly  slew  his  devoted  friend,  Clitus.  This  festival 
is  supposed  by  some  to  have  had  the  same  origin  as  the 
famous  mysteries  of  the  Cabirl,  which  w^ere  celebrated 
especially  at  Samsthrace,  and  were  thought  to  have  great 
eflScacy  in  protecting  from  shipwreck  and  storms. 

They  were  said  to  be  placed  among  the  marine  gods, 
from  having  cleared  the  Hellespont  and  the  neighboring 
seas  from  pirates. 

They  were  invoked  as  averters  of  evil,  and  white  lambs 
were  sacrificed  to  them.  The  Romans  honored  them 
especially  for  services  supposed  to  be  received  from 
'them  in  pressing  dangers,  as  in  the  battle  with  the 
Latins  near  Lake  Regillus.  They  constantly  swore  by 
their  names  ;  the  oath  used  by  the  women  was  .J^costor, 
or  by  the  temple  oi  Castor  ;  that  of  the  men  was  ^depolf 
or  by  the  temple  of  Pollux. 


Thebb  is  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away. 


154 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Israel  Putnam. 

Around  this  Revolutionary  hero  clings  a  halo  of 
romance,  so  that  almost  every  school-hoy  has  heard 
some  anecdote  of  Putnam  ;  yet  it  will  not  be  uninterest- 
ing, we  hope,  to  glance  along  the  history  of  his  life  and 
exploits. 

He  was  horn  at  Salem  village,  now  Danvers,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, on  the  17th  of  January,  1718.  His  parents 
v/ere  in  plain  but  comfortable  circumstances,  and  he  re- 
ceived the  common  gehool  education  afforded  by  the 
brdinary  New  England  town  of  to-day.  He  was  a 
sturdy,  bearty,  independent  boy,  possessed  of  a  gener- 
ous, impulsive  courage  that  was  prompt  to  respond  to 
the  cry  of  the  defenceless.  It  is  related  of  him  that 
visiting  Boston  in  his  boyhood,  he  was  so  scoffed  at  and 
ridiculed  for  his  awkwardness  by  a  boy  nearly  double 
his  size,  that,  at  last,  his  patience  yielded  to  anger,  and 
he  adminis  tered  a  flagellation  upon  the  impudent  youth 
that  he  remembered  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Before  he  attained  his  majority  he  married  a  Miss 
Pope,  of  Salem.  She  bore  him  ten  children,  and  died 
just  as  the  Colonial  troubles  were  beginning.  Soon 
after  his  marriage  he  removed  to  Pomfret,  in  Connecti- 
cut, and  settled  upon  a  tract  of  wild  land  which  he  had 
purchased.  He  toiled  manfully  to  subdue  the  original 
curse  of  brush  and  bramble  which  encumbered  hie 
property,  and  the  rough  landscape  conquered  by  his 
persevering  hand  soon  blossomed  with  the  fruitful  har- 
vest. He  was  energetic  and  of  good  judgment,  and  in 
a  short  time  he  was  in  a  prosperous  condition. 

You  have  heard  of  his  attacking  the  she-wolf  in  her 
cave,  from  which  daring  conflict  he  returned  victorious, 
and  immediately  and  deservedly  became  the  hero  of  the 
community. 

When  the  New  England  Colonies  became  engaged  In 
the  French  war,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  volunteer  \  is 
services  in  the  army.  He  was  given  a  captain's  commis- 
sion, with  orders  to  raise  a  company.  He  was  soon  on 
his  way  to  Fort  Edward  with  a  company  of  men— the 
flower  of  the  country — around  him.  In  this  position 
Putnam  performed  many  a  daring  and  dangerous  ex- 
ploit, several  times  narrowly  escaping  with  his  life. 
After  this  trouble  had  died  out  he  returned  to  Pomtjret. 

On  one  occasion  it  is  told  of  him,  while  he  was  at- 
tached to  Abercrombie's  army,  he,  with  a  single  com- 
panion found  himself  in  the  darkness  quite  within  the 
French  lines.  The  sentinels  fired  upon  them  and  a  bul- 
let cut  a  hole  in  Putnam's  canteen,  and  fourteen  passed 
through  the  blanket  he  wore  strapped  to  his  back,  while 
his  companion  escaped  with  only  a  slight  wound.  It 
was  one  morning  in  February,  1758,  a  fire  broke  out  in 
Fort  Edward  and  made  considerable  progress  ere  it  was 
discovered.  The  garrison  endeavored  to  check  the 
flames  without  success.  Putnam  and  a  detachment  of 
his  men  crossed  the  river  on  the  ice  as  soon  as  they  saw 
the  fire,  and  reached  the  fort  just  as  the  flames  were 
nearing  the  magazine.  The  water-gate  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  men  formed  a  line  to  pass  the  buckets  of 
water  from  the  river.  Putnam  mounted  to  the  roof,  and 
as  the  buckets  came  up  to  him,  he  dashed  the  water  upon 
the  flames.  This  position  of  imminent  danger  he  held 
until  ordered  down  by  the  commander  of  the  fort.  He 
leaped  to  the  ground  just  as  the  roof  came  crashing  in. 
The  fire  was  now  within  a  few  feet  of  the  magazine  and 
an  explosion  was  to  be  momentarily  apprehended. 
Then  the  hero  dashed  between  the  flames  and  the  maga- 
zine, which  was  already  charring  witti  the  heat,  and 
poured  pailful  after  pailful  upon  the  smoking  lumber, 
with  only  the  heroic  remark,  "  If  we  must  be  blown  up, 
we  will  all  go  together."  His  noble  example  inspired 
Uk3  courage  in  those  around  him,  and  the  fort  was 
saved  ;  but  so  severely  was  Putnam  burned  that  he  was 
obliged  to  remain  a  month  in  the  hospital. 

At  another  time  he  was  about  crossing  the  Hudson, 
nine  miles  below  Fort  Edward,  and  when  his  batteau 
was  about  to  land  he  found  himself  almost  precipitated 
fnto  an  Indian  ambuscade.  There  was  no  chance  to  save 
himself  but  to  trust  to  the  mercy  of  the  rapids  which 
were  roaring  over  the  rocks  below.  He  unhesitatingly 
headed  his  boat  in  that  direction,  safely  shot  down  over 
the  seething  flood  and  landed  below,  causing  the  Indians 
to  believe  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  him  under  especial 
protection  and  they  abandoned  all  thoughts  of  captur- 
ing him. 


Again  and  again,  fearful  perils  environed  him,  but  he 
imiraculously  escaped.  After  the  surrender  of  Montreal 
Putnam  returned  home  ;  but  in  1762,  Great  Britain  hav- 
ing declared  war  with  Spain,  he,  as  lieutenant-colonel, 
laccompanied  this  expedition.  He  bore  himself  gallantly 
.through  this  campaign  and  returned  home  with  well- 
earned  laurels. 

Then  came  the  threatened  troubles  between  the 
Colonies  and  England.  British  oflficers  were  much  sur- 
prised that,  knowing  the  forces  of  England's  trained 
armies  so  well,  he  should  side  with  the  colonists. 

"  We  will  resist,"  said  the  hero,  "and  have  the  honor 
of  ridding  our  country  of  the  yoke  of  tyranny.  Our  fore- 
fathers would  not  bear  this  yoke,  neither  will  we." 

At  this  time  he  was  residing  at  Brooklyn,  on  the  east- 
ern border  of  Connecticut,  On  the  morning  of  the  20th 
of  April,  1775,  he  was  plowing  in  the  field  preparatory  to 
planting  his  wheat  and  corn.  Near  noon  a  smoking-hot 
eteed  dashed  up,  while  a  panting  courier  informed  him 
of  the  previous  conflicts  at  Lexington  and  Concord. 
Not  a  moment's  hesitation  followed.  He  unyoked  his 
cattle  from  the  plough,  and  calling  to  the  lad  who  had 
been  driving  them  to  run  for  his  coat,  Putnam  dashed 
for  his  stable  and  saddled  his  fleetest  horse.  Catching^ 
his  coat  from  the  boy,  he  leaped  upon  his  steed's  back, 
and  thundered  away  towards  Cambridge.  There,  late 
at  night,  he  reported  himself  to  General  Ward.  Fierce 
eloquence  and  fiery  counsel  was  followed  by  rapid  ac- 
tion in  those  trying  times.  It  would  fill  many  a  page 
to  narrate  his  deeds  of  valor. 

When  the  Colonists  were  first  driven  from  Bunker 
Pin  he  was  beside  himself  with  rage.  He  tried  to  rally 
the  men.  Seizing  the  Connecticut  flag  in  one  hand,  he 
brandished  his  sword  with  the  other,  and  hoarsely 
shouted  to  them  to  rally.  "Make  a  stand  1  make  a 
stand.  One  more  shot ;  in  God's  name,  give  them  one 
more  !"  he  pleaded ;  but  the  panic-stricken  men  con- 
tinued their  flight,  only  he  rallied  a  few,  and  with  them 
fortified  Prospect  Hill.  Two  days  after  that  battle, 
Putnam  was  appointed  one  of  the  four  major-generals 
•of  the  Continental  army. 

Many  a  disaster  to  the  undisciplined  troops  was  pre- 
vented by  the  invincible  energy  of  this  flinty  hero.  In 
forced  marches,  during  retreats,  his  ever-watchful  eyes 

fiiarded  and  guided  the  too  often  demoralized  troops, 
or  sound,  far-reaching  judgment,  for  rapidity  of  ac- 
tion and  heroic  valor,  Israel  Putnam  was  second  only  ta 
George  Washington.  In  active  service  until  he  was 
seized  with  paralysis  in  1779,  he  was  then  obliged  to  re- 
tire to  private  life,  where  he  enjoyed  peaceful  quiet  for 
eleven  years.    He  died  May  29th,  1790. 

Only  the  most  ardent  temperament,  added  to  the 
most  appreciative  mind,  can  properly  value  the  services 
of  soldier-martyrs,  who  cut  themselves  adrift  from  all 
the  privileges  of  home  enjoyments  or  luxuries,  and 
warm  attachments,  to  meet  hardships,  exposures, 
wounds,  and,  perhaps,  death,  to  secure  our  birthright- 
Liberty.  Washington  Irving  pays  this  just  and  eloquent 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  this  noble  benefactor  of  our 
country : 

"A  yeoman  warrior— a  patriot  brave  and  generous j 
forgetful  of  self  in  time  of  danger  ;  ready  to  serve  his 
fellow  man  in  any  way ;  to  sacrifice  oflficial  rank  to  the 
good  of  the  nation's  cause.  Pattern  for  all  soldiers, 
eminently  a  hero,  his  is  one  of  the  talismanic  names  of 
the  Revolution  that  stirs  the  patriotic  blood  like  a 
thrilling  trumpet  blast.  Gather  up  such  names  as  the 
precious  jewels  of  our  history;  gamer  them  as  the 
nation's  treasures,  and  hold  them  immaculate  from  the 
inroads  of  time  and  decay." 


BATTLE  OF  HOHENLINDEK. 

Between  the  rivers  Inn  and  Iser,  in  Bavaria,  one  of 
the  German  States,  there  is  a  large  tract  of  sombre  firs 
and  pines,  similar  in  many  respects  to  the  Black  Forest 
of  Wurtemburg.  The  trees  grow  thick  and  luxuriant, 
and  tangling  masses  of  vines  and  undergrowth  render 
the  region  dark  and  gloomy.  Near  the  centre,  on  one 
of  the  great  roads  cut  through  from  Munich,  is  the  little 
village  of  HohenUnden,  celebrated  as  the  scene  of  one 
of  the  most  terrible  battles  the  blood-drenched  soil  of 
Europe  ever  witnessed. 

France  was  at  war  with  the  confederated  powers  of 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


155 


Europe  The  rising  greatness  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte 
had  been  made  manifest  to  the  world.  He  had  crossed 
the  Alps,  and  vanquished  the  Austnans  at  the  great 
battle  of  Marengo,  surmounting  obstacles  hitherto 
deemed  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  accomplish  ;  scat- 
tering his  enemies  as  the  whirlwind  scatters  chaff,  and 
his  name  had  gone  forth  to  the  four  quai-ters  of  the 
globe  as  the  monarch  of  military  chieftains. 

Moreau,  the  military  rival  of  Napoleon,  commanded  the 
magnificent  French  army  on  the  Rhine,  near  the  confines 
of  Germany.  Long  rows  of  white  tents,  with  hosts  of  am- 
bulance wagons,  horses,  cannon,  and  all  the  parapher- 
nalia of  war,  formed  the  grand  picture  of  tlie  busy 
camp.  The  tliird  of  December,  1800,  w^as  a  day  long 
to  be  remembered.  The  night  set  in  with  storm  and 
o-loom,  and  thousands  had  beheld  the  sun  for  the  last 
time.  Calling  his  aides  about  him,  the  brave  Moreau 
ordered  a  rapid  movement,  hoping  thereby  to  take 
the  Austrian  army,  then  only  a  few  miles  distant,  by 
surprise,  and  gain  a  decisive  victory.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments 60^000  men  were  in  niotion.  .    ^  ^  .  ^ 

The  great  clocks  upon  the  tall  spires  of  Munich  had  just 
tolled  forth  in  solemn  cadence  the  hour  of  midnight. 
The  resistless  storm  swept  through  the  black  forest  like 
a  raging  hurricane,  as  though  God  looked  down  in 
anger  upon  the  moving  hosts.  Already  the  snow  was 
deep  upon  the  ground,  and  falling  so  rapidly  that  it 
blinded  the  faces  and  almost  smothered  the  advancing 
legions.  The  sombre  evergreens,  in  sheltered  localities, 
were  bowed  down  beneath  the  weight  of  Winter's  white 
frozen  mantle,  while  the  timber  in  the  more  exposed 
positions  on  the  hillsides  waved  their  naked  branches 
and  moaned  amid  the  roaring  gale.  It  seemed  hard  to 
start  out  in  such  a  night,  but  their  general  had  promised 
them  an  easy  victory,  and  they  faced  the  cruel  tempest 
with  courage  and  determination. 

At  the  same  time,  the  Austrian  army,  70,000  strong, 
commanded  by  the  Archduke  John,  was  marching  upon 
them  for  a  similar  purpose.  Each  was  ignorant  of  the 
designs  of  the  other,  and  had  chosen  the  same  hour  of 
this  dark  night  of  wind  and  storm  to  surprise  and  van- 
quish their  adversaries.  Suddenly  the  heads  of  the  two 
advancing  columns  met.  Each  had  surprised  the  other  1 
The  silence  of  astonishment  for  a  moment  reigned,  and 
then  a  scene  of  confusion  began.  In  an  instant  the  red 
blaze  of  artillery  belched  forth,  and  the  forest  shook 
beneath  the  mighty  thunders  of  battle. 

Now  commenced  such  a  scene  as  the  world  has  seldom 
witnessed  With  all  the  fury  of  maddened  desperation 
one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  combatants  hurled 
themselves  upon  each  other.  In  the  darkness  of  the 
night  each  judged  of  the  other's  position  by  the  flashes 
of  their  guns,  and  fired  accordingly.  Soon  many  divisions 
were  intermingled  in  inextricable  confusion.  The  blaze 
of  musketry  and  artillery  lit  up  the  gloomy  forest  at 
times  almost  to  the  pitch  of  no»nday,  instantaneously 
disclosing  a  scene  of  horror  and  carnage  well  calculated 
to  make  the  stoutest  heart  tremble  with  terror.  Great 
masses  of  smoke  rolled  up  over  the  storm-beaten  forest, 
as  if  to  cover  the  cruel  work  with  a  paU,  and  shut  out 
the  awful  carnage  from  the  aU-seeing  eye  of  an  offended 
God.  As  the  blinding  glare  blazed  forth,  thousands 
were  seen  with  powder-blackened  faces,  and  enveloped 
In  clouds  of  sulphurous  smoke,  rushing  upon  each  other 
with  gleaming  sword  and  dripping  bayonet,  like  imps  of 
the  infernal  regions.  The  crash  of  falling  trees,  the  ring 
tnd  clash  of  steel  as  sword  struck  sword  and  bayonet 
frossed  bayonet ;  the  rattling  of  musketry,  the  yell  of 
charging  squadrons,  the  roll  of  drums  and  burst  of 
martial  music,  mingled  with  the  deafening  roar  of 
artillery,  caused  the  very  ground  to  quake.  Above  all 
rose  the  shrieks  and  screams  of  the  wounded  and  dying, 
falling  by  thousands  beneath  the  demoniacal  fury  of 
mankind.  The  snow  was  trampled  and  crimsoned  with 
gore,  and  heaps  of  men  and  horses  lay  slaughtered  in 
every  direction.  Along  the  dark  ravines  thousands  lay 
weltering  in  blood,  rolled  up  in  garments  and  blankets 
saturated  with  gore,  there  to  moan  and  freeze,  while  the 
tide  of  life  ebbed  away,  crimsoning  the  snow  about 
them  ;  with  no  one  near  to  hand  them  a  cup  of  water, 
to  smooth  their  lowly  pillow,  or  to  carry  the  last  dying 
message  to  loving  frient^^,  cever  more  to  be  seen  on 
earth. 

"  O  who  the  woes  of  war  can  tell, 
Aud  paiuT.  iL«;  terrors  true  2nd  u'.<»il  ?" 


As  momhig  dawned  they  were  more  furious,  and  th« 
fearful  conflict  appeared  to  deepen.  Advancing  and  re- 
treating squadrons  dashed  over  the  blood-stained  field, 
striking  right  and  left,  with  sword  and  sabre,  while  can- 
non balls  ploughed  their  ranks  and  strewed  the  ground 
with  heaps  of  slain.  Over  these  they  rushed  like  demons 
of  destruction,  regardless  of  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded 
who  lay  helpless,  and  pleading  for  mercy,  as  their 
bones  were  crushed  beneath  the  iron  hoofs  of  chargers, 
or  the  ponderous  wheels  of  heavy  guns. 

At  length  the  Austrian  army  began  slowly  to  give 
way.  It  was  a  proud  moment  to  the  weary  Frenchmen. 
The  bugle  sounded  the  charge,  and  the  army  of  Moreau 
dashed  forward  with  redoubled  energy  to  conclude  the 
bloody  scene.  A  moment  more,  during  which  the  very 
powers  of  Hades  seemed  let  loose,  and  the  contest  was 
decided.  The  French  had  gained  the  victoiy,  and  the 
Austrians  were  in  full  retreat,  leaving  twenty-five 
thousand  killed,  wounded  and  prisoners  behind  them. 
One  hundred  pieces  of  artillery,  with  an  immense  num 
her  of  horses,  wagons,  and  munitions  of  war,  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  victors. 

The  vanquished  Austrians  rushed  in  dismay  down  the 
valley  of  the  Danube,  followed  by  the  victorious 
French,  who  rained  an  incessant  shower  of  balls  and 
shells  into  their  shattered  and  retreating  ranks,  and 
paused  not  until  they  stood  within  thirty  miles  of 
Vienna.  Terms  of  adjustment  were  soon  agreed  upon, 
and  hostilities  ceased.  The  power  of  the  confederated 
nations  was  broken,  and  Europe  rested  in  peace. 

The  morning  after  this  decisive  struggle,  the  dark 
forest  presented  a  seene  that  humanity  shudders  to  con- 
template. The  timber  and  undergrowth  were  rent  and 
twisted  as  though  by  a  hurricane ;  and  the  bodies  of 
nearly  twenty  thousand  torn  and  mangled  soldiers  lay 
cold  and  silent  in  the  trampled  and  blood-stained  snow. 
In  places  they  were  literally  piled  in  heaps  ;  and  where 
a  spark  of  life  remained,  the  groans  of  agony,  as  they 
faintly  whispered  of  the  far  distant  home  and  the  little 
family  circle  they  would  never  see  again,  was  enough  to 
draw  tears  from  hearts  of  stone.  The  wail  of  widows 
land  orphans  went  up  from  ten  thousand  agonized 
homes,  and  half  the  nations  of  Europe  were  plunged  in 
mourning.  Such  is  war.  Truly  it  is  the  trade  of  bar- 
barians. Its  horrors  no  tongue  can  tell,  no  pen  describe. 
What  an  awful  load  rests  upon  the  instigators  of  the 
deadly  strife  I  We  forbear  to  dwell  longer  upon  the 
awful  scene  of  blood.  Let  us  ask  the  recording  angel  to 
look  down  in  pity,  and  with  a  tear  blot  out  the  dark 
record  from  the  memory  of  heaven. 

Hohenlinden  has  been  thus  faithfully  portrayed  by  the 
poet  Campbell : 

On  Linden,  when  the  eun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

But  Linden  saw  another  sight. 
When  the  drum  beat  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 
The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array'd. 
Each  warrior  drew  his  battle  blade. 
And  furious  every  charger  neigh'd, 
To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven. 
Then  rush'd  the  steeds  to  battle  drivea, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  keaven, 
Far  flash'd  the  red  artillery. 

And  redder  yet  those  fires  shall  glow, 
On  Linden's  hills  of  blood-stain'd  snow? 
And  darker  yet  shall  be  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

*Ti8  morn— but  scarce  yon  lurid  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war-clouds,  rolling  dun, 
While  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 
Shout  in  their  sulph'rous  canopy. 

The  combat  deepens  :— On,  ye  brave, 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  ! 
I  Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave  1 

And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry  I 

Ah  I  few  shall  part  where  many  meet  \ 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheeV 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre. 


THE  GROIVIA/G  IVORLD. 


A  TEXT  AMONG-  THE  CRESSES. 

BY  M.  M.  P. 

Star-like  honeysuckle  trailing 

O'er  the  fence  in  wreaths  capricious, 
Summer  breezes  sailing,  sailing, 

Idly  by  with  breath  delicious  ; 
And  a  merry  falling  tinkle, 

Where  the  brook  sweeps  mossy  ledges, 
And  a  sparkle,  and  a  twinkle, 

Of  the  water  'neath  the  sedges. 

And  a  merry  little  maiden, 

With  her  tangled  golden  tresses, 
Standing  barefoot  there,  all  laden 

With  a  wealth  of  emerald  cresses  ; 
With  her  white  feet  in  the  water, 

Oh,  so  fresh  and  cool  and  pleasant, 
And  the  green  boughs  arched  athwart  her, 

In  a  swinging,  swaying  crescent. 

And  she  sings,  in  rambling  rhyming. 

Some  child-lay  of  '  'Brown-haired  ffitty," 
While  the  brook  is  chiming,  chiming, 

With  her  sweet  uneven  ditty. 
Little  Nell,  the  blacksmith's  daughter, 

Pet  and  pride  of  all  the  village, 
Paddling  in  the  tinkling  water. 

Cresses  from  its  breast  to  pillage. 

But  the  artist,  as  he  passes, 

List'ning  to  the  baby  measure, 
Crushing  clown  the  scented  grasses 

With  his  strong  foot,  looks  with  pleasure, 
"  Such  a  gem  for  sketch  or  painting  !" 

Thinks  he,  as  he  gently  pauses. 
And  the  song,  descending,  fainting, 

Dies  away  in  broken  clauses. 

Then  the  golden  locks  are  shaken. 

And  the  treasured  pebbles  rattle. 
And  the  sketch  is  duly  taken 

'Mid  the  lassie's  mirth  and  prattle  ; 
"  Oh,  who  taught  you  ?  you  are  clever!" 

(Sweet  unconscious  little  preacher), 
"  Will  the  picture  last  for  ever  ? 

Shall  you  give  it  to  your  teacher  ?" 

Fortune,  fame,  the  smiles  of  fashion, 

Crown  the  artist  with  successes, 
New  York  ladies  take  a  passion. 

For  the  pictured  child  and  cresses  ; 
But  he  bows  to  Christ  the  Master, 

As  he  older  grows,  and  richer. 
Ever  hears,  as  praise  falls  faster, 

"  Shall  you  give  it  to  your  teacher  I'* 

All  true  art  from  God  proceedeth. 
Yield  thy  first  friuts  to  His  honor  ; 


For  thy  soul  with  light  He  feedeth, 
Showers  loveliness  upon  her  : 

On  this  faith  he  reared  his  glory, 
And  this  brief  text  was  his  preacher. 

Till  he  died,  renowned  and  hoary— 
"Shall  you  give  it  to  your  teacher  ?" 


Benjamin  Franklin. 

Jonathan  Edwards  may  be  characterized  as  a  man  (A 
the  next  world.   Benjamin  Franklin  was  emphatically  a 
man  of  this  world.    Not  that  Franklin  lacked  religion 
and  homely  practical  piety,  but  he  had  none  of  Edwards' 
intense  depth  of  religious  experience.   God  was  to  him 
a  beneficent  being,  aiding  good  men  in  their  hard  strug- 
gles with  the  facts  of  life,  and  not  pitiless  to  those  who 
stumbled  in  the  path  of  duty,  or  even  to  those  who  wide- 
ly diverged  from  it.   The  heaven  of  Edwards  was  as  far 
above  his  spiritual  vision  as  the  hell  of  Edwards  was 
below  his  soundings  of  the  profundities  of  human  wick- 
edness; but  there  never  was  a  person  who  so  swiftly 
distinguished  an  honest  man  from  a  rogue,  or  who  was 
more  quick  to  see  that  the  rogue  was  at  war  with  the 
spiritual  constitution  of  things.    He  seems  to  have 
leiamed  his  morality  in  a  practical  way.   All  his  early 
slips  from  the  straight  line  of  duty  were  but  experi- 
ments, from,  which  he  drew  lessons  in  moral  wisdom.  If 
he  happened  occasionally  to  lapse  into  vice,  he  made 
the  experience  of  vice  a  new  fortress  to  defend  his  vir- 
tue; and  he  came  out  of  the  temptations  of  youth  and 
middle  age  with  a  character  generally  recognized  as  one 
of  singular  solidity,  serenity,  and  benignity.    His  intel- 
lect, in  the  beautiful  harmony  of  his  faculties,  his  con- 
science, in  the  instinctive  sureness  of  its  perception  of 
relations  of  duties,  and  his  heart,  in  its  subordination  of 
malevolent  to  beneficent  emotions— all  showed  how  dili- 
gent he  had  been  in  the  austere  self-culture  which  even- 
tually raised  him  to  the  first  rank  among  the  men  of  his 
time.   Simplicity  was  the  fine  result  of  the  complexities 
which  entered  into  his  mind  and  character.   He  was  a 
man  who  never  used  words  except  to  express  positive 
thoughts  or  emotions,  and  was  never  tempted  to  misuse 
them  for  the  purposes  of  declamation.   He  kept  his 
style  always  on  the  level  of  his  character.   In  announ- 
cing his  scientific  discoveries,  as  in  his  most  private 
letters,  he  is  ever  simple.   In  breadth  ol  mind  he  is 
probably  the  most  eminent  man  that  our  country  has 
produced;  for  while  he  was  the  greatest  diplomatist,  and 
one  of  the  greatest  statesmen  and  patriots  of  the  United 
States,  he  was  also  a  discoverer  in  science,  a  benignant 
philanthropist,  and  a  master  in  that  rare  art  of  |p  asso- 
ciating words  with  things  that  they  appeared  idientical. 
Edwards  represents,  humanely  speaking,  the  somewhat 
doleful  doctrine  that  the  best  thing  a  good  man  can  do 
is  to  get  out,  as  soon  as  he  decently  can,  of  this  world 
into  one  which  is  immeasurably  better,  by  devoting  all 
his  energies  to  the  salvation  of  his  own  particular  soul. 
Franklin,  on  the  contrary,  seems  perfectly  content  with 
this  world,  as  long  as  he  thinks  he  can  better  it.  Ed- 
wards would  doubtless  have  considered  Franklin  a  chfld 
of  wrath,  but  Francis  Bacon  would  have  hailed  him  as 
one  of  that  band  of  explorers  who,  by  serving  nature, 
will  in  the  end  master  her  mysteries  and  use  their  know- 
ledge for  the  service  of  man.   Indeed,  the  cheerful, 
hopeful  spirit  which  runs  through  Franklin's  writings, 
even  when  he  was  tried  by  obstacles  which  might  have 
tasked  the  proverbial  patience  of  Job,  is  not  one  of  the 
least  of  his  claims  upon  the  consideration  of  those  who 
rightfully  glory  in  having  such  a  genius  for  their  countrv- 
.nan.   The  spirit  which  breathes  through  Franklin's  life 
and  works  is  that  which  has  inspired  every  pioneer  of 
r  Western  wastes,  every  poor  farmer  who  has  tried  to 
nake  both  ends  meet  by  the  exercise  of  rigid  economy, 
Dvery  inventor  who  has  attempted  to  serve  men  by  mak- 
ing machines  do  half  the  drudgery  of  their  work,  every 
8tt,tesman  who  has  striven  to  introduce  large  principles 
into  our  somewhat  confused  and  contradictory  legisla- 
tion, every  American  diplomatist  who  has  upheld  the 
character  of  his  country  abroad  by  sagacity  in  managing 
men,  as  well  as  by  integrity  in  the  main  purpose  of  his 
mission,  and  every  honest  man  who  has  desired  to  dimii?  - 
ish  the  evil  there  is  in  the  world  and  to  increase  every 
r)ossible  good  that  is  conformable  to  good  sense.  Frank- 
iin  is  doubtless  our  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman,  but  his 
worldly  wisdom  ever  points  to  the  Christian's  pray^ 
that  God's  will  shall  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in 
I  Heaven. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


157 


Food  for  Babes. 

For  some  years  past,  "juveniles,"  as  the  publishers  call  the 
books  which  are  specially  written  for  boys  and  girls,  have 
been  a  very  important  item  in  the  book  trade.  They  arc  con- 
sumed in  large  quantities  by  the  little  men  and  women  of  the 
present  day,  and  it  is  suspected  that  not  a  few  of  the  papas 
and  mammas  themselves  are  devoted  to  this  literature.  Some 
of  these  books  are  good ;  but  there  are  very  few  of  them  which 
are  not  either  vitiated  by  a  mawkish  sentiment  and  a  nause- 
ous caricature  of  religion  on  the  one  hand,  or,  on  the  other, 
filled  with  stories  of  extravagant  adventure,  told  in  the  worst 
melodramatic  style.  Than  this  nothing  could  be  worse  in 
effect  upon  the  morals  or  the  taste.  Good,  honest  fairy  stories 
Hever  hurt  any  child,  and  such  tales  as  those  of  the  Brothers 
Grimm  are  delightful  and  comforting  to  children  until  the 
time  when  they  have  grown  up  and  their  beards  are  gray.  But 
when  it  comes  to  The  Boy  Pioneer,  or  the  Wild  Mustang  of  the 
Prairies,  and  the  like,  with  their  absurd  mixture  of  realism 
and  impossibility,  and  their  defiance  at  once  of  reason  and  mo- 
rality, sensible  men  and  women  feel  like  cutting  ofi"  all  specially 
juvenile  literature,  and  confining  children  to  the  Bible,  the 
Catechism,  and  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  Such  a  reaction  would 
In  the  end  be  harmful,  for  it  would  "make  Jack  a  dull  boy." 
But  how  much  more  harmful  must  be  the  literature— if  so  it 
must  be  called— which  provokes  such  a  feeling  ! 

But  books  are  not  the  worst  provision  that  is  now  made  for 
youthful  readers.  To  the  "juveniles"  succeeded  the  maga- 
zines Intended  foi  children,  and  this  sort  of  thing  has  gone 
on  until  we  expect  ere  long  to  see  the  announcement  of  The  Pap- 
spom  Monthly — A  Magazine  of  Science,  Literature  and  Art,  for 
Babes  of  Both  Sexes.  To  magazines  succeeded  inevitably  the 
illustrated  weekly ;  and  we  must  say  that,  judging  this  heb- 
domadal juvenile  literature  by  what  we  have  seen  of  it,  there 
eould  be  nothing  worse,  nothing  more  depraving  to  taste  or  to 
morals,  put  into  the  hands  of  a  boy  or  a  girl,  within  the  bounds 
of  decency.  We  have  before  us  one  of  these  precious  publi- 
cations, in  which  the  first  illustration  shows  a  dozen  school- 
boys tossing  a  schoolmaster  in  a  blanket.  A  pretty  sugges- 
tion to  make  to  boys— a  fine  position  in  which  to  place  before 
them  the  representative  of  one  who  should  have  authority  over 
them  I  True,  it  may  be  said  that  this  schoolmaster  deserves  to 
be  tossed  in  a  blanket.  But  who  is  to  decide  that  ?  Is  it  to  be 
put  into  the  heads  of  the  boys  that  they  are  to  make  them- 
selves judges  and  executioners,  set  up  a  Holy  Vehme, 
or  a  court  of  Judge  Lynch?  Such  notions  come  fast  enough 
of  themselves,  without  the  aid  of  pictorial  illustration,  which 
always  gives  a  certain  elevation  to  the  subject  in  the  minds  of 
the  young  and  uneducated.  Another  of  these  illustrations— 
that  of  a  story  with  the  thrilling  title  of  "Red  Dog,  Blue 
Horse,  and  Ghost-that-lies-in-the-wood,"  shows  a  frantic  negro 
who  has  just  chopped  of  the  ear  of  u  person  ofiensive  to  him 
in  some  way.  The  gore  is  dropping  from  the  held-up-in-the- 
air  ear,  and  from  the  knife,  and  pouring  from  the  head  of  the 
victim.  This  picture  is  quite  charming.  Its  admirable  efiect 
must  be  quite  equal  in  degree  to  that  of  the  favor  it  will  find 
with  all  well-bred  boys  and  girls— for  to  girls  as  well  as  to 
boys,  is  this  publication  directed,  as  its  title  announces. 
Another  wood-cut,  which  illustrates  a  story  with  the  sug- 
gestive title,  "Young  Ironsides,  or.  The  Pirates  of  the  Trea- 
sure Ship,"  may  be  understood  from  its  legend  taken  from 
the  story :  "  As  quick  as  flash  Moses  seated  himself  on  his 
uncle's  breast,  thus  making  a  sort  of  sleigh  of  his  relative,  as 
he  slid  down  the  inclined  frozen  surface."  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  the  old  uncle,  with  a  sort  of  night-cap  on,  a  sharp 
nose,  and  a  retreating  chin,  cuts  a  ridiculous  figure,  while 
young  hopeful  is  as  gay  as  a  lark.  But  whether  the  young 
American  is  in  actual  need  of  these  reminders  that  respect  and 
deference  are  due  to  no  one  may  be  doubted  without  suspicion 
of  more  insanity  than  would  secure  acquittal  of  a  premedi- 
tated murder.  Yet  another  shows  a  lad  lying  in  his  little  bed, 
to  whom  an  " angry  parent "  down  stairs  cries :  "  I  shan't  call 
you  again,  Charles;"  whereupon  Charles  replies,  "That's 
good;  lean  take  another  nap."  And  the  name  given  to  this 
elegant  illustration  of  filial  respect  is  "  Satisfactory  Sauce." 

Bad  as  all  this  is,  yet  worse  is  to  be  found  in  the  same 
pages.  It  is  not  enough  to  entertain  boys  and  girls  with 
amusing  pictorial  illustrations  of  the  ways  in  which  they  may 
defy  and  insult  their  teachers,  their  uncles,  and  their  fathers ; 
their  own  yanitjr  must  be  pandered  to.   We  have  one  oa^e  de- 


Voiea  to  "Distinguished  Scholars  at  our  Schools,"  in  whlcb 
the  "  distinction  "  gained  by  two  boys  and  two  girls  in  the  ordi- 
nary studies  of  grammar  schools  is  set  forth,  with  particulars 
as  to  how  many  marks  they  have  had,  and  how  many  times 
they  have  been  at  the  head  of  their  classes.  Besides  this,  the 
portraits  of  these  eminent  individuals  are  given,  with  biogra- 
phical sketches.  Than  this  we  can  conceive  nothing  worse  in 
its  moral  influence  upon  the  particular  boys  and  girls  thus  set 
up  for  public  admiration,  and  upon  the  whole  body  of  school 
going  children.  The  mere  knowledge  gained  at  school  Is  of 
small  value  in  comparison  to  the  discipline  received,  or  which 
ought  to  be  received  there.  To  do  duty  because  it  is  duty,  to 
seek  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  knowledge,  to  be  modest,  re- 
served, unobtrusive,  to  learn  by  listening  and  thinking,  to  re 
press  selfishness  and  egotism— these  are,  or  should  be  what  the 
child  learns  from  the  teacher,  quite  as  much  as  certain  facts 
or  certain  intellectual  processes.  But  here  we  have  the  bait  of 
publicity  offered  as  the  reward,  if  not  as  the  actual  inducement 
to  studious  habits  and  correct  conduct.  The  boy  or  girl  of  ten 
or  twelve  years  is  stimulated  to  exertion  by  seeing  the  portrait 
and  biography  of  a  companion  of  the  same  age  published  to 
the  world  as  that  of  a  "distinguished  scholar."  Nothing 
could  be  better  adapted  to  the  formation  of  young  prigs,  or  to 
the  stimulation  of  lads  and  girls  of  precocious  minds  and  ex- 
citable natures  into  unhealthy  exertion.  The  vice  of  this  sort 
of  reading  and  illustration  for  children  is  as  great  in  one  way 
as  that  on  which  we  first  remarked  is  in  another.  If  such  is  to 
be  the  nature  of  the  periodical  literature  intended  for  boys 
and  girls,  we  might  better  return  to  the  days  when  books 
were  scarce  treasures,  when  newspapers  were  not,  and  when 
the  only  resource  of  boys  for  amusement  was  rude  play  and 
practical  joking.   

Successful  "Workers. 

One  great  need  of  the  world  is  more  sober,  profitable  think- 
ing. People  go  about  their  business  in  a  headlong  way,  never 
pausing  to  think  of  results  and  possible  contingencies  that 
will  seriously  aff'ect  the  matter.  A  great  mathematician  said, 
that  if  he  had  but  three  minutes  in  which  to  work  a  problem 
on  which  his  life  depended,  he  would  spend  two  of  the  minutes 
in  considering  which  was  the  best  way  to  perform  it.  In  even 
so  simple  a  thing  as  laying  out  a  garden,  it  pays  first  to  make 
a  plot  of  the  ground,  and  divide  off  the  number  of  feet  to  be 
given  to  this  and  that  products,  and  the  respective  places  they 
are  to  occupy.  There  will,  no  doubt,  be  various  changings  of 
the  plan,  but  they  are  much  easier  made  on  paper  than  on  the 
ground.  So  it  is  in  all  other  pursuits.  It  is  easier  to  change 
and  improve  our  plan  before  we  commence  to  work  than  after 
we  get  well  under  way. 

Advice  from  others  is  a  good  thing,  yet,  too  much  talking  is 
apt  to  be  a  disadvantage  to  the  working  powers.  One  of  Com- 
modore Vanderbilt's  strong  points  was,  not  to  talk  about  any- 
thing until  he  had  done  it.  It  is  an  old  saying  of  our  grand- 
fathers—" Say-well  is  a  good  dog,  but  Hold-fast  is  a  better.'* 
The  great  and  successful  workers  have  never  been  the  great 
talkers.  They  do  not  waste  their  strength  that  way. 

Give  to  each  piece  of  work  as  it  comes  up  before  you  your 
best  labor.  Do  it  as  if  it  were  the  only  piece  of  work  to  be  done 
that  day.  There  is  a  satisfaction  in  work  thus  executed,  that 
the  slack  workers  know  nothing  of.  Besides,  "  vvork  well  done 
is  twice  done."  You  do  not  have  to  go  over  it  again  the  next 
day  to  repair  the  weak  spots.  It  gives  you  a  feeling  of  solid 
self-respect  to  look  on  the  fruit  of  your  labors  when  they  are 
well  done,  and  it  commands  the  respect  of  your  neighbors 
also.  "  There  is  nothing  that  succeeds  like  success,"  nor  any 
drawback  like  frequent  failures.  Think  well,  and  work  well, 
and  you  will  hardly  fail  of  becoming  a  workman  that  "ueedetb 
not  to  be  ashamed." 

Have  an  Objective  Point.— A  person  who  has  no  object  in 
life  is  apt  to  run  a  vagrant  and  useless  career.  A  man  who  aims 
at  nothing  cannot  reasonably  expect  to  hit  anything.  In  mili- 
tary operations  there  is  always  what  is  called  the  objective 
point.  The  objective  point  is  the  point  to  be  made,  the  thing 
to  be  done.  All  the  forces  of  the  army  are  concentxated  on 
the  making  of  that  point;  and  when  that  point  is  made  suc- 
cess follows.  In  one  sense  life  is  a  warfare — it  is  a  succession 
of  campaigns.  And  every  one  should  have  his  objective  point 
— a  clearly-defined  purpose— and  work  up  to  it  with  undeviat- 
ing  persistency.   This  is  the  only  way  to  succeed. 


158 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


An  Indian  Picnic. 

In  a  report  of  Bishop  Whipple's  annual  visitation  to 
the  Chippewa  Indians  of  the  White  Earth  Reservation, 
there  is  an  account  of  a  picnic  enjoyed  by  them  on  the 
anniversary  of  the  consecration  of  their  house  of  wor- 
ship, which  illustrates  the  effects  of  the  gospel  of  Christ, 
when  substituted  for  the  gunpowder  and  whisky  treat- 
ment which  has  so  long  been  practised  on  the  red  men. 

After  the  Indians  had  assembled  in  front  of  the  church 
in  great  numbers,  among  them  a  volunteer  company, 
composed  entirely  of  Indian  soldiers,  marshalled  under 
the  nation's  flag,  the  head  chief  Wabonaquot  began 
an  oration,  describing  in  glowing  terms  the  happy  state 
of  the  Chippewas  before  the  Wnites  appeared  among 
them.  He  told  how  they  were  virtuous  and  happy ;  how 
their  lakes  were  full  of  fish,  then*  woods  alive  with  deer 
and  elk,  their  prairies  covered  with  buffalo.  There  was 
always  plenty  in  the  hunter's  wigwam.  It  was  almost 
the  happy  hunting  ground  by  anticipation.  They  were 
gorgeously  dressed,  and  wanted  for  nothing.  At  this 
point  a  man  and  woman  stepped  from  the  elevated 
church  porch,  splendidly  dressed  in  the  costume  of  the 
ancient  Chippewas :  beads,  belt,  pouch,  leggings,  em- 
broidery, etc.  All  eyes  were  immediately  turned  to 
these  representatives  of  primeval  happiness  and  pros- 
perity, who,  after  thus  giving  point  to  the  chief's  re- 
marks, withdrew. 

He  then  went  on  to  teU  how  the  white  man  came 
amongthem  and  they  fell;  how  under  his  baleful  influence 
they  sunk  lower  and  lower  to  the  deepest  pitch  of  degra- 
dation and  misery.  At  this  point  he  turned  again  to  the 
church  door,  and  there  two  figures  appeared:  a  man  and 
woman,  clad  in  a  few  old  wretched  tatters,  and  looking 
the  very  picture  of  the  deepest  wretchedness.  Their 
shreds  of  blankets  flapped  about  their  naked  limbs,  and 
filth  and  misery  were  stamped  on  every  feature.  As  if 
amazed  at  this  extremity  of  wretchedness,  the  Chief 
apostrophized  them,  and  demanded  of  them  who  they 
were,  and  what  it  was  that  had  brought  them  to  be  so 
extremely  miserable.  In  answer  to  this,  the  man  took 
out  a  whisky  bottle  from  his  bosom,  and  putting  it  to  his 
mouth,  took  a  long,  loving  draught.  His  wife,  fearing 
he  would  drink  it  all,  or  else  with  the  impatience  of  an 
old  toper,  snatched  it  from  him  and  put  it  to  her  mouth. 
It  was  old  Stump,  the  Indian  sexton  of  the  church,  and 
his  wife  ;  and  well  they  did  their  part. 

When  they  had  retired,  the  Chief  went  on  to  speak  of 
the  new  era  which  had  dawned  upon  them  with  the  com- 
ing of  Bishop  Whipple  among  them,  and  with  honest 
pride  spoke  of  the  great  progress  they  had  made,  and  of 
the  still  better  days  that  were  before  them.  And  to  il- 
lustrate this,  appeared  again  on  the  church  steps  the 
Chippewa  of  the  new  and  happy  era :  a  man  and  woman 
well  dressed  in  citizens'  clothes ;  looking  like  any  other 
respectable  American  citizen,  except  in  so  far  as  the 
features  of  America's  primeval  race  made  a  difference. 
It  was  Samuel  Madison,  son  of  the  Grand  Medicine 
Man,  She-teonce,  and  now  one  of  our  candidates  for 
Holy  Orders.  Afterward  the  representatives  of  all  three 
eras  came  out  and  stood  side  by  side.  That  little  tableau, 
weU  conceived  and  executed  by  themselves,  told  the 
Whole  history  of  the  Chippewa  nation. 

How  Long  to  Sleep. 

The  fact  is  that  as  life  becomes  concentrated  and  its  pur- 
suits more  eager,  short  sleep  and  early  rising  become  impossi- 
ble. We  take  more  sleep  than  our  ancestors;  and  we  take 
more  because  we  want  more.  Six  hours'  sleep  will  do  very 
well  for  a  mason  or  bricklayer,  or  any  other  man  who  has  no 
exhaustion  but  that  produced  by  manual  labor ;  the  sooner  he 
takes  it  after  his  labor  is  over  the  better,  But  for  the  man 
whose  labor  is  mental,  the  stress  of  work  is  on  his  brain  and 
nervous  system,  and  for  him  who  is  tired  in  the  evening  with 
a  day  of  mental  application,  neither  "  early  to  bed  nor  early  to 
rise  "  is  wholesome.  He  keeps  letting  down  to  the  level  of 
repose.  The  longer  the  interval  between  the  active  use  of  the 
brain  and  his  retirement  to  bed,  the  better  his  chance  for  sleep 
and  refreshment.  To  him  an  hour  after  midnight  is  probably 
as  good  as  two  hours  before  it,  and  even  his  sleep  will  not  so 
quickly  and  completely  restore  him  as  it  will  his  neighbor  who 
is  physically  tired.  He  must  not  only  go  to  bed  later,  hut  lie 
longer.  His  best  sleep  probably  lies  in  the  early  morning 
hours,  when  all  the  nervous  excitement  has  passed  away,  and 
he  is  in  absolute  rest. 


Railroading  in  Early  Days. 

A  writer  in  the  Hartford  Courant  gives  reminiscences 
of  railroading  in  Connecticut  forty  years  ago.  When 
the  Hartford  and  New  Haven  road  was  first  opened  it 
had  very  meagre  facilities,  the  road  bed  was  poor,  had 
only  crasp  rails,  which  were  all  the  while  curling  up  and 
running  through  the  car  floors,  and  the  cars  were  small 
and  the  locomotives  weak.  In  fact,  it  didn't  take  much 
to  block  a  train  in  those  days.  Sometimes  an  inch  of 
snow  on  the  rails  would  do  it.  Henry  C.  White,  one  of 
the  first  conductors  on  the  road,  tells  how  he  and  the 
baggage  master  used  to  sit  in  the  front  of  the  locomo- 
tive, one  on  each  side,  and  brush  off  the  snow  from  the 
rails  with  a  broom  as  the  train  slowly  crawled  along. 
Each  had  a  pail  of  sand  and  sprinkled  a  handful  on  the 
rail  when  necessary.  The  driving  wheels  (ejpgines  had 
only  one  pair  then)  used  to  slip  round  and  round,  and 
torment  them  almost  to  death.  On  one  occasion  a  train 
got  "stuck"  on  the  Tales ville  grade  by  one  inch  of 
snow,  and  the  wood  and  water  gave  out  before  the  loco- 
motive could  overcome  it.  At  last  they  got  out  the 
neighbors,  yoked  four  pairs  of  oxen  to  the  train  and 
drew  it,  passengers,  baggage  and  all,  into  Meriden  with 
flying  colors. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  road  the  stage-coach  drivers 
used  to  regard  the  cars  with  great  contempt.  Indeed, 
thirty  years  ago  the  passenger  trains  were  three  or  four 
hours  on  the  road  to  New  Haven,  and  the  stage-coaches 
went  in  about  the  same  time.  Superintendent  Davidson 
remembers  riding  with  his  father  in  a  carriage  drawn  by 
two  horses,  which  had  a  race  with  a  passenger  train  near 
Wallingf  ord,  where  the  turnpike  and  railroad  are  parallel 
for  three  or  four  miles,  and  during  all  that  time  the  car- 
riage kept  even  with  the  train.  There  were  only  two 
trains  each  way,  daily,  then,  both  carrying  passengers 
and  freight.  The  old  cars  were  divided  into  three  com- 
partments, opened  on  the  side,  and  had  twenty-four 
seats.  The  locomotive  had  only  twelve-inch  cylinders, 
and  no  cabs  to  protect  the  engineer  and  firemen  from  the 
weather.  The  oldest  locomotives  were  the  Hartford, 
Quinnipiac,  Charter  Oak,  and  New  Haven. 


Anecdote  of  the  Telegraph. 

Years  ago,  when  the  electric  telegraph  was  new,  and  a 
mystery  to  the  masses,  there  came  trouble  one  Saturday 
night  into  the  Bank  of  England.  The  business  of  the 
day  had  been  closed,  and  the  balance  was  not  right. 
There  was  a  deficit  of  just  £100  in  gold.  Had  it  been  a 
hundred  thousand  or  a  million  there  could  not  have 
been  greater  commotion.  It  was  not  the  money  but  the 
error  that  must  be  found.  For  some  of  those  clerks 
there  could  be  no  sleep  until  the  loop  had  been  taken 
up.  All  that  night,  and  all  Sunday,  a  squad  of  clerks 
were  busy.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Old  Lady  of  Thread- 
needle  Street  would  go  crazy  over  that  £100.  It  was 
surely  gone  from  the  vaults,  but  no  pen-mark  told 
where.  Meantime  a  young  clerk,  on  the  Sunday  even- 
ing, wending  his  way  homeward,  fell  to  thinking  of  his 
busy  companions  at  the  bank,  and  suddenly  a  suspicion 
of  the  truth  flashed  across  his  mind.  On  the  following 
morning  he  hurried  to  his  post  of  duty  and  told  the 
chief  what  he  suspected.  The  mistake  might  have  oc- 
curred in  packing  some  boxes  of  specie  for  the  West 
Indies,  which  had  been  sent  to  Southampton  for  ship 
ment.  The  chief  acted  upon  the  suggestion.  Here  was 
an  opportunity  to  test  the  powers  of  the  telegraph — 
lightning  against  steam,  and  steam  with  eight-and-forty 
hours  the  start.  Very  soon  the  teleifraph  asked  a  man 
in  Southampton, 

"  Has  the  ship  Mercator  sailed  ?  " 

The  answer  came  back  :  "  Just  weighing  anchor." 

"  Stop  her  in  the  Queen's  name  !  "  flashed  back  the 
lightning. 

"She  is  stopped,"  was  returned. 

"  Have  on  deck  certain  boxes  (marks  given),  weigh 
them  carefully,  and  let  me  know  the  result,"  tele- 
graphed the  chief. 

The  thing  was  done,  and  one  box  was  found  to  be 
about  one  pound  and  ten  ounces  avoirdupois  heavier 
than  its  mates— just  the  weight  of  a  hundred  golden 
sovereigns. 

"All  right— let  the  ship  go  ! " 

The  West  India  house  was  debited  with  the  £100,  aod 
the  Old  Lady  of  Threadneedle  Street  was  happy.  She 
had  proved  the  electric  telegraph  to  be  a  great  thing. 


\ 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


159 


The  Flight  of  Money. 

All  money  has  wings,  and  seems  to  the  possessor  to  fly  with 
an  unaccountable  velocity.  But  in  fact  nothing  is  more  vari- 
ous than  the  rate  of  this  flight;  and  it  must  be  remembered 
that  though  there  is  Scripture  warrant  for  the  simile,  it  is 
specially  applicable  not  to  money  simply,  but  to  wealth.  It  is 
riches  that  certainly  take  to  themselves  wings.  To  the  mere 
observer  other  people's  money  constantly  surprises  not  by  its 
flight  but  rather  by  what  it  achieves.  There  are  incomes  that 
seem  rather  to  brood  and  hatch  than  to  take  flight.  How  is 
the  money  made  to  go  so  far  ?  is  the  question  with  the  on- 
looker, while  the  owner  is  asking,  why  does  it  not  go  further? 
For  in  truth  nothing  goes  so  far  as,  by  a  calculation  before- 
hand, it  can  be  made  to  promise.  The  wings  that  fly  away 
with 'money  are  often  very  tiny  ones.  No  coin,  down  to  the 
smallest,  can  rest  in  some  pockets.  But  as  money  trifled  away 
in  small  outlays  makes  no  show,  the  real  self-restraint  exer- 
cised in  renouncing  such  indulgence  does  not  come  into  the 
observer's  reckoning. 

Large  fortunes  may  be  hoarded,  but  when  once  they  begin 
to  be  spent,  every  fraction  is  more  astir,  more  bent  on  disap- 
pearance into  space,  than  is  the  case  with  smaller  accumula- 
tions. The  degree  of  care  required  to  check  money's  flight  in 
the  case  of  a  small  income  must  be  quadrupled  in  that  of  a 
large  one.  It  belongs  to  the  nature  of  things  that  people  are 
never  as  careful  of  other  men's  money  as  they  are  of  their  own. 
This  is  not  a  vice,  or,  at  worst,  it  is  so  common  a  frailty  that  it 
must  be  set  down  to  the  general  score  and  be  allowed  for  as 
such.  Mere  grumbling  is  a  weakness  :  either  set  yourself  to 
guard  against  it  by  a  watch-dog  vigilance,  or  make  your  calcu- 
lations accordingly.  Nobody  can  spend  any  income  beyond 
an  artisan's  weekly  wages  without  calling  in  the  aid  of  paid 
agents  to  spend  it  with  him  and  for  him ;  and  the  artisan  has 
thus  the  advantage  over  his  social  betters  that  with  reasonable 
prudeace  he  profits  most  by  his  money.  Next  to  him  comes 
the  man  who  has  no  more  servants  than  are  exactly  necessary 
for  the  work  they  have  to  do.  A  large  income  cannot  be  spent 
■on  this  plan.  Its  disappearance  implies  a  numerous  body  of 
spenders,  each  more  easy  as  to  how  the  money  goes  than  a 
master  can  possibly  be,  all  aiding  the  natural  buoyancy  of 
riches  with  some  peculiar  fashion  of  wings  of  their  own  devis- 
ing. In  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  an  income  is— to  vary 
the  simile— the  leakage  going  on  through  unforeseen  crannies. 
Nobody  can  make  eight  thousand  dollars  a  year  do  four  times 
the  work  of  two  thousand  without  turning  himself  into  an 
upper  servant;  and  the  rate  of  difl'erence,  and  the  slavery 
necessary  to  correct  it,  will  increase  as  thousands  grow  into 
tens  of  thousands.  It  is  an  understood  thing  that  large  in- 
comes must  be  reduced  by  an  insensible  evaporation.  All 
charges  for  skilled  labor  are  illustrations  of  the  unaccountable 
flight  of  money.  The  degree  of  superiority  over  the  common 
articles  often  goes  no  way  at  all  in  explaining  it. 

But  the  flight  of  wealth,  however  remarkable,  in  the  process 
of  legitimate  spending— and  in  that  alone  is  there  any  room 
for  wonder — is  no  just  test  of  its  capacity  for  mysterious  dis- 
appearance. Of  course,  when  people  talk  of  the  flight  of 
money,  it  means  that  they  do  not  know  how  or  where  it  has 
gone  by  any  adequate  results  to  show  for  it.  Now,  judged  by 
this  test,  money  has  other  spheres  in  which  its  volatile  proper- 
ties show  themselves  with  far  more  marked  and  conspicuous 
eft'ect.  Money  given^  as  some  people  give  it,  has  a  rate  of  dis- 
appearance into  space  out  of  all  calculation  greater  than  money 
^ent.  We  must  all  give,  and  men  of  large  fortune  must  give 
largely,  if  only  to  preserve  themselves  from  the  sordid,  creep- 
ing temptations  which  money  brings  with  it ;  but  while  the 
owner  of  wealth  must  look  after  the  spending  of  his  own 
money  if  he  would  keep  the  slave  to  the  efiicient  discharge  of 
.its  duty,  much  more  should  he  look  after  the  disposal  of  it 
where  his  aim  is  higher  than  any  personal  end.  A  thousand 
dollars  given  and  done  with,  costing  the  donor  no  more  trouble 
than  the  pang  of  parting— which  we  by  no  means  wish  to 
underrate — may  emphatically  be  said  to  take  wing.  Perhaps 
the  act  of  giving  is  all  that  falls  to  his  share ;  perhaps  it  is  not 
possible  to  attend  to  its  disposal ;  he  is  doing  what  he  can ; 
but  this  only  proves  that  money  has  no  fixed,  unvarying  value, 
that  one  dollar  in  some  hands  does  the  work  of  twenty  in  oth- 
ers, and  that  only  when  the  whole  man  devotes  his  energies  to 
the  task — not  alone  the  heart  to  give,  but  the  hand  to  labor  and 
the  head  to  direct— does  money  do  the  work  assigned  to  it. 


Money  lent  becomes  suddenly  and  absolutely  volatile— that 
is,  money  lent  to  one  of  that  class  whom  we  may  call  borrow- 
ers by  nature.  Circumstances  reduce  some  men  to  borrow,  to 
whom  the  act  is  repugnant  because  uncongenial.  To  them  a 
debt  is  a  weight  to  be  got  rid  of  at  any  sacrifice  of  personal 
ease.  But  we  are  speaking  of  the  natural  borrower,  sanguine 
and  self-satisfied,  to  whom  debt  is  a  sort  of  necessary  condi- 
tion for  the  due  exercise  of  these  qualities.  Money  lent  to 
these  people  does  not  even  seem  to  alight;  it  exhales  on  th^ 
instant. 

Nothing  that  we  have  said  is  meant  to  detract  from  the  duty 
of  giving.  Our  argument  only  goes  to  prove  it  a  diflicult  duty, 
demanding  often  a  painful  exercise  of  self-denial  and  the 
sterner  virtues.  Wise  giving  is  not  the  luxury  which  some 
describe,  but  hard  and  harassing  work.  For  our  own  part,  we 
believe  that,  for  mere  personal  satisfaction,  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure— a  pleasure  simple,  unalloyed,  unvisited  by  misgiving — to 
be  got  out  of  money  is  in  paying  bills  with  it.  We  may  even 
call  it  a  luxury,  and  a  luxury,  moreover,  that  stands  the  wear 
and  tear  of  time.   The  moral  is  a  seasonable  one,  at  any  rate. 


Aluminium. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

One  of  the  greatest  curiosities  of  modem  times,  is  the 
production  of  a  valuable  metal  from  common  clay, 
which  in  its  pure  form  is  simply  an  oxide  of  the  metal 
aluminium. 

The  following  is  the  manner  of  producing  it :  A  min- 
eral called  "cryolite"  is  its  most  convenient  source; 
but  the  following  plan  may  be  adopted  to  procure  it 
from  clay.  This  material,  together  with  sugar  and  char- 
coal, is  to  be  made  into  a  paste,  which  is  then  placed  in 
a  platina  tube.  The  tube  is  to  be  heated  in  a  furnace  to 
a  red  heat;  and  chlorine  gas  is  passed  over  the  paste. 
An  air-ti^ht  receiver  is  placed  at  the  end  of  the  tube, 
and  a  pnmrose-colored  powder  collects  therein.  This 
powder  is  heated  with  the  metal  sodium  in  a  crucible. 
The  sodium  and  chlorine  combining  in  the  crucible  form 
common  salt ;  and  the  metal  aluminium  is  found  at  the 
bottom  of  the  crucible,  of  a  white  color,  and  having  the 
appearance  of  silver.  In  many  of  its  qualities  it  is  simi- 
lar to  that  metal. 

Aluminium  is  susceptible  of  a  high  polish.  It  is  very 
ductile,  and  may  therefore  be  drawn  into  a  wire.  It  may 
also  be  easily  beaten  out  into  sheets  or  plates,  and  in 
that  form  may  be  employed  for  a  vast  number  of  pur- 
poses. It  has  been  made  into  spoons,  spectacle  frames, 
helmets,  chemical  apparatus,  and  various  other  utensils; 
and  it  promises  to  be  of  extreme  value  in  its  employ- 
ment for  all  purposes  where  freedom  from  action  by 
chemical  agents  is  required. 

The  only  oxide  of  this  metal  is  alumina ;  and  it  may 
be  produced  by  adding  a  solution  of  carbonate  of  am- 
monia to  one  of  common  alum.  The  precipitate  when 
dried  affords  a  white  powder,  which  is  the  earth  alumina. 
This  substance  is  found  in  the  form  of  clay,  is  of  great 
importance,  and  as  such  is  the  material  from  which 
china,  pottery,  etc.,  are  produced.  The  color  of  the  clay 
varies  considerably,  the  purest,  or  "kaolin,"  being  near- 
ly white,  The  quality,  of  whiteness,  comparative  trans- 
parency, etc.,  found  in  the  highest  kinds  of  porcelain, 
are  due  to  the  nature  of  the  clay  used  in  the  manufac- 
ture. With  the  kaolin,  a  quantity  of  flint,  reduced  to 
impalpable  power,  so  that  an  homogeneous  paste  is  pro- 
cluced.  This  undergoes  the  process  of  fashioning  into 
the  shape  of  the  articles  required.  Each  article,  as  it  is 
made,  is  removed  to  a  kUn  fitted  with  shelves,  on  which 
the  vessels  to  be  baked  are  arranged.  A  fire  is  then 
kindled  in  the  centre,  and  by  it  the  articles  are  made 
compact.  In  this  state,  however,  they  are  porous  and 
unfit  for  domestic  use.  The  next  process  is  to  convert 
the  external  surface  into  a  kind  of  glass.  This  is  effect- 
ed by  washing  the  surface  of  the  vessels,  by  means  of 
a  mixture  of  powdered  felspar  and  borax,  for  the  better 
class  of  goods,  and  of  common  salt  for  other  goods. 
The  articles  are  again  removed  to  a  kUn,  and  by  means 
of  an  intense  heat  the  surface  is  fused,  and  a  glaze 
formed  thereon.  On  cooling,  the  pottery  is  then  ready 
for  sale. 

K  patterns,  such  as  those  observed  on  china  and 
plates,  be  required,  they  are  painted  on  before  the  glaz- 
ing, and  in  that  process  they  are  "burnt  in"  on  the  siir- 
face  of  the  ware. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Light  and  the  Complexion. 

The  action  of  light  on  the  human  skin  is  manifest.  It 
browns  and  tans  the  teguments  by  calling  out  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  coloring  matters  they  contain.  The 
parts  of  the  body  usually  bare,  as  the  skin  of  the  face 
and  hands,  are  darker  than  others.  In  the  same  region, 
country  people  are  more  tanned  than  town  residents.  In 
latitudes  not  far  apart,  the  inhabitants  of  the  same 
country  vary  in  complexion  in  a  measure  perceptibly  re- 
lated to  the  intensity  of  solar  light.  In  Europe  three 
varieties  of  color  in  the  skin  are  ^stinctly  marked  ;  olive 
brown,  with  black  hair,  beard  and  eyes  ;  chesnut,  with 
tawny  beard  and  blueish  eyes ;  blonde,  with  fair,  light 
beard,  and  sky-blue  eyes.  White  skins  show  more  readi- 
ly alterations  occasioned  by  light  and  heat ;  but,  though 
less  striking,  facts  of  variation  in  color  are  observable  in 
others.  The  Scytho- Arabic  race  has  but  half  its  repre- 
sentatives in  Europe  and  Central  Asia,  while  the  remain- 
der passes  down  to  the  Indian  ocean,  continuing  to  show 
the  gradual  rising  of  climate  by  deepening  brown  com- 
plexions. The  Himalayan  Hindoos  are  almost  white ; 
those  of  the  Deccan,  of  Coromandel,  Malabar,  and  Cey- 
lon, are  darker  than  some  negro  tribes.  The  Arabs, 
olive  and  almost  fair  in  Armenia  and  Syria,  are  deep 
brown  in  Yeman  and  Muscat. 

The  Egyptians,  as  we  go  from  the  mouth  of  the  Nile 
np  stream  towards  its  source,  present  an  ascending  chro- 
matic scale,  from  white  to  black  ;  and  the  same  is  true 
of  the  Turikson,  on  the  southern  side  of  the  Atlas,  who 
are  only  light  olive,  while  their  brethren  in  the  interior 
of  Africa  are  black.  The  ancient  monuments  of  Egypt 
ehow  us  a  fact  equally  significant.  The  men  are  always 
depicted  of  a  reddish  brown,  they  live  in  the  open  air, 
while  the  women,  kept  shut  up,  have  a  pale  yellow  com- 
plexion. Barrow  asserts  that  the  Mantchoo  Tartars  have 
grown  whiter  during  their  abode  in  China.  Remusat, 
Pallas,  and  Gutzlaff  speak  of  the  Chinese  women  as  re- 
markable for  a  European  fairness.  The  Jewesses  of 
Cairo  or  Syria,  hidden  under  veils  or  in  their  houses, 
have  a  pallid  color.  In  the  yellow  races  of  the  Sumatra 
Sound  and  the  Maldives  the  women,  always  covered  up, 
are  piile  like  wax.  We  know,  too,  that  the  Esquimaux 
bleach  during  their  long  winter.  The  phenomena,  no 
doubt,  are  the  results  of  several  influences  arising  at 
once,  and  light  does  not  play  the  sole  part  in  them. 
Heat  and  other  conditions  of  the  medium  probably  have 
a  share  in  these  operations  of  color.  Still,  the  peculiar 
and  powerful  effect  of  luminous  radiation  as  a  part  of 
them  is  beyond  dispute. 

City  and  Country. 

Cities  are  places  for  work.  Ambition  and  youth  love  them. 
There  men  plot  and  plan  and  execute.  In  them  strength  loves 
to  manifest  itself  in  arduous  labors  and  bold  undertakings. 
There  the  hope  of  honor  and  wealth  finds  its  fruition,  and 
while  it  remains  as  the  dominant  impulse  in  a  man's  mind  the 
man  will  cling  to  the  noisy  street  and  the  swarming  markets. 
But  when  the  bodily  powers  have  begun  to  fail  and  the  mind 
to  weary  of  combinations  and  labors ;  when  visions  of  wealth 
and  honor  have  lost  their  power  to  entice,  and  man  begins  to 
count  the  number  of  his  probable  remaining  years,  and  beholds 
how  few  they  are,  then  his  thoughts  turn  towards  the  country, 
and  the  heart  yearns  for  the  place  of  his  birth.  Youth  is  vain 
and  manhood  ostentatious,  but  age  renews  the  modesty  and 
the  simplicity  of  earlier  years.  "  I  have  gained,"  said  a  man 
to  me  once,  "  a  fair  share  of  worldly  honor,  and  my  wealth  is 
abundant,  but  I  have  reached  that  period  of  life  at  which  they 
do  not  seem  so  valuable  as  they  once  did,  nor  do  they  satisfy, 
and  I  am  going  back  to  the  dear  old  spot  where  I  was  born  to 
get  some  quiet  and  peace  before  I  die,  and  be  laid  in  the  little 
graveyard  where  my  parents  sleep,  when  all  is  over." 

"  I  do  not  see,"  said  an  old  merchant  to  me  once  at  a  funeral, 
"how  people  can  bear  to  die  and  be  buried  in  cities." 

I  know  that  this  is  only  sentiment,  but  it  is  a  sentiment  so 
honorable  and  accordant  with  the  sweet  philosophy  of  nature, 
that  it  seems  to  me  as  natural  as  the  longing  of  a  child  to  see 
the  face  of  its  mother.  We  must  remember,  too,  that  half  the 
world  are  governed  by  sentiment,  and  that  sentiment  is  often 
far  wiser  than  wisdom  ;  and  while  I  know  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence where  my  body  sleeps  when  I  have  left  it,  I  nevertheless 
confess  to  a  wish  that  i  t  might  be  earned  through  the  clear 
Bunshine  to  its  grave,  and  rest  at  last  with  nothing  above  it 
heavier  than  the  grasses  and  the  daisies. 


Oxygen. 

BT  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

This  elementary  body  is  of  the  greatest  importance  in 
the  economy  of  nature.  It  forms  eight-ninths  of  all  the 
water  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  The  atmosphere  which 
we  breathe  contains  one-fifth  of  its  bulk  of  oxygen.  In 
its  entire  absence  the  very  existence  of  animated  nature 
would  cease  :  the  earth  would  become  a  barren  wilder- 
ness, every  one  of  its  productions  would  fail,  and  chaos 
would  reign  over  the  fair  face  of  nature.  To  its  gradual 
combination  with  other  substances  we  owe  the  natural 
heat  of  plants  and  animals.  When  such  combinations 
take  place  more  rapidly  we  obtain  our  artificial  heat,  as 
in  the  combustion  of  wood,  coal,  and  other  fuel. 

To  its  action  on  metals  is  due  the  development  of  that 
wonderful  agent,  electricity,  as  seen  in  voltaic  batteries 
and  in  the  vast  laboratory  of  the  mineral  kingdom.  All 
our  sources  of  artificial  light  depend  on  it,  and  indeedj_ 
it  is  the  "  one  thing  needful "  in  almost  every  phase  of 
our  existence. 

The  chemist  recognizes  its  properties  in  the  form  of  a 
gas ;  and  it  assumes  the  solid  or  liquid  states  when  in 
combination  with  other  bodies,  as  in  metallic  oxides  and 
water. 

Oxygen  may  be  procured  for  experimental  purposes 
from  various  sources,  the  following  being  one  : — Intro- 
duce some  powdered  black  oxide  of  manganese  into  an  iron 
tube,  closed  at  one  end,  and  into  the  open  end  fit  a  pew- 
ter tube  so  that  its  other  end  may  dip  beneath  water, 
which  may  be  held  in  a  basin  placed  beside  the  appara- 
tus, the  closed  end  of  which  must  be  placed  in  a  fire. 
After  a  short  time  a  quantity  of  gas  will  be  given  off, 
which,  on  being  collected,  (by  means  of  a  small  glass 
tube,  having  one  end  inserted  in  a  gas  jar  and  the  other 
end  placed  in  the  water),  is  ready  for  use.  Oxides  are 
combinations  of  oxygen  with  a  metallic  substance,  by 
which  both  alkalies  and  earths  are  produced.  Iron  rust 
is  a  familiar  example  of  oxide.  This  seemingly  value- 
less article  is  of  no  slight  importance  to  the  chemist,  to 
whom  the  smallest  particle  of  sand  has  some  use.  Some 
metals,  such  as  gold,  silver  and  platina,  have  very  little 
attraction  for  oxygen  ;  hence  they  may  be  exposed  to 
the  influence  of  the  atmosphere  for  centuries  and  stiU 
remain  unchanged.  On  the  other  hand,  some  metals 
have  so  strong  an  affinity  for  it  as  to  alsstract  it  from 
almost  any  of  its  compounds.  The  affinity  of  steel  for 
oxygen  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  experiment : 
To  one  end  of  a  piece  of  steel  spring,  about  ten  inches 
long,  tie  tightly  a  piece  of  wick  about  an  inch  long, 
taken  from  the  inside  of  a  common  taper.  Pass  the  other 
end  of  the  spring  through  a  bung  or  cork,  which  wiH 
form  a  holder.  On  lighting  the  taper  and  dipping  it  into 
a  jar  of  oxygen,  the  steel  will  catch  fire,  burning  most 
brilliantly,  and  filling  the  interior  of  the  jar  with  a  red 
powder.  Here  we  have  the  rapid  production  of  the 
oxide,  in  the  form  of  the  red  powder.  ^ 

The  general  effect  of  oxygen  in  nature  is  that  of  a  life- 
giving  principle.  It  breaks  rocks  and  converts  sterile 
land  into  a  fruitful  country.  Through  its  action  on  the 
organic  substances  in  plants  they  bud  forth  into  leaf  and 
produce  the  flower  and  seed.  Every  leaf  is  as  a  lung  to 
a  tree,  and  thereby  plants  are  enabled  to  breathe  and 
exist.  In  animals  oxygen  oxidises  the  carbon  of  the 
food,  producing  animal  heat ;  and  thus  its  agency  is  so 
universal  as  to  leave  no  object  out  of  its  influence. 


Vegetable  Instinct. 

Like  the  instincts  of  animals,  the  actions  of  vegetables 
might  be  attributed  to  intelligence,  unless  we  know  it  to 
be  otherwise.  If  a  pail  of  water  be  placed  within  six 
inches  of  either  side  of  the  stem  of  a  pumpkin  or  vegeta- 
ble marrow,  it  will,  in  the  course  of  the  night,  approach 
It,  and  be  found  in  the  morning  with  one  of  the  leaves- 
on  the  water.  If  a  prop  be  placed  within  six  inches  of 
a  convolvulus,  or  scarlet  runner,  it  will  find  it,  althou^ 
the  prop  may  be  shifted  daUy.  If,  after  it  has  twined 
some  distance  up  the  prop,  it  be  unwound  and  twined 
in  the  opposite  direction,  it  wiU  return  to  its  original  po- 
sition, or  die  in  the  attempt;  yet,  notwithstanding,  if  two 
of  the  plantfi  grow  near  to  each  other,  and  have  no  stake 
around  which  they  can  entwine,  one  of  them  will  alter 
the  direction  of  the  spiral,  and  they  wiU  twine  aro«ad 
each  other. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD.  i6i 


The  Sicilian  Vespers. 

The  terrible  massacre  known  by  the  above  title  took 
place  at  Easter,  in  the  year  1282.  It  was  but  a  verifica- 
tion of  the  old  proverb  of  the  trodden  worm  turning  to 
bite  its  oppressor's  foot.  At  this  period  the  Sicilians 
were  ruled  over  by  a  French  prince  of  the  House  of  An- 
ion, with  a  tyranny  of  the  most  cruel  and  galling  nature. 
Obnoxious  to  the  Sicilians  from  his  nation,  the  people 
had  as  well  to  bear  the  presence  of  a  licentious  and 
brutal  alien  soldiery,  to  whom  nothing  was  sacred ;  and 
the  histoi-y  of  the  times  teems  with  accounts  of  the 
coarse  insults  to  which  husbands  and  fathers  of  all 
classes  had  to  submit,  as  offered  to  those  who  were  near- 
est and  dearest  of  their  families.  Under  such  a  long 
course  of  oppression,  it  was  but  little  wonder  that  the 
hot  fire  of  Italian  wrath  should  be  smouldering,  and 
waiting  but  for  some  slight  fanning  to  leap  into  a  devas- 
tating name  that  should  destroy  all  before  it.  The  occa- 
sion arrived.  Easter  Monday  being  a  grand  fate  day,  a 
procession  of  the  people  of  Palermo  was  formed  to  at- 
tend vespers  at  a  neighboring  church,  when  the  French 
rulers,  who  gazed  with  suspicion  upon  all  gatherings  of 
the  people,  made  this  a  pretext  for  searching  for  arms. 
To  a  brutal,  licentious  soldiery  this  supplied  an  oppor- 
tunity for  offering  gross  insidts  to  the  females,  one  of 
whom  was  a  young  married  lady  of  great  beauty  and 
position.  Her  screams  aroused  the  multitude  ;  the  spark 
was  laid  to  the  train ;  and,  led  by  the  lady's  father  and 
husband,  the  people  rose  in  tumult.  Arms  were  seized, 
and  an  indiscriminate  slaughter  of  all  the  French  in  the 
city  was  the  result. 

This  was  but  the  alarm  note  for  a  general  rising ;  and  in 
town  after  town,  upon  that  same  day,  massacres  took 
place,  the  news  flying  swiftly,  till  not  a  place  remained  in 
the  hands  of  the  French  but  Messina.  So  hot  was  the 
people's  rage,  and  so  long  a  reign  of  cruelty  had  they  to 
avenge,  that  mercy  was  forgotten  ;  neither  sex  nor  age 
was  spared — French  nationality  being  the  password  for 
death.  Fortresses  were  attacked  and  carried,  sharp  and 
decisive  engagements  took  place,  and  garrison  after  gar- 
rison was  slaughtered— Messina  only  remaining  at  last  to 
be  taken  to  free  the  island  from  the  foreign  yoke.  But 
here  a  pause  ensued,  many  of  the  more  substantial  in- 
habitants fearing  the  power  of  the  insurgents  as  opposed 
to  that  of  the  trained  soldiers.  But  again  a  spark  illu- 
mined the  fire.  A  citizen  was  seized  by  the  French  for 
appearing  in  public  bearing  arms.  He  resisted,  aided  by 
fi-iends ;  but  being  overcome,  they  were  borne  off  to 
prison ;  when,  not  content  with  the  conquest,  the  viceroy 
sent  to  arrest  the  prisoners'  wives.  This  injustice  aroused 
the  people,  who  flew  to  arms,  attacked  the  French,  and 
slaughtered  above  three  thousand,  driving  the  others 
into  their  fortresses,  which  they  took  after  an  obstinate 
defence,  and  put  the  defenders  to  the  sword. 

The  insurrection,  commencing  as  it  did  on  the  night  of 
the  Palermo  procession,  has  since  been  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Sicilian  Vespers.  The  number  of  French 
put  to  the  sword  has  been  variously  estimated  at  from 
twenty  to  thu-ty  thousand ;  but,  whatever  the  number, 
the  slaughter  was  fierce  and  indiscriminate  ;  and,  in  spite 
of  after-efforts  to  recover  the  territory,  Sicily  was  from 
that  time  lost  to  the  reigning  King  of  Naples,  Charles  oi 
Anjou. 


Habitations  of  Bees. 

There  are  some  insects  and  some  animals  that  live  in 
common  like  men,  each  one  doing  his  part  for  the  goo<3 
of  all.  Bees  are  a  curious  example  of  tiiis.  They  have 
a  queen  whom  they  all  respect,  and  who  does  none  of 
the  work  like  the  others,  and  when  she  is  lost  or  dead 
they  appoint  another  before  they  can  settle  themselves 
into  quiet. 

They  show  many  other  signs  of  their  wisdom  and  gov- 
ernment. They  all  join  together  to  build  cello  for  their 
honey,  and  they  make  these  cells  of  wax.  Each  bee 
takes  his  own  proper  place  and  does  his  own  work. 
Some  gather  honey  and  wax  from  the  flowers,  others 
stay  and  work  inside  the  hive,  while  still  others  guard 
tdie  door  of  it. 

The  cells  which  they  build  are  all  of  one  shape  and 
one  size,  and  the  size  is  so  managed  that  no  room  is  left 
hetjween  the  cells.  There  are  not  many  shapes  which 
Wi3i  do  this.    If  they  were  all  round,  there  would  be 


room  wasted ;  they  therefore  make  them  of  six  sides, 
leaving  no  room  unoccupied. 

They  might  have  them  of  three  sides,  or  might  have 
made  them  square  and  thus  have  wasted  no  room,  but 
then  the  shape  would  have  been  awkward,  and  this 
would  not  suit  the  busy  bee,  who,  in  this  respect  seems 
to  teach  us  a  very  good  lesson. 

There  are  several  species  of  bees  distinguished  by 
zoologists  with  the  name  of  .Holitary,  on  account  of  the 
fact  that  they  do  not  combine  to  carry  on  any  joint  oper- 
ations. Among  this  class  is  the  mason-bee  so  called, 
because  it  constructs  a  nest  composed  of  sand  and  mor- 
tar. The  nest  of  these  bees  is  fixed  to  the  walls  of 
houses,  and  when  completed  have  the  appearance  of  ir- 
regular prominences,  arising  from  dirt  or  clay  thrown 
against  a  wall.  They  are  not  so  remarkable  as  to  attract 
attention,  but  when  the  outer  coating  is  removed,  their 
stracture  is  found  to  be  admirable.  The  interior  part 
consists  of  an  assemblage  of  different  cells,  each  of 
which  contains  a  white-worm,  pretty  similar  to  that  pro- 
duced by  the  honey-bee.  Here  they  remain  until  they 
have  undergone  all  their  changes  in  shape  and  form. 

The  manner  in  which  the  female  mason-bee,  (who 
is  the  sole  operator)  builds  her  habitation,  is  very 
curious. 

After  choosing  a  part  of  the  wall,  she  seeks  for  the 
proper  material.  The  nest  consists  of  a  species  of  mor- 
tar, of  which  sand  is  the  basis.  She  goes,  therefore,  to 
a  bed  of  sand,  and,  with  her  teeth  which  are  as  large 
and  strong  as  those  of  the  honey-bee,  she  examines  and 
brings  together  several  grains ;  then  from  her  mouth 
she  throws  out  a  sticky  fluid,  with  which  she  moistens 
the  first  grain  ;  to  this  she  cements  a  second  which  she 
moistens  in  the  same  manner,  and  so  on  till  she  has 
formed  a  mass  as  large  as  the  shot  usually  employed  to 
kill  hares.  This  mass  she  carries  off  in  her  teeth,  and 
makes  it  the  foundation  of  her  first  cell.  In  this  way 
she  works  for  five  or  six  days,  until  the  cells  are  all  com- 
leted.  All  are  similar,  and  before  being  covered  their 
gure  resembles  that  of  a  thimble  She  never  begins  to 
make  a  second  tUl  the  first  is  finished.  Each  cell  is 
about  an  inch  high  and  nearly  half  an  inch  in  diameter. 

Bees,  in  all  their  habits,  seem  wise  and  prudent.  They 
have  some  idlers  among  them  called  drones;  these  they 
kill  that  they  may  not  partake  of  the  store  of  honey  for 
Which  they  have  not  worked. 


Birds'  Nests. 

The  remark  is  often  made  that  the  proper  thing  for 
mothers  to  do  is  to  stay  at  home  and  employ  themselves 
wholly  with  housekeeping,  while  their  husbands  go  out 
into  the  world  and  labor  for  the  means  to  provide  a  liv- 
ing for  them  and  their  children.  Some  curious  little 
birds  of  South  Africa  seem  to  have  taken  the  same  no- 
tion into  their  droll  little  heads.  The  korwes  build  their 
nest  in  some  convenient  hole  in  the  trunk  of  a  tree, 
and  when  it  is  finished  and  the  mother  bird  is  ready  to 
sit  upon  the  eggs,  her  mate  plasters  up  the  entrance  to 
the  nest  with  clay,  leaving  only  a  small  opening,  large 
enough  to  admit  his  bill.  Through  this  hole  he  passes 
food  to  the  captive  wife,  and  after  the  eggs  are  hatched 
to  the  young  birds.  The  famQy  in  the  nest  thrive  ad- 
mirably under  this  treatment,  but  the  poor  little  slave  of 
a  father  gets  so  thin  and  worn  that  he  can  hardly  fly, 
and,  perhaps,  falls  dead  if  exposed  to  a  sudden  storm. 

A  charming  contrast  to  the  korwe's  prosy  and  uncom- 
fortable housekeeping  is  that  of  the  honey-eaters  of  Aus- 
tralia. Tou  know  how  delightful  it  is  to  swing  in  a  ham- 
mock? Well,  the  honey-eaters  enjoy  it  too;  so  they 
suspend  a  nice  cosy  cradle  for  their  baby  birds  on  some 
branch  overhanging  a  stream  of  water.  It  is  made  of 
grass,  and  lined  with  wool  or  moss,  and  the  ropes  are 
twisted  of  cotton,  bark,  or  some  other  tough  fibre.  The 
nest  is  quite  deep,  so  that  the  young  birds  are  in  no  dan- 
ger of  falling  out.  The  mother  packs  herself  snugly  in 
the  nest,  and  her  attentive  little  brown  husband  perches 
on  a  branch  near  by,  and  chirps  and  chatters  for  her 
amusement,  or  feeds  her  with  delicious  worms,  for  the 
honey-eater  lives  upon  insects  and  the  pollen  of  flowers 
as  well  as  upon  honey. 

It  has  been  found  that  zinc  is  constantly  present  to 
appreciable  quantities  in  the  liver  of  the  human  subject, 
and  of  many  of  the  lower  animals.  It  also  occnrs"  in 
hen's  eggs,  in  wheat  and  in  barley. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Cats  on  Exhibition. 

Curiosity  is  a  controlling  element  in  human  nature^ 
and  yet  when  Charles  Sprague  made  it  the  subject  of  a 
beautiful  poem  many  years  ago,  he  never  anticipated 
even  in  his  fruitful  imagination  what  strange  schemes 
it  would  suggest.  He  might  have  had  a  vision  of  dogs 
in  pens,  of  goats,  and  of  donkeys,  but  I  do  not  thimc 
he  ever  conceived  such  a  thing  as  a  national  cat  show 
in  London.  And  yet  it  is  just  that  which  has  taken 
place  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  Sydenham,  (near  London, 
England,)  and  it  is  the  seventh  of  the  annual  series.  It 
was  not  until  the  authorities  of  the  Crystal  Palace  took 
the  matter  in  hand  that  our  feline  friends  were  put  to 
any  practical  purpose  outside  of  their  fidelity  as  house- 
hold favorites  and  their  dexterity  as  rat  catchers.  The 

Present  season  attracted  no  less  than  313  exhibitors, 
he  Crystal  Palace  itself  is  familiar  to  Americans.  The 
center  transept,  at  once  a  beautiful  promenade  and  a 
delightful  resting  place,  was  crowded  by  the  throng  of 
visitors  who  came  to  see  the  cats  in  cages  down  each 
side.  Each  cage  contained  a  cushion  for  pussy,  a  little 
saucer  filled  with  mUk,  etc.,  while  the  prize  cats  were 
distinguished  by  a  blue  flag  hung  from  the  top.  Some 
idea  of  the  enterprise  of  the  authorities  at  the  palace 
may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  about  one  hundred 
and  thirty  prizes  were  offered  f oo*  competition,  from  £5 
to  fifteen  shillings,  while  marks  of  distinction,  which  are 
equally  coveted,  such  as  "Very  highly  commended," 
are  also  awarded.  In  certain  classes,  where  there  is  a 
great  competition  and  oilly,  say  three  prizes,  those  cats 
which  are  highly  commended  have  a  good  chance  of 
carrying  off  the  first  prize  at  local  shows  or  exhibitions, 
where  their  standing  would  be  more  completely  recog- 
nized. The  best  tabby-cat  received  a  silver  coin.  For 
this  prize  there  was  a  general  rivalry ;  there  were  thirty- 
six  candidates,  and  as  they  were  all  first-class  the  de- 
cision of  the  judges  was  not  made  until  after  much  dis- 
cussion. The  prize-men  at  last  appeared  as  Master 
Schuckard's  "Tommy  Dodd,"  aged  nine  years,  and 
valued  at  £100  ($500) ;  the  winner  of  the  second  prize 
was  also  held  at  the  same  amount,  while  the  value  at- 
tached to  others  in  the  same  class  was  never  below  £5. 
Miss  Sherhouse's  cat,  "age  unknown,  possesses  a  tab- 
ular pedigree  for  six  generations,"  and  is  valued  by  its 
owner  at  £10,000,  but  in  face  of  these  substantial  argu- 
ments. Miss  Sherhouse's  favorite  was  not  among  the 
prizes,  only  receiving  a  high  "commendation."  Other 
of  the  candidates  were  magnificent  creatures,  graceful 
in  their  movements,  their  furs  shining  with  gloss  resem- 
bling the  richest  velvet.  These  cats  were  the  best  in  the 
show,  and  were  specially  considered  by  the  judges  to  be 
a  superb  class.  The  average  weight  of  each  was  about 
^xteen  and  a  half  pounds.  One  of  the  prizes  was  for 
the  "heaviest  cat  in  the  show,"  and  this  was  won  by  a 
specimen  weighing  a  few  ounces  over  eighteen  pounds. 
This  gentleman  was  so  overcome  with  joy  at  the  honor 
he  had  won  that  he  gave  himself  up  to  amusement  the 
whole  day,  glad  to  engage  in  a  game  with  the  first 
youngster  that  came  along.  Few  out  of  the  500  pussies 
showed  bad  tempers  :  the  exceptions  were  among  the 
black  cats,  which,  for  the  most  part,  seemed  discon- 
tented. Very  diflcerent  was  the  conduct  of  the  long- 
haired Angora  species,  with  their  splendid  coats  white 
as  snow,  their  pink  eyes  and  fiery  appearance  forming 
one  of  the  most  interesting  features.  Another  specimen 
had  greatness  thrust  upon  him,  because,  poor  fellow, 
he  had  the  misfortune  to  be  born  without  fore  legs. 
The  gentleman  gets  about  after  the  fashion  of  the  kan- 
garoo, and  his  manner  of  getting  over  the  ground  is 
certainly  curious  if  not  graceful.  This  unique  spectacle 
is  under  distinguished  auspices  ;  as  usual,  a  titled  per- 
sonage heads  the  list  of  patrons,  which  closes  with  the 
name  of  Charles  Robert  Darwin,  the  renowned  philos- 
opher and  naturalist. 


Chlorine. 

BY  JAS.  p.  DUFPT. 

Chlorine,  in  its  pure,  uncombined  state,  is  a  gas  of  a 
yellow-greenish  color.  It  has  an  exceedingly  strong, 
and  to  some  persons  offensive  smeU.  If  inhaled,  it  pro- 
duces asphyxia,  and  acts  violently  on  the  animal  mem- 
branes in  the  throat  and  lungs.  It  is  much  denser  than 
air,  one  volume  of  chlorine  being  equal  to  two  and  a 
half  volumes  of  air  in  weight.  It  may,  therefore,  be 
readily  poured  from  one  vessel  to  another.  Its  combina- 
tions are  very  numerous ;  the  most  important  being 
chloride  of  sodium  (the  common  table  salt),  and  chloride 
of  lime,  which  is  so  extensively  used  for  bleaching  pur- 
poses, and  as  a  disinfectant. 

The  chief  source  of  chlorine,  for  commercial  and 
other  purposes,  is  common  salt.  This  is  decomposed  by 
means  of  sulphuric  acid  and  oxide  of  manganese,  when 
the  sodium  becomes  oxidized,  and  combines  with  the 
sulphuric  acid  to  form  sulphate  of  soda:  and  the 
chlorine  being  thus  set  free,  escapes  in  the  form  of  a 

gis,  which  is  collected  in  bottles  for  use.  Chlorine  is 
equently  required  for  use  in  the  laboratory.  To  become 
acquainted  with  the  properties  of  chlorine,  the  stu- 
dent may  try  the  following  experiment : 

Suspend  a  piece  of  cloth  or  paper,  dyed  with  any  veg- 
etable color,  and  in  a  moist  state,  or  a  flower  previously 
drenched  with  water,  in  a  jar  of  chlorine.  The  color 
will  be  speedily  discharged,  owing  to  the  bleaching 
powers  of  t*he  gas.  Chlorine,  as  has  already  been  re- 
marked, is  largely  employed  for  the  purpose  of  bleach- 
ing, and  in  some  departments  of  calico-printing  for  dis- 
charging colors.  It  is  used  in  the  form  of  chloride  of 
lime,  which  is  prepared  by  passing  gaseous  chloride  over 
freshly  salted  Ume. 

Experiment :  Make  a  strong  solution  of  indigo  in  cold 
water,  and  pour  this  into  a  jar  of  chlorine  gas.  The 
chlorine  wiU  be  rapidly  absorbed,  and  the  colored  liquid 
bleached. 

Water  or  moisture  is  essential  to  the  bleaching  powers 
of  chlorine ;  hence  the  dry  gas  does  not  bleach  vegetable 
colors. 

Chlorine  has  a  limited  power  of  supporting  combus- 
tion. It  has  also  a  great  attraction  for  some  substances 
as  may  be  seen  by  the  following 

Experiment :  Introduce  some  warm  antimony  in  a 
state  of  fine  powder  into  a  jar  of  chlorine.  It  will  im- 
mediately catch  fire  and  produce  chloride  of  antimony. 

Hydrochloric  acid,  in  its  pure  state,  is  a  gas  composed 
of  one  equivalent  of  chlorine  united  with  one  of  hydro- 
gen. In  commerce  and  in  the  laboratory  this  gas  is  em- 
ployed as  a  liquid  acid,  being  in  combination  with  water. 

Chlorine  combines  with  oxygen  to  produce  various 
compounds.  Of  these  chloric  acid  is  the  most  import- 
ant, as  it  gives  rise  to  the  chlorates,  some  of  which  are 
largely  employed  for  the  manufacture  of  lucifer  matches, 
etc. 

A  compound  acid  is  produced  by  adding  together  two 
parts,  in  volume,  of  hydrochloric  acid,  with  one  of 
nitric  acid,  both  in  as  high  a  degree  of  concentration  as 
possible.  The  mixture  is  called  aqua  regia,  and  is  much 
used  by  metallurgists  for  the  solution  of  gold,  platina 
and  other  metals. 


In  Japan  every  house  must  be  decked  with  flowers 
on  *few  Year's  Day:  and,  to  supply  the  great  demand, 
the  shops  are  full  of  dwarf  peach  trees,  bearing  double 
Mossoms,  and  growing  in  large  china  vases  and  pots. 
The  Japanese  gardeners  have  a  peculiar  talent  for  rais- 

hifir  dwarf  plants  and  trees,  and  so  general  is  the  national  I  its  shoulders,  and  down  the  legs  within  three  inches  ol 


Grustave  Dore's  Studio. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  appearance  of  Gustave  Dore's 
painting-room  in  Paris  that  is  particularly  striking.  One 
might  have  supposed  that  a  man  with  such  an  exuber- 
ance of  imagination  as  Dore  possesses  would  have  had 
a  painting-room  full  of  old  cabinets,  tapestry,  china,  ar- 
mor, and  the  like.  Nothing  of  the  kind,  however,  is  to 
be  seen.  There  is  a  deal  table  on  which  tubes  of  oil  color 
are  thrown  in  disorder,  a  couple  of  cheap  chairs,  three 
or  four  easels  of  his  own  contrivance,  a  wash  basin  and 
looking-glass  placed  behind  a  faded  green  curtain  at  one 
Qomer  of  the  room,  a  collection  of  claret  bottles  in  a 
basket  near  the  door,  and  a  grinning  skull  on  a  bracket 
over  the  fire-place.  He  has  a  favorite  poodle  which  is 
closely  shaven  within  two  inches  of  the  top  of  his  tail  to 


fancy  for  such  miniature  products  of  vegetation,  that* the  feet.  This  dog  occupies  one  of  the  deal  chairs,  and 
the  toy  and  fancy  shops  abound  in  very  minute  and  "assists"  Gustave  in  his  work;  that  is  if  the  great  artist 
delicate  imitations  of  plants  and  flowers  cut  out  of  col-.. drops  his  maulstick  or  a  brush,  Bijou  (for  that's  th« 
•red  paper.  '  dog's  name)  picks  it  up. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD, 


SPORT  IN  THE  FAR  WEST, 

OB ; 

Puck  Shooting  on  the  Minnesota  Lakes. 


BY  PAKKEB  GLLLMOBE. 


course,  in  the  intermediate  portion  of  country  be-, 
tween  Minnesota  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  during  the 
seasons  of  migration,  splendid  day's  shooting  can  be 
obtained  ;  but  the  stay  of  the  bird  is  so  short  that  it 
might  not  compensate  for  a  special  visit.  Where 
thousands  are  to  be  seen  to-day,  not  a  dozen  will  be 


In  June,  July  and  August  the  wild  rice  fields  of  the 
numerous  labyrinths  of  lakes  in  Minnesota  and  the 
Northwest  Territory  perfectly  swarm  with  wild  fowl, 
while  in  December  and  January  they  will  be  found 
equally  numerous  on  the  large  bayous  and  lagoons 
that  surround  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  Of 


WILD  DUCK  ON  THE  FEEDING  GROUND. 

met  to-morrow ;  but  if  you  should  happen  in  the 
spring  and  autumn  to  be  in  either  of  the  States  of  Illi- 
nois,  Iowa  or  Indiana,  when  the  frost  and  ice  are 
freaking  up  in  the  spring,  or  when  winter  makes  its 
first  appearance,  you  may  with  safety  calcu^^ite  on 
having  some  of  the  finest  sport. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


A  year  or  to  since,  when  in  Illinois,  in  November, 
a  sudden  change  took  place  in  the  weather,  and 
although  the  morning  was  ushered  in  mild  and  warm, 
by  noon  it  was  snowing,  with  a  gale  of  wind  blowing 
from  the  north.  From  experience  I  knew  that  such 
a  day  was  not  to  be  wasted  over  the  fire.  I  got  on 
the  shooting  ground  with  a  very  large  supply  of  am- 
munition, and  in  two  or  three  hours  I  had  to  cease, 
as  my  stock  was  exhausted.  My  stand  was  in  a  field 
of  Indian  corn  that  had  been  gathered  into  shocks, 
from  the  back  of  one  of  which  1  took  shelter  from 
the  blast  as  well  as  for  concealment. — Never  shall 
I  forget  the  scene.  The  ducks  came  in  thousands, 
all  flying  before  the  wmd,  and  if  a  dozen  guns  had  been 
there  instead  of  one,  abundant  work  would  have  been 
found  for  all. 

In  the  spring  of  1866,  when  in  Iowa,  the  first  day  of 
thaw,  I  went  for  a  stroll,  scarcely  expecting  to  find 
game ;  but  when  I  got  on  the  prairie  land  I  was  perfect- 
ly astonished  at  the  clouds  of  wild  fowl  arriving,  some 
of  the  ponds  being  so  densely  covered  with  duck  that 
the  surface  could  scarcely  be  seen.  These  birds  were 
all  coming  from  the  south,  where  they  had  passed  the 
winter.  If  any  of  the  readers  of  the  Growing  World 
intend  to  go  in  for  work,  and  do  not  object  to  roughing 
it,  I  should  most  decidedly  say  that  the  wild  fowl  shoot- 
ing is  good  enough  to  justify  a  visit.  But  let  him  not 
be  induced  to  keep  in  the  vicinity  of  settlements  ;  rather 
let  him  and  his  attendants  commence  housekeeping  on 
ihe  margin  of  one  of  the  northern  Minnesota  lakes  ;  if 
ii  summer  (remember  one  that  ^produces  an  abundance 
of  wild  rice) ;  but  if  the  reverse  season  should  be  se- 
lected, the  southern  lagoons  of  the  Mississippi  will  af- 
ford him  abundant  sport. 

When  living  on  the  upper  portion  of  Lake  Concha- 
chin,  Simcoe  district,  from  the  beauty  of  an  afternoon 
and  the  coolness  of  the  weather,  I  was  induced  to  shoul- 
der my  gun  and  start  across  the  country  to  Lake  St. 
John,  with  the  hope  of  killing  some  ducks  to  add  to  the 
fare  of  our  already  sumptuous  table.  I  had  never  visit- 
ed this  place  before,  and  as  I  left  the  clearing  the  last 

words  of  H  were,  "take  care  you  do  not  get  lost.' 

With  an  amount  of  confidence,  "usually  denoting  ignor- 
ance," I  responded  that  I  was  too  old  to  be  guilty  of 
such  a  green  proceeding.  With  little  trouble  I  found 
my  destination.  Game  was  abundant  and  tame,  they 
being  overcome  with  that  languor  which  makes  them 
perfectly  indifferent,  and  which  is  so  frequently  the 
precursor  of  bad  weather.  In  a  little  time  my  bag  was 
heavy,  and  I  determined  to  retrace  my  steps  ;  but  for 
my  life,  I  could  not  tell  in  which  direction  my  route 
lay.  To  be  sure,  pooh,  pooh  !  what  nonsense  !  The 
whole  thing  appeared  too  absurd  and  ridiculous.  I 
shall  cross  my  own  path  in  a  few  minutes — only  a 
few  steps  farther  !  I  am  certainly  close  now  1  and 
thus  arguing  and  consoling,  I  proceeded.  By  degrees 
it  began  to  dawn  upon  me,  though  much  against  my 
inclination,  that  I  was/ 'certain  sure  out  of  my  reckon- 
ing." The  more  convinced  I  became  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  my  position,  the  more  I  became  excited. 
At  first  I  walked  faster,  talked  to  myself,  and  tried, 
though  I  fear  very  indifferently ,  to  treat  the  whole 
affair  as  an  admirable  joke.  But  soon  my  face  be- 
came elongated,  and  a  very  gloomy  expression  us- 
urped the  place  of  my  previous  smile.  For  a  change 
I  shouted,  and  at  last  becoming  fairly  desperate  I 
broke  into  a  headlong  run — the  pace  was  too  fast  to 
keep  up  ;  fairly  blown,  wearied  and  exhausted,  I 
sat  down  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  The  depres- 
sion I  felt  will  never  be  forgotten.  The  terrible 
loneliness,  the  perfect  solitude  and  monotony,  and 
the  mosquitoes,  which  previously  I  had  scarcely 
noticed,  now  put  in  a  claim  for  attention.  Night 
was  rapidly  approaching.  Distant  rumbling  of 
thunder  portended  a  coming  storm,  reminding  me 
that  a  stormy  night  was  at  hand. 

I  soon  found  a  prostrate  monarch  of  the  forest, 
under  whose  side  I  expected  to  find  compara- 
tive shelter.  In  a  short  space  I  had  gathered  suflficient 
deftris  and  inflammable  matter  to  make  a  fire,  determin- 


ing to  sacrifice  one  of  my  ducks  to  the  implacable  tor- 
mentor, hunger.  I  had  but  one  match.  With  the  ut- 
most care  I  undertook  the  trying  ordeal  of  squeezing 
myself  into  a  comer,  sheltering  my  hands  with  my 
cap,  and  sacrificing  a  portion  of  the  last  letter  of  my 
lady-love  for  tinder.  Success  rewarded  me,  and  soon 
the  surroundings  were  brought  out  in  deep  relief  by  the 
brilliant  glow,  reminding  me  of  the  deep  contrast  of 
light  and  shadow  in  one  of  the  much  admired  pictures 
by  Rembrandt.  The  rain  was  not  long  delayed,  and  af- 
ter a  few  premonitory  drops  came  down  as  if  the  flood- 
gates of  heaven  had  been  opened,  accompanied  by  the 
loudest  thunder  and  most  dazzling  lightning.  There  is 
nothing  that  more  powerfully  impresses  man  with  the 
omnipotent  power  of  the  Creator,  or  with  his  own  utter 
insignificance,  than  being  placed  alone,  unprotected 
from  the  warring  elements,  listening  to  the  dismember- 
ment of  limbs  from  the  parent  tree-trunks  by  the  fury 
of  the  blast,  or  the  scathlu;^  power  of  the  electric  fluii 
All  my  efforts  to  keep  a  fine  were  futile — sleep  was  out 
of  the  question.  No  sick  man  or  storm-tossed  mariner 
ever  more  ardently  longed  for  break  of  day.  The  night 
appeared  endless,  and  doubts  of  whether  the  sun  had 
not  been  delayed  in  his  course,  intruded  themselves.  At 
last,  however,  faint  lines  of  light  glimmered  in  the  East, 
foretelling  the  departure  of  darkness,  and  with  greater 
satisfaction  than  I  ever  previously  experienced,  I  rose 
from  my  wet  and  uncomfortable  resting  place.  To  seek 
my  lost  route  was  my  first  endeavor,  and  for  more  than 
an  hour  I  wandered  without  success.  At  last,  when  al- 
most yielding  to  despair,  I  struck  the  margin  of  the  lake, 
I  had  been  shooting  on  the  evening  before  ;  and  what  a 
beautiful,  enthralling  scene  lay  before  me  !  The  placid 
water  only  rippled  where  the  wild  duck  sported,  or  the 
voracious  fish  pursued  to  the  surface  their  destined 
prey ;  while  the  shadow  of  each  tree  that  grew  near  the 
margin  was  so  distinctly  reflected  that  the  minutest 
limb  or  twig  could  be  traced  with  perfect  precision.  I 
stood  entranced,  and  so  great  was  my  admiration  that 
nothing  could  have  induced  me  to  disturb  the  harmony 
of  the  picture  by  destroying  the  life,  or  disturbing  the 
retreat  of  the  beautiful  creatures  which  formed  its  prom- 
inent features.  To  the  left  were  several  deer  and  f awnSj 
knee  deep,  feeding  upon  the  tender,  succulent  leaves 
of  the  water  lily,  the  youngsters  occasionally  chasing 
one  another  in  sport,  and  unknowingly  practicing  and 
developing  those  muscles  which  Nature  intends  to  be 
their  protection  in  the  hour  of  danger  ;  their  beautiful 
graceful  mothers  frequently  raising  their  eyes  from  their 
morning  repast  with  maternal  solicitude  for  their  pro- 
genies' safety.  What  sportsman  could  witness  such  a 
scene  without  feelings  of  the  greatest  pleasure  ?  Long 
I  gazed  with  feelings  of  rapture,  congratulating  mysefl 
in  having  at  last  discovered  a  hunter's  elysium.  Uncer- 
tainty in  reference  to  my  position  had  vanished,  as  with- 
out trouble,  by  following  the  margin  of  the  water,  I 
could  find  my  back  track.  At  last  hunger  told  me  it 
was  time  to  think  of  home  and  breakfast.  An  hour 
after  found  me  in  my  bed-room  undergoing  the  luxury 
of  a  good  wash,  preparatory  to  an  ample  meal.  M51 
friend,  who  was  rejoiced  to  see  me,  having  dreaded  the 
inconvenience  of  hunting  me  up,  listened  with  great 
pleasure  to  my  glowing,  and  perhaps,  unintentionally, 
exaggerated  description  of  all  I  had  seen  and  endured. 
Game  is  stiU  abundant  near  the  region  where  my  night 
adventures  took  place  ;  but  like  every  locahty,  the  himt- 
er  will  have  to  proceed  a  little  farther  beyond  the 
bounds  of  civilization ;  for  as  certain  as  the  red  man 
vanishes  before  the  stream  of  emigration,  or  the  morn- 
ing mists  before  the  gladdening  rays  of  the  rising  sun, 
game  flies  from  the  sound  of  the  squatter's  ax  or  the 
sharp  report  of  the  deadly  rifle. 

While  sojourning  West,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
gDod-hearted,  kind  gentleman  and  thorough  sportsman. 
On  the  breaking  up  of  winter  in  the  spring  of  1868,  in 
fact,  the  morning  after  a  decided  thaw  had  set  in,  he  ar- 
rived at  my  house  at  an  early  hour,  and  invited  me  to 
accompany  him  on  the  prairie  to  kill  wild  duck.  For 
some  time  previously  all  the  water  that  was  stagnant  or 
had  but  slight  current  had  been  frozen,  and  there  being, 
in  consequence,  no  feeding  ground  for  the  broad  bins, 
they  had  taken  their  departure  for  more  hospitable  re- 
gions. My  want  of  success  a  few  days  before  caused 
me  to  doubt  if  better  results  could  be  obtained  on  this 

occasion,  but  being  aware  that  H  was  better  posted 

on  these  matters  than  any  man  in  the  vicinity,  I  shout 


THE  GROUPING  IVORLD. 


165 


dered  my  ten-bore,  straddled  my  Indian  pony  and  start- 
ed for  what  he  considered  the  most  appropriate  place 
for  doing  havoc.  On  reaching  the  confines  of  the  prairie 
we  found  that  mallard  duck  had  come  in,  and  in  myr- 
iads. In  no  direction  could  we  gaze  without  seeing 
flights  in  those  strange  mathematical  figures  which  they 
always  assume  when  on  the  wing. 

"  Now  o'er  our  heads  compact  they  fly, 
See,  as  we  speak,  careering  high  ; 
A  flock  of  wild  ducks  cloud  the  air, 
In  wedge-like  shape  triangular." 

As  Boon  as  we  were  at  our  stands,  we  divested  our- 
selves of  shot-pouches  and  powder-horns,  hanging  them 
on  the  bushes  that  we  might  the  easier  use  them  when 
required— for,  once  the  game  commences  to  arrive  every 
moment  is  of  value.  Before  we  had  been  stationary 
many  minutes  a  few  stragglers  made  their  appearance 
in  our  neighborhood,  the  advance  guard,  doubtless,  of 
the  main  body ;  some  old  and  experienced  veterans,  I 
should  think,  are  generally  chosen  for  this  duty,  as  these 
forerunners  are  wary  in  the  extreme,  and  seldom  or 
never  come  within  earshot.  These  birds,  so  far,  had 
only  flown  past,  and  as  night  approached  their  numbers 
increased,  and  we  being  probably  less  conspicuous  from 
decreasing  light,  the  open  water  at  our  side  was  chosen 
for  their  resting-place.  Down  they  would  come  on  the 
water,  almost  imperiling  our  heads,  with  the  rustling 
sound  of  the  eagle  in  the  act  of  swooping  upon  his  prey. 
As  soon  as  the  birds  struck  the  water  they  would  com- 
mence bathing  themselves,  flapping  their  bodies  with 
their  wings,  diving  with  short  plunges,  and  cutting  so 
many  capers  that  one  might  imagine  them  stark,  staving 
mad.  The  fact,  however,  is  that  all  this  apparent  eccen- 
tricity is  caused  by  the  necessity  the  ducks  feel  of  clean- 
ing themselves  of  the  insects  about  their  plumage,  as 
well  as  the  pleasure  they  experience  in  finding  them- 
selves in  a  milder  climate,  with  abundance  of  food 
around  them,  after  enduring  a  hard  journey  from  the 
North,  protracted  possibly  through  a  day  and  night. 

On  arrival,  therefore,  they  wash  themselves  and  ar- 
range their  dress  before  commencing  their  meal.  But, 
as  the  night  approached,  some  strangers  are  mingled  with 
the  throng.  The  dusky  duck,  the  bald-pate,  the  pin-tail, 
the  blue  and  green  winged  teal,  shoot  past  like  arrows 
from  a  bow,  the  latter  making,  with  the  rapid  motion  of 
their  wings,  a  sound  not  unlike  an  ungreased  wheel  or 
hinge.  When  the  travellers  are  satisfied  with  the  neigh- 
borhood, they  dash  down  upon  the  water,  causing  it  to 
fly  in  spray  for  yards  around,  while  the  first  arrivals  wel- 
come the  new-comers  with  innumerable  quacks.  The 
report  of  a  gun  then  will  scarcely  alarm  them,  and,  if 
they  should  rise,  in  a  moment  they  will  resettle,  doubt- 
lessly feeling  security  in  their  numbers. 

Tarry  a  little  longer,  friend  ;  be  not  impatient— don't 
you  hear  that  strange  voice  ?  The  geese  are  coming — 
ay,  and  brant  too — can't  you  hear  their  noisy  chatter- 
ing ?  Move  not  an  inch  ;  these  fellows  have  two  eyes, 
equal  in  excellence  to  the  whole  hundred  of  Arguses 
placed  together.  Soon  a  dark  line  is  seen  against  the 
sky  advancing  directly  to  us.  Honk  !  honk  !  honk  ! 
comes  from  its  different  sections,  doubtlessly  inquiries 
from  the  leader  as  to  the  propriety  of  a  halt.  Keep 
close — stir  not,  nor  think  of  shooting,  till  they  are  over 
you— then  fire.  Again  and  again  we  loaded  and  shot, 
till  our  barrels  got  agreeably  warm.  Old  Nep,  my  re- 
triever, soon  had  the  ground  around  our  feet  thickly 
strewn  with  the  slain,  and  when  an  unfortunate  duck, 
less  severely  peppered  than  others,  or  only  broken-wing- 
ed, would  attempt  to  hobble  off.  Master  Nep  would 
^ve  him  a  pinch  about  the  regions  of  the  cranium  that 
unmediately  reduced  the  most  obstreperous  to  submis- 
sion. By  4  P.  M.  our  powder-flasks  commenced  to  show 
signs  of  giving  out,  and  with  a  sickly,  hollow  rattle  pro- 
claimed that  the  remaining  charges  were  few.  To  pro- 
long the  sport,  we  reduced  our  charges  ;  but  still  the 
end  was  drawing  near,  and  could  only  be  delayed  a  few 
minutes,  for  with  regret  though  the  snow  was  now  fall- 
ing fast  and  the  weather  anything  but  enjoyable,  we 
were  brought  to  a  halt.  On  collecting  the  spoil  we  had 
eighty-four  ducks  and  forty-two  geese.  It  took  time 
luid  trouble  to  satisfactorily  and  securely  sling  our 
booty ;  and  if  any  of  our  friends  could  have  seen  our 
■»^i^le  selves  and  nags  strung  around  with  the  fruits  of 
/nr  labor,  they  could  not  have  suppressed  a  smile.  Our 
last  view  of  the  field  was  of  broad  bills,  in  ever-increas- 


ing regiments,  rushing  on  to  the  devoted  crops  to  feed, 
or  diving,  bathing  and  splashing  in  the  water. 

The  following  lines  on  roast  duck  may  not  be  inappro- 
priate here : 

"A  DUCK  has  been  immortalized  by  Bryant, 

A  wild  one,  too  : 
Sweetly  he  hymned  the  creature  lithe  and  buoyant, 

Cleaving  the  blue. 
But  whoso  says  the  duck  through  ether  flying 

Seen  by  the  bard 
Equals  the  canvas-back  before  me  lying, 

Tells  a  canard. 

Done  to  a  turn,  the  flesh  a  dark  carnation. 

The  gravy  red. 
Four  slices  from  the  breast,  on  such  a  ration 

Gods  might  have  fed. 
Bryant  go  to,  to  think  that  thy  rare  ghost  duck 

Traced  'gainst  the  eky. 
Could  e'er  at  all  compare  with  this  rare  roast  duck. 

Is  all  in  my  eye." 

Malay  Customs. 

I  was  told,  writes  a  traveler  in  Borneo,  that  it  is  in- 
dispensably necessary  that  a  young  man  should  procure 
a  skull  before  he  gets  married.  On  my  urging  that  the 
custom  would  be  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in 
the  observance,  they  replied  that  it  was  established 
from  time  immemorial,  and  could  not  be  dispensed 
with.  Subsequently,  however,  it  was  allowed  that 
heads  were  very  difficult  to  obtain  now,  and  a  young 
man  might  sometimes  get  married  by  giving  presents  to 
his  lady-love's  parents.  At  all  times  they  denied  warm- 
ly ever  obtaining  any  heads  but  their  enemies',  adding 
that  they  were  bad  people,  and  deserved  to  die. 

I  asked  a  young  unmarried  man  whether  he  would 
be  obliged  to  get  a  head  before  he  could  obtain  a  wife. 
He  replied,  "Yes."  "When  could  he  get  one?'* 
"Soon."  "Where  would  he  goto  get  one?"  "To  the 
Sarebus  Kiver."  I  mention  these  particulars  in  detail, 
as  I  think,  had  their  practice  extended  to  taking  the 
head  of  any  defenseless  traveler,  or  any  Malay  sur- 
prised in  his  dwelling  or  boat,  I  should  have  wormed 
the  secret  out  of  them. 

The  men  marry  but  one  wife,  and  that  not  until  they 
have  attained  the  age  of  seventeen  or  eighteen.  Their 
wedding  ceremony  is  curious,  and  is  performed  by 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  being  brought  in  procession 
along  the  large  room,  where  a  brace  of  fowls  is  placed 
over  the  bridegroom's  neck,  which  he  whirls  sevew 
times  around  his  head.  The  fowls  are  then  killed  and 
their  blood  sprinkled  on  the  foreheads  of  the  pair, 
which  done,  they  are  cooked  and  eaten  by  the  new 
married  couple  alone,  whilst  the  rest  feast  and  drinli 
during  the  whole  night. 

Maryland  Ponies. 

The  long,  narrow  peninsuala  known  as  Synnepuxent 
!  Beach,  on  the  Atlantic,  and  separated  from  the  eastern 
shore  of  Maryland  by  a  bold  bay,  terminates  at  the  As- 
sateague  Inlet,  and  Chincoteague  Island  is  just  south  of 
this  inlet,  and  off  the  Maryland  frontier,  and  separated 
from  the  eastern  shore  of  Virginia  by  a  beautiful  bay  seven 
miles  wide,  of  the  same  name.  The  population  is  about 
2000  people,  and  the  island  is  seven  miles  long  and  about 
one  mile  wide.  All  along  the  Atlantic  coast  south,  clear 
to  the  capes,  are  numerous  islands,  formedby  inlets  from 
the  ocean,  with  numberless  inland  bays.  These  are  in- 
habited by  people  engaged  in  oystering  and  fishing  and 
the  raising  of  Chincoteague  ponies.  There  are  large 
droves  of  them  roaming  about,  making  their  own  living 
on  the  vast  marshes  along  the  coast.  In  the  Summer 
time  they  are  fat,  but  in  the  Winter  theirs  is  truely  a  pre- 
carious existence.  Small  in  size,  with  delicate  limbs,  and 
having  great  powers  of  endurance,  they  are  noted  for 
their  beauty  and  high  mettle,  though  when  tamed  and 
broken  they  become  very  gentle.  They  are  driven  into 
pens  in  August,  branded,  and  the  saleable  ones  secured 
and  broken  ;  they  command  from  $50  to  $100.  In  Win- 
ter many  die  of  starvation,  and  they  have  no  other  food 
than  marsh  grass,  which  they  paw  out  from  under  the 
snow.  Some  persons  here  own  hundreds  of  them.  Tra- 
dition says  these  ponies  are  descendants  of  a  vessel  load 
of  horses  that  was  shipwrecked  on  this  coast  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century  on  their  way  to  Jamestown,  which 
was  then  being  settled. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  Big  Ship  Sent  Over  Niagara  Falls. 

Capt.  Gilbert  Pratt,  a  veteran  mariner  now  living  in 
Belleville,  Ont.,  whose  period  of  service  on  the  lakes 
dates  back  nearly  half  a  century,  recalls  an  incident 
which,  though  it  has  been  almost  forgotten,  attracted 
considerable  attention  in  its  day.  Vessel  owners  were 
then  more  conscientious  than  now.  They  were  not  in- 
clined to  risk  the  lives  of  passengers  and  crew  in  unsea- 
worthy  crafts. 

The  owner  of  the  old  schooner  Michigan — then  the 
largest  vessel  on  the  lakes — ^hit  upon  a  novel  expedient 
for  disposing  of  her.  The  vessel  had  become  old  and 
rotten,  and  was  no  longer  serviceable.  Instead  of  load- 
ing her  and  sending  her  out  late  in  the  season  heavily 
insured  to  be  wrecked,  he  chose  a  more  harmless  plan, 
but  one  not  less  profitable  to  himself.  He  induced  the 
proprietors  of  the  hotels  at  Niagara  Falls  to  buy  the 
vessel  and  send  her  over  the  falls.  This  was  about  the 
year  1830.  The  proposition  was  eagerly  accepted  by  the 
hotel  proprietors,  who  saw  in  it  a  capital  advertising 
scheme,  and  one  which  would  be  certain  to  pay  them 
well.  The  affair  was  widely  published  in  the  news- 
papers and  was  the  talk  of  the  surrounding  country  for 
weeks  and  weeks.  They  did  not  count  amiss  when  they 
judged  what  an  excited  public  curiosity  would  do.  For 
several  days  previous  to  the  great  event  the  stages  and 
canal  boats  were  crowded.  People  flocked  thither  from 
all  parts  of  the  country  to  witness  the  novel  spectacle  of 
the  largest  vessel  on  the  lake  going  over  the  falls.  The 
hotel  keepers  reaped  a  rich  harvest.  So  great  a  crowd 
had  never  before  been  seen  at  that  famous  resort. 

On  the  appointed  day  the  Michigan  was  towed  out 
into  the  rapids  in  the  presence  of  a  vast  number  of  peo- 
ple who  lined  the  banks  or  visited  the  scene  upon  the 
numerous  excursion  boats  which  were  called  into  requi- 
sition. The  task  of  towing  the  vessel  into  the  current 
was  intrusted  to  a  Capt.  Rough,  with  a  crew  of  half  a 
dozen  oarsmen  selected  by  himself.  This  was  a  rather 
hazardous  enterprise.  Capt.  Pratt,  who  was  himself  one 
of  the  crew,  says  his  heart  almost  failed  him  when  they 
set  out,  though  he  had  gladly  volunteered  for  the  service. 

There  had  been  placed  on  the  schooner  several  ani- 
mals, in  accordance  with  the  programme,  which  had  been 
widely  advertised.  These  consisted  of  a  buffalo,  three 
bears,  two  foxes,  a  raccoon,  a  cat  and  some  geese.  At 
her  bowsprit  was  the  American  Ensign  and  at  her  stem 
the  English  Jack,  the  Canadian  hotel-keepers  having 
joined  in  the  enterprise.  There  were  also  some  eflagies 
displayed  on  board  to  give  the  appearance  of  a  crew, 
and  to  make  more  real  the  scene  of  a  vessel  with  all  on 
board  making  the  terrific  plunge.  Just  before  the  tow- 
line  was  cut  the  animals  on  board  were  turned  loose. 
Just  as  the  vessel  entered  the  rapids  two  of  the  bears 
plunged  overboard  and  actually  succeeded  in  swimming 
ashore.  The  third  one  climbed  the  mast  as  if  to  get  a 
better  view  of  the  scene. 

All  the  animals  seemed  greatly  frightened  and  ran 
from  one  end  of  the  deck  to  the  other,  much  the  same  as 
a  human  crew  might  have  done  under  similar  circum- 
stances, in  an  agony  of  despair.  The  vessel  swept  grand- 
ly down  the  rapids,  plunging  over  the  first  fall,  shipping 
a  little  water,  righting  herself  and  moving  on  in  fine 
style.  In  going  over  the  second  rapid  the  mast  went  by 
the  board  and  the  bear  with  it,  and  neither  was  again 
seen.  She  swung  around  and  presented  her  broadside  to 
the  foaming  waters.  She  had  evidently  struck  a  rock 
and  was  stationary.  Here  it  was  thought  her  career  was 
ended  and  the  affair  was  over.  But  she  stopped  only  a 
moment.  The  force  of  the  waters  swung  her  around  and 
she  moved  on,  stern  foremost.  On  the  third  rapid  she 
bilged,  but  carried  her  hull  apparently  whole  straight  to 
the  Horse-shoe  fall,  over  which  she  plunged  stern  fore- 
most to  the  foaming  abyss  below.  She  was  smashed 
into  a  thousand  fragments.  None  of  the  beasts  on  board 
were  ever  heard  of  more  ;  but  the  geese  turned  up  all 
right  and  were  soon  seen  on  the  bank  below,  quietly 
oiling  their  feathers,  as  if  there  had  not  been  much  of  a 
shower  after  all.  One  of  the  effigies  was  also  found  un- 
injured, throwing  his  arms  about  and  knocking  his  knees 
together  in  the  eddies,  but  all  the  others  had  dis- 
appeared. The  scene  was  a  most  thrilling  one.  The 
great  crowd  of  spectators  watched  the  progress  of  the 
vessel  with  breathless  interest,  and  gave  a  great  cheer  as 
Bhe  made  the  final  plunge. 

Reason  gains  all  men  by  compelling  none. 


The  Boy  Astronomer. 

The  first  transit  of  Venus  ever  seen  by  a  human  eye 
was  predicted  by  a  boy,  and  was  observed  by  that  boy 
just  as  he  reached  the  age  of  manhood.  His  name  was 
Jeremiah  Horrox.  We  have  a  somewhat  wonderful 
story  to  tell  you  about  this  boy. 

He  lived  in  an  obscure  village  near  Liverpool,  Eng- 
land. He  was  a  lover  of  books  of  science,  and  before 
he  reached  the  age  of  eighteen  he  had  mastered  the  as- 
tronomical knowledge  of  the  day.  He  studied  the  pro- 
blems of  Kepler,  and  he  made  the  discovery  that  the 
tables  of  Kepler  indicated  the  near  approach  of  the 
period  of  the  transit  of  Venus  across  the  sun's  centre. 
This  was  about  the  year  1635. 

Often  on  midsummer  nights,  the  boy  Horrox  might 
have  been  seen  in  the  fields  watching  the  planet  Venus. 
The  desire  sprung  up  within  him  to  see  the  transit  of  the 
beautiful  planet  across  the  disc  of  the  sun,  for  it  was  a 
sight  that  no  eye  had  ever  seen,  and  one  that  would  tend 
to  solve  some  of  the  greatest  problems  ever  presented  to 
the  mind  of  an  astronomer.  So  the  boy  began  to  ex« 
amine  the  astronomical  tables  of  Kepler,  and  by  their  aid 
endeavored  to  demonstrate  at  what  time  the  next  transit 
would  occur.  He  found  an  en*or  in  the  tables,  and  then 
he,  being  the  first  of  all  astronomers  to  make  the  precise 
calculation,  discovered  the  exact  date  when  the  next 
transit  would  take  place. 

He  told  his  secret  to  one  intimate  friend,  a  boy  who, 
like  himself,  loved  science.  The  young  astronomer  then 
awaited  the  event  which  he  had  predicted  for  a  number 
of  years,  never  seeing  the  loved  planet  in  the  shaded 
evening  sky  without  dreaming  of  the  day  when  the  tran- 
sit should  fulfil  the  beautiful  vision  he  carried  continu- 
ally in  his  mind. 

The  memorable  year  came  at  last — 1639.  The  predict- 
ed day  of  the  transit  came,  too,  at  the  end  of  the  year. 
It  was  Sunday.  It  found  Horrox,  the  boy  astronomer, 
now  just  past  twenty  years  of  age,  intently  watching  a 
sheet  of  paper  in  a  private  room,  on  which  lay  the  sun's 
reflected  image.  Over  this  reflection  of  the  sun's  disc 
on  the  paper,  he  expected,  moment  by  moment,  to  see 
the  planet  pass  like  a  moving  spot  or  a  shadow. 

Suddenly  the  church  bells  rang.  He  was  a  very  re- 
ligious youth,  and  was  accustomed  to  heed  the  church 
bells  as  a  call  from  Heaven.  The  paper  still  was  spot- 
less; no  shadow  broke  the  outer  edge  of  the  sun's  lumi- 
nous circle. 

Still  the  church  bells  rang.  Should  he  go  ?  A  cloud 
might  hide  the  sun  before  his  return,  and  the  expected 
disclosure  be  lost  for  a  century. 

But  Horrox  said  to  himself:  "I  must  not  neglect  the 
worship  of  the  Creator,  to  see  the  wonderful  things  the 
Creator  has  made." 

So  he  left  the  reflected  image  of  the  sun  on  the  paper, 
and  went  to  the  sanctuary. 

When  he  returned  from  the  service,  he  hurried  to  the 
room.  The  sun  was  still  shining,  and  there,  like  a  sha- 
dow on  the  bright  circle  on  the  paper,  was  the  only  im- 
age of  the  planet  Venus.  It  crept  slowly  along  the 
bright  centre,  like  the  finger  of  the  Invisible.  Then  the 
boy  astronomer  knew  that  the  great  problems  of  astron- 
omy were  correct,  and  the  thought  filled  his  pure  heart 
with  religious  joy. 

Horrox  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-two.  Nearly  oiie 
hundred  and  thirty  years  afterward,  Venus  was  again 
seen  crossing  the  sun.  The  whole  astronomical  world 
was  then  interested  in  the  event,  and  expeditions  of  ob- 
servation were  fitted  out  by  the  principal  European  Gov- 
ernments. It  was  observed  in  this  country  by  David 
Jlittenhouse,  who  fainted  when  he  saw  the  vision. 

How  quickly  one  generation  of  men  follows  another  to  the 
grave  !  We  come  like  ocean  waves  to  the  shore,  and  scarcely 
etrike  the  strand  before  we  roll  back  into  the  forgetfulness 
whence  we  came.  "There  is  a  skeleton  in  every  house." 
Aye,  in  some,  many.  We  can  stand  upon  the  corner  of  any 
fltreet,  and,  looking  back,  we  shall  see  that  all  the  houses  have 
changed  occupants  in  a  few  years.  The  old  men  have  gone, 
and  a  generation  that  knew  them  not  has  taken  their  places. 
Yea  1  while  we  look,  we  ourselves  grow  old,  and  pass  on  to  join 
the  great  caravan  whose  tents  are  almost  in  sight  on  tbe  other 
Bide,  In  youth,  the  other  world  eeeme  a  great  way  off,  b«t 
later  we  feel  and  realize  that  it  is  closer  at  hand ;  and  what  is 
better.  Nature  does  the  preparatory  work  for  pcMMifiglotoit, 
60  that  easily  we  grow  into  it—are  born  into  it. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


167 


"Worldly  Prospects  of  Young  Men. 

BY  G.  W. 

When  young  men  arrive  at  an  age  which  makes  it  al- 
most imperative  that  they  should  seek  some  mode  of 
supporting  themselves,  they  are  too  apt  to  rely  more  on 
the  influence  of  their  relatives  and  friends  than  upon 
their  own  exertions.  Many  become  discouraged  at  the 
slightest  rebuff,  and  foolishly  yield  to  despondency, 
when  their  next  effort  m^ht  meet  with  the  most  unex- 
pected success.  Some  bitterly  complain  of  the  chances 
of  prosperity  without  capital,  and  consider  it  would  be 
useless  to  make  any  exertions  without  that  assistance, 
while  others  are  so  choice  and  fastidious  in  their  taste, 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  please  them.  These  views 
of  life  and  business  are  all  wrong,  and  emanate  more 
from  an  idle  disposition  and  a  species  of  false  modesty 
than  from  any  actual  cause.  Instead  of  harboring  such 
thoughts  and  yielding  to  their  gloomy  influence,  how 
much  better  it  would  be  to  form  a  resolution  to  succeed, 
and  to  carry  it  out  by  your  actions  and  exertions.  En- 
ergy, perseverance  and  a  strict  attention  to  business  will 
accomplish  almost  anything ;  and  success  and  prosperity 
are  as  certaia  to  follow  as  they  are  practised. 

There  is  not  a  community  but  what  has  an  example  of 
this  kind ;  and  some  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  our  nation 
started  penniless  and  unknovm.  It  was  by  their  indus- 
try and  perseverance  alone  that  they  were  able  to  accu- 
mulate their  immense  wealth.  Girard's  life  is  replete 
with  reverses,  but  they  only  stimulated  him  to  renewed 
efforts,  and  at  his  death  he  was  worth  millions.  Astor 
had  nothing  but  his  exertions  and  indomitable  will  to 
depend  upon,  and  they  proved  his  best  capital.  A.  T. 
Stewart  is  another  example  of  what  perseverance  wiU 
do,  beginning  life  in  a  small  and  unostentatious  man- 
ner. In  a  word,  the  history  of  nearly  all  the  million- 
aires in  the  United  States  may  be  given  in,  "Industry, 
Economy  and  Perseverance." 

The  sons  of  rich  men  who  begin  life  with  the  capital 
which  so  many  poor  young  men  covet,  frequently  die 
beggars.  It  would  probably  not  be  going  too  far  to  say 
that  a  large  majority  of  such  monied  individuals  either 
faU  outright,  or  gradually  eat  up  the  capital  with  which 
they  commenced  their  career.  And  the  reason  is  plain. 
Brought  up  in  expensive  habits,  they  spend  entirely  too 
much.  Educated  with  high  notions  of  personal  import- 
ance, they  will  not,  as  they  phrase  it,  "  stoop  "  to  hard 
work.  Is  it  astonishing,  therefore,  that  they  are  passed 
in  the  race  of  life  by  others  of  less  capital  but  more  en- 
ergy, thrift  and  industry  ?  For  these  virtues,  after  all, 
are  worth  more  than  money.  In  fact,  they  make  money. 
Nay,  after  it  is  made  they  enable  the  possessor  to  keep 
it,  which  most  rich  men  declare  to  be  more  diflflcult  than 
the  making. 

He  who  enlarges  his  expenses  as  fast  as  his  earnings 
increase  must  always  be  poor,  no  matter  what  his  abiS- 
«cs.  And  content  may  be  had  on  comparatively  little. 
For  it  is  not  in  luxurious  living  that  men  find  real  hap- 
piness. 


Minuteness  of  Atoms. 

Goldbeaters,  by  hammering,  can  reduce  gold  to  leaves  bo 
fliin  that  282,000  must  be  laid  upon  each  other  to  produce  the 
thickness  of  an  inch ;  yet  those  leaves  are  perfect,  or  without 
holes,  so  that  one  of  them  laid  upon  any  surface,  as  in  gilding, 
gives  the  appearance  of  solid  gold.  They  are  so  thin,  that  if 
formed  into  a  hook,  1,500  would  only  occupy  the  space  of  a 
single  leaf  of  common  paper ;  and  an  octavo  volume  of  an  inch 
thick  would  have  as  many  pages  as  the  books  of  a  well  stocked 
ordinary  library  of  1,500  volumes,  -w.th  four  hundred  pages  in 
each.  Still  thinner  than  this  is  the  coating  of  gold  on  the  sil- 
ver wire  of  what  is  called  gold  lace  ;  and  we  are  not  sure  that 
such  coating  is  of  only  one  atom  thick.  Platinum  and  silver 
can  be  drawn  into  wire  much  finer  than  human  hair.  A  grain 
of  blue  vitriol  or  carmine  will  tinge  a  gallon  of  water,  so  that 
in  every  drop  the  eolor  may  be  perceived.  In  the  milt  of  a 
cod-fish,  or  in  the  water  in  which  certain  vegetables  have  been 
infused,  the  microscope  discovers  animalcules  of  which  many 
thousand  together  do  not  equal  in  bulk  a  grain  of  sand ;  and 
yet  nature,  with  a  singular  prodigality,  has  supplied  many  of 
these  with  organs  as  complex  as  those  of  a  whale  or  elephant, 
and  their  bodies  consist  of  the  same  substances,  or  ultimate 
atoms,  as  that  of  man  himself.  In  a  single  pound  of  such  mat- 


ter there  are  more  living  creatures  than  of  human  beings  on 

the  face  of  this  globe. 

What  a  scene  has  the  microscope  opened  to  the  admiration 
of  the  philosophic  inquirer  1  Water,  mercury,  sulphur  or.  In 
general,  any  substance  when  sufficiently  heated,  rises  as  vapor 
or  gas ;  that  is,  it  is  reduced  to  the  aeriform  state. 

Great  heat,  therefore,  would  cause  the  whole  of  the  material 
universe  to  disappear,  and  the  most  solid  bodies  to  become  ae 
invisible  and  impalpable  as  the  air  we  breathe. 

A  well  known  naturalist  tells  of  an  insect  seen  with  a  micros- 
cope of  which  seventy  million  would  only  equal  a  mite.  In- 
sects of  various  kind  may  be  seen  in  the  cavities  of  a  common 
grain  of  sand.  Mold  is  a  forest  of  beautiful  trees,  with 
branches,  leaves,  flowers  and  fruit.  

Parrots. 

BY  CAPT.  CAENES. 

Parrots  often  live  to  a  good  old  age  even  in  captivity. 
To  capture  them,  the  South  American  Indians  fire  ar- 
rows at  them,  the  points  of  which  are  blunted  with 
wrappings  of  cotton,  or  they  light  a  fire  of  strong  smell- 
ing weeds  under  their  perches,  when  they  become  par- 
tially suffocated  and  fall  to  the  ground. 

The  cockatoos  differ  from  other  parrots  by  having  a 
crest  of  elegant  feathers  on  their  head  which  they  can 
raise  or  depress  at  pleasure.  They  are  natives  of  the 
East  Indies  and  Australia,  and  inhabit  the  damp  and 
humid  forests,  from  which  they  occasionally  swoop  out 
in  flocks  of  hundreds  and  devastate  the  neighboring 
rice-fields. 

Australia  possesses  the  jet  black  species — the  rarest 
kind  of  parrot. 

The  splendid  feathering  of  the  South  American  macau 
makes  it  a  beautiful  ornament  for  parks  and  lordly  gar- 
dens, but  its  frightful  shrieking  and  cries  detract  from 
its  popularity.  When  in  proximity  to  this  species  the 
naturalist  can  have  no  eye  for  aught  beside.  The  scarlet 
body,  the  red,  yellow,  blue  and  green  of  his  wings, 
added  to  his  long  blue  and  scarlet  tail  makes  him  an 
object  of  the  rarest  beauty. 

Then  come  the  paroquets — small — and  with  very  long 
tails  and  collar-like  marks  about  the  neck.  Thev  inhabit 
the  Asiatic  continent,  and  others  are  natives  of  Austra- 
lia. Many  are  brilliantly  feathered  with  mottled  backs, 
and  legs  formed  for  running  on  the  ground. 

The  ringed  paroquet  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
first  bird  of  the  parrot  kind  known  to  the  ancient 
Greeks.  It  has  a  rapid  and  even  flight,  but  remains 
much  upon  the  ground  feeding  upon  the  seeds  of 
grasses.  Singularly  enough,  it  is  said  that  the  parrot 
family  can  eat  nux  vomica,  or  strychnine,  without  evil 
effects,  but  is  poisoned  when  it  has  tasted  parsley, 
thereby  illustrating  the  old  proverb— "  What  is  one*8 
meat  is  another's  poison." 

In  his  free  state  the  parrot  lives  upon  nuts  and  seeds ; 
when  captive  he  becomes  omnivorous  like  his  master, 
and  eats  bread  and  meat,  sugar  and  pastry,  and  alas,  for 
his  morals,  or  rather  for  the  morals  of  the  master  that 
teaches  him,  he  learns  to  become  very  fond  of  wine, 
which  throws  him  into  gay  and  festive  spirits.  In  their 
wild  state  they  start  off  at  break  of  day  with  wild 
screams,  in  pursuit  of  breakfast,  after  which  they  flit 
back  into  the  forest  shades  until  just  before  sunsetting, 
when  they  again  appear  in  quest  of  food.  They  are 
not  all  gifted  alike  in  regard  to  speech ;  some  species 
are  stupid,  others  apt  to  learn— running  parallel  to  chil- 
dren in  school. 

When  we  realize  the  wonderful  fact  of  a  bird's  under- 
standing, articulating  and  applying  aptly  the  language 
of  mankind,  how  can  we  do  less  than  marvel  at  the 
wonderful  creations  of  God,  and  strive  to  appreciate  and 
love  so  beneficient  a  Friend,  Guide  and  Creator. 


Hope. — Hope  is  the  most  priceless  boon  to  nature  given. 
Were  it  not  for  its  influence  many  would  be  plunged  in  the 
gulf  of  dark  despair  that  now  tread  the  ways  of  honor  and 
glory.  The  past  has  been  but  a  scene  of  bitter  disappoint- 
ments and  blighted  hopes  to  many  of  us.  The  present  is  the 
daily  witness  of  the  wreck  of  all  life's  sweetest  joys ;  but  stffi 
hope  shines  like  a  star,  and  sheds  its  brilliant  rays  over  the 
gloom,  and  pictures  fair  visions  to  be  disclosed  in  the  impene* 
trable  future.  Without  its  influence  life  would  be  a  desert 
[  deDrivetl  of  every  oasis. 


1 68 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD 


And  I  pluck  it,  for  no  longer  care  and  pain  with  us  can  dwell, 
Love  shall  crown  us  living,  dying,  with  its  fadeless  immortelle. 


IN  THE  TWILIGHT. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  twilight,  trees  are  waving  to  and  fro. 
In  a  rythmic  measure,  keeping  time  to  thoughts  of  long  ago. 

Thoughts  that  swell  like  far-off  music,  thrilling  me  with  subtle 
pain. 

Thoughts  that  Nature,  in  her  musings,  echoes  in  a  sad  refrain. 

0  beloved  1  do  thy  heart-strings  quiver  in  this  dreamy  eve  ? 
Can'st  thou  not,  in  all  thy  splendor,  for  the  past  one  moment 

grieve  ?  |  \ 

Hast  thou  grown  than  nature  colder,  and  forgotten  happ^j 
days,  )! 

When  with  faith  and  hope  we  could  not  see  the  parting  of  ou 
ways? 

Moist  with  dew,  this  vine  its  clustering  arch  of  tangled  f  ra 
grance  rears. 

Speaks  it  not  of  love  and  spring-time,  sweeter  through  a  mist, 
of  tears?  / 

And  these  mosses  gray  and  clinging,  fragments  caught  from 
twilight's  veil. 

Tell  they  not  of  sorrows  twining  all  our  life  with  memories 
pale? 

Nay,  forgive,  forgive  this  doubting,  in  thine  overbrimming 
eyes. 

Still  I  see  that  worldly  living  hath  not  made  thee  worldly 
wise. 

Was  it  right  or  was  it  wrong,  thus  to  let  our  different  spheres 
Hold  us  severed,  bound  in  misery  through  such  weary  length 
of  years  ? 

For  thy  soul  its  fullest  stature,  could  not  reach  except  through 
mine. 

And  my  life  so  poor,  defrauded,  could  not  know  its  power 
divine. 

Let  it  pass— 0,  my  beloved  1— see,  I  stifle  all  my  pride  ; 
'Tis  not  yet  too  late  to  finish  our  short  journey  side  by  side. 

There  the  dark-robed  clouds  are  sweeping  to  the  quiet  sunlit 
west, 

Shall  not  thus  our  past  all  vanish  in  Eternity  of  Rest? 

♦  *  *  *  * 

Here  where  we  in  childhood  wandered,  finding  flowers  for 
every  mood, 

1  behold  one  pure  and  saintly,  starlike  lighting  all  the  wood. 


Seed  Life. 

No  doubt  tourists  have  often  been  imposed  upon  by 
those  who  pretend  to  have  taken  living  grains  or  bulbs 
of  tulips  and  lilies  from  the  hands  of  mummies  that 
have  been  buried  over  a  thousand  years.  The  fraud  has 
been  so  many  times  detected  that  it  has  cast  a  grave  sus- 
picion on  these  cases  where  germination  has  been  said 
to  have  taken  place  after  this  long  burial.  Yet  it  is  be- 
yond a  question  that  some  seeds  can  retain  their  vitality 
for  a  great  length  of  time,  and  at  length,  when  the  fav- 
oring circumstance  takes  place,  may  develop  luxuri- 
antly. 

Three  acres  of  land  covered  with  furze  and  trees,  near 
the  seat  of  Lord  Palmerston,  were  once  cleared  up,  when 
directly  after  a  crop  of  lilies  of  the  valley  and  violets  ap- 
peared, completely  covering  the  ground. 

Persons  on  digging  a  well,  have  often  found  the  eari;h 
brought  up  from  a  great  depth  and  exposed  to  the  ac- 
tion of  light  and  warmth,  suddenly  become  covered  with 
vegetation,  wholly  unlike  any  that  surrounded  it.  I 
have  seen  large  tracts  of  land  from  which  the  pine 
trees  had  been  cut  down,  covered  afterwards  with  a 
thick  growth  of  scrub  oaks.  Where  the  little  acorns 
had  kept  themselves  all  those  years  when  the  pines  were 
rustling  over  them  nobody  can  exactly  decide.  If  it  was 
a  small  tract  it  might  be  easily  explained ;  but  how 
miles  of  such  land  can  be  so  immediately  seeded  is 
rather  curious. 

The  life  principle  in  seeds  can  bear  wonderful  tossings 
and  exposures  without  being  destroyed.  Plants  are  in- 
troduced into  foreign  soils  by  seeds  that  have  borne  an 
ocean  voyage  on  their  own  hook,  and  have  survived  the 
buffetings  of  the  waves.  They  embark  upon  the  rivers 
which  go  down  to  the  sea,  and  often  make  extended 
journeys.  The  fruit  of  the  cocoanut  and  nuts  of  the 
mahogany  tree  have  been  cast  ashore  on  the  coasts  of 
Norway,  still  "  alive,"  and  but  little  the  worse  for  their 
travels.  Truly  one  has  well  said :  "  Life  is  a  property  we 
do  not  understand.  Yet  life,  however  feeble  and  ob- 
scure, is  always  life,  and  between  it  and  death  there  is  a 
distance  as  great  as  existence  and  non-existence." 

Ethel. 

American  Caviare. 

Caviare  is  an  important  article  of  commerce,  prepared 
from  the  roes  of  large  fish,  chiefly  the  sturgeon,  and  is 
much  used  as  an  article  of  food  during  seasons  of  fast  in 
Russia,  Italy  and  other  countries.  Russia  has  hitherto 
monopolized  its  preparation  and  sale.  From  Astrakhan 
alone,  30,000  barrels  have  been  exported  in  a  single 
year.  Some  years  ago,  two  Germans,  living  near  Lake 
Erie,  observing  that  the  fishermen  of  the  lake  derived 
but  little  benefit  from  the  numerous  sturgeon  abounding 
in  its  waters,  made  a  contract  by  which  they  were 
enabled  to  get  an  abundant  supply  of  that  fish  on  very 
moderate  terms.  Then  they  put  up  a  shanty  on  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  and  went  into  the  business  of  prepar- 
ing caviare,  and  have  been  so  successful  that  their  pro- 
duct has  acquired  an  extensive  celebrity,  having  been 
pronounced  fully  equal  to  the  Russian  article.  They  not 
only  send  their  cavaire  to  all  parts  of  the  United  States, 
but  have  exported  large  quantities  to  Europe. 


The  Earthworm. 

The  worm  is  admirably  adapted  by  its  structure  foi 
tunnelling  in  the  earth,  and  its  wonderful  borings  are 
often  laid  bare  in  the  railway  and  other  cuttings.  ^  When 
we  consider  the  great  pressure  of  earth,  besides  its  soli- 
dity, through  which  these  worms  have  to  bore,  it  seems 
surprising  that  their  delicate  organisms  should  not  be 
crushed.  The  body  is  made  of  a  number  of  small  rings, 
which  are  armed  with  short,  stiff,  harsh  bristles,  by 
means  of  which  they  pull  themselves  along.  As  the 
seamouse  has  brilliant  hairs,  and  the  Cape  mole  has  lus- 
trous fur,  so  the  earthworm's  cuticle  has  a  shining  iride- 
scent lustre,  the  reason  of  which  I  am  not  in  a  position 
to  explain.  The  nervous  and  vascular  system  of  the 
earthworm  is  very  complicated.  The  oesophagus,  a  wide 
membraneous  canal,  is  continued  straight  down  for  half 
an  inch,  and  ends  in  a  delicate  bag  or  reservoir  ;  and  to 
this  succeeds  a  muscular  stomach  or  gizzard  disposed 

the  form  of  a  ring.— Feank  Buckland. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


169 


Arsenic. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

The  ores  of  this  metal  are  very  widely  diffused  in  com- 
bination with  other  metals.  It  is  a  brittle  solid,  of  a 
8teel-gray  color  and  metallic  lustre,  and  is  obtainaDle 
from  any  of  its  combinations  by  applying  heat. 

Arsenious  acid  is  the  most  important  combination  of 
this  metal,  and  is  commonly  known  as  white  arsenic.  It 
is  astonishing  that  so  deadly  a  poison  should  be  exten- 
fiively  employed. 

It  has  been  stated  on  good  authority,  that  the  inhabit- 
ants of  some  parts  of  Germany  are  accustomed  to  eat 
arsenious  acid,  and  that  it  has  the  effect  of  making  them 
plump  in  body  and  sustains  their  power  of  ascending 
steep  places,  so  far  as  the  act  of  breathing  is  concerned. 
It  has  also  been  remarked  that,  so  long  as  the  habit  is 
maintained,  no  Inconvenience  of  any  kind  is  produced  ; 
but  if  it  be  left  off,  then  all  the  symptoms  of  arsenical 
poisoning  present  themselves. 

We  need  feel  surprise,  not  that  cases  of  arsenical 
poisoning  so  rarely  occur,  but  rather  that  they  are  not 
more  frequent,  when  we  take  into  account  the  character 
of  the  individuals  with  whom  it  is  entrusted.  As  a  sheep 
wash,  and  to  steep  wheat,  it  is  often  employed  by  farm- 
ers ;  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  in  some  parts  of  this 
country  to  find  farmers,  on  market  days,  purchasing  the 
article  extensively  for  the  purposes  named. 

Arsenic  with  copper  forms  a  pigment  largely  used  for 
the  purpose  of  printing  a  rich  green  color  on  paper- 
hangings.  Ladies'  dresses  have  often  their  green  tint 
heightened  by  means  of  Scheele's  green,  which  contains 
arsenic  ;  and  persons  employed  in  making  such,  and  in 
the  manufacture  of  wax  and  other  artificial  flowers, 
suffer  seriously  from  the  inhalation  of  arsenical  powder 
thus  used  in  their  business.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  the  personal  charms  of  the  helle  must  be  enhanced 
by  her  poorer  sisters  paying  the  cost  with  the  sacrifice  of 
their  health,  and  possibly  their  lives. 

Another  extraordinary  use  of  arsenic  is  that  of  a  cos- 
metic. For  this  purpose  a  little  of  the  white  arsenic  is 
put  into  the  water  in  which  the  person  is  washing,  and 
the  face  and  hands  bathed  with  the  solution.  The  pores 
of  the  skin  gradually  absorb  the  poison,  and  the  conse- 
quences of  its  use  soon  become  apparent  by  symptoms 
of  arsenical  poisoning  which  supervene. 

By  the  following  method  arsenic  may  be  distinguished 
from  other  substances  :  Place  a  small  portion  on  some 
red-hot  coal,  when,  if  arsenic  be  present  it  will  volatize, 
affording  a  smell  exactly  like  that  of  onions. 


A  Royal  Dinner. 

Readers  of  Roman  history  have  been  astonished  at  the 
magnificent  wastefulness  of  the  suppers  given  by  those 
who  seemed  to  live  to  eat.  But  the  kings  of  ancient 
Mexico  rivalled,  if  they  did  not  excel,  in  their  prodigal 
feasts  the  repasts  of  the  richest  Roman  epicure.  Monte- 
zuma II.  was  encompassed  by  a  cloud  of  attendants. 
Six  hundred  noblemen  passed  the  day  at  his  court, 
speaking  always  in  low  tones,  and  careful  to  make  no 
noise  within  the  limits  of  the  palace.  The  king  dined 
alone,  and  the  number  of  dishes  served  for  him  at  each 
meal  are  estimated  at  from  three  hundred  to  three  thou- 
sand. Mr.  H.  H.  Bancroft,  in  a  work  upon  the  civilized 
native  races  of  the  Pacific  region,  gives  this  description 
of  the  royal  dinner  : 

The  king  took  his  meals  alone,  in  one  of  the  largest 
halls  of  the  palace.  If  the  weather  was  cold,  a  fire  was 
kindled  with  a  kind  of  charcoal  made  of  the  bark  of 
trees,  which  emitted  no  smoke,  but  threw  Dut  a  delicious 
perfume ;  and  that  his  Majesty  might  suffer  no  incon- 
venience from  the  heat,  a  screen  ornamented  with  gold, 
and  carved  with  figures  of  the  idols,  was  placed  between 
his  person  and  the  fire. 

He  was  seated  upon  a  low,  leather  cushion,  upon 
which  were  thrown  various  soft  skins,  and  his  table  was 
of  similar  description,  except  that  it  was  larger  and 
rather  higher,  and  was  covered  with  white  cotton  cloths 
of  the  finest  ware  of  Cholula,  and  many  of  the  goblets 
were  of  gold  and  silver,  or  fashioned  of  beautiful  shells. 

He  is  said  to  have  possessed  a  complete  service  of 
solid  gold,  but  as  it  was  considered  below  a  king's  digni- 

to.'ise  any  thmg  at  the  table  twice,  Montezuma,  with 
aU  h?.8  extravagance,  was  obliged  to  keep  this  costly  din- 
ner-set in  the  temple.   The  bill-of-fare  comprised  everv- 


Ihlng  edible  of  flsh,  flesh  and  fowl  that  could  be  pro- 
cured in  the  empire,  or  imported  from  beyond  it. 

Relays  of  couriers  were  employed  in  bringing  deliear 
cies  from  afar,  and  as  the  royal  table  was  every  day  sup- 

{)lied  with  fresh  fish  brought  without  the  modem  aids  of 
ce  and  air-tight  packing,  from  a  sea-coast  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  distant,  by  a  road  passing  chiefly  throu^ 
a  tropical  climate,  we  may  form  some  idea  of  the  speed 
with  which  these  couriers  traveled. 

There  were  cunning  cooks  among  the  Aztecs,  and  at 
these  extravagant  meals  there  was  almost  as  much 
variety  in  the  cooking  as  in  the  matter  cooked-  Saha^n 
gives  a  most  formidable  list  of  roast,  stewed  and  boiled 
dishes  of  meat,  fish  and  poultry,  seasoned  with  many 
kinds  of  herbs,  of  which,  however,  the  most  frequently 
mentioned  is  chile.  He  further  describes  many  kinds  of 
Dread,  all  bearing  a  more  or  less  close  resemblance  to  the 
modem  Mexican  tortilla,  and  all  most  tremendously 
named.  Imagine,  for  instance,  when  one  wished  for  a 
piece  of  bread,  having  to  ask  one's  neighbor  to  be  goo(? 
enough  to  pass  the  totauquitlaxcallillaqnelpacholli ;  thcL 
there  were  tamales  of  all  kinds,  and  many  other  curious 
messes,  such  as  frog-spawn  and  stewed  ants  cooked  with 
chile ;  but  more  loathsome  to  us  than  even  such  as 
these,  and  strangest  of  all  the  strange  compounds  that 
went  to  make  up  the  royal  carte,  was  one  highly-savored, 
and  probably  savory-smelling  dish,  so  exquisitely  pre- 
pared that  its  principal  ingredient  was  completely  dis- 
guised, yet  that  ingredient  was  nothing  else  than  human 
flesh. 

The  Shah's  Strong  Box. 

The  Shah  of  Persia's  strong-box  consists  of  a  small 
room,  twenty  feet  by  fourteen,  reached  by  a  steep  stair, 
and  entered  through  a  very  small  door.  Here,  spread 
upon  carpets,  lie  jewels  valued  at  $35,090,000.  Chief 
among  them  is  the  Kaianian  crown,  shaped  like  a  flower 
pot,  and  topped  by  an  uncut  raby  as  large  as  a  hen's 
egg,  and  supposed  to  have  come  from  Siam.  Near  the 
crown  are  two  lamb-skin  caps,  adorned  with  splendid 
aigrettes  of  diamonds,  and  before  them  lie  trays  of  pearl, 
mby,  and  emerald  necklaces,  and  hundreds  of  rings. 
Mr,  Eastwiek,  who  examined  the  whole,  states  that  in 
addition  to  these  there  are  gauntlets  and  belts  covered 
with  pearls  and  diamonds,  and  conspicuous  among  them 
the  Kaianian  belt,  about  a  foot  deep,  weighing  perhaps 
eighteen  poimds,  and  one  complete  mass  of  pearls,  dia- 
monds, emeralds,  and  rubies.  One  or  two  scabbards  of 
swords  are  said  to  be  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  each. 
There  is  also  the  finest  turquoise  in  the  world,  three  or 
four  inches  long,  and  without  a  flaw.  There  is  also  an 
emerald  as  big  as  a  walnut,  covered  with  the  names  of 
kings  who  have  possessed  it.  The  ancient  Persians 
prized  the  emerald  above  all  gems,  and  particularly 
those  from  Egypt.  Their  goblets  decorated  with  these 
stones  were  copied  by  the  Romans.  The  Shah  also 
possesses  a  pearl  worth  $300,000.  But  the  most  attract- 
ive of  all  the  Persian  stones  is  the  turquoise,  which  is 
inlaid  by  the  native  lapidaries  with  designs  and  inscrip- 
tions with  great  effect  and  expertness. 


Spanish  Customs. 

The  greater  number  of  the  houses  in  Spain  have  no 
carpets,  but  just  the  clean  boarded  floors  ;  neither  have 
they  fire-places,  instead  of  which  they  are  warmed  by  a 
"  brasero  "  filled  with  smouldering  ashes.  When  the 
stranger  visits  a  Spanish  house  he  must  make  no  at- 
tempt  to  shut  the  doors,  for  to  be  alone  with  a  lady  with 
closed  doors,  would  be  considered  indecorous  ;  and  it 
must  also  be  remembered  that  Spanish  ladies  seldom 
either  shake  hands  or  take  a  gentleman's  arm  ;  but  when 
the  gentleman  rises  he  must  say,  "_Se.so  los  j)\es  de  listed, 
senora^^  ("Lady,  I  kiss  your  feet"),  to  which  the  lady 
responds,  "Beso  a'  listed  la  mano,  caballerd^^  ("Sir,  I  kiss 
your  hand.")  The  Spanish  ladies  are  considered  very 
beautiful,  generally  of  a  dark  complexion,  with  charm- 
ing black  eyes  ;  those  of  Andalusia  are  considered  the 
greatest  beauties.  They  seldom  wear  a  bonnet,  having 
a  mantilla  or  lace  shawl,  which  they  have  thrown  over 
their  heads.  Their  love-making  is  of  the  olden  times. 
I  remember,  when  passing  through  some  of  the  towns, 
of  seeing  and  hearing  many  cavaliers,  with  a  capa  or 
cloak  thrown  over  their  heads,  like  the  troubadors  of 
old,  standing  xmder  their  novia,  or  sweet-hearts's  wii> 
dow,  touching  the  guitar. 


I70  THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Slow  But  Sure. 

It  is  stated  by  some  authority  that  if  the  city  of  New  York 
should  remain  uninhabited  for  ten  years  its  streets  would  be 
lined  with  houses  in  ruins.  The  parts  most  beautifully  and 
substantially  built  would  not  escape  the  general  wreck.  The 
agent  that  would  bring  about  this  work  of  destruction  is  one 
80  insignificant  that  It  would  scarcely  enter  into  the  thought 
of  the  ordinary  observer.  It  is  only  the  roots  and  suckers  of 
the  growing  trees,  planted  along  the  side  walks,  and  which,  if 
left  unmolested,  would  unsettle  the  firmest  foundations. 

The  power  of  growing  vegetable  life  is  often  most  wonder- 
ful. In  an  old  German  graveyard  is  the  tomb  of  some  member 
of  a  noble  family,  which  was  sealed  up  over  a  hundred  years 
ago.  Two  massive  sandstones  were  laid  upon  it,  and  across 
these  another  stone  double  their  size.  The  stones  were  fast- 
ened together  by  massive  iron  clamps,  and  an  inscription 
stated  that,  "  This  grave,  bought  for  all  time,  must  never  be 
opened."  But  how  vain  are  all  human  calculations  I  To  man's 
view  this  grave  seemed  double-barred,  and  yet  a  most  insig- 
nificant agent  invaded  it.  The  winds  of  heaven  wafted  to  the 
spot  a  seed  of  birch.  It  fell  in  the  interstices  of  the  stones, 
and  finding  a  favoring  soil  it  germinated  and  flourished.  No 
hand  disturbed  it  on  the  neglected  grave,  so  year  by  year  it  in- 
creased in  size  and  strength.  The  inscription  on  the  massive 
iiandstone  was  nothing  to  the  aspiring  young  birch  tree.  It 
raised  slowly  and  steadily,  a  hair's  breadth  at  a  time,  the  moss- 
[jrown  stones  at  its  foot,  turning  them  partially  on  their 
edges,  entirely  unloosing  the  iron  clamps  which  fastened 
ttiem.  In  aU  the  calculations  of  the  tomb-builders  it  had 
never  occurred  to  them  that  such  a  tiny  invader  would  ever 
disturb  the  sanctities  of  the  grave. 

Almost  any  one  familiar  with  rough  mountain  scenery  has 
met  with  large  masses  of  rock,  sometimes  of  many  tons 
weight,  which  have  been  loosened  by  the  roots  of  some  tree 
imd  titoibled  down  the  cliff.  A  little  rootlet  was  first  sent 
down  into  some  tiny  crevice  of  the  rock,  and  had  pushed  its 
advantage  little  by  little,  until  the  giant  rock  had  been  cleft 
asunder  as  effectually  as  if  by  a  blast  of  powder. 

Let  us  never  despise  the  power  of  the  littles,  when  we  see 
What  giant  work  they  maybe  able  to  perform. 

The  Bells  of  Limerick. 

BY  EMTLY  V.  BATTET. 

The  old  bells  that  hung  in  the  tower  of  the  Limerick 
Cathedral  were  made  by  a  young  Italian  after  many  years 
of  patient  toil.  He  was  proud  of  his  work,  and  when 
they  were  purchased  by  the  prior  of  a  neighboring  con- 
vent near  the  Lake  of  Como,  the  artist  invested  the  pro- 
tats  of  the  sale  in  a  pretty  viUa  on  the  margin  of  the 
liake,  where  he  could  hear  their  Angelus  music  wafted 
from  the  convent  cliff  across  the  waters  at  morning, 
jQoon,  and  night.  Here  he  intended  to  pass  his  life  ;  but 
this  happiness  was  denied  him.  In  one  of  those  feudal 
broils  which,  whether  civil  or  foreign,  are  the  undying 
worm  in  a  foreign  land,  he  suffered  the  loss  of  his  all ; 
and  when  the  storm  passed,  he  found  himself  without 
nome,  family,  friends,  and  fortune.  The  convent  had 
been  razed  to  the  ground,  and  the  chefs-dPceuvre  of  his 
handiwork,  the  tuneful  chime  whose  music  had  charmed 
his  listening  ear  for  so  many  happy  days  of  his  past  life, 
bad  been  carried  away  to  a  foreign  land.  He  became  a 
wanderer.  His  hair  grew  white  and  his  heart  withered 
before  he  again  found  a  resting-place.  In  all  these  years 
of  bitter  desolation,  the  memory  of  the  music  of  his 
bells  never  left  him  :  he  heard  it  in  the  forest  and  in  the 
crowded  city,  on  the  sea  and  by  the  banks  of  the  quiet 
Stream  in  the  basin  of  the  hills ;  he  heard  it  by  day ;  and 
v/hen  night  came,  and  troubled  sleep,  it  whispered  to 
him  soothingly  of  peace  and  happiness.  One  day  be  met 
a  mariner  from  over  the  sea,  who  told  him  a  story  of  a 
wondrous  chime  of  bells  he  had  heard  in  Ireland.  An 
intuition  told  the  artist  that  they  were  his  bells.  He 
journeyed  and  voyaged  thither,  sick  and  weary,  and 
sailed  up  the  Shannon.  The  ship  came  to  anchor  in  the 
port  near  Limerick,  and  he  took  passage  in  a  small  boat 
for  the  purpose  of  reaching  the  city.  Before  him,  the 
tall  steeple  of  St.  Mary's  lifted  its  turreted  head  above 
the  mist  and  smoke  of  the  old  town.  He  leaned  back 
wearily,  yet  with  a  happy  light  beaming  from  his  eyes. 
The  angels  were  whispering  to  him  that  his  bells  were 
there.    He  prayed  :  "  Oh.  let  them  sound  me  a  loving 


welcome  1  Just  one  note  of  greeting,  0  bells !  and  my 
pilgrimage  is  done  I" 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening.  The  air  was  like  that  of 
his  own  Italy  in  the  sweetest  time  of  the  year,  the  death 
of  the  spring.  The  bosom  of  the  river  was  like  a  broad 
mirror,  reflecting  the  patterns  of  bright  gold  that  flecked 
the  blue  sky,  the  towers,  and  the  streets  of  the  old  town 
in  its  clear  depths.  The  lights  of  the  city  danced  upon 
the  wavelets  that  rippled  from  the  boat  as  she  glided 
along.  Suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken.  From  St. 
Mary's  tower  there  came  a  shower  of  silver  sound,  filling 
the  air  with  music.  The  boatmen  rested  on  their  oars 
to  listen.  The  old  Italian  crossed  his  arms  and  fixed  his 
streaming  eyes  upon  the  tower.  The  sound  of  his  bells 
bore  to  his  heart  all  the  sweet  memories  of  his  buried 
past :  home,  friends,  kindred,  all.  At  last  he  was  happy 
—too  happy  to  speak,  too  happy  to  breathe.  When  the 
rowers  sought  to  arouse  him,  his  face  was  upturned  to 
the  tower,  but  his  eyes  were  closed.  The  poor  stranger 
had  breathed  his  last.  His  own  chefs-d'ornvre  had  rung 
his  "passing-beU." 


How  to  Preserve  Sea-Weeds. 

The  best  season  for  making  collections  of  sea-weeds, 
in  their  many  varieties,  is  in  September  and  October,  aa 
most  of  them  are  then  in  full  bloom,  and  the  autumnal 
storms  throw  them  on  shore  in  great  perfection,  and 
from  deeper  waters,  where  they  grow  in  greater  luxuri- 
ance. On  this  account  they  are  large  and  more  beauti- 
ful, while  some  of  them  are  exceedingly  delicate  and 
minute  in  structure. 

Always  carry  a  basket  in  which  to  collect  them,  and  at 
evening  wash  all  that  you  have  obtained  in  a  shallow 
pan  of  cold  fresh  water,  taking  care  to  remove  all  foreign 
matter  attached  to  their  filaments.  A  hair-pin  or  large 
darning  needle  is  a  good  thing  to  use  for  this  purpose. 
If  you  can  not  possibly  wash  and  cleanse  at  once  all  the 
specimens  you  have  procured,  shake  them  out  on  a  large 
towel,  and  put  them  in  a  shady,  airy  spot,  folding  the 
towel  over  them. 

Take  some  sheets  of  foolscap  paper  and  slightly  be- 
smear them  with  pomade  or  lard,  then  place  one  of  them 
at  the  bottom  of  your  wash-bowl,  and  pour  fresh  water 
over  it  until  the  bowl  is  nearly  full.  It  must  be  large 
enough  to  lay  the  paper  down  flatly,  and  not  let  it  be- 
come bent  or  wrinkled.  Now  take  a  washed  specimen 
jfrom  the  other  dish,  and  float  it  carefully  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  bowl,  separating  each  filament  from  its  neigh- 
bor with  a  camel's-hair  brush  until  it  lies  spread  out  as 
it  did  in  the  sea.  The  longest  branches  must  have  plenty 
of  paper  to  allow  them  to  lie  straight,  and  knobby  ex- 
crescences or  overlapping  branches  should  be  placed  up- 
permost. 

Then  place  a  small  weight  upon  the  centre  of  the 
floating  weed,  and  pick  out  each  frond  by  itself.  This 
part  of  the  work  requires  a  patient  hand,  and  can  not  be 
performed  in  haste,  as  the  plants  are  often  very  brittle, 
and  break  easily. 

If  the  fronds  are  very  abundant,  some  of  the  inferior 
ones  can  be  clipped  off  with  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  as 
each  portion  is  disentangled  small  weights  must  be 
placed  to  keep  them  in  position.  Small  pebbles  are  ex- 
cellent for  this  purpose.  Each  frond  being  arranged  to 
suit  you,  draw  off  all  the  water  in  the  bowl  with  a  sponge, 
then  slide  out  the  oiled  paper  with  care,  and  lay  it  upon 
some  blotting-paper  to  remove  the  moisture  ;  take  away 
all  the  little  weights,  and  cover  the  sea-weed  with  an- 
other sheet  of  oiled  foolscap,  first  re-adjusting  any 
branches  which  have  slipped  out  of  place.  Put  the 
whole  under  a  heavy  weight — a  trunk  or  portmanteau 
will  answer  the  purpose.  But  if  you  are  going  to  collect 
a  large  number  of  specimens,  it  is  better  to  procure  two 
pieces  of  hard  wood  about  ten  by  fifteen  inches,  and 
about  three-quarters  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  with  the 
edges  beveled,  and  a  leather  strap  attached  to  one  of 
them,, to  go  round  both  and  fasten  them  tightly  when 
the  plants  are  put  in  to  be  pressed.  When  they  are  thor- 
oughly dry  the  plants  can  be  removed  from  the  greased 
paper,  and  placed  in  a  book  made  with  guards  between 
the  leaves,  attaching  slightly  the  sea-weeds  either  with 
mucilage  or  strips  of  paper  gummed  on  over  the  princi- 
pal branches. 

Against  each  you  should  write  its  name,  both  popular 
and  botanical,  and  the  coast  from  whence  it  was  collect* 
ed,  also  the  date. 


THE  GROWING  WORLu. 


THE 

HISTORY  OF  KEROSENE  OIL. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

Everything  has  its  history.  The  floors  and  walls  of  our 
dwellings,  the  windows,  the  chairs,  the  table,  and  the  quamt 
old  time-piece  on  the  mantel— could  they  but  speak  and  tell  of 
the  passing  events  they  have  witnessed  ;  of  their  first  spring- 
ing into  existence  in  the  great  field  of  nature,  and  the  parts 
they  performed  therein  ;  of  the  circumstances  that  led  men  to 
invent  the  process  of  arranging  their  component  parts  in  pro- 
per shape,  etc.,  would  unfold  a  world  of  history,  amusing  and 
Instructive.  Everything  we  see  about  us  once  had  a  natural 
fcxistence  in  some  form  or  other,  before  the  hand  of  man  ever 
touched  it  to  give  it  its  present  shape.  Man  can  change,  and 
Jnix  and  blend,  and  fashion,  and  cut,  and  shape,  and  put  to- 
Kether  but  the  power  of  creation  and  destruction  is  Nature's 
Swn  Hence,  the  study  of  Natural  History  is  a  vast,  grand,  and 
Sublime  study  :  comprehending  as  it  does,  a  portion  of  the  his- 
tory of  every  object  the  eye  of  man  can  behold. 

The  lamp  that  sets  upon  our^desk  or  table  has  its  history  in 
Connection  with  the  manufacture  of  glass  ;  the  ingredients  of 
(vhich  were  drawn  from  Nature.  The  kerosene  oil  which  bums 
within  it,  giving  forth  such  a  steady  and  brilliant  light,  also 
has  a  history  of  its  own.   Prepared  mineral  oil  for  illuminating 

giirposes  has  been  known  but  a  few  years.  In  its  crude  state, 
owever,  it  has  been  known  to  exist  from  a  very  remote  date. 
The  ancient  Egyptians  used  bitumen  and  petroleum  for  reli- 
gious purposes,  and  in  the  process  of  embalmment.  A  bitu- 
men spring  in  the  Ionian  Islands  is  described  by  Herodotus, 
and,  doubtless,  this  is  the  place  from  which  the  Egyptians  ob- 
tained their  supply.  The  pitch  and  asphaltic  mortar  used  in 
the  construction  of  the  walls  of  Babylon  and  the  cities  of  Me- 
sopotamia was  a  preparation  of  petroleum  ;  much  of  which 
rt^as  taken  from  the  oil  springs  of  Is.  The  more  modern 
"  Greek  fire  "  was  probably  a  compound  of  the  same  material. 

The  high,  rocky  peninsula  of  Baku,  on  the  western  shore  of 
the  Caspian  Sea,  is  one  of  the  most  natural  rock-oil  regions  in 
the  world.  It  is  a  sterile,  barren  region,  without  a  stream  or 
drop  of  pure  water  ;  without  a  tree,  or  scarcely  a  stray  sign  of 
verdure  ;  a  wild  waste  of  desolation.  The  soil  is,  as  it  were, 
completely  soaked  with  naphtha  ;  and  at  one  place  the  sides  of 
a  mountain  stream  with  thick  black  oil.  The  sickening  coal 
gas  rises  and  fills  the  atmosphere  on  every  side.  Numerous 
little  volcanoes  are  in  a  constant  state  of  action,  discharging 
volumes  of  mud  and  oil.  Occasionally,  on  festive  days,  the 
people  of  the  vicinity  assemble  near  a  little  bay  of  the  Caspian, 
and  pour  many  tuns  of  the  crude  oil  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water.  In  the  darkness  of  the  evening  it  is  set  on  fire.  The 
vivid  flames  spread  almost  instantly,  and  leap  far  upward,  un- 
til they  seem  to  reach  the  very  clouds  ;  while  the  whole  region 
is  illuminated  to  a  degree  approaching  that  of  noonsday.  But 
by  far  the  greatest  exhibitions  of  this  kind  are  those  produced 
by  the  hand  of  Nature  herself.  In  1817,  a  huge  column  of  flame, 
1,800  feet  in  diameter,  and  over  a  mile  in  circuit,  burst  forth 
from  the  ground  in  this  region,  and  at  once  the  earth,  the  sky, 
and  heavens  appeared  wrapped  in  one  grand  blaze  of  light. 
Great  jets  of  boiling  brine  were  hurled  seething  and  hissing 
aloft,  while  the  ejected  rocks  came  tumbling  down  upon  the 
surface  with  the  noise  of  thunder,  and  the  very  earth  shook  be- 
neath the  shock  of  the  mighty  convulsion.  For  eighteen  days 
the  terrible  scene  continued  ;  and  in  that  time  a  mound  was 
raised  no  less  than  nine  hundred  feet  in  height. 

In  ancient  times  this  spot  was  known  and  worshipped  as  the 
land  of  sacred  fire  ;  and  in  the  time  of  Zoroaster  its  naphtha 
was  carried  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  Asia,  to  make  the  sacred 
Parseean  fire.  At  times,  on  a  pale  moonlight  night,  after  a 
warm  autumnal  shower  has  drenched  the  soil,  ten  thousand 
flickering,  ghostly  lights  appear  in  every  direction,  wherever 
there  is  a  fissure  in  the  white  sulphurous  soiL  If  the  night  be 
dark,  immense  volumes  of  vapory  flame  flash  and  roll  along  the 
mountains  ;  often  like  the  Aurora  Borealis  of  the  northern  re- 
gions; and  a  lake  in  the  vicinity  is  covered  with  a  cloud  of 
pale  dancing  light,  which,  like  the  rest,  scarcely  ever  burns 
with  a  sensible  heat.  The  traveller,  Kottiers,  who  visited  the 
spot  many  years  ago,  supposed  the  phenomenon  to  be  electric. 
It  is  probable  that  it  is  caused  by  the  silent  action  of  mineral 
substances  beneath  the  soil,  and  that  the  naphtha  and  petro- 
leum which  is  so  abundant  may  be  numbered  among  the  chief 
causes.  No  wonder  the  ignorant  natives,  in  the  fullness  of 
tbeir  superstition,  two  thousand  years  ago,  gazed  upon  the 
scene  with  fear  and  trembling,  and  worshipped  the  fire  as 
koly  and  sacred. 

The  Himalayan  valley  contains  many  oil  wells  ;  and  the  oil 
works  of  India  forms  no  small  article  of  value.  The  first  suc- 
cessful oil  wells  of  Italy  were  sunk  at  Parma  and  Medina  in 
1640.  Since  that  time  wells  have  been  sunk  in  France,  Eng- 
land, Neufchatel,  Bavaria,  etc.  In  the  southwestern  part  of 
the  island  of  Trinidad  there  is  a  lake  of  pitch,  or  petroleum, 
half  a  mile  in  length  by  an  eighth  of  a  mile  in  breadth.  The 
sm'face  is  generally  hard  enough  to  be  readily  traveled  over; 
though  there  are  places  where  the  liquid  pitch  oozes  forth,  and 
where  a  person  would  mire  as  readily  as  they  would  in  a  swamp. 
There  are  several  deep  fissures  in  different  places,  filled  with 
as  clear  water  as  ever  bubbled  forth  from  a  mountain  soring. 
The  whole  is  surrounded  by  beautiful  groves  of  trees,  graceful 
bamboos,  trailing  vines,  and  a  profusion  of  sweet  scented 
flc>wers. 


171 


The  known  history  of  American  petroleum  commences  about 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  ago  ;  when  the  Seneca  In- 
dians informed  the  whites  of  its  existence  on  Oil  creek,  a  tribu- 
tary to  the  Alleghany  river,  in  Venango  county,  Pennsylvania. 
It  was  early  known  as  "  Seneca  oil,"  and  "  Genesee  oil and 
being  used  as  a  medicine,  it  often  sold  for  a  high  price  among 
both  the  whites  and  Indians.  Observing  that  the  water  in 
many  places  tasted  brackish,  people  began  to  sink  wells  for 
salt.  Brine  and  oil  were  the  result.  In  1819  a  well  was  sunk  in 
the  valley  of  the  Little  Muskingum,  in  Ohio,  which  spouted 
forth  vast  quantities  of  petroleum,  with  terrrific  explosions  of 

f as.  For  aays  together  the  flow  of  brine  was  interrupted  by  it. 
ts  existence  in  connection  with  the  brine  was  declared  a  dam- 
age to  the  business.  Its  uses  were  yet  unknown,  and  the  world 
of  wealth  that  lay  beneath  the  soil  was  little  dreamed  of. 

Illuminating  oil  was  first  made  from  coal  by  Dr.  Gesner,  of 
Nova  Scotia,  in  1846.  The  Long  Island  Kerosene  Oil  Company 
commenced  the  first  manufacture  of  carbo-hydrogen  oil  in 
1854.  In  1856  the  Breckenridge  coal  oil  works  were  commenced 
at  Cloverport,  Kentucky.  In  four  years  there  were  over  fifty 
factories  in  operation,  requiring  a  capital  of  about  four  millions 
of  dollars  ;  while  the  manufacture  of  lamps  for  the  use  ol 
the  new  discovery  formed  the  principal  business  for  no  less 
than  sixteen  companies  and  2,250  hands  ;  and  the  manufacture 
of  lamp-wicks  alone  required  the  working  of  125  looms. 

Meanwhile,  the  oil  region  of  Pennsylvania  began  to  attract 
attention.  In  1854  Messrs.  Eveleth  and  Bissell,  of  New  York, 
formed  a  company  and  secured  the  upper  Oil  Creek  Spring.  In 
1858,  Bowditch  and  Drake,  of  New  Haven,  commenced  active 
operations  at  Titusvilla.  They  had  reached  a  depth  of  seventy- 
one  feet,  when  one  day  in  August,  of  the  above-named  year, 
the  drill  suddenly  sank  into  a  cavity.  Upon  being  withdrawn 
the  oil  rose  to  within  five  inches  of  the  surface.  ISie  pump 
was  applied  and  a  thousand  gallons  were  drawn  off  in  a  single 
day.  The  news  spread  like  wildfire.  The  wildest  excitement 
prevailed.  Hordes  of  greedy  speculators  rushed  to  the  spot, 
and  Oil  Creek  became  the  golden  El  Dorado  of  ambition  and 
avarice.  Land  which  but  yesterday  was  hardly  worth  the 
taxes,  sold  to-day  for  a  thousand  dollars  an  acre  ;  and  ere  lone 
there  was  scarcely  a  lot  for  ten  miles  along  the  valley  that  had 
not  been  bought  or  leased  at  fabulous  prices. 

Companies  were  organized  far  and  near,  and  as  they  came 
flocking  into  the  land  flowing  with  untold  wealth,  hamlets  and 
villages  sprung  up,  as  it  were,  around  every  farm  houso.  An 
army  of  coopers  were  required  to  make  the  barrels,  and  a  host 
of  mechanics  to  keep  the  engines  and  running  machinery  in  re- 
pair. The  tall,  dark  forest  disappeared,  and  the  quiet  valley 
became  a  Babel  of  ambitious  humanity.  The  whistle  and  puff- 
ing of  steam  engines,  the  clinking  of  drills,  and  clanking  of 
laboring  pumps,  the  setting  of  iron  hoops,  the  shouting  of 
teamsters,  and  handling  of  barrels,  all  commingling,  caused  a 
confused  din  that  filled  the  air  for  miles  ;  sounding  in  the  dis- 
tance like  the  hum  of  some  vast  bee  hive.  Tall  columns  of  thick 
dark  smoke  stiot  up  from  the  long  black  smoke-stacks  of  the 
drilling  engines  ;  often  causing  a  dingy  haze  of  smoke  to  set- 
tle all  along  the  valley.  Stupendous  refineries  and  distilleries 
arose  as  if  by  magic,  and  it  became  the  business  of  a  railway  to 
convey  the  kerosene  from  the  place.  A  new  era  had  been 
reached  in  the  history  of  oil,  and  the  business  of  the  whale 
fishery  had  received  its  death  blow. 

In  1859  the  Erie  railway  carried  325  barrels  to  New  York.  In 
1862  it  carried  over  five  thousand  car  loads,  or  more  than  eleven 
millions  of  gallons.  In  that  year,  1,600,000  gallons  were  sent 
to  Liverpool,  1,100,000  to  London,  900,000  to  Antwerp,  700,000 
to  Havre,  600,000  to  Bremen,  240,000  to  Hamburg,  200,000  to 
Marseilles,  170,000  to  Cork,  130,000  to  Queenstown,  260,000  to 
Cuba,  and  300,000  to  Australia.  Such  was  the  growth  of  the  oil 
business  in  three  years. 

The  oil  regions  are  often  the  scenes  of  fearful  disasters  and 
conflagrations.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1861,  a  noted  well 
on  Oil  Creek  took  fire  from  a  cigar.  An  explosion  immediately 
ensued,  and  of  the  forty  persons  who  were  standing  near  at  the 
time,  fifteen  were  instantly  killed,  and  thirteen  more  burned 
and  wounded.  A  fountain  of  fire,  from  thirty  to  fifty  feet  in 
height,  continued  to  burn  for  some  time. 

A  more  terrible  conflagration  took  place  when  the  Little  & 
Merrick  well  burned,  in  the  afternoon  of  April  17th,  1861. 
This  well  had  formerly  been  only  150  feet  deep,  and  the  sup- 
ply not  being  satisfactory,  it  was  deepened  to  the  depth  of  330 
feet.  All  at  once  the  oil  and  gas  rushed  forth  in  a  stream  about 
four  inches  in  diameter,  with  such  force  as  to  send  its  spray 
far  above  the  tops  of  the  derricks.  The  surrounding  atmos- 
phere became  speedily  filled  with  the  sickening  odor  of  gas  and 
oil.  It  was  too  much  for  the  laborers  to  bear,  and  they  forsook 
their  work  and  fledo  A  great  crowd  collected  around  the  spot 
to  witness  the  wonderful  oil  fountain.  Suddenly  there  were 
two  vivid  flashes,  almost  blended  in  one,  and  two  mighty  ex- 
plosions that  almost  caused  the  solid  hills  to  tremble  for  miles 
around.  In  an  instant  the  great  jet  was  a  blaze  of  flame. 
Enormous  sheets  of  liquid  fire  were  hurled  and  spattered  in 
every  direction.  Six  persons  were  burned  to  a  coal  where  they 
stood.  Many  more  were  so  badly  burned  that  they  died  of 
their  wounds  in  a  few  days  ;  and  others  at  this  late  day  are  re- 
minded of  that  awful  conflagration  by  the  horrid  scars  they 
bear.   A  single  spark,  perhaps  from  some  of  the  laboring  eu- 

tines,  had  done  the  work.  A  scene  of  wild  excitement  and  in- 
escribable  confusion  at  once  ensued.  The  pump  works,  en- 
gine house,  surrounding  buildings,  and  the  ground  in  the  \'ici- 
nity,  had  been  covered  with  an  immense  mass  of  oil,  all  of 
which  burst  into  a  grand  blaze  of  fire.    When  the  sable  curtain 


172 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


of  night  had  wrapped  the  surrounding  world  in  darkness,  that 
fiery  fountain,  over  a  hundred  feet  in  neight,  presented  a  vivid 
scene  of  terrible  grandeur.  The  whole  valley,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  with  its  scores  of  tall  derricks,  and  warehouses, 
and  barrel  factories,  and  tanks,  and  distilleries,  was  magnifi- 
cently lighted  up.  From  the  top  of  the  angry  fire  column  stu- 
pendous masses  of  thick  black  smoke  rolled  upward,  above  the 
surrounding  hills,  striking  terror  to  the  strongest  hearts.  Dur- 
ing this  fire  four  wells  lost  ever3i;hing. 

A  still  greater  conflagration  occurred  when  the  tanks  of  the 
Filkins  well  caught  fire  in  the  fall  of  1862,  The  flames  spread 
with  alarming  rapidity,  and  ere  long  twenty  acres  were  com- 
pletely wrapped  in  the  destructive  element.  Upon  this  area 
stood  150  oil  tanks,  filled  to  the  brim,  together  with  all  the 
offices,  machine  shops,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  giant 
kerosene  oil  establishment.  *'  Seven  flowing  and  three  pump- 
ing wells,  with  thirty  thousand  barrels  of  oil,  took  fire  in  quick 
succession."  The  angry  flames  ran  through  the  green  maple 
forest  as  though  it  had  been  tinder  ;  singeing  the  tops  of  the 
tallest  trees  with  a  roar  like  thunder.  The  thick  smoke  rolled 
along  in  great  black  suffocating  clouds,  almost  stifling  the 
brave  men,  who  in  their  heroic  endeavours  to  save  what  pro- 
perty they  could,  dashed  about  among  the  tanks  of  oil,  per- 
fectly regardless  of  danger.  Down  the  side  hill  the  fell  de- 
stroyer went,  until  it  reached  the  creek,  and  here  for  a  long 
distance  the  oil  upon  the  surface  of  the  water  burned  with  a 
vengeance.  More  than  once  since  then  Oil  Creek  has  been  a 
grand  mass  of  flame  for  miles,  and  the  banks  on  either  hand, 
wherever  covered  with  forests,  have  suffered  the  horrors  of  an 
extensive  conflagration.  Notwithstanding  its  many  disasters 
the  oil  regions  of  Pennsylvania  are  in  a  flourishing  condition, 
and  the  name  of  Oil  City  will  long  be  famous  as  the  place  that 
supplies  the  world  with  oil. 


The  Dancing  G-irls  of  Egypt. 

BY  CHARLES  G.  LELAND 

The  great  desire  of  the  gentlemen  who  come  to  Egypt 
is  the  dancing  girl.  If  it  were  put  to  the  vote,  most  of 
them  would  prefer  her  to  the  Pyramids,  if  not  to  the 
Nile.  Even  the  moral  ^nd  pious,  the  oldest  and  coldest, 
cannot  forego  this  bit  of  temptation ;  so  they  get  them- 
selves earnestly  assured  by  their  dragoman,  or,  better 
still,  by  some  gentleman  of  acknowledged  high  charac- 
ter— if  possible  from  Boston— that  there  is  really  nothing 
in  her  performance  which  would  call  a  blush,  etc.  It  is 
better  still  if  Mr.  High  Character  gravely  assures  them 
that  in  fact  he  found  it  very  stupid  and  the  Ghawazi 
very  ugly.  All  of  this  is  most  thankfully  accepted,  for, 
admitting  it  in  full,  the  dancers  are  still  improper — 
which  has  a  charm  beyond  beauty  or  grace  \  and  how- 
ever good  a  man  may  be  he  is  seldom  wUling  to  admit 
he  did  not  see  it,  and  knows  nothing  directly  about  it. 
Hardened  worldlings  who  frequent  the  regular  ballet  are 
not  so  deeply  disgusted  with  the  Ghazien,  nor  do  they 
find  her  so  altogether  stupid  or  so  invariably  ugly. 

Most  of  the  dancing  of  the  Ghawazi  is  indifferent 
enough.  It  is,  however,  remarkable,  that  what  skUl  they 
do  exhibit,  even  under  these  circumstances,  is  seldom 
appreciated ;  for  the  dullest  of  them  generally  affect 
muscular  feats,  such  as  one  never  sees  in  the  West,  yet 
which  are  not  directly  perceptible.  They  all  seem  to 
have  the  power  of  moving  any  part  of  the  body  freely, 
just  as  certain  persons  can  move  their  ears ;  and  it  is 
wonderful  how  they  will  continue  to  agitate  every 
muscle  in  the  most  violent  and  rapid  manner  for  hours, 
quivering  from  head  to  foot  as  if  electrified,  without 
being  in  the  least  fatigued,  and  what  is  incredible,  with- 
out perspiring. 

I  only  once  saw  Ghawazi  dancing  which  was,  in  the 
opinion  of  native  gentlemen,  and  of  Europeans  who  had 
been  many  years  in  the  country,  and  had  full  opportuni- 
ties of  judging,  of  a  really  superior  and  artistic  charac- 
ter. This  was  at  Girgeh.  There  were  two  girls,  one 
quite  pretty  and  young,  the  other  less  attractive,  but  the 
better  dancer. 

These  dancing  girls  were  dressed  in  long  skirts,  one 
oyer  the  other,  reaching  to  the  ankle,  the  upper  gar- 
ment being  of  a  whitish  yeUow  or  reddish  color.  The 
body  and  arms  were  clad  in  a  very  dark,  tightly-fitting 
chemise,  with  white  stripes,  half  an  inch  broad,  about 
two  inches  apart,  looking  tiger-like.  Over  this  was  worn 
a  very  tight  jacket  of  red  satin,  very  short  in  the  waist, 
with  tight  short  sleeves  On  their  heads  were  curiously 
shaped  caps,  and  their  hair  hung  in  long  braids.  Around 
the  waist  was  a  silver  girdle  with  high  bosses,  and  de- 
pendent from  it  in  loops  was  a  very  curious  and  massive 
ornament  or  chain,  made  of  eight  or  ten  triangular  silver 
Losses^  and  many  large  silver  beads.   A  profusion  of  i 


^old  necklace,  coins  and  other  ornaments  hung  from 
Qie  neck  and  head.  Other  Ghawazi  at  different  towns 
wore  dresses  very  different  from  this.  At  one  place 
their  garments  were  of  black  from  head  to  foot,  with 
silver  stripes,  while  the  braids  of  hair  were  very  prettily 
made,  terminating  in  many  silver  balls.  At  Siout  I  saw 
one  whose  only  ornaments  were  an  incredible  quantity 
of  gold  coins  of  all  sizes. 

The  first  dancing  of  all  Ghawazi  is  simply  moving 
about  to  the  music  and  undulating  the  body.  Then 
waves  of  motion  are  made  to  run  from  head  to  foot,  and 
over  these  waves  pass  with  incredible  rapidity  that  rip- 

gles  and  thrills,  as  you  have  seen  a  great  bQlow  in  a 
reeze  look  like  a  smaller  sea  ribbed  with  a  thousand 
wavelets.  All  is  done  in  perfect  time  with  the  music. 
Then  the  air  changes  and  there  is  a  variation  in  the 
dance.  The  girl  stops — she  become  immovable  below 
the  body  and  moves  only  the  body  above,  rocking  and 
swaying,  expressive  of  suffering  from  intense  passion. 
At  times,  and  in  time  with  the  music,  a  convulsion  thrills 
the  waist,  arms  and  head,  and  sometimes  the  muscles. 
She  becomes  quiet ;  but  if  you  observe  closely  the  move- 
ment, passion  and  exertion  are  not  less  intense,  and  tho 
breasts  continue  to  move  as  if  vitality  remained  in  them, 
alone ;  perhaps  only  one  throbs  violently. 

There  is  another  change,  and  the  dancer  sinks  slowly 
almost  to  her  knees,  as  if  over-powered  with  passion^ 
while  the  arms  sweep  in  singular  but  graceful  gestures. 
Perhaps  she  "waves  "  slowly  in  a  walking  dance,  mov 
ing  the  lower  part  of  her  body  forward  more  and  moro 
with  a  vigorous  quivering,  and  once  in  ten  seconds  start- 
ing with  a  convulsion  which  gradually  becomes  more 
frequent  until  she  apparently  yields  and  expires. 

The  girl  at  Girgeh  performed  a  very  pretty  dance, 
which  was  quite  a  poem.  Placing  a  cup,  symbolic  of 
temptation,  on  the  ground,  she  danced  around  it  in  a 
style  which  was  perfectly  Spanish,  turning  *he  body  and 
sinking  low  with  great  grace  and  exquisite  art.  The  cup 
appeared  to  exercise  a  terrible  fascination  and  she 
seemed  afraid  to  drain  it.  The  fear  was  perfectly  acted. 
Five  times  without  aid  from  her  arms  she  almost  lay  oiB 
the  ground,  with  her  thirsty  lips  just  dallying  with  th« 
edge,  and  then  rising  swept  in  dance,  and  thrUled,  an4 
shivered,  and  turned,  and  sank  again.  The  sixth  tim<! 
she  had  completed  a  circle,  and,  no  longer  able  to  resist^ 
she  approached  the  cup  with  throbs  and  pauses,  anJ 
then  without  using  her  hands  lifted  it  from  the  grouniji 
with  her  lips  alone,  draining  it  as  she  rose,  and,  thi 
tragedy  of  temptation  being  over,  merrily  danced  aboui 
the  room  in  quick  step,  with  her  head  thrown  back, 
holding  the  cup  all  the  time  in  her  mouth. 

Then  the  elder  girl  placed  a  cup  on  her  head,  and 
dan«ed  for  a  long  time  a  great  variety  of  movements 
without  letting  it  fall,  the  same  being  done  in  turn  by 
the  younger.  I  did  not  see,  however,  as  my  fellow 
travelers  did  on  another  occasion,  dancing  girls  who, 
while  dancing,  made  cups  run  from  the  head  down  the 
side  of  the  face,  along  the  arms  and  back,  as  a  skilled 
Hercules  in  a  circus  makes  cannon-balls  travel  around 
him.  This  is,  however,  rather  juggling  than  dancing. 
Sometimes  a  stick  is  used  in  these  performances.  Some^ 
times  the  two  girls  dance  a  duo  ;  and  I  have  seen  this 
made  quite  as  improper,  though  not  so  sickly  sentiment- 
al, as  in  any  opera  house  in  Europe,  when  the  ballerina 
falls  back  into  the  male  object's  arm,  eyeing  him  with  a 
leering  smile,  while  she  lifts  one  leg  to  the  gallery. 

There  are  'Awalim  and  'Awalim,  and  Ghawazi  and 
Ghawazi.  Some  are  mere  peasant  girls,  who  work  by 
day  and  dance  by  night ;  and  others  are  low  caste,  and 
dance  coarsely,  with  a  male  jester  taking  occasional 
part  in  the  performances,  as  I  saw  at  Luxor.  I  am  tol<| 
that  the  best  are  to  be  seen  in  Cairo,  in  the  grand  haremi, 
on  great  festival  occasions.  Their  style  of  dancing  i« 
the  same  that  prevails,  with  variations,  all  over  the  East, 
and  the  great  difference  between  it  and  that  of  the  Wes| 
is  simply  that  the  one  consists  principally  of  expressivti 
movements  and  pantomime  of  the  body,  while  the  lat« 
ter  is  chiefly  jumping  with  the  legs.  There  is  just  the 
same  difference  in  their  dancing  and  ours  that  there  is 
in  the  music;  and  the  Oriental  is  physically  quite  »' 
difficult  as  the  other. 

When  I  was  on  the  NUe  I  gave  the  Ghawazi  the  name 
"Wavers,"  as  expressive  of  their  movements.  Long 

may  they  wave  !   .  

Tendebnksb  is  the  repose  of  passion. — Joubebt. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


173 


CAPTURE  OF  THE  ELEPHANT; 

OR, 

Royal  Sport  in  Ceylon. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

The  whale  has  been  justly  called  the  "  biggest  born  of  earth," 
and  the  "monster  of  the  seas."  On  land,  however,  the 
elephant,  in  regard  to  size,  stands  at  the  head  of  all  quadru- 
peds. Its  gigantic  height  and  colossal  proportions,  so  much  in 
excess  of  all  other  land  animals  give  to  it  a  majestic  and  imposing 
appearance;  and  the  hunter  feels  a  thrill  of  pride  at  his  cap- 
ture, not  experienced  in  the  same  degree  by  the  capture  of  any 
other  animal.  He  knows  he  has  met  and  vanquished  the  largest 
animated  being  that  walks  upon  the  solid  earth;  and  to  him 
there  is  a  feeling  of  dignity  in  the  thought. 

There  are  two  species  of  the  elephant,  known  and  distin- 
guished as  the  Asiatic  and  the  African.  The  Asiatic  elephant 
IS  the  largest;  specimens  having  been  captured  that  measured 
ten  or  twelve  feet  in  height,  and  weighed  ten  thousand  pounds, 
or  five  tons.  The  African  species  are  generally  more  docile. 
They  have  larger  tusks  than  the  Asiatic  elephant,  and  are, 
therefore,  more  valuable  for  their  ivory.  Young  elephants 
have  no  visible  tusks;  but  as  they  approach  maturity  they  are 
often  found  six  or  seven  feet  in  length,  and  capable  of  sustain- 
ing more  than  a  thousand  pounds  weight.  Several  of  the  tusks 
measured  by  Eden  were  found  to  be  nine  feet  in  length;  and 
Hartenfels  tells  us  that  he  measured  one  that  exceeded  fourteen 
feet  in  length.  The  largest  tusk  on  record  was  sold  some  years 
since  at  Amsterdam.  Its  weight  was  350  pounds.  The  best 
ivory  often  sells  in  the  market  for  from  $1.25  to  $1.50  per 
pound;  the  largest  African  tusks  frequently  bringing  two  or 
three  hundred  dollars. 

The  eyes  of  the  elephant  are  small  and  brilliant,  and  the  ears 
of  the  African  species  large  and  pendant.  They  are  awkward  and 
unwieldy  in  appearance,  and  yet  they  will  sometimes  almost  out- 
strip the  fleetest  horse.  The  elephant  possesses  great  strength; 
drawing  with  ease  a  load  that  six  horses  cannot  move.  He 
will  easily  travel  fifty  or  sixty  miles  a  day,  and  if  hard  pressed 
a  hundred.  In  India  they  are  used  as  beasts  of  burden ;  carry- 
ing heavy  commodities  from  place  to  place,  and  removing  the 
great  car  of  Juggernaut,  and  are  even  trained  to  work  in  the 
pursuits  of  agriculture.  The  price  of  a  good  worker  ranges 
from  eight  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  In  some  countries  they 
are  trained  to  fight  in  war;  when  they  become  a  terrible  foe  to 
the  enemy,  crushing,  mangling  and  trampling  them  to  death  in 
a  horrible  manner.  They  commonly  live  to  the  age  of  nearly 
two  hundred  years;  though  some  authors  have  asserted  that 
they  have  been  known  to  live  much  longer.  At  the  time  of  the 
COnc[uest  of  the  world  by  Alexander  the  Great,  Porus,  king  of 
India,  was  overthrown  after  a  desperate  struggle,  in  which  a 
large  number  of  elephants  were  engaged.  One  of  these  pon- 
derous animals,  which  had  made  itself  conspicuous  by  its  great 
size,  and  drawn  the  attention  of  the  army  to  its  deeds  of  valor 
and  prowess,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victor.  Alexander 
named  him  Ajax,  dedicated  him  to  the  sun,  and  let  him  go, 
after  branding  him  with  this  inscription  in  plain  letters  on  his 
■gide:  "  Alexander,  the  son  of  Jupiter,  dedicated  Ajax  to  the 
Sun."  350  years  afterwards,  we  are  told,  the  same  elephant  was 
found  still  bearing  the  same  inscription. 

The  most  singular  and  yet  most  powerful  part  of  the  animal 
"is  its  trunk.  This  curious  organ  is  said  to  consist  of  forty 
thousand  muscles;  enabling  its  possessor  to  lengthen,  or 
ishortren,  or  coil  it  around  objects  at  pleasure.  At  the  lower 
end  is  a  finger-like  appendage,  by  means  of  which  it  can  gather 
leaves  or  grass,  and  convey  them  to  the  mouth.  Large  quan- 
tities of  water  are  sucked  into  the  hollow  proboscis,  or  trunk, 
and  placed  in  its  mouth,  or  spouted  forth,  to  descend  in  a 
shower  upon  its  body,  or  that  of  others.  The  elephant  is  a  sort 
of  light  brown,  or  mouse  color,  and  its  thick,  tough  hide,  which 
is  often  destitute  of  hair,  is  often  scratched  and  scarred  during 
Its  conflicts  with  the  other  wild  beasts  of  the  forest.  In  South- 
ern Asia  elephants  are  trained  to  hunt  the  tiger,  the  dread 
scourge  of  the  Indian  jungles.  A  score  of  men  mounted  upon 
the  backs  of  elephants  proceed  to  the  spot  selected  for  the 
day's  sport,  and  rousing  the  fearful  beast  from  his  lair  com- 
mence the  war.  The  Royal  Bengal  tiger  is  no  trifling  foe  to 
contend  with;  and  as  he  comes  forth  to  meet  his  adversaries  a 
scene  of  wild  excitement  is  ushered  in.  The  tiger  is  generally 
soon  dispatched;  but  often  not  before  he  has  left  his  cruel 
mark  deep  in  the  bleeding  flesh  of  the  elephants  and  men.  In 
the  wilds  of  savage  Africa  the  wild  elephant  and  the  ponderous 
rhinoceros  often  meet  in  deadly  combat,  and  retire  not  from 
the  field  until  one  or  the  other  lies  helpless  on  the  ground,  wel- 
tering in  blood.  Most  generally  the  elephant  comes  oif  vic- 
torious; his  eyes  red  with  rage,  and  his  long  ivory  tusks  drip- 
ping with  gore.  Sometimes,  however,  the  rhinoceros  gains  a 
temporary  advantage,  and  with  his  great  ugly  horn  plows  awful 
gashes  in  the  side  of  the  exasperated  elephant,  through  which 
the  entrails  protrude,  and  he  sinks  in  a  dying  condition  before 
his  inveterate  foe. 

The  island  of  Ceylon,  in  the  Indian  ocean,  south  of  Hindo- 
Stan,  appears  to  be  the  natural  home  of  the  elephant;  for  here 
hi  the  great  forests  they  often  move  about  in  herds  of  150  or 
200  in  number.  There  are  several  modes  of  capturing  them; 
13ie  chief  of  which  is  driving  them  into  a  strong  enclosure, 
driving  them  into  pitfalls,  and  enticing  them  away  by  means  of 
tame  elephants.  The  Ceylonese  generally  employ  the  first 
method.  Haying  learned  the  situation  of  a  large  herd,  they 


proceed  to  surround  the  forest  with  an  army  of  men,  dfsposed 
in  the  form  of  a  circle,  thirty  miles  in  circumference.  Fires 
are  lighted  upon  rude  movable  stands,  raised  upon  light  posts 
about  four  feet  above  the  ground  and  about  twelve  or  thirteen 
rods  apart.  These  are  kept  constantly  burning;  and  daily  the/ 
are  moved  cautiously  forward  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  until 
they  do  not  exceed  twenty  feet  apart. 

The  encircled  animals  now  begin  to  be  uneasy  and  eager  to 
escape.  They  eye  with  grave  suspicion  the  work  going  on 
around  them,  and  crowd  up  to  insp'ect  the  investing  line;  but 
the  smoke  and  flame  of  a  thousand  fires,  and  the  shouting  of  a 
thousand  stentorian  voices,  strike  the  herd  with  awe,  and  they 
draw  back  in  fear.  The  line  is  again  moved  forward,  and  the 
space  wherein  they  stand  becomes  gradually  less  and  less. 
Meanwhile  a  large  force  of  men  have  been  busily  at  work, 
chopping,  hewing  and  pounding,  preparing  a  strong  enclosure 
to  help  hold  them  in  as  the  circle  becomes  more  andmore  con- 
tracted. Heavy  beams  of  wood  are  drove  into  the  ground  to 
the  depth  of  five  or  six  feet,  and  firmly  fastened  together  by 
cross  timbers.  Boughs  and  green  branches  are  thrown  over  it 
to  give  it  more  the  appearance  of  a  thick  forest  than  a  palisade, 
and  before  the  animals  are  aware  of  it  they  have  passed  into 
the  great  funnel-shaped  enclosure,  and  through  the  gateways 
into  the  inner  circle.  Men  rush  forward  and  secure  the  en- 
trance,  and  the  whole  herd  are  fastened  in  an  enclosure  about 
a  hundred  rods  in  diameter. 

At  the  further  end  is  another  gateway,  communicating  with 
another  passage  about  a  hundred  feet  long  by  forty  wide, 
through  which  flows  a  rivulet  about  five  feet  deep  and  covering 
nearly  the  entire  area.  At  the  further  end  of  this,  beyond  the 
water,  the  strong  side  fences  approach  each  other  and  termi- 
minate  in  a  small  passage  about  a  hundred  feet  long,  and  only 
wide  enough  for  one  elephant  to  pass  at  a  time.  At  the  en- 
trance to  the  watery  enclosure  is  a  trap-gate  of  heavy  hewn 
logs,  rolled  up  by  means  of  ropes  running  over  poles  or  pulleys 
above,  and  hid  from  sight  by  limbs  and  brushwood.  Upon  the 
top,  behind  a  mass  of  green  boughs,  sits  a  man  with  a  hatchet 
in  his  hand,  ready  to  cut  the  ropes  at  the  given  signal,  and  let 
the  ponderous  gate  drop  to  its  place  below. 

Everything  being  ready  the  men  enter  the  outer  enclosure, 
building  fresh  fires,  shouting,  and  blowing  horns,  as  they 
slowly  advance,  working  the  immense  herd  onward  towards 
the  next  passage.  Only  men  of  strength  and  strong  nerves 
enter  the  enclosure;  for  great  skill,  and  cool  and  determined 
judgment  are  necessary  to  conduct  the  forward  movement. 
Sometimes  the  animals  become  enraged  and  make  a  dash  upon 
their  pursuers,  compelling  them  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and 
dodge  out  between  the  pales.  They  return,  however,  after  a 
few  minutes,  with  reinforcements  and  fresh  fires,  and  vnth  ter- 
rifying yells  and  shouts  again  urge  the  doomed  herd  forward. 
Seeing  the  open  gateway  unguarded,  and  no  doubt  thinking  it 
a  grand  chance  to  escape  into  the  water  and  forest  beyond, 
they  enter  with  a  rush  and  jam,  like  a  flock  of  frightened 
sheep,  pell  mell,  into  the  watery  enclosure  beyond. 

As  soon  as  the  last  one  has  passed  through,  the  ropes  that 
hold  the  sliding  log  o;ate  are  cut,  it  descends  to  its  place  with  a 
dull,  heavy  thud,  and  the  captive  animals  are  huddled  together 
in  an  area  so  small  that  they  have  little  chance  to  resist.  This 
enclosure  is  much  stronger  than  either  of  the  others.  It  is 
composed  of  trunks  of  trees,  withed  and  dowelled  together 
with  huge  cross  beams  and  supports,  and  sunk  deep  in  the 
ground,  forming  a  gigantic  fence  twenty  feet  in  height,  so 
strongly  braced  and  interlaced  with  timbers  and  bamboos  that 
its  demolishment  can  hardly  be  thought  of.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, when  a  very  large  herd  has  been  entrapped  and  maddened 
to  desperation,  they  have  been  known  to  rush  in  a  body  against 
the  fence,  and  in  the  terrible  moment  of  their  wild  frenzy, 
rend  it  to  the  ground;  and  in  spite  of  every  resistance,  trample 
over  all  opposition  and  make  their  escape  to  the  surrounding 
forest. 

Hundreds  of  men  surround  this  last  enclosure,  with  spears 
and  lances  in  their  hands,  and  as  they  approach  the  entrance 
of  the  barrier,  their  trunks  are  pricked  and  they  are  forced 
back.  Finally  one  of  their  number  ventures  into  the  long  nar- 
row passage  beyond.  At  the  further  end,  where  it  is  only  just 
wide  enough  to  admit  his  immense  body,  the  poor  deluded 
beast  finds  the  alley  closed.  Escape  is  impossible  in  that  direc- 
tion—he cannot  turn  around,  and  he  endeavors  to  move  back- 
wards. But  too  late;  strong  bars  have  been  thrown  across  the 
passage  behind  him,  and  he  is  imprisoned  in  a  space  so  small 
that  he  touches  the  sides  on  almost  every  hand.  Strong  ropes 
are  now  passed  through  and  his  legs  securely  tied,  and  an  ap- 
paratus of  cords  fastened  around  his  neck.  Finding  himself 
ensnared  he  rears  upon  his  hind  legs  and  throws  all  of  his 
strength  into  one  mighty  efl^ort  to  escape.  The  structure 
trembles  about  him,  and  the  forest  echoes  back  the  thunders  of 
his  exertions.  The  hunters,  however,  have  ere  this  climbed 
to  the  top  of  the  great  trap,  and  striking  him  upon  the  head 
with  their  spears  and  javelins,  soon  cause  him  to  desist  from 
his  violent  struggles.  A  strong  collar  is  now  placed  about  his 
neck,  and  he  is  soon  completely  harnessed;  when  two  tame 
elephants  are  brought  up  and  placed,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
gateway.  Their  movements  are  at  once  amusing  and  interest- 
ing. They  eye  the  wild  captive  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
reaching  in  their  trunks  feel  his  mouth  to  ascertain  whether 
he  has  tusks  or  not;  and  if  so,  feel  along  to  determine  their 
size;  after  which  they  seize  his  trunk  to  try  his  strength,  and 
find  out  his  power  of  resistance.  Strong  ropes  are  quickly 
passed  through  the  collar  of  the  wild  captive  and  made  fast  to 
those  of  the  tame  ones,  when  the  bars  are  suddenly  drawn  otA 


174 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


and  the  huge  beast  hounds  forward.  But  it  is  only  for  a  single 
leap;  for  its  legs  are  yel  bound  to  the  heavy  timbers,  and  ne 
comes  instantly  to  a  stand  still. 

The  keepers  mount  upon  the  backs  of  the  tame  elephants, 
adjust  the  fastening  lines,  and  when  the  large  ropes  that  bound 
the  wild  elephant's  hind  legs  are  cut  loose  they  ride  away  with 
their  captive  between  them.  The  tame  elephants  press  against 
him  as  they  walk  along,  and  if  he  act  refractory,  or  unruly, 
they  batter  him  with  their  heads  to  bring  him  under  subjec- 
tion. He  is  conducted  to  a  level  spot  between  two  trees,  when 
his  hind  legs  are  again  strapped  together,  and  fastened  to  one 
of  them  by  several  turns  of  the  thick  rope,  while  one  of  his 
fore  legs  is  bound  in  a  similar  manner  to  the  other.  He  is  now 
delivered  over  to  the  keeper,  while  the  tame  animals  are  disen- 
gaged from  the  prisoner  and  proceed  back  to  the  trap  to  take 
out  another.  In  this  manner  scores  of  domesticated  animals 
are  busily  engaged  for  a  day  or  two,  leading  out  prisoners;  and 
by  the  time  the  trap  is  empty  the  forest  in  the  immediate  vici- 
nity is  filled  with  captive  elephants. 

When  an  unusually  large  fierce  specimen,  filled  with  a  stub- 
born vindictive  spirit,  is  taken,  he  is  led  to  a  stall  prepared  for 
the  purpose,  where  his  neck  is  placed  between  two  heavy  beams 
of  hewn  timber,  and  his  legs  firmly  bound  together  with  ropes 
or  chains,  and  fastened  to  timbers  and  trees  in  such  a  manner 
that  escape  is  absolutely  impossible.  As  he  finds  himself  fast- 
ened and  alone,  he  gives  way  to  a  fit  of  unbounded  rage.  His 
small  bloodshot  eyes  gleam  like  balls  of  fire  with  his  angry 
glances,  and  his  mighty  struggles  are  fearful  to  behold.  The 
entire  stall,  or  rack,  trembles  to  its  foundation;  and  the  trees 
bend  and  shake  from  their  tops  to  their  roots,  as  if  in  the  grasp 
of  the  whirlwind;  while  his  loud  bellowings  and  detonations 
of  anger  resound  through  the  forest  like  the  thunder  of  the  ap- 
proacning  hurricane.  The  uninitiated  spectators  flee  in  terror: 
expecting  to  see  the  stall  torn  asunder,  and  the  maddened 
beast  stalk  forth  to  vent  his  rage  on  the  assembled  crowd.  But 
everjrthing  is  made  in  the  strongest  form,  by  those  who  under- 
stand the  Dusiness,  and  ^uch  a  catastrophe  rarely  occurs. 

The  captive  beasts  receive  but  very  little  food,  and  they  are 
soon  reduced  in  strength  and  appearance.  Daily  they  are 
caressed  by  their  keepers,  and  at  length  they  are  offered  cocoa- 
nut  leaves  and  tender  young  plantain  trees.  With  an  angry 
toss  the  poor  brute  hurls  them  from  him  with  disdain,  or 
crushes  them  contemptuously  beneath  his  feet.  At  length  he 
becomes  gloomy  and  sullen,  his  eyes  are  hollow  and  sunken 
with  an  expression  of  sorrow  and  melancholj^,  and  filling  with 
tears  he  submits  himself  completely  to  the  will  of  his  keeper. 
Some  give  up  after  eight  or  ten  days;  while  others  continue 
obstinate  for  fifty  or  sixty;  but  when  they  have  once  really 
submitted,  they  become  docile  and  gentle,  and  attached  to 
their  keeper  as  much  as  the  dog  ever  is  to  his  master.  Like  the 
horse,  the  most  vicious  at  first  often  make  the  best  animals 
when  once  thoroughly  broke. 

About  a  Bat. 

One  of  our  common  bats  (probably  either  the  little 
brown  bat,"  Yespertilio  subulatus,  or  the  "  little  red  bat,") 
flew  into  the  house  one  evening  and  was  caught  under 
a  hat.  It  squeaked  and  snapped  its  little  jaws  so 
viciously  that  all  efforts  toward  closer  acquaintance' 
were  postponed  until  morning.  When  uncovered  the 
next  day  it  seemed  as  fierce  as  before,  but  less  active  in 
its  movements,  probably  overpowered  by  the  glare  of 
daylight.  When  touched,  its  jaws  opened  wide,  the 
sharp  teeth  were  exposed,  and  from  its  little  throat 
came  sharp  steely  clicks  so  characteristic  of  our  bats. 
Nor  did  this  fierce  demeanor  soften  in  the  least  during 
the  day,  and  when  night  approached  I  was  about  to  let 
it  go,  but  the  sight  of  a  big  fly  upon  the  window  sug- 
gested an  attempt  to  feed  the  captive.  Held  by  the 
wings  between  the  points  of  a  pair  of  forceps,  the  fly 
had  no  sooner  touched  the  bat's  nose  than  it  was  seized, 
crunched,  and  swallowed.  The  rapidity  of  its  dis- 
appearance accorded  with  the  width  to  which  the  eater's 
jaws  were  opened  to  receive  it,  and,  but  for  the  dismal 
crackling  of  skin  and  wings,  reminded  one  of  the  sudden 
engulfment  of  beetles  by  a  hungry  young  robin.  A 
second  fly  went  the  same  road.  The  third  was  more  de- 
liberately masticated,  and  I  ventured  to  pat  the  de- 
vourer's  head.  Instantly  all  was  changed.  The  jaws 
gaped  as  if  they  would  separate,  the  crushed  fly  dropped 
from  the  tongue,  and  the  well  known  click  proclaimed 
a  hatred  and  denance  which  hunger  could  not  subdue 
nor  food  appease.  So  at  least  it  seemed,  and  I  think 
any  but  a  boy-naturalist  would  have  yielded  to  the 
temptation  to  fling  the  spiteful  creature  out  of  the 
window.  Perhaps,  too,  a  certain  obstinacy  made  me 
unwilling  to  so  easily  relinquish  the  newly-formed  hope 
of  domesticating  a  bat.  At  any  rate,  another  fly  was 
presented,  and,  like  the  former,  dropped  the  moment 
my  fingers  touched  the  head  of  the  bat.  With  a  third 
I  waited  until  the  bat  had  seemed  actuilj  swallowiiiG:, 


and  unable  to  either  discontinue  that  process  or  open  !ta 
mouth  to  any  extent.  Its  rage  and  perplexity  were 
comical  to  behold,  and,  when  the  fly  was  really  down,  it 
seemed  to  almost  burst  with  the  effort  to  express  its  in- 
dignation. But  this  did  not  prevent  it  from  falling  into 
the  same  trap  again  ;  and,  to  make  a  long  story  short  ,it 
finally  learned  by  experience  that,  while  chewing  and 
swallowing  were  more  or  less  interrupted  by  snapping 
at  me,  both  operations  were  quite  compatible  with  my 
gentle  stroking  of  its  head.  And  even  a  bat  has  brains 
enough  to  see  the  foolishness  of  losing  a  dinner  in  order 
to  resent  an  unsolicited  kindness.  In  a  few  days  the  bat 
would  take  flies  from  my  fingers,  although  either  from 
eagerness  or  because  blinded  by  the  light,  it  too  often 
nipped  me  sharply  in  its  efforts  to  seize  the  victim.  Its 
voracity  was  almost  incredible.  For  several  weeks  it 
devoured  at  least  fifty  house-flies  in  a  day,  (it  was  vaca- 
tion, and  my  playmate  had  to  assist  me),  and  once  dis- 

fosed  of  eighty  between  daybreak  and  sunset.  This  bat 
kept  for  more  than  two  months.  It  would  shufiQe 
across  the  table  when  [  entered  the  room,  and  lift  up  its 
head  for  the  expected  fly.  When  traveling  it  was  carried 
in  my  breast  pocket.  In  the  Fall  it  died,  either  from 
over-eating  or  lack  of  exercise,  for  I  dared  not  let  it  out 
of  doors,  and  it  was  so  apt  to  injure  itself  in  the  rooms 
that  I  seldom  allowed  it  to  fly.  I  should  add  that  It 
drank  frequently  and  greedily  from  the  tip  of  a  camel's 
hair  pencil. 


The  G-reat  Northwest. 

BY  CAPTAIN  OABNES. 

At  Vancouver's  Point,  it  is  said,  there  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  scenes  on  the  Columbia  river.  In  the 
midst  of  a  lovely  meadow  is  a  silver  sheet,  or  lake  of 
water,  with  many  wild  fowls  sporting  in  the  limpid 
waves.  A  range  of  wooded  hills  is  capped  or  crowned 
by  Mount  Hood,  a  magnificent  mountainous  peak,  cov- 
ered with  snow. 

From  Point  Vancouver  the  river  becomes  more  con- 
tracted and  rapid,  with  frequent  islands  and  sand  banks. 
On  these  islands  are  numerous  ponds  which,  at  certain 
seasons  of  the  year,  have  their  waters  stirred  and  eddied 
by  flocks  of  geese,  brandt,  cranes,  gulls,  and  the  peer- 
less swan.  The  closely  wooded  and  rushy  shores  afford 
them  choice  feeding  grounds,  and  make  an  almost  im- 
'passible  barrier  for  the  sportsman. 

Some  miles  above  Vancouver's  Point  the  mountains 
approach  both  sides  of  the  river,  which  is  bordered  by 
mighty  precipices,  on  which  grow  the  white  cedar  and 
fir.  All  occasional  cascade  leaps  down  the  rocks  and 
loses  its  base  in  clouds  of  vapor. 

Explorers  declare  that  among  some  of  these  cliffs^ 
continually  fretted  by  falling  Water,  are  shown  sem^ 
blances  of  ruined  towers  and  battlements,  with  loop* 
holes  and  draw-bridges — all  combining  to  make  a  weircR 
and  impressive  picture. 

The  falls  or  rapids  of  the  Columbia  river,  are  situated^ 
about  a  hundred  miles  from  its  mouth.  The  first  is  a 
perpendicular  waterfall  of  twenty  feet,  after  which  there 
is  a  swift  descent  for  a  mile  or  more  between  hard,  black, 
rocky  islands,  when  there  is  another  pitch ;  beyond  this, 
the  river  expands  into  a  wide  basin,  seemingly  dammed 
by  a  perpendicular  wall  of  rock,  finding  passage  to  the 
left  through  a  mighty  chasm,  there  whirling  and  foam- 
ing and  boiling  with  great  violence.  Yet  has  it  been 
navigated  even  here  by  dauntless  or  reckless  explorers. 
As  the  river  concentrates  its  water  and  strength  to  pass 
through  what  is  called  the  "long  narrows,"  the  Indians 
thereabouts  take  their  stand  upon  the  rocks  in  the 
spring  time,  to  scoop  out  the  salmon  which  at  that  time 
ascends  the  river  in  vast  numbers. 

On  the  banks  the  savages  cure  the  fish  after  a  manner 
peculiarly  their  own — drying,  poimding  and  pressing 
them  in  a  way  that  insures  their  keeping  well  for  many 
months.  The  method  of  securing  the  fish  by  means  of 
hooped  scoop-nets,  and  the  manner  of  preparing  them 
by  the  aborigines  about  the  Columbia,  bespeaks  a  supe- 
rior intelligence  to  that  manifested  by  the  Indians  of  the 
prairies  ;  but  it  is  also  noteworthy  that  whUe  the  fisher 
savages  are  inferior  in  regard  to  form  and  muscular  de- 
velopment, the  hunter  red  men  of  our  borders,  from 
their  almost  constantly  being  on  horseback,  acquire  ad- 
mirable figures,  and  quite  a  martial  bearing,  showing  by 
conclusive  argument,  that  habit  and  occupation  makes 
or  mars  the  human  form  divine. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


175 


OLD  MODES  or  LOCOMOTION. 


Tbo  BiKnns  were  the  aticient  inhabitants  of  Britannia. 
Conceunna^  the  ocigin  of  the  population  of  the  British 
fcjfcs,  which  approaches  tbe  nearest  to  being  indigenous, 
9,3  being  in  possession  dL  the  soil  at  the  time  of  its  first 
discovery,  there  has  beea  much  doubt,  and  there  is  still 
same  dispute. 

When  dflscovered  by  Csesar,  the  Britons  were  hardly 
ip  be  called  a  hawbarous  people,  being  scarcely  removed 
from  the  eoncdtiOB  of  primitive  savages.  They  generally 
weot  tooth  sexes,  wholly  naked ;  though  some  of  them, 
■sidiether  setjauafce  tribes  or  superior  individuals,  it  is  not 
fitatod  wore  garments  of  dressed  leather.  They  tattooed 


we  learn  that  the  Britons  manufactured  wicker  ves 
sels  with  extraordinary  skill.    Their  costly  and  ele- 
gant baskets  are  mentioned  by  Juvenal,  in  speaking 
of  the  extravagance  of  the  Romans  in  his  time 
They  also  constructed  canoes   of  osier,  covered 
with  skins  of  animals,  and  in  these  they  paddled 
about  the  rivers,  creeks  and  fens  of  their  country. 
Basket  making  is  one  of  the  simplest  and  most  an- 
cient of  arts.    The  contrivance  of  fastening  together 
branches,  reeds  of  grasses,  by  interweaving  others 
transversely  would  be  suggested  to  the  lowest  in 
telligence,  even  without  the  frequent  examples  of  it 
seen.    These  wicker  boats,  then,  covered  with  skins, 
were  one  of  the  oldest  modes  of  locomotion. 
Such  vessels  are  still  used  by  Welsh  fishermen. 


ANCIENT  BRITONS  IN  THEIR  CORACLES  OR  WICKER  CANOES, 


saeir  flesh,  and  stained  themselves  blue  with  wood- 
practices  indicating  a  very  low  scale  of  humanity. 
They  wore  no  armor,  except  bucklers,  but  understood 
the  working  of  iron,  brass  and  tin.  They  had  horses, 
which  they  both  rode  and  drove,  harnessed  in  scythed 
cars,  in  battle.  They  had  cattle  in  abundance,  of 
which  they  used  both  the  flesh  and  milk,  though 
they  knew  not  the  use  of  cheese.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  they  had  any  agriculture;  some  speaking  of 
their  raising  grain,  and  drinking  wine  made  of  bar- 
ley— ^ale— and  others  mentioning  no  such  habits. 
Probably  they  write  at  different  times;  and,  when 
firat  discovered  by  the  Romans,  they  did  not  till  the 
soil,  but  speedly  learned  to  do  so. 
f^romtAe  ftccAimts  famished  ns  by  the  Romans, 


Mention  of  chariots  is  found  among  the  most  ancient 
records  of  the  human  race.  They  were  in  use  by  the 
Pharaohs  of  Egypt  (Gen.  xii.  43),  and  in  Solomon's  time 
were  exported  to  Syria  (1  Kings,  x.  29  ;  2  Chron.,  i.  It 
and  17).  As  appears  from  the  ancient  Egyptian  sculp- 
tures and  paintings,  the  construction  of  these  chariots 
embodied  the  same  principles  which  are  found  in  the 
modern  style  of  carriages  ;  the  wheels  were  made  with 
spokes  and  metallic  lares,  and  the  poles  were  crooked 
near  the  axle — a  form  introduced  into  English  carriages 
only  about  the  commsncement  of  the  present  century.  ^ 
A  drawing  of  one  with  four  wheels,  used  for  religioiw , 
purposes,  has  been  met  with,  and  others  with  an  umbrella 
cover,  the  rudiment  of  the  closer  covering  of  niorc 
modem  vehicles.  The  latter  was  drawn  by  oxen,  and 
were  apparently  designed  for  travelling  carriages  for 
ladies  of  raiik-  From  the  sculptured  slabs  of  Nineyeb 


176 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


similar  evidence  is  obtained  of  the  use  of  carriages  TJy 
the  Assyrians  and  contemporaneous  nations. 

Covered  carriages,  highly  ornamented,  became  ap- 
pendages of  Roman  pomp  and  magnificence  ;  but  under 
the  feudal  system  they  were  banished  on  account  of 
their  tendency  to  render  the  people  effeminate.  During 
the  middle  ages  the  only  riding  practised  was  on  horse- 
back ;  and  when  near  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century 
carriages  began  again  to  appear,  they  were  esteemed 
proper  only  for  women  and  invalids. 

Coaches  were  introduced  in  the  year  1564,  as  Stone 
states,  by  a  Dutchman,  who  became  the  queen's  coach- 
man. "After  awhile,"  he  adds,  " divers  great  ladies, 
with  as  great  jealousie  of  the  queene's  displeasure, 
made  them  coaches,  and  rid  in  them  up  and  downe  the 
country,  to  the  great  admiration  of  all  the  beholders ; 
but  then,  little  by  little,  they  grew  usual  among  the  no- 
bilitie,  and  others  of  sort,  and  within  twentie  years  be- 
came a  great  trade  of  coach  making." 

In  1619,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  used  one  with  six 
horses,  and  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  to  ridicule  this 
pomp,  appeared  in  one  with  eight  horses. 

The  period  in  which  coaches  became  familiar  can, 
therefore,  be  referred  but  little  farther  than  the  time  of 
the  settlement  of  New  England ;  and  for  a  century  after- 
ward the  use  of  private  carriages  in  the  country  was 
limited  to  the  aristocracy  and  wealthy  classes.  In  Lon- 
don coaches  began  to  be  kept  for  hire  in  1625. 

In  1673,  there  were  twenty  hackney  coaches  in  Edin- 
burg,  but  the  narrowness  of  the  streets  or  the  state  of 
the  roads  must  have  rendered  them  comparatively  use- 
less, for  in  1752  there  were  only  fourteen,  and  in  1778 
only  nine,  while  the  number  of  sedans  increased. 

The  conveyances  through  the  interior  were  the  cum- 
bersome stage  wagons,  used  for  carrying  goods  ;  in  the 
tail  of  which,  as  it  was  called,  was  reserved  a  covered 
space  for  five  or  six  passengers,  who  sat  upon  the  straw 
on  the  floor.  Even  such  accommodations  as  these 
were  known  only  on  the  great  thoroughfares  ;  the  con- 
veyance  of  goods  inland  being  for  the  most  part  by  pack 
horses. 

The  stage-coach  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  very 
Kttle  in  common  with  the  mail-coach  within  our  mem- 
ory, when  stages  with  four,  and  even  six  horses  at- 
tached, dashed  over  our  American  roads,  with  passen- 
^rs  safely  seated  in  the  comfortable  vehicle ;  behind 
which  Jehus  flourished  their  long  whips  with  conscious 
pride  in  the  importance  of  their  position.  In  Hogarth's 
Country  Inn  Yard  we  have  a  representation  of  the  old 
stage-coach,  which  explains  the  fact  that  no  one  with 
tae  smallest  power  of  bestriding  a  horse  would  ever 
iM,ve  thought  of  making  use  of  them.  The  roofs  of  the 
coaches  in  most  cases,  rose  into  a  swelling  curve,  which 
was  sometimes  surrounded  by  a  high  iron  guard.  The 
coachman  and  the  guard,  who  always  held  his  carbine 
ready  cocked  upon  his  knee,  then  sat  together;  not, 
as  at  present,  upon  a  close,  compact,  varnished  seat, 
but  over  a  very  long  and  narrow  boot,  which  passed 
under  a  large  spreading  hammer-cloth.  Behind  the 
coach  was  the  immense  basket,  stretching  far  and 
wide  beyond  the  body,  to  which  it  was  attached  by 
long  iron  bars  or  supports  passing  beneath  it.  The 
wheels  of  these  old  carriages  were  large,  massive, 
ill-formed  and  usually  of  a  red  color;  and  the  three 
horses  which  were  affixed  to  the  whole  machine — 
the  foremost  of  which  was  helped  onward  by  carry- 
ing a  huge,  longed-legged  elf  of  a  postillion,  dressed 
in  a  cocked-hat,  with  a  large  green  and  gold  riding- 
coat — were  all  so  tar  parted  from  it  by  the  great 
length  of  their  traces,  that  it  was  with  no  little  diffi- 
culty that  the  poor  animals  dragged  their  unwieldy 
burden  along  the  road.  It  groaned  and  creaked  at 
every  fresh  tug  which  they  gave  ic,  as  a  ship  rock- 
ing or  beating  up  through  a  heavy  sea  strains  all 
her  timbers,  with  a  low  moaning  sound,  as  she 
drives  over  the  contending  waves.  To  this  very 
cheerful  picture  of  the  delights  of  the  road  at  this 
epoch,  we  may  add  that  the  unfortunate  passengers 
might  expect  the  monotony  of  their  journey 
io  be  broken  at  any  moment  by  the  appear- 
ince  on  the  scene  of  the  regulation  highwayman  of  th« 
period,  the  supposed  valor  of  the  guard,  with  his  for- 
midable-looking blunderbuss,  turning  out  to  be  a  snarp 


md  a  delusion,  and  vanishing  at  once  before  the  threat* 
;ning  pistol  of  the  Claude  Duval  or  the  Dick  Turpin  of 
he  hour,  when  a  compulsory  handing  out  of  purses 
7ould  immediately  ensue. 
WhUst  stage-coach  conveyance  was  only  available 
long  a  very  limited  number  of  roads,  and  during  that 
till  earlier  period  when  such  roads  as  really  existed 
/vere  impassable  for  wheeled  carriages,  women  were  ac- 
customed to  ride  behind  one  of  the  ruder  sex,  on  what 
was  called  a  pillion  (from  pUlow).    This  is  defined  by- 
Johnson  as  a  soft  saddle  set  behind  a  horseman  for  a 
woman  to  sit  on.   Even  queens,  on  long  journeys,  pre- 
ferred a  seat  on  a  pillion,  behind  one  of  their  oflBicers,  to 
any  other  mode  of  conveyance.     "When  Katharine  of 
Spain  came  over,  in  1501,  to  marry  Arthur,  son  of  Henry 
VII.,  she  rode  on  a  horse  from  the  Tower  to  St.  Paul's, 
"  with  the  pillion  behind  a  lord  named  by  the  King."  A 
Bimilar  method  of  riding  is  not  obsolete  even  in  the  pre^ 
sent  day  in  remote  country  districts,  if  we  may  trust  to 
certain  representations  of  weddings  in  North  Wales, 
where  the  bride  and  bridegroom  are  depicted  as  gallop- 
ing furiously  from  a  church,  the  former  keeping  her 
seat  in  a  manner  that  we  should  conceive  impossible  to 
I  any  but  a  professional  circus-rider. 

The  gentleman's  carriage  of  the  eighteenth  century 
was  a  cumbrous  and  gaudy  piece  of  architecture,  some- 
what resembling  the  Lord  Mayor's  coach  of  modem 
times.  Glass  windows  were  first  added  to  coaches  at 
the  beginning  of  the  seventeeenth  century,  and  springs 
about  forty  years  later.  Under  the  seat  of  the  coach- 
man was  carried  a  box  (hence  the  name  of  coach-box), 
for  containing  the  hammer  and  other  tools  that  might 
j  be  wanted  to  repair  damages.  This  was  concealed  by 
the  hammer-cloth,  which  name  is  still  retained  in  car- 
riages of  the  present  day,  though  no  modem  Jehu  is  ex- 
pected to  be  an  accomplished  carpenter  and  wheelwright, 
as  well  as  an  experienced  charioteer.  Nor  was  this  all 
unnecessary.  The  travellers  in  coaches  had  many  perils 
to  encounter  from  collisions  with  reckless  carmen  by 
day,  and  from  dimly-Ughted  holes  and  pits  in  the  read 
I  by  night, 

Sedan  chairs  were  first  seen  in  England  when  Charles, 
son  of  James  I.,  on  his  return  from  Spain,  brought  with 
him  three  specimens  of  a  peculiar  character,  somewhat 
resembling  the  Indian  palankeen  in  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  carried.  The  favorite,  Buckingham, 
^  being  in  the  habit  of  travelling  about  London  in  one  of 
these,  was  abused  by  the  populace  for  turning  men 
into  "  slaves  and  beasts  of  burden."  In  spite,  however, 
of  popular  clamor,  and  the  furious  opposition  of  coach- 
drivers,  this  new  and  handy  method  of  travelling  steadily 
grew  into  favor.  The  frontispiece  of  a  tract  published 
in  1636,  and  entitled  "  Coach  and  Sedan  Pleasantly  Dis- 
puting for  Place  and  Precedtnce,"  represents  the  form 
of  the  sedan  and  its  bearers  touting  for  custom.  The 
mode  of  carrying  was  the  same  as  that  adopted  in  the 
later  sedans.  In  the  eighteenth  century  we  find  that 
the  sedan,  though  considerably  altered  in  form  from  the 
original  type,  had  become  a  universal  mode  of  convey- 
ance for  the  higher  and  middle  classes  of  society.  The 
state  of  the  pavement  in  the  metropolis  and  the  chief 
cities  of  Great  Britain  caused  the  sedan  to  be  preferred, 
both  for  comfort  and  safety,  to  every  description  of 
coach.  As  there  were  no  footpaths,  and  only  a  line  of 
posts  in  the  principal  streets  to  protect  pedestrians, 
none  would  even  walk  any  distance  who  could  afford  to 
hire  a  sedan.  The  London  chairmen  were  a  numerous 
and  influential  body.  Those  who  were  in  the  service  of 
the  aristocracy  had  their  gorgeous  liveries,  epaulettes, 
and  cocked  hats.  The  hackney  chairmen  pervaded  the 
neighborhood  of  tavern  doors,  where  they  waited  to  be 
hired.  They  were  chiefly  Irishmen,  and  were  distin- 
guished by  their  muscular  development,  especially  in 
the  calves  of  their  legs.  That  they  were  popularly  be- 
lieved to  be  somewhat  given  to  insolence  may  be 
gathered  from  an  incident  in  one  of  Smollett's  noveli^ 
where,  in  retaliation  for  the  hero  having  been  insulted 
by  two  chairmen,  the  man  who  acts  as  his  servant  and 
trusty  henchman  conceals  a  number  of  heavy  weights 
about  his  person,  and  hires  the  delinquents  to  carry  him 
a  certain  distance.  Staggering  under  the  unusual  loadj, 
each  chairman  suspects  his  comrade  of  not  taking  his 
fair  share  of  the  burden,  and  beguis  to  abuse  him  ac- 
cordingly. The  strife  waxing  hotter,  the  two  belliger- 
ents ultimately  set  down  both  box  and  passenger,  in 
order  to  settle  the  dispute  with  their  fists ;  whilst  14ie 


THE  GROIPING  PFORLD. 


Ill 


real  author  of  the  quarrel  quietly  slips  away,  having  de- 
posited his  weights  in  the  chair  for  the  subsequent  en- 
lightenment and  consolation  of  the  mutually-battered 

^^In^c^ulloch's  account  of  ihe  British  Empire  we  read 
that  ''It  was  not  till  after  the  Peace  of  Pans  ml763 
that  turnpike  roads  began  to  be  extenaed  to  all  parts  of 
the  kingdom."  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the 
old  method  of  transporting  goods  on  the  backs  of  horses 
should  have  been  practised  up  to  a  comparatively  recent 
period.  Passengers  also  frequently  avaUed  themselves 
of  this  primitive  mode  of  travelling.  Smollet's  Roderick 
Random  is  described  as  riding  from  Scotland  to  New- 
castle-on-Tyne,  sitting  upon  a  pack-saddle  between  two 
baskets ;  one  of  which  contained  his  goods  in  a  knap- 
sack The  pack-horses  travelled  in  gangs  of  thirty  or 
forty,  walking  in  a  single  file.  The  leading  and  most 
experienced  horse  carried  a  number  of  bells  as  a  guide 
for  those  which  followed  him,  and  also  as  a  warning  to 
travellers  coming  in  an  opposite  direction,  who  were  ex- 
pected to  step  olf  the  narrow  causeway  until  the  whole 
train  had  passed.  When  two  strings  of  pack-horses  met 
in  this  way,  a  quarrel  betv/een  the  drivers  of  the  re- 
spective gangs  must  have  been  all  but  inevitable  ;  and, 
as  these  worthies  had  a  much  greater  acquaintance  with 
t\iefortUer  in  re  than  with  the  suaviter  in  modo,  a  free 
fight  was  the  ordinary  wind  up  of  the  controversy. 

Bell's  steamer.  The  Cornet,  was  the  first  practical 
steamboat  that  was  employed  for  the  conveyance  of  pas- 
sengers. In  1812,  this  vessel,  projected  by  Henry  Bell, 
a  tavern  keeper,  began  regularly  to  ply  between  Glas- 
gow and  Greenock. 

George,  and  his  son,  Robert  Stephenson,  were  the 
founders  of  modern  railway  travelling.  The  Locomo- 
tive, called  the  ''Rocket,"  won  a  £500  prize  offered  by 
the  directors  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway 
in  1829,  and  it  was  the  first  than  ran  upon  the  new  line. 
Compared  to  a  modern  locomotive,  the  Rocket  was  but 
an  infant.  It  only  cost  about  £550  ;  weighed,  with  its 
tender,  between  seven  and  eight  tons ;  and  its  greatest 
speed  was  about  twenty-four  miles  an  hour.  Some 
modem  engines  cost  £2,000  or  more  ;  weigh,  with  their 
tenders,  forty-five  tons ;  and  have  the  power  of  attain- 
ing a  speed  of  more  than  sixty  miles  an  hour. 


Sleeping  Flowers. 

Almost  all  flowers  sleep  during  the  night.  The  man 
gold  goes  to  bed  with  the  sun,  and  with  him  rises 
weeping.  Many  plants  are  so  sensitive  that  they  close 
their  leaves  during  the  passage  of  a  cloud.  The  dande 
lion  opens  at  five  or  six  in  the  morning,  and  shuts  at 
nine  in  the  evening.  The  goat's  beard  wakes  at  three  in 
the  morning,  and  shuts  at  five  or  six  in  the  evening. 
The  common  daisy  shuts  up  its  blossom  in  the  evening, 
and  opens  its  "day's  eye"  to  meet  the  early  beams  of 
the  morning  sun.  The  crocus,  tulip  and  many  others, 
close  their  blossoms  at  different  hours  towards  the 
evening.  The  ivy-leaved  lettuce  opens  at  eight  in  the 
morning,  and  closes  forever  at  four  in  the  afternoon. 
The  night-flowering  cereus  turns  night  into  day.  It 
begins  to  expand  its  magnificent  sweet-scented  blos- 
soms in  the  twilight ;  it  is  full-blown  at  midnight,  and 
closes  never  to  open  again  at  the  dawn  of  day.  In  a 
clover-field  not  a  leaf  opens  until  after  sunrise.  These 
are  the  observations  of  a  celebrated  English  author, 
who  has  devoted  much  time  to  the  study  of  plants, 
and  often  watched  them  during  their  quiet  slumber. 
Those  plants  which  seem  to  be  awake  all  night,  he  styles 

the  bats  and  owls  of  the  vegetable  kingdom." 

A  French  publication  states  that  potatoes  are  now 
used  in  the  manufacture  of  pipes  similar  in  appearance 
to  meerschaum.  The  process  is  as  follows :  Take  a 
potato,  and  having  peeled  it,  place  it  in  water  acidulated 
with  sulphuric  acid,  in  the  proportion  of  eight  parts 
acid  to  100  parts  of  water.  Let  the  tuber  remain  in  this 
liquid  for  thirty-six  hours  to  blacken,  then  dry  it  with 
blotting  paper.  It  can  then  be  submitted  to  a  certain 
pressure,  when  a  material  is  presented  which  can  be 
readily  carved  into  any  design.  It  is  claimed  that  the 
counterfeit  is  marvelously  perfect.  By  the  same  pro- 
cess a  very  good  imitation  of  horn  can  be  obtained,  suf- 
ficiently hard  to  make  billiard  balls  and  the  like.  A 
striking  resemblance  to  coral  is  obtained  bv  treating 
carrots  in  the  same  way. 


The  Maimer  of  Etching  G-lass  by  Means 
of  Fluorine. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Fluorine  Is  a  substance  which  has  but  little  commer- 
cial value,  and  is  never  met  with  in  a  free  state.  It  is 
obtained  irom  Fluor  spar,  and  its  most  known  combi- 
nation is  that  of  hydrofluoric  acid,  in  which  it  is  combined 
with  hydrogen. 

Hydrofluoric  acid  may  be  readily  obtained  by  heating 
some  coarsely  pounded  fluor  spar,  together  with  strong 
sulphuric  acid,  in  a  leaden  vessel.  A  glass  one  cannot 
be  used  because  the  acid  acts  powerfully  on  that  sub- 
stance. The  fumes  of  the  acid  and  liquid  should  be 
carefully  avoided,  as  they  produce  the  most  painful 
wounds  if  they  come  in  contact  with  the  skin. 

Hydrofluoric  acid,  besides  its  occasional  use  in  the 
laboratory,  is  much  employed  for  etching  glass.  The 
following  is  the  method  of  conducting  this  process  : — 

A  tray  of  lead  is  made  by  bending  up  the  sides  of  a 
sheet  of  that  metal  so  as  to  form  a  rim  on  all  sides. 
This  tray  is  supported  on  a  stand,  and  coarsely  pounded 
fluor  spar,  to  wbich  some  strong  sulphuric  acid  has  been 
added,  is  thrown  inside.  A  glass  plate  is  then  covered 
with  beeswax ;  and,  on  this,  when  cold,  a  sketch  is 
made  by  means  of  a  needle  point,  so  as  to  expose  the 
glass  surface.  The  plate  is  then  placed  with  the 
sketched  part  face  downwards,  over  the  mixture  last 
mentioned,  so  that  its  edges  may  rest  on  the  edges  of 
the  tray.  A  gentle  heat  is  then  applied  by  means  of  a 
spirit  lamp,  when  the  hydrofluoric  acid  rises  in  vapor, 
and  attacks  the  exposed  surface  of  the  glass.  By  these 
means  such  portions  are  completely  etched  out ;  and  on 
the  wax  being  removed,  the  design  appear  beautifully 
traced  on  the  glass  surface. 

The  best  wax  for  covering  the  glass  is  that  obtained 
by  melting  wax  candle  ends.  It  is  generally  run  over 
both  sides  of  the  glass,  lest  the  vapor  might  attack  both 
sides.  Some  pretty  effects  are  produced  by  first  sketch- 
iQg  the  design,  with  a  soft  black-lead  pencU,  on  paper. 
This  drawing  is  easily  transferred  to  the  wax  surface  by 
pressing  the  pencilled  paper  thereon.  This  forms  a 
guide  for  the  subsequent  tracing  by  the  needle  point. 
By  such  means  the  figures  are  produced  on  the  orna- 
mental sheets  of  glass  so  much  used  for  sashes  in  place 
of  Venetian  blinds. 


Power  of  the  "Whale. 

If  the  whale  knew  his  own  power,  he  would  easily 
destroy  all  the  machinery  which  the  art  of  man  could 
devise  for  catching  him  ;  it  would  be  only  necessary  for 
him  to  swim  on  the  surface  in  a  straight  line,  in  order  to 
break  the  thickest  rope,  but  instead,  on  being  struck 
with  a  harpoon,  he  obeys  a  natural  instinct,  which,  in 
this  instance  betrays  him  to  his  death.  Sir  Humphrey 
Davy,  in  his  "  Salmonia,"  observes  that  the  whale,  not 
having  an  air  bladder,  can  sink  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
the  ocean ;  mistaking  the  harpoon  for  the  teeth  of  a 
swordfish  or  a  shark,  he  instantly  descends,  this  being 
his  method  of  freeing  himself  from  these  enemies  who 
cannot  bear  the  pressure  of  a  deep  ocean  ;  and  from  as- 
cending and  descending  in  small  space,  he  thus  pnte 
himself  in  the  power  of  the  whaler.  If  we  include  the 
pressure  of  the  atmosphere,  a  body  at  the  depth  of  100 
feet  would  sustain  that  of  sixty  pounds  on  the  square 
inch  ;  while  one  at  4,000  feet,  a  depth  by  no  means  con- 
siderable, would  be  expo-ed  to  a  pressure  of  1,800 
pounds.  We  need  not,  th:  :'efore,  feel  surprised  that  on 
the  foundering  of  a  ship  at  sea,  though  its  timbers  part, 
not  a  spar  floats  to  the  surfa.  e  ;  for  if  the  hull  is  sunk  to 
a  great  depth,  all  that  is  porous  is  penetrated  with  water, 
or  is  greatly  compressed.  Dr.  Scoresby  says  that  when, 
by  entangling  the  line  of  the  harpoon,  a  boat  was  carried 
^  down  with  the  whale,  it  required,  after  it  was  recovered, 
jtwo  boats  to  keep  it  at  the  surface.   As  soon  as  the 

i whale  dives  after  being  wounded,  it  draws  out  the  line 
or  cord  of  the  harpoon,  which  is  coiled  up  in  t  e  boat, 
with  very  considerable  velocity.  In  order,  therefore,  to 
{prevent  any  accident  from  the  violence  of  the  motion, 
I  which  might  set  the  side  of  the  boat  on  fire,  one  man  Is 
I  stationed  with  an  axe  to  cut  the  rope  asunder  if  it  should 
become  entangled,  while  another,  furnished  with  a  mop, 
Is  constanily  wetting  with  water  the  channel  through 
■  ivhich  it  passes. 


178 


THE  GROPVING  IVORLD. 


Truth,  or  Fiction. 

Orenburg  is  a  town  of  European  Russia,  situated  in 
the  Ural  mountains,  near  the  Asiatic  border.  About  a 
year  ago  Abraham  Chorkov,^  weathy  Jewish  inhabitant 
of  that  town,  was  lying  dangerously  sick  with  typhoid 
fever.  On  the  22d  day  of  September,  at  midnight,  a 
crisis  set  in  which  seemed  to  take  a  fatal  course ;  the 
man  suffered  and  struggled,  and  his  physicians  called  it 
the  agonies  of  death.  A  number  of  Jews  were  called 
in,  prayers  were  offered,  wax  candles  were  lighted,  and 
behold  !  the  patient,  who  was  supposed  to  be  in  the  last 
stages,  commenced  to  breathe  freely,  opened  his  eyes, 
and  looked  with  astonishment  at  the  surrounding  scene. 
But  the  sequel  has  no  precedent.  The  man  soon  after 
fell  into  a  sleep  which  the  physician  declared  to  be  a 
healthy  one.  In  the  morning  he  awoke,  saw  Mdfe  and 
children  around  him,  who  partly  in  anguish  and  partly 
in  joy  were  waiting  for  his  awakening.  His  wife,  over- 
whelmed with  joy,  wanted  to  throw  herself  upon  his 
neck,  but  by  signs  he  repelled  her,  and  demanded  some- 
thing in  a  language  which  none  of  them  understood. 

It  should  be  mentioned  here  that  Abraham  Chorkov 
is  a  man  of  sallow  appearance,  tall  and  lean,  looking 
like  a  genuine  Russian  Jew,  with  long  black  whiskers 
apd  beard,  black  eyes,  and  a  long  Oriental  nose,  and 
that  before  his  sickness  he  understood  no  other  language 
than  Hebrew  and  a  little  Russian,  being  one  of  the  most 
illiterate  Jews  found  in  such  large  numbers  in  that  part 
of  the  world.  Now  the  man  began  to  speak  in  a  lan- 
guage unintelligible  to  every  one  around  him.  The  phy- 
sician who  was  summoned  did  not  understand  him. 
With  contempt  he  pushed  away  his  wife  and  children 
whenever  they  attempted  to  come  near  him,  and  the 
doctor  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  in  consequence  of  the 
typhus  the  fellow  had  become  insane.  The  despair  of 
the  family  lasted  lor  many  days.  His  wife  had,  in  the 
meantime,  sent  to  Tamboy  for  his  parents  ;  but  on  their 
arrival  Abraham  would  not  recognize  them,  did  not  un- 
derstand their  language,  and  appeared  to  be  angry  that 
no  one  understood  him.  After  a  week  he  rose  from  the 
bed,  and  his  wife  gave  him  his  clothes  as  worn  by  him 
before  his  sickness,  the  usual  habits  of  the  Russian 
Jews.  He  examined  them  closely  and  laughed  heartily. 
He  wanted  to  run  out,  but  the  people  quickly  shut  the 
doors,  fearing  he  would  take  cold.  He  remained  in  the 
room,  pacing  it  with  meditation.  Passing  a  looking- 
glass,  he  beheld  his  figure  in  it.  He  stopped  before  the 
mirror  amazed,  touched  his  curls,  his  big  nose,  his  long 
beard,  and  burst  out  laughing,  but  then  all  of  a  sudden 
became  quiet  and  earnest  and  in  deep  meditation. 

His  wife  and  parents,  who  had  witnessed  this  strange 
behavior,  looked  at  each  other  with  astonishment,  and 
it  now  appeared  to  them  that  the  man  before  them  was 
not  their  Abraham  Chorkov,  but  a  stranger.  But  Abra- 
ham's forehead  bore  still  the  black  line  with  which  he 
was  bom,  so  that  even  the  physicians  who  had  attended 
on  the  patient  for  nearly  two  months  had  to  laugh  at  the 
idea. 

Abraham  Chorkov  looked  often  out  of  the  window, 
and  seemed  surprised  at  the  country  about  him,  and  one 
day  he  made  strong  efforts  to  run  away.  The  family 
now  decided  to  call  in  the  government  physician  and 
other  doctors,  who,  after  a  careful  examination,  pro- 
nounced him  thoroughly  sane.  Although  they  under- 
stood not  the  tongue  in  which  he  spoke,  they  recognized 
it  as  a  regular  language,  well  articulated.  Thinking  he 
could  make  himself  understood  in  writing,  Abraham 
wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper,  which  the  physi- 
cian read,  but  without  comprehending  their  meaning. 
The  writing  is  in  a  plain,  good  hand,  in  Latin  letters, 
but  the  language  was  unintelligible  to  all,  and  no  one 
could  make  out  how  Abraham  Chorkov  came  to  use 
Latin  characters. 

So  things  went  on  until  it  was  agreed  to  take  Abraham 
to  St.  Petersburg  to  the  medical  university  to  hear  the 
opinion  of  the  prominent  scholars.  As  soon  as  Prof. 
C^low  heard  the  language  of  Abraham  he  recognized  it 
forthwith  as  English.  Abraham  expressed  immense 
pleasure  at  being  enabled  to  make  himself  understood, 
and  after  some  conversation.  Prof.  Orlow  pronounced 
Abraham  to  be  a  very  intelligent  Englishman. 

"  But  for  God's  sake,"  cried  his  wife,  "how  does  my 
husband  come  to  be  English,  and  how  did  he  forget  his 
Hebrew  language  ?" 

Prof.  Orlow  listened  with  astonishment  to  the  story 


of  Abraham's  life,  and  would  not  believe  that  he  had 
been  a  common,  illiterate  Russian  Jew.  He  asked 
Abraham  in  English  who  he  was  and  from  whence  he 
came,  and  Abraham  replied  in  the  same  language,  "I 
am  from  British  Columbia,  in  North  America  ;  my  native 
town  is  New  Westminster.  I  have  there  a  wife  and  one 
child  living,  and  God  only  knows  how  I  came  here,  or  to 
this  woman." 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  great  amazement  on  all  parts. 
The  Professor  declared  the  parties  to  be  frauds,  or  that 
a  man  abduction  had  taken  place.  He  called  upon  the 
Government  to  have  the  matter  investigated,  and  the 
family  physician  of  Abraham,  his  neighbors  and  others 
■were  officially  examined,  the  examination  lasting  for 
Weeks.  But  nothing  came  of  the  examination,  the  mat- 
ter remained  as  deep  a  mystery  as  ever,  and  the  physi- 
cians contented  themselves  with  declaring  it  to  be  a 
t)sychological  puzzle,  a  revelation  of  the  human  soul 
Which  could  not  be  explained.  Abraham  told  the  pro- 
fessor that  although  his  name  was  Abraham,  it  was  not 
Abraham  Chorkov,  but  Abraham  Durham,  and  that  he 
,had  no  other  desire  than  to  go  back  to  his  family. 

One  morning,  when  his  wife  arose,  she  found  his 
piace  empty — he  had  disappeared.  The  marvellous 
story  soon  reached  the  ears  of  the  Russian  Emperor, 
who  forthwith  ordered  diligent  search  to  be  made  after 
the  lost  one  ;  but  all  of  no  avail,  the  man  could  not  be 
found  ;  and  at  last  it  was  generally  believed  that  he  had 
been  insane,  and  in  his  insanity  had  sought  his  death  in 
the  river  Neva. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1875  Prof .  Orlow  of  St.  Peters- 
burg visited  Philadelphia,  at  the  request  of  his  Goveni- 
ment,  to  arrange  the  preliminaries  of  the  Russian  depart- 
ment of  the  Centennial  Exhibition.  One  day,  reading  a 
newspaper,  the  following  arrested  his  attention : 

"In  New  Westminster  an  occurrence  recently  took 
place  which  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the 
whole  territory  of  British  Columbia.  On  the  33d  day  of 
September,  1874,  a  fur  dealer  of  said  city  was  in  a  dying 
condition,  suffering  from  typhoid  fever,  and  no  one,  not 
even  his  physicians,  seemed  to  entertain  any  hope  as  to 
the  possibility  of  his  recovery.  Nevertheless,  the  pa- 
tient rallied  and  fully  recovered.  But,  wonderful  to  re- 
late, the  patient,  who  was  an  intelligent  Englishman, 
had  forgotten  his  mother  tongue,  and  speaks  a  language 
"Which  is  understood  by  no  one  around  him,  but  which 
at  last  is  recognized  by  an  inhabitant  of  the  city  to  be  a 
jargon  of  bad  Jewish-German.  The  patient,  before  his 
sickness,  a  short,  stout  fellow  and  a  blonde,  is  now  thin 
and  lean  like  a  stick,  refuses  to  recognize  his  wife  and 
child,  but  insists  that  he  has  a  wife  and  several  children 
somewhere  else.  The  man  is  believed  to  be  insane.  All 
at  once  an  European  traveler  arrives,  marked  with  a 
Cenuine  Hebrew  face,  and  claims  to  be  the  husband  of 
the  wife  of  the  fur  dealer.  He  speaks  to  the  woman  in 
the  same  language  her  husband  was  wont  to  speak  to 
her ;  he  gives  her,  and  even  his  parents,  who  reside  in 
said  city,  but  who,  of  course,  do  not  recognize  him  as 
their  son,  the  most  detailed  and  minutest  description  of 
bygone  events,  and  insists  upon  being  the  woman's  hus- 
band and  the  parents'  son.  The  poor  woman  is  almost 
m  peril  of  her  reason  by  the  effect  of  the  trying  ordeal. 
She  incessantly  asks,  '  Who  is  this  fellow  ?  How  does 
he  come  to  claim  to  be  my  husband  ?'  When  she  hears 
him  speak  and  does  not  look  at  his  figure,  she  is  ready 
to  think  that  he  is  her  husband  ;  but  as  soon  as  she  looks 
at  him  the  spell  is  broken,  for,  surely,  this  stranger  with 
the  Jewish  face  cannot  be  her  husband  whom  she  has 
Just  nursed  in  his  sickness.  But  the  man  continues  to 
press  his  claim,  and  tells  her  the  most  secret  and  deli- 
cate facts,  evidently  known  only  to  husband  and  wife." 

Prof.  Orlow  recollected  now  aU  about  the  occurrence 
last  fall,  and  to  solve  this  "  psychological  phenomenon  " 
he  decided  upon  going  to  New  Westminster.  To  his 
great  surprise  he  really  found  there  the  same  black 
Abraham  whom  half  a  year  ago  he  had  seen  at  St. 
Petersburg.  He  asked  the  blonde  fur  dealer  in  the  Rus- 
sian language  whence  he  came,  and  was  answered,  from 
Orenburg ;  and  when  asked  for  the  name  of  his  wife,  he 
gave  the  name  of  a  Jewish  woman  who  had  called  upon 
him  with  her  husband,  now  before  him,  in  St.  Peters- 
burg. When  asked  what  his  name  was  he  answered, 
*'They  call  me  here  Abraham  Durham,  but  my  right 
name  is  Abraham  Chorkov. 

Prof.  Orlow  was  stnick  with  a  strange  idea.  He  rea- 
soned this  way  :   A  man  abduction  could  not  have  taken 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


179 


place ;  the  bodies  have  not  been  changed  ;  one  is  short, 
stout  and  blonde,  the  other  thin,  long  and  dark ;  and 
then  New  Westminster  is  2,000  German  miles  away  from 
Orenburg.    Metempsychosis  must  have  taken  place. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  on  the  22d  of  September, 
at  the  midnight  hour  both  were  lying  between  life  and 
death,  the  soul  of  each  one  must  have  flown  into  the 
body  of  the  other,  and  thus  a  complete  metempsychosis 
has  taken  place  ,  that  at  the  midnight  hour  of  the  22d  of 
September  begins  the  shortening  of  the  days  ;  that  the 
inhabitants  of  the  two  cities  are  antecians,  that  is,  if  a 
spike  was  driven  through  the  centre  of  th|fclobe,  enter- 
ing at  Orenburg,  it  would  come  out  at  NewW estminster, 
and  that  when  at  Orenburg  it  is  12  o'clock  at  midnight 
the  time  in  New  Westminster  is  just  12  o'clock  noon. 

Prominent  men  of  science  are  now  occupied  with  this 
most  marvellous  occurrence.  Prof.  Orlow  has  taken  the 
blonde  fur  dealer  with  him  to  St.  Petersburg,  whither 
the  woman  Chorkov  of  Orenburg  will  also  be  brought, 
and  further  developments  are  now  expected. 

The  Origin  of  "  Old  Hickory." 

A  correspondent  tells  us  how  General  Jackson  got  his 
title  of  Old  Hickory,  In  the  Creek  war,  during  a  cam- 
paign, the  soldiers  were  moving  rapidly  to  surprise  the 
vidians,  and  were  without  tents.  A  cold  March  rain 
came  on,  mingled  with  sleet,  which  lasted  for  several 
days.  General  Jackson  got  a  severe  cold  but  did  not 
complain  as  he  tried  to  sleep  in  the  muddy  bottom 
among  his  half-frozen  soldiers.  Captain  Allen  and  his 
brother  John  cut  down  a  stout  hickory  tree,  peeled  off 
the  bark  and  made  a  covering  for  the  General,  who  was 
with  diflficulty  persuaded  to  crawl  into  it.  The  next 
morning  a  drunken  citizen  entered  the  camp,  and  seeing 
the  tent  kicked  it  over.  As  Jackson  crawled  from  the 
ruins  the  toper  cried,  "  Hello,  Old  Hickory  !  come  out 
of  your  bark  and  jine  us  in  a  drink." 


Insect  Destroyers. 

A  correspondent  cares  no  more  for  vermin  than,  ac- 
cording to  the  old  showman,  Daniel  cared  for  the  lions. 
"I  have  not  seen  a  bedbug  or  a  flea  in  my  house,"  he 
writes,  '*  for  many  years.  If  an  army  of  them  were  to 
be  brought  in,  mercury  would  speedily  exterminate 
them,  but  I  think  cleanliness  the  best  and  only  pre- 
ventive. The  common  house-fly  I  do  not  molest,  be- 
lieving that  it  more  than  compensates  for  its  trouble  by 
clearing  the  atmosphere  of  effluvia  and  the  animalcules 
which  always  arise  from  the  putrefaction  of  decaying 
substances  during  warm  weather.  So,  also,  with  the 
birds,  which  are  quite  numerous  here  during  the  sum- 
mer ;  instead  of  shooting  them,  or  setting  up  scarecrows 
to  frighten  them  away,  I  throw  out  every  possible  in- 
ducement for  them  to  build  their  nests  in  my  fruit- 
trees. 

"  The  birds  capture  a  large  share  of  the  insects  in  the 
larval  state,  and  thus  the  millers  are  prevented  from  de- 
positing eggs  for  a  future  crop  of  worms.  As  to  the 
loss  of  fruit  by  the  birds,  the  latter  are  always  sure  to  be 
on  hand  in  force  in  the  season  of  ripe  fruit,  whether 
they  come  early  enough  to  take  the  worms  or  not.  For 
the  residue  of  insects  which  infest  my  vegetable  garden, 
I  find  that  the  laboratory  of  the  chemist  furnishes  ma- 
terials fatal  to  them  all,  among  which  white  hellebore 
and  cayenne  pepper  are  of  the  most  utility ;  the  bug  or 
worm  which  cannot  find  vegetation  unflavored  with 
these  articles  will  seek  its  breakfast  elsewhere,  and  leave 
my  garden  unmolested.  A  few  drops  of  carbolic  acid  in 
a  pint  of  water  will  clean  house  plants  from  lice  in  a 
very  short  time.  If  mosquitoes,  or  other  blood  suckers 
infest  our  sleeping  rooms  at  night,  we  uncork  a  bottle  of 
pennyroyal,  and  these  insects  leave  in  great  haste,  nor 
will  they  return  so  long  as  the  air  in  the  room  is  loaded 
with  the  fumes  of  that  aromatic  herb.  If  rats  enter  the 
cellar,  a  little  powdered  potash,  thrown  into  their  holes, 
or  mixed  with  meal  and  scattered  in  their  runways^ 
never  fails  to  drive  them  away.  Cayenne  pepper  will 
keep  the  buttery  and  storeroom  free  from  ants  and  cock- 
roaches. If  a  mouse  makes  an  entrance  into  any  part 
of  your  dwelling,  saturate  a  rag  with  cayenne  in  solu- 
tion and  stuff  it  into  the  hole,  which  can  then  be  repaired 
with  either  wood  or  mortar.  No  rat  or  mouse  will  eat 
that  rag  for  the  purpose  of  opening  communications 
with  a  depot  of  supplies." 


The  Farmer's  Friends. 

The  swallow,  swift,  and  nighthawk  are  the  guardians  of  tha 
atmosphere.  They  check  the  increase  of  insects  that  other- 
wise would  overload  it.  Woodpeckers,  creepers  and  chicka- 
dees are  the  guardians  of  the  trunks  of  trees.  Warblers  and 
liycatcherB  protect  the  foliage.  Blackbirds,  thrushes,  crows  and 
larks  protect  the  surface  of  the  soil ;  snipe  and  woodcock  the  soil 
under  the  surface.  Each  tribe  has  its  respective  duties  to  per- 
form in  the  economy  of  nature ;  and  it  is  an  undoubted  fact 
that,  if  the  birds  were  all  swept  away  from  off  the  earth,  man 
could  not  live  upon  it,  vegetation  would  wither  and  die,  in- 
sects would  become  so  numerous  that  no  living  thing  could 
withstand  their  attacks.  The  wholesale  destruction  occa- 
sioned by  the  grasshoppers,  which  have  lately  devastated  the 
West,  is  undoubtedly  caused  by  the  thinning  out  of  the  birds, 
such  as  grouse,  prairie  hens,  etc.,  which  feed  upon  them.  The 
great  and  inestimable  service  done  to  the  farmer,  gardener 
and  florist  is  only  becoming  known  by  sad  experience.  Sparc 
the  birds  and  save  your  fruit ;  the  little  corn  and  fruit  taken 
by  them  is  more  than  compensated  by  the  vast  quantities  of 
noxious  insects  destroyed.  The  long-persecuted  crow  has 
been  found,  by  actual  experiment,  to  do  far  more  good,  by  the 
vast  quantity  of  grubs  and  insects  he  devours,  than  the  little 
harm  he  does  in  a  few  grains  of  com  he  pulls  up.  He  is  one 
of  the  farmer's  best  friends. 


Growing  Trees  on  the  Prairies. 

In  traveling  over  the  grand  prairies,  go  where  }ou 
may,  the  one  thing  wanting — in  the  eyes  of  an  Eastern 
man — is  timber  ;  something  to  break  the  force  of  the 
winter  and  the  monotony  of  the  country.  You  do  not 
see  barns  here ;  the  stock  must  live  through  the  severe 
winters,  generally,  with  little  or  no  shelter,  while  the 
horse  stable  usually  consists  of  some  poles  arranged  for 
the  purpose,  covered  with  straw.  Fruit  trees  are  seldom 
seen.  So  many  hedges  appear  sickly  and  imperfect,  the 
traveler  concludes  the  country  is  at  fault. 

One  farm  attracted  my  attention.  There  was  a  forest 
near  the  house,  and  long  lines  of  living  fences  divided 
it  into  splendid  fields.  Desirous  to  know  more  of  this,  1 
called  on  the  proprietor  and  learned  that  he  came  here 
sixteen  years  ago  with  scarcely  $100 ;  health  not  very 
good,  but  determined  to  make  a  home.  He  has  now400 
acres,  three  miles  of  splendid  Osage  orange  hedge  fence, 
without  a  gap,  except  gateways  ;  a  magnificent  grove  of 
black  walnut  trees,  three  to  eight  inches  in  diameter  • 
an  acre  of  poplar  and  cottonwood  much  larger ;  1,000 
maple  trees  ;  200  apple  trees  ;  also  peach  and  pear  trees, 
evergreens,  grapes,  raspberries  and  strawberries.  I 
never  have  seen  trees  that  had  grown  so  thrifty  and 
healthy  in  New  York.  One  poplar,  fourteen  years' 
growth,  from  a  little  twig  the  size  of  a  whip  stock,  now 
measures  twenty-one  inches  in  diameter  one  foot  above 
the  ground. 

Inquiring  how  such  results  have  been  accomplished,  I 
am  told  but  little  money  has  been  expended  and  less 
time  than  many  spend  in  gunning.  "What  do  you  sup- 
pose that  mile  of  hedge  cost  me  ?"  pointing  to  the  most 
perfect  living  fence  that  I  had  ever  seen.  I  reply,  "  One 
dollar  per  rod  ;"  but  am  told  the  plants  cost  $28 ;  setting 
and  cultivation,  $40 ;  entire  cost,  $68.  No  stock  was  af 
lowed  near  it  till  it  was  three  years  old,  and  then  the 
most  vicious  animal  will  respect  its  strength. 

The  first  winter  the  plants  are  protected  by  a  mulch- 
ing of  straw,  and  but  little  cultivation  is  afterward 
needed.  Thus  this  substantial  and  everlasting  fence  is 
produced  for  213^  cents  per  rod.  It  also  affords  a  good 
wind-break  for  farm  stock,  as  the  growth  of  each  season 
is  allowed  to  remain  till  the  following  spring  before  it  is 
trimmed.  The  black  walnuts  were  planted  and  culti- 
vated for  two  seasons.  The  young  maples  cost  $6.75 
per  thousand,  and  not  exceeding  $10  for  setting.  They 
were  set  last  spring.  Although  the  season  has  been 
very  dry,  only  six  have  died.  The  poplar  and  cotton- 
wood  grove  is  from  forty  to  sixty  feet  high,  costing  at 
setting  not  more  than  the  maples.  Many  apple  trees 
are  ten  inches  in  diameter,  and  have  produced  several 
barrels  each  this  season.  Choice  grafted  apple  trees, 
five  to  seven  feet  high,  cost  here  fifteen  cents  each. 

I  have  been  thus  minute  to  show  hoAV  easily  a  settler 
in  this  treeless  country  can  secure  fruit,  fence,  timber, 
etc.  J.  E.  w. 


i8o 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THE  SAILOR'S  DREAM. 

Our  port  we  make,  1  jump  ashore, 
For  weeks  to  walk  a  watch  no  more, 
Home  I  push,  and  at  the  door, 

I  catch  and  buss  my  Nancy; 
A  jiffy— I  am  snug  at  tea, 
With  Jack  and  Nan  upon  my  knee, 
And  am  I  really  home  from  sea? 

Yes,  there  sits  my  own  Nancy. 

How  many  a  time  by  day,  by  night, 
I'd  fancy  this  before  my  sight. 
All  of  us  in  this  warm  firelight; 

And  is  it  real,  my  Nancy? 
Yes,  here  I  see  the  firelight  play 
On  all  I've  seen  long  leagues  away; 
Now  God  be  thanked  for  this,  I  say, 

That  here  1  sit  with  Nancy, 

I  rub  my  eyes — what's  that  about? 

"  Up  to  your  watch  I  come,  tumble  out!" 

And  is  it  but  a  dream  about 

My  Jack  and  Nan  and  Nancy? 
Yes,  here  I'm  on  my  watch  alone; 
Well,  all  that  in  my  dream  was  shown, 
Thank  God,  some  hour  will  be  my  own. 

And  I  shall  be  with  Nancy  I 


Washington. 

The  following  description  of  Washington's  personal 
appearance,  written  in  1718,  says  an  English  newspaper, 

by  a  native  of  America,"  contains  some  points  not 
generally  known : 

General  Washington  is  now  in  the  forty-seventh  year 
of  his  age.  He  is  a  tall,  well  made  man,  rather  large, 
and  has  a  tolerable  genteel  address.  His  features  are 
manly  and  bold  ;  his  eyes  of  a  blueish  cast  and  very 
lively  ;  his  face  rather  long,  and  marked  with  the  small- 
pox ;  his  complexion  sunburnt  and  without  much  color ; 
and  his  countenance  sensible,  composed  and  thoughtful. 
There  is  a  remarkable  air  of  dignity  about  him  with  a 
striking  degree  of  gracefulness  ;  he  has  an  excellent  un- 
derstanding, without  much  quickness ;  is  strictly  just. 
Vigilant  and  generous  ;  an  affectionate  husband,  a  faith- 
ful friend,  a  father  to  the  deserving  soldier,  a  gentleman 
in  his  manners,  in  temper  rather  reserved ;  a  total 
stranger  to  religious  prejudices,  which  have  so  often  ex- 
cited Christians  of  one  denomination  to  cut  the  throats 
of  those  of  another;  in  his  morals  irreproachable;  he 
Was  never  known  to  exceed  the  bounds  of  the  most 
rigid  temperance." 


Happy  Accidents. 

The  cracking  of  a  picture  placed  in  the  sunshine  set 
Van  Eyck  experimenting  to  produce  a  varnish  that 
would  dry  in  the  shade.  He  found  what  he  sought,  and 
found  beside  that  by  mixing  it  with  his  colors  they  ac- 
quired greater  force  and  brilliancy,  and  required  no  sub- 
sequent varnishing ;  and  so  came  about  the  discovery, 
or  rediscovery,  of  the  art  of  painting  in  oil.  Mezzotinto 
owed  its  invention  by  Prince  Kupert  to  the  simple  ac- 
cident of  a  sentry's  gun-barrel  being  rusted  by  the  dew. 
Henry  Schanward,  a  Nuremberg  glass-cutter,  happened 
to  let  some  gfqua-fortis  fall  upon  his  spectacles,  and 
noticed  the  glass  was  corroded  and  softened  where  the 
aqua-f  ortis  had  touched  it.  Taking  the  hint,  he  made  a 
liquid  accordingly,  drew  some  figures  upon  a  piece  of 
glass,  covered  them  with  varnish,  and  applied  his  cor- 
roding fluid,  cut  away  the  glass  around  his  drawing,  so> 
that  when  he  removed  the  vamish  the  figures  appeared 
raised  upon  a  dark  ground  ;  and  etching  upon  glass  was 
added  to  the  ornamental  arts.  Alois  Senefelder,  play- 
wright and  actor,  thinking  it  possible  to  etch  upon  stone 
in  lieu  of  copper,  polished  a  slab  for  the  purpose.  He 
was  disturbed  by  his  mother  coming  into  his  small 
laboratory  with  the  request  that  he  would  jot  down  her 
list  of  things  for  the  wash,  as  the  woman  was  waiting 
to  take  the  basket  away.  There  being  neither  paper 
nor  ink  handy,  Senefelder  scribbled  the  items  on  his 
stone  with  his  etching  preparation,  that  he  might  copy 
them  at  his  leisure.  Some  time  afterward,  when  about 
to  clean  the  stone,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  see 
what  would  be  the  effect  of  biting  the  stone  with  aqua- 
fortis, and  in  a  few  minutes  saw  the  writing  standing 
out  in  relief.  Taking  up  a  pelt-ball  charged  with  print- 
ing-ink, he  inked  the  stone,  took  off  a  few  impressions 
upon  paper,  and  he  had  invented  lithography.  The  pelt- 
ball  used  by  Senefelder  was  long  indispensable  in  a 
printing-office.  A  Salopian  printer  in  a  hurry  to  get  on 
with  a  job,  could  not  find  his  ball,  and  inked  the  form 
I  with  a  piece  of  soft  glue  that  had  fallen  out  of  the  glue^ 
I  pot,  with  such  excellent  results  that  he  thenceforth  dis- 
carded the  pelt-ball  altogether,  and  by  adding  treacle  to 
the  glue  to  keep  it  from  hardening,  hit  upon  the  com- 
position of  which  printers'  rollers  have  ever  since  been 
made. 

Three  very  different  discoveries  are  recorded  to  have 
resulted  from  the  unintentional  application  of  intense 
heat,  Pliny  attributes  the  discovery  of  glass  to  some 
merchants  traveling  with  nitre,  who,  stopping  on  the 
banks  of  a  river  to  take  a  meal,  were  at  a  loss  for  stones 
to  rest  their  kettles  upon.  Putting  them  upon  pieces  of 
nitre,  they  kindled  their  fires,  the  nitre,  dissolved  by 
the  heat,  mixed  with  the  sand,  and  the  merchants  were 
astonished  to  see  a  transparent  matter  flowing  over  the 
ground,  which  was  nothing  else  but  glass.  Charles- 
Goodyear  had  for  years  experimented  in  vain,  hoping  to 
deprive  india-rubber  of  its  susceptibility  to  the  action 
of  heat  and  cold.  Conversing  with  a  friend  on  the  sub- 
ject, he  emphasized  an  assertion  by  flinging  a  piece  of 
sulphured  rubber  across  the  room.  It  lighted  upon  the 
stove  ;  and  when  he  picked  it  up  a  few  days  afterward, 
he  found  the  intense  heat  to  which  it  had  been  sub- 
jected had  conferred  upon  the  india-rubber  just  the 
quality  ne  had  so  long  striven  to  impart  to  it.  Accord- 
ing to  some  he  stumbled  upon  the  discovery  in  a  different 
manner ;  but,  at  any  rate,  vulcanized  india-rubber  was 
the  creation  of  an  accident.  A  Limerick  tobacconist, 
looking  dolefully  at  his  poor  neighbors  groping  among 
the  smoldering  ruins  of  his  burned-out  shop,  noticed 
that  some  of  them,  after  trying  the  contents  of  certain 
canisters,  carefully  loaded  their  waistcoat  pockets  from 
them.  He  followed  suit,  and  found  the  snuff  had  come 
out  of  the  fiery  ordeal  very  much  improved  in  pungency 
and  aroma.  Like  a  wise  man  he  said  nothing,  but  took 
another  place,  set  up  a  lot  of  ovens,  and  before  long 
Black  Yard  Snuff— otherwise  "Irish  Blackguard"— 
was  all  the  rage  with  lovers  of  nasal  titillation ;  and  in  a 
few  years  Lundyfoot  was  a  rich  man,  owing  to  the  acci- 
dent he  thought  had  ruined  him.  A  would-be  alchemist 
seeking  to  discover  what  mixture  of  earths  would 
make  the  strongest  crucibles,  one  day  found  he  had 
made  porcelain.  Instead  of  transmuting  metals,  as  he 
had  fondly  hoped  to  do,  Bottger  transmuted  himself ; 
"  as  if  he  had  been  touched  with  a  conjurer's  wand,  he 
was  on  a  sudden  transformed  from  an  alchemist  into 
potter." 


I 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


i8i 


Burial  Rites  of  the  Arabs,  and  their 
ReUgion. 

When  a  Bedouin  dies,  the  coi-pse  is  taken  at  once  out 
of  the  tent  to  a  convenient  place,  washed  and  shrouded. 
A  bag  containing  a  little  corn  (called  a  shehadeh)  is  placed 
beside  it,  and  it  is  immediately  buried.  As  soon  as  it  is 
placed  in  the  grave  the  friends  of  the  deceased  beat  upon 
the  ground  with  a  stick,  recite  the  Fatehah,  and  cry  out: 
"  Oh,  Thou  most  compassionate  1  have  mercy  upon  us. 
Oh,  gracious  God  1"  They  then  tap  with  a  small  pickax 
at  the  head  of  the  grave,  and  address  the  deceased 
in  these  words :  "When  the  twain  Green  Angels  shall 
question  and  examine  thee,  say.  The  feaster  makes 
merry,  the  wolf  prowls,  and  man's  lot  is  still  the  same, 
but  1  have  done  with  all  these  things.  The  side-tree  is 
thy  aunt,  and  the  palm-tree  thy  mother."  Each  one 
then  throws  a  little  earth  into  the  grave,  exclaiming, 
as  he  does  so,  "God  have  mercy  upon  thee,"  and  the 
party  adjourns  to  a  feast  in  the  tents  of  the  deceased. 
Another  entertainment  is  given  in  honor  of  his  memory 
after  the  lapse  of  four  months.  When  a  death  occurs 
in  an  encampment,  the  women  of  the  family  at  once  go 
outside  the  tents,  and,  taking  off  their  head-dresses, 
commence  a  loud  and  impassioned  wailing,  which  they 
continue  throughout  the  day. 

It  has  been  the  fathion  with  people  who  do  not  under- 
stand the  Bedouin  character  to  describe  them  as  an 
irregular  race,  but  this  is  by  no  means  correct.  It  is 
true  they  do  not  often  perform  the  ostentatious  Ma- 
hometan ceremonial  worship,  but  I  have  frequently  seen 
our  Arab  guides  grow  silent  and  contemplative  toward 
sunset  as  they  walked  along  with  their  camels,  and  on 
riding  up  to  them  have  over-heard  the  following  simple 
prayer:  "Oh  Lord,  be  gracious  unto  u-s  !  In  all  that  we 
hear  or  see,  in  all  that  we  say  or  do,  be  gracious  unto 
us !  Have  mercy  upon  our  friends  who  have  passed 
away  before  us.  I  ask  pardon  of  the  Great  God.  I 
ask  pardon  at  the  sunset,  when  every  sinner  turns  to  Him. 
Now  and  forever,  I  ask  pardon  of  God.  Oh  Lord,  cover 
us  from  our  sins,  guard  our  children  and  protect  our 
weaker  friends !" 

At  sunrise  they  say:  "I  seek  refuge  with  the  Great  God 
from  Satan  accursed  with  stones.  Deliver  me  from  evil, 
provide  for  me  and  my  brethren  the  faithful.  Oh  Lord^ 
be  gracious  unto  us  !  for  a  people  that  prospers  is  better 
than  a  people  that  strives.  Oh  Lord,  provide  for  me, 
thou  who  providest  even  for  the  blind  hyena  !"  Before 
sleep  the  Bedouin  says:  "I  lay  down  my  head  to  rest, 
and  the  Lord  is  my  security  against  remote  evil,  and 
against  present  harm."  They  preface  every  prayer  with 
-the  words:— "I  desire  to  pray,  and  I  seek  guidance  from 
God  ;  for  good  and  pure  prayers  come  from  God  alone. 
Peace  be  unto  our  Lord  Abraham  and  our  Lord  Moham- 
med." 

They  believe  that  when  a  man  rises  up  from  sleep  in 
the  morning,  the  spirit  of  God  sits  upon  his  right  shoui- 
der,  and  the  devil  on  his  left.  A  Suri  Arab  on  waking 
invariably  repeats  the  exorcising  formula:  "I  seek  refuge 
in  God  from  Satan  accursed  with  stones,"  sprinkling 
himself  with  water  as  he  utters  the  words.  Without  this 
precaution  they  believe  that  the  good  spirit  would  take 
iiight,  and  the  evil  one  remains  with  them  throughout 
;the  day.   At  sunset  the  same  ceremony  is  repeated. 


Put  a  few  iron  nails  into  a  glass  bottle,  and  fit  into  its 
neck  a  cork  containing  a  glass  tube,  one  of  the  edges  of 
which  has  been  drawn  to  a  jet.  Add  some  dilute  sul- 
puhric  acid  to  the  nails,  and  fit  in  the  tube.  Gas  will  be 
given  off ;  but  this  should  be  allowed  to  escape,  being 
mixed  with  air,  it  would  explode  or  perhaps  burst  the 
bottle  if  the  gas  were  ignited.  After  sufficient  time  has 
elapsed  to  remove  all  the  air  from  the  bottle,  apply  a 
light  to  the  jet,  when  the  gas  will  bum  with  a  yellowish 
colored  flame. 

I  H)11rogen  may  be  obtained  from  water,  as  follows : 
j  Steam  from  water  is  passed  through  an  iron  tube  heated 
{ to  redness,  and  by  this  means  decomposed.  The  result 
iof  the  decomposition,  hydrogen,  may  be  collected  by 
i  fitting  a  bent  pewter  tube  to  the  end  of  the  iron  one. 
j  Hydrogen  is  obtained  in  the  purest  state  by  decompos-' 
i  ing  water  by  means  of  electricity. 

I  The  most  important  compound  of  hydrogen  is  the 
well-known  liquid,  water,  which,  in  its  purest  state, 
consists  of  eight  parts  of  oxygen  united  with  one  part  of 
hydrogen,  by  weight.  The  gases  unite,  by  balk  in  the 
proportion  of  two  volumes  of  hydrogen  to  one  of  oyxgen. 

The  following  experiment  illustrates  the  production 
of  water  by  the  union  of  its  elementary  constituents  : 

Hold  a  cold  glass  vessel  over  the  jet  of  the  bottle  de- 
scribed in  the  preceding  experiment,  whilst  the  gas  is 
burning.  The  vessel  will  soon  become  coated  with  dew, 
owing  to  water  being  produced  by  the.  combustion  of 
the  hydrogen  in  contact  with  the  oxygen  contained  in 
the  surrounding  air 


Hydrogen. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Next  to  oxygen,  hydrogen  stands  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance in  the  list  of  elements.  By  the  combination  of 
the  two,  we  have  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  of  our  rivers, 
etc.  Combined  with  carbon,  hydrogen  enters  into  the 
composition  of  most  animal  and  vegetable  substances ; 
as  carburetted  hydrogen,  a  product  from  coal,  it  is  ex- 
tensively used  as  fuel  and  for  illuminating  purposes, 
and  the  same  results  are  obtained  from  animal  or  vege- 
table oils,  through  its  presence  in  them. 

Hydrogen  weighs  but  little  over  one-fifteenth  part  of 
its  bulk  of  atmospheric  air.  It  is  the  lightest  known 
hody  in  nature,  and  for  this  reason  is  employed,  both  in 
its  pure  and  compound  states,  to  fill  balloons. 

Hydrogen  may  be  procured,  in  various  shades  of 
purity,  from  water,  coal,  oils,  etc.  The  following  ex- 
periments will  afford  an  instance  of  this  kind. 


The  Potato. 

The  potato  is  more  important  as  a  variety  of  human 
\food,  than  any  other  root  we  cultivate,  and  is  re- 
markable for  being  grown  over  a  greater  range  of 
latitude  than  any  other  cultivated  plant. 

The  potato  was  scarcely  known  until  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  was  not  extensively  cultivated  before  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth.  The  potato  plant  is  a  native 
of  South  America,  and  its  native  soil  is  Chili,  where  it  is 
called  maglia,  and  Humboldt  affirms  that  it  was  un- 
known in  Mexico  until  after  the  Spanish  conquest. 

It  has  been  stated,  and  is  believed  by  many,  that  the 
first  potatoes  grown  in  Europe  were  planted  in  Walter 
Raleigh's  garden  in  Ireland,  but  this  is  erroneous.  At 
Offenburgh,  near  Baden,  in  South  Germany,  there  is  a 
monument  to  Sir  Francis  Drake,  as  "The  first  intro- 
ducer of  the  potato  in  Europe."  By  the  way,  it  may  be 
mentioned  that  Frederick  the  Great  had  to  compel  his 
subjects  to  plant  it  before  he  could  get  it  into  much 
use,  and  the  use  of  this  invaluable  plant  was  vehe- 
mently opposed  in  France.  At  last  Louis  XV.  wore  a 
bunch  of  its  flowers  in  the  midst  of  his  courtiers,  and 
the  consumption  of  the  root  became  universal. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  potato  entered  Europe  by  two 
different  routes.  It  was  carried  from  Peru  to  Spain, 
and  thence  into  Italy  and  Germany,,  where  laws  were 
passed  to  enfore  its  cultivation.  It  is  probable  that 
when  Raleigh  came  from  his  American  voyage  of  1589 
he  brought  tobacco  and  the  potato  with  him. 

Drake  visited  Virginia  a  few  years  later,  and  brought 
over  the  sweet  potato,  which  abounded  in  Virginia  and 
j  North  Carolina,  and  was  used  in  England  as  a  delicacy 
long  before  the  potato  which  we  ordinarily  have  was 
known. 

Sir  Francis  Drake  returned  from  navigating  the  globe, 
during  which  time  he  visited  Chili,  in  1570,  full  seven 
years  before  Raleigh  landed  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and 
it  is  quite  certain  that  he  brought  over  the  potato. 

A  legend  in  regard  to  the  origin  of  roasted  potatoes 
runs  that  Raleigh  planted  some  of  the  tubers  in  his  gar- 
den in  Ireland,  just  as  he  had  seen  it  done  in  Virginia, 
and  had  to  return  to  England  before  the  plant  had 
reached  maturity.  His  Irish  retainers,  left  in  charge  ol 
his  house  and  garden,  noticed  the  seed-apples  which  in 
due  season  the  plant  produced,  tasted  them,  and  pro- 
nounced them  unfit  for  use  by  man  or  beast.  At  that 
time  the  process  of  burning  the  grafts,  or  weeds,  was 
practiced  in  Ireland.  It  was  used  by  Raleigh's  servants 
to  clear  the  garden  of  the  withered  stalks  of  the  potato 
plants.  In  this  burning  the  ground  became  heated,  and 
the  gardener,  turning  the  earth  up  with  his  spade,  found 
the  tubers  cooked  and  pleasant  to  the  taste.  Roasted 
potatoes  got  wind,  and  most  every  person  in  Ireland 
planted  potatoes. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Traveling  on  the  Plains. 

BY  W.  R.  SMITH. 

Morning — sunrise  on  the  plains.  Once  more  we  are  in 
our  saddles,  moving  along  over  a  level  stretch  of  coun- 
try in  a  southwest  course.  One  great  feature  of  the 
plains  is  the  scarcity  of  timber,  and  which  is  more  no- 
ticeable than  any  other — one  by  one  the  different  species 
of  trees  disappear,  until  only  one  is  left,  and  this  is  the 
celebrated  cottonwood  {Ibpulus  Canadensis),  which  is 
kjiown  to  every  traveler  of  the  plains,  and  is  always 
welcomed  with  joy  and  delight,  as  it  is  very  seldom 
found  far  away  from  the  water  courses.  A  traveler  can 
00  for  days  on  the  plains  and  not  see  enough  of  timber 
lio  make  a  riding  switch.  Occasionally  there  is  a  grove 
or  clump  of  trees,  to  break  the  monotonous  sameness  of 
boundless  sea  of  verdure,  which  glistens  in  the  sun- 
sWrte*  presenting  the  appearance  of  molten  silver. 

Wlme  riding  along  over  the  plains  we  would  often 
pass  through  what  is  known  as  a  ''prairie  dog  town." 
As  we  would  move  forward  to  get  a  closer  view  of  their 
tiOwn  they  would  set  up  a  sharp,  shrill  barking,  when  an 
alarm  was  passed  from  one  to  another,  and  they  disap- 
peared, turning  a  somersault  into  their  holes,  and  as  we 
passed  through  their  village  not  a  hair  of  one  did  we 
see ;  but  by-and-by  a  cautious  old  one  would  poke  the 
end  of  his  nose  out  of  his  hole  to  see  what  we  were 
about,  and  on  seeing  us  he  would  instantly  disappear, 
and  another  at  a  greater  distance  would  come  out  en- 
tirely, but  catching  a  glance  of  us  he  would  make  his 
feet  twinkle  and  plunge  back  again  into  his  hole.  After 
passing  over  this  underground  community  and  getting 
some  mstance  away,  they  would  come  out  of  their  holes 
and  set  up  a  perfect  bedlam  of  noise,  no  doubt  at  our 
invasion  of  their  town.  These  prairie  dogs  are  of  the 
eony  kind  and  about  the  size  of  a  common  rabbit ;  they 
burrow  in  holes  in  the  ground,  and  it  is  supposed  by 
some  that  a  species  ^  the  prairie  owl  and  rattlesnake 
also  make  their  abodfe  in  the  same  hole,  but  of  this  asser- 
tion 1  will  say  nothing,  not  knowing,  although  I  have 
often  seen  these  small  owls  setting  around  these  holes , 
but  as  for  the  rattlesnake,  I  have  reasons  to  doubt  it, 
unless  these  towns  are  like  all  others,  it  being  a  very  dif- 
ficult matter  to  keep  bad  company  out  of  any  society. 
After  a  few  days'  travel  we  one  evening  encamped  on 
Medicine  Lodge  Creek,  in  Southwestern  Kansas.  This 
ia  a  very  fine  country,  although  it  was  then  without  an 
inhabitant,  but  now  the  cabins  of  the  homestead  pioneer 
can  be  seen  dotting  the  prairies  of  this  beautiful  valley. 
This  country  has  no  roaring  of  classic  waters,  and  no 
sombre  shadows  of  gigantic  mountains  to  give  it  a  good- 
ly name,  but  it  has  the  pure  and  bracing  air  which  gives 
Me  and  vigor,  with  a  glow  of  health,  that  is  unknown  in 
the  crowded  cities.  This  country  is  pre-eminently  a 
stock-raising  one,  the  broad  prairies  are  covered  with 
fine  heavy  grass  which  during  the  fall  is  cured  by  the 
sun  into  hay  ;  a  plentiful  supply  of  water,  and  short  win- 
ter seasons,  which  are  generally  mild  and  dry.  Conta- 
gious diseases,  so  prevalent  among  stock  in  other  places, 
are  unknown  in  the  Southwest,  except  when  brought 
with  other  herds  from  abroad.  The  large  droves  of  cat- 
tle, owned  by  the  Indians  in  southern  Kansas  and  the 
Territory,  feeding  the  entire  winter  on  the  prairies,  prove 
successfully  that  this  country  is  unsurpassed  in  stock- 
raising. 

From  Medicine  Lodge  we  took  a  western  course.  It 
was  evening  when  we  went  into  camp  near  a  small  stream 
that  fiowed  into  the  Cimaron.  Far  off  over  the  plains 
could  be  seen  a  party  of  hunters,  who  were  after  a  herd 
of  buflalos.  The  hunters  were  making  it  lively  and  ex- 
citing times,  for  the  buffalos  particularly.  We  could  see 
that  they  were  firing  a  volley  almost  constantly,  by  the 
small  white  puffs  of  smoke  that  curled  away  from  their 
guns,  the  distance  being  too  great  to  hear  the  report.  A 
short  distance  from  us  was  a  drove  of  antelope  feeding 
on  the  rich  green  pasture — they  have  not  seen  us  yet,  or 
you  may  rest  assured  they  would  not  be  there  very  long, 
lor  they  are  a  shy  and  timid  animal  and  wUl  scamper  off 
over  the  plains  almost  as  soon  as  seen. 

Ajb  we  traveled  along  we  noticed  that  from  the  appear- 
ance of  the  country  we  were  approaching  a  large  water 
course,  and  such  was  the  case,  as  late  one  evening  the 
beautiful  valley  of  the  Cimaron  lay  spread  out  before  us 
in  all  its  loveliness.  There  are  but  few  objects  that  pre- 
sent an  aspect  of  more  surpassing  beauty  and  grandeur 
than  the  far  lengthened,  wide-expandiDcr  prairie.  The 


gigantic  mountains,  the  mighty  ocean,  the  beautiful  hiU« 
arrayed  in  Nature's  green — all  these  afford  a  hundred  of 
magnificent  scenes ;  out  the  face  of  a  prairie  situated  in 
a  valley  smiles  with  indescribable  loveliness.  It  is  a  rap- 
turous vision  to  gaze  upon  these  great  gardens  of  the 
West ;  one  would  think  that  they  were  untouched  by  the 

reat  spoiler,  so  fresh  do  they  seem  from  the  Creator's 

and. 

All  around  us  Nature  is  undisturbed,  and  it  is  so  still 
and  quiet  along  the  valley  that  a  person  is  almost  made 
to  believe  that  the  world  no  longer  holds  a  thing  of  life. 
The  hills  are  thickly  dotted  with  clustering  fir-trees  and 
cedar,  making  the  beautiful  appearance  of  many  ever- 
green mountains.  The  banks  of  the  river  were  lined 
with  cottonwood,  while  the  placid  waters  reflected  back 
their  forms  with  added  lustre  and  brilliancy'.  Down  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  we  pitched  our  tents  in  a  grove  of 
trees  which  cast  a  pleasant  shade  around,  while  the 
green  grass  was  thickly  studded  with  sweet  wild  flowers 
which  encumbered  the  air  with  their  fragrance,  and  just 
before  us,  almost  at  our  very  feet,  flowed  the  peaceful 
waters  of  the  Cimaron  river. 


Life  Considered  as  a  Mode  of  Motion. 

Life  is  motion;  death  is  rest;  such  is  the  simple  defini- 
tion which  has  obtained  for  the  two  states  which  interest 
mankind  the  most.  Motion  is  so  interwoven  with  life, 
that  we  have  no  hesitation  in  designating  what  we  call 
physical  life  as  a  form  of  motion  of  matter  through 
space.  The  arms  move— we  strike  :  the  legs  move — we 
walk ;  the  heart  moves — we  live  ;  the  blood  moves — we 
can  think,  feel,  act ;  when  motion  ceases,  and  rest,  ab- 
solute rest,  returns,  we  are  dead.  In  sleep  the  heart 
and  blood  moves  on ;  the  limbs  are  apparently  still ; 
but  the  close  observer  detects  plenty  of  minute  motions 
in  the  sleeping  subject.  The  object  of  sleep,  as  far  as 
can  be  determined  in  the  present  advanced  stage  of 
science  appears  simply  to  be  that  the  nervous  syirtem 
may  have  a  chance  to  recuperate  its  destroyed  cells 
from  the  blood — a  process  which,  as  far  as  the  nerves 
are  concerned,  appears  to  be  suspended  during  waking 
hours.  We  are  dormant  while  nervous  life  moves  on, 
and  grows,  until  at  last  it  becomes  so  strong  as  to  rouse 
our  bodies  from  the  torpor  in  which  we  have  fallen,  and 
we  can  no  longer  sleep,  again  awakening  to  rise  and 
strive  to  get  rid  of  the  accumulated  force,  which  is  the 
result  of  sleep — to  reduce  ourselves  again  to  nonenity. 

Perchance  we  acquire  a  part  of  our  energy  not  so 
much  from  the  absolute  aggregation  of  nervous  matter 
from  the  blood,  as  from  the  fact  that  while  we  have  re- 
mained perfectly  quiet  the  motion  of  the  blood  has  m- 
creased  force  in  our  bodies — ^hence  lying  still  without 
sleep  frequently  rests  people.  A  thing  in  motion  like 
blood  which  moves  not  freely  gives  force,  which  is 
simply  motion  in  another  form  with  everything  it  comes 
in  contact  with.  As  Prof.  Tyndall  has  clearly  shown. 
Matter  in  motion  stopped  generates  heat,  as  a  penii^' 
struck  by  a  hammer  ;  the  motion  of  the  hammer  stops 
but  the  penny  is  hot.  The  motion  of  our  blood  througti 
our  bodies  is  subject  to  more  or  less  friction ;  hence  this 
retardation  of  its  motion  must  generate  either  heat  or 
some  other  form  of  force.  In  this  case  we  call  it  life, 
as  is  evinced  by  the  activity  of  every  one  after  a  rest. 

In  the  economy  of  our  bodies  we  find  everywhere 
there  forms  of  motion  heat,  and  that  more  subtle  force, 
electricity.  Life  in  fine,  physically  speaking,  becomes — 
like  heat — a  form  of  motion.  But  what  of  the  mind 
which  engages  the  attention  of  so  many  learned  per- 
sons ? 

What  is  mind  ?  We  give  the  general  name  of  mind 
to  the  operation  of  thought  of  every  kind.  What  is 
thought  ?  Thought  is  motion  again  ;  but  how  ?  The 
brain  of  a  child  is  blank  until  it  grows  sufficient  to  re- 
ceive what  we  designate  impressions.  Impressions  may 
perhaps  be  more  clearly  rendered  photographs  of  what 
It  sees  ;  of  what  it  hears ;  of  things  it  feels.  Day  by 
day,  year  by  year  until  a  late  period  of  life,  these  photo- 
graphical  impressions  are  taken  by  the  brain  and  stored 
and  numbered  for  future  use  by  the  wiU.  When  we 
read  anything  descriptive,  we  instantly  call  into  our  aid 
some  impression  of  similar  scenes  we  have  ourselves- 
seen ;  or  if  we  have  not  seen  the  thing  in  nature,  art 
with  a  picture  or  engraving  furnishes  us  the  same  thing 
for  our  use.  If  we  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  of  any- 
thing of  the  nature  we  read  of,  as  a  whole,  we  at  OKce 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


183 


ttttenrpt  to  understand  tlie  sense  by  combining  parts  of 
impressions  into  one  picture  ;  and  when  we  can  do  this, 
BO  as  to  make  a  picture  with  no  incongruities  alarming 
to  our  education,  we  think  we  understand,  though  often 
we  find  afterwards  we  have  been  mistaken  in  our  esti- 
mate. Hence  we  find  that  we  ordinarily  think  by  com- 
binmg  impressions  and  making  a  new  one  which  is  in 
turn  photographed  on  the  brain  for  future  use  in  whole 
or  in  part.  To  combine  these  impressions  we  have  to 
move  them  to  meet  other  impressions  ;  hence,  thought 
is  a  mode  of  motion.  At  night  when  the  will  is  dormant 
these  brain  photographs  by  being  without  their  gov- 
ernor, as  it  were,  often  move  themselves  into  the  queer- 
est and  most  fantastic  combinations,  producing  what  we 
call  dreams,  the  moment  the  will  is  again  called  into 
action  they  at  once  return  to  their  own  place  ;  hence  the 
difficulty  of  catching  the  exact  impression  of  a  dream 
as  the  will  finds  it  almost  impossible  to  combine  them 
into  that  chaotic  confusion  that  they  present  themselves 
in  ;  as  hard  as  it  would  be  to  get  the  same  picture  with 
a  kaleidoscope  by  continued  shaking. 

Persons  vary  considerably  in  their  power  both  of  re- 
oeiving  impressions  and  the  facility  with  which  they  can 
move  and  combine  them.  A  person  is  said  to  have  a 
good  memory,  when  his  brain  receives  many  impressions 
deeply  and  permanently ;  while  another  man  may  have 
a  poor  memory,  able  only  to  hold  a  comparative  few  of 
the  impressions  he  has  received,  but  still  having  a 
faculty  of  moving  those  few  with  great  speed,  and  com- 
bining them  to  be  of  use.  Some  persons  are  slow 
thinkers  ;  that  is,  they  can  move  their  impressions  very 
slowly  together,  and  are  slow  at  combining  parts,  though 
at  the  same  time  they  are  often  blessed  with  wonderful 
memories  of  whole  impressions  of  things  heard  or  seen, 
but  they  recapitulate  them  slowly,  but  generally  with 
accuracy.  Men  of  vivid  imagination,  those  who  gener- 
ally write  works  of  fiction,  are  persons  whose  brains 
have  unusual  power  in  the  way  of  moving  impressions  ; 
though  the  combination  may  be  faulty  still  they  are 
often  startling  from  the  novelty.  Ofttimes  this  class  of 
persons  drift  into  the  bad  habit  of  allowing  their  brains 
to  combine  impressions  in  the  manner  persons  do  when 
they  sleep,  and  then  transcribing  the  trash  thus  com- 
posed for  the  benefit  of  the  public,  calling  it  a  book. 
A  very  vivid  imagination,  a  wonderful  memory,  a  great 
facility  of  motion  among  the  brain  impressions  and  a 
powerful  will,  are  the  necessary  adjuncts  of  a  great 
man  ,  and  which  all  great  men  have  possessed  from 
tfime  immemorial. 

Having  thus  briefly  given  a  rational  explanation  of 
the  process  of  thought— we  may  before  leaving  this  part 
•f  our  subject,  say  a  few  words  about  the  memory.  It 
\fas  long  ago  discovered  that  memory  was  but  a  physi- 
cal attribute,  that  whatever  destroyed  the  store-house 
4f  impression,  i.  e.,  the  brain,  destroyed  the  memory. 
In  old  persons  this  fact  is  also  unmistakable.  As  the 
tissues  harden  they  no  longer  receive  the  impression 
perfectly  ;  hence,  an  old  person  remembers  not  what 
happens  to-day  or  yesterday,  but  what  happened  years 
ago,  when  his  brain  took  its  photographs  in  the  strength 
of  youth.  How  careful  we  should  be  then  to  fill  our 
brain  with  pleasing  impressions  for  use  in  old  age,  when 
the  things  of  the  day  can  no  longer  interest  us  ? 

But  what  of  the  will  ?  The  will  is  the  source  which 
puts  our  bodies  to  use  and  moves  the  impressions.  It 
£3  the  image  of  God,  who  especially  declares  it  was 
made  in  his  image.  It  stands  at  the  centre  of  the  finite 
body  and  its  surroundings,  as  God  does  of  the  infinite. 
We  should  see  that  we  make  good  use  of  the  curious 
and  complicated  machine  which  has  been  committed  to 
our  care,  and  that  through  it  and  by  the  experience  it 
gives  us  it  may  enable  our  wills  to  acquire  that  self-con- 
trol which  is  an  absolute  requisite  for  future  usefulness 
in  God's  Kingdom. 


fermentation  Is  complete,  and  the  liquid  has  become 
clear,  it  must  be  distilled  in  a  retort,  tne  first  portions 
only  being  retained.  The  product  is  alcohol  largely 
diluted  with  water.  By  repeated  distillation  with  sub- 
carbonate  of  potass  or  dry  lime,  the  water  is  separated, 
until  the  pure  alcohol  is  obtained.  In  its  pure  state 
alcohol  boils  at  a  temperature  of  173  deg.  Fahrenheit, 
and  is  converted  into  a  vapor  which  is  readily  condensed 
and  which,  like  the  liquid  itself,  is  highly  inflammable. 
"  Proof  spirit,"  such  as  is  referred  to  in  the  excise  laws, 
contain  half  pure  alcohol,  the  remainder  being  water. 

The  uses  of  alcohol  are  very  numerous  in  arts  and 
manufactures.  From  its  solvent  powers  it  is  used  to 
make  varnishes,  etc.,  but  the  most  important  use  is  that 
of  beverage. 

The  fermentation  of  saccharine  matter  leads  to  the 
production  of  alcohol  in  all  cases,  but  the  commercial 
products  differ  according  to  the  source  of  the  sugar. 
Thus,  whiskey  is  obtained  by  the  fermentation  of  the 
sugar  of  malt,  as  in  beer.  Rum  is  produced  when  coarse 
cane-sugar  is  employed.  Brandy  and  wine  generally  are 
the  produce  of  the  grape.  The  difference  of  these 
liquids,  then,  are  owing  to  the  admixture  of  the  alcohol 
they  contain,  with  other  substances  dissolved  and  held 
in  solution  by  it.  In  com  spirit,  or  that  obtained  from 
potatoes,  a  coarse  offensive  oil  is  found,  which  gives 
the  peculiar  smoky  flavor  of  whiskey.  In  wines  the 
peculiar  and  distinguishing  taste  is  due  to  the  presence 
of  an  ether,  which  at  the  same  time  differs  in  each  wine 
and  gives  it  its  characteristic  flavor,  and  so  on. 

Perfumes  are  manufactured  by  dissolving  various 
essential  oils  in  alcohol  of  various  strengths,  and  are 
then  subjected  to  distillation  in  order  to  insure  complete 
mixture. 


Alcohol. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFT. 

This  well-known  liquid  is  the  product  of  the  vinous 
fermentation  of  grape-sugar.  It  is  sold  in  commerce  as 
spirits  of  wine,  and  to  its  presence  in  brandy,  gin 
rum,  whiskey,  wines  and  beer,  their  peculiar  effects  of 
mtoxication  are  due.  Alcohol  is  readUy  produce^  h\ 
adding  yeast  to  a  solution  of  sugar  in  water,  at  a  tem- 
perature varying  from  seventy  to  eighty  degrees  Fahren- 
heit.   Carbonic  acid  is  largely  disengaged,  and  when 


The  Enchanted  Mountain. 

In  the  State  of  Georgia  is  a  large  hill  known  as  the 
Enchanted  Mountain.  There  is  nothing  remarkable 
about  this  mountain  untU  you  get  on  the  summit,  when 
human  tracks,  or  impressions  in  the  solid  rock  which 
look  like  human  foot-prints,  may  be  seen.  There  are  one 
hundred  and  thirty-six  foot-prints  and  a  few  hand-prints 
found  on  this  rock.  The  smallest  foot-print  is  four 
inches  in  length  and  perfect  in  shape.  The  largest  is 
seventeen  and  a  half  inches  in  length  and  seven  and 
three-fourths  inches  wide.  This  one,  unlike  the  others, 
has  six  toes.  By  whom  these  tracks  were  made  is  one  of 
the  many  mysteries  which  we  can  never  fathom.  The 
Indians  in  that  vicinity  had  many  traditions  concerning 
them.  One  of  these  is  curious,  for  it  shows  that  they 
had  a  vague  idea  of  Noah's  flood.  The  story  is,  as  it 
has  been  handed  down  from  father  to  son  for  many  ages, 
that  this  rock  was  the  landing-place  of  the  great  canoe ; 
and  that  the  foot-prints  were  made  by  the  people  com- 
ing from  the  great  canoe  and  stepping  on  the  rock, 
which  had  been  softened  by  the  long  inundation. 

Geology  shows  us  that  these  tracks  were  made  in  a 
kind  of  mud,  and  that  this  mud  afterwards  hardened 
into  rock.  Axid  as  the  top  of  the  mountain  would  be 
the  first  to  show  itself  above  the  surface  when  the  waters 
which  once  covered  the  earth  subsided,  it  may  be  that 
this  island— for  it  was  then  an  island — was  visited  by  a 
party  of  Aborigines  who  landed,  leaving  their  foot-printe 
in  the  soft  mud,  which  in  the  process  of  time  was  changed 
to  solid  rock.  But  this  theory  is  purely  imaginary.  We 
do  not  know,  nor  can  we  ever  hope  to  know,  who  made 
the  tracks. 

Another  Indian  tradition  is  that  a  great  battle  was 
once  fought  there,  and  that  the  largest  track  is  that  of 
the  victorious  chief.  This  is  essentially  an  Indian  tra- 
dition, as  their  ideas  of  mental  greatness  were  circum- 
scribed by  physical  size.  They  did  not  consider  that 
Uhe  size  or  activity  of  the  brain  had  anything  to  do  with 
'  it.  They  regarded  physical  size  and  strength  as  the  only 
necessary  qualifications  in  a  commander,  and  hence 
their  reason  for  regarding  the  largest  foot-prints  as  hav- 
ing been  made  by  the  victorious  chief. 


Solitude  and  Society. — It  is  easy  in  the  world  tu 
live  after  the  world's  opinion ;  it  is  easy  in  solitude  tc 
live  after  your  own  ,  but  the  great  man  is  he  who,  ha 
the  midst  of  the  crowd,  keeps  with  perfect  sweetness 
the  independence  of  solitude. — Emerson. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


J.  Proctor  Knott's  Duluth  Speech 

The  men  who  make  our  humor  in  and  out  of  Congress 
are  the  favorites  of  the  people.  We  give  them  pet 
names.  Corwin,  Douglas,  Butler,  Lincoln,  all  had  these 
affectionate  freedoms  extended  to  them  by  their  sup- 
porters or  enemies,  just  as  "Little  Johnny,"  "Old 
Pam,"  "Dizzy,"  and  others  in  England  had  them.  They 
were  associated  with  something  jocular.  Lord  Russell's 
crisp  scorn  and  Disraeli's  epigrammatic  sneer  helped  to 
mould  English  politics. 

Looking  at  the  stirring  personal  debates  growing  out 
of  the  Adams-Clay  coalition  and  the  Jackson  adminis- 
tration in  our  country,  we  look  in  vain  for  something 
roseate  and  fragrant.  Scarcely  any  plant  appears  on  the 
surface,  except  that  which,  like  the  cactus,  shows  a  hot 
sun  and  a  prickly  vegetation.  Did  these  fierce  personal 
invectives,  which  often  led  to  the  duel,  have  no  relief  in 
the  atmosphere  of  social  and  legislative  geniality  ?  Was 
Benton  always  hectoring  Clay  ?  Was  Randolph  always 
studying  how  most  bitterly  to  bite  ?  Was  M'DuflBe  ever 
alert  to  thunder  and  lightning  ?  Men  then  talked  about 
halters  and  honor,  contempt  and  monsters,  conspiracies 
and  treason,  in  a  way  to  astound  our  later  day.  This 
talk  is  not  less  surprising  to  us  than  would  be  the  re- 
appearance of  those  departed  Senators  with  the  then 
fashionable  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  the  invariable 
plug  of  tobacco  and  gold-headed  cane,  the  immense  flux 
from  the  salivary  gland,  and  the  incessant,  magnificent 
profanity.  There  were  fewer  members  then.  They 
were  better  known,  and  made  more  mark  than  now.  A 
philippic  on  the  humblest  was  recognized,  and  had  its 
run.  There  were  two  Barbours  from  Virginia,  one  a 
member  of  the  Senate,  and  the  other  of  the  House — 
both  able  men.  One,  named  James,  was  ornate  and  ver- 
bose ;  the  other,  Philip,  was  close  and  cogent  as  a  de- 
bater.  A  wag  once  wrote  on  the  wall  of  the  House  : 

"Two  Barbers  to  shave  our  Congress  long  did  try; 
One  shaves  with  froth,  the  other  he  shaves  dry!" 

Have  we,  too,  followed  the  hearse  of  our  great  orators 
and  humorists  ?  Who  can  fill  the  place  of  Ben  Hardin 
or  Tom  Corwin  ?  No  one  has  approached  them,  unless 
it  be  another  Kentuckian,  J.  Proctor  Knott.  Our  people 
are  not  yet  through  reading  his  Duluth  speech.  It  hits 
the  American  sense  of  extravagance,  which  is  the  reser- 
voir whence  flows  most  of  our  fun. 

Until  this  speech  was  made,  the  House  had  little 
thought  of  the  rich  plenitude  of  humor  in  store  for 
them.  The  surprise  was  enhanced  because  Mr.  Knott 
spoke  rarely.  He  was  not  an  active,  rather  lazy,  mem- 
ber— ostensibly  so. 

"All  the  day,  before  the  sunny  rays 
He  used  to  slug  or  sleep,  in  slothful  shade." 

They  took  the  alligator  for  a  log  till  they  sat  on  him. 
Grudgingly  was  the  floor  yielded  to  him.  He  was  offered 
only  ten  minutes ;  whereupon  he  remarked  that  his 
facilities  for  getting  time  were  so  poor  that  if  he  were 
standing  on  the  brink  of  perdition,  and  the  sands  were 
crumbling  under  his  feet,  he  could  not  in  that  body  get 
time  enough  to  say  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  St.  Croix 
and  Bayfield  Road  Bill  asked  for  some  of  the  public 
domain.  Mr.  Knott  disavowed  any  more  interest  in  the 
bill  than  in  an  orange  grove  on  the  bleakest  summit  of 
Greenland's  icy  mountains.  It  was  thus  he  introduced 
the  splendid  project : 

"Years  ago,  when  I  first  heard  that  there  was  some- 
where in  the  vast  terra  incognita,  somewhere  in  the  bleak 
regions  of  the  Northwest,  a  stream  of  water  known  to 
the  nomadic  inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood  as  the  river 
St.  Croix,  I  became  satisfied  that  the  construction  of  a 
railroad  from  that  raging  torrent  to  some  point  in  the 
civilized  world  was  essential  to  the  happiness  and  pros- 
perity of  the  American  people,  if  not  absolutely  indis- 
pensable to  the  perpetuity  of  republican  institutions  on 
this  continent.  [Great  laughter.]  I  felt  instinctively 
that  the  boundless  resources  of  that  prolific  region  of 
sand  and  pine  shrubbery  would  never  be  fully  developed 
without  a  railroad  constructed  and  equipped  at  the  ex- 
pense (A.  the  Government,  and  perhaps  not  then.  [Laugh- 
ter.] I  had  an  abiding  presentiment  that,  some  day  or 
other,  the  people  of  this  whole  countiy,  irrespective  of 
party  afllliations,  regardless  of  sectional  prejudices,  and 
^without  distinction  of  race,  color,  or  previou3  condi- 
tion of  servitude,'  would  rise  in  their  majesty  and  de- 
Band  an  outlet  for  the  enormous  agrieultural  produc- 


tions of  those  vast  and  fertile  pine-barrens,  drained  in 
the  rainy  season  by  the  surging  waters  of  the  turbid  St. 
Croix.    [Great  laughter.] 

t  Duluth  1  The  word  fell  upon  my  ear  with  peculiar 
aiLid  indescribable  charm,  like  the  gentle  murmur  of  a 
low  fountain  stealing  forth  in  the  midst  of  roses,  or  the 
soft,  sweet  accents  of  an  angel's  whisper  in  the  bright, 
joyous  dream  of  sleeping  innocence.  Duluth  1  'Twas 
the  name  for  which  my  soul  had  panted  for  years,  as  the 
hart  panteth  for  the  water-brooks.  [Renewed  laughter.] 
But  where  was  Duluth  ?  Never  in  all  my  limited  read- 
ing had  my  vision  been  gladdened  by  seeing  the  celes- 
tial word  in  print.  [Laughter.]  And  I  felt  a  profounder 
humiliation  in  my  ignorance  that  its  dulcet  syllables  had 
hever  before  ravished  my  delighted  ear.  [Roars  of 
laughter.]  I  was  certain  the  draughtsman  of  this  bill 
had  never  heard  of  it,  or  it  would  have  been  designated 
as  one  of  the  termini  of  this  road.  I  asked  my  friends 
about  it,  but  they  knew  nothing  of  it.  I  rushed  to  the 
library  and  examined  all  the  maps  I  could  find.  [Laugh- 
ter.] I  discovered  in  one  of  them  a  delicate,  hair-like 
line,  diverging  from  the  Mississippi  near  a  place  marked 
Preecott,  whieh  I  supposed  was  intended  to  represent 
the  river  St.  Croix,  but  I  could  nowhere  find  Duluth. 

"Nevertheless,  I  was  confident  it  existed  somewhere, 
and  that  its  discovery  would  constitute  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  present  century,  if  not  all  modem  times. 
JLanghter.^  ^  it  Tfis  ^ound  to  exist  in  the  very 
nature  of  things ;  that  the  symmetry  and  perfection  of 
our  planetary  system  would  be  incomplete  without  it 
[renewed  laughter] ;  that  the  elements  of  material  na- 
ture would  long  since  have  resolved  themselves  back 
into  original  chaos  if  there  had  been  such  a  hiatus  in 
creation  as  would  have  resulted  from  leaving  out  Duluth. 
[Roars  of  laughter.]  In  fact,  sir,  I  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  conviction  that  Duluth  not  only  existed  some- 
where, but  that,  wherever  it  was,  it  was  a  great  and 
glorious  place.  I  was  convinced  that  the  greatest  calam- 
ity that  ever  befell  the  benighted  nations  of  the  ancient 
world  was  in  their  having  passed  away  without  a  know- 
ledge of  the  actual  existence  of  Duluth ;  that  their  fabled 
Atlantis,  never  seen  save  by  the  hallowed  vision  of  in- 
spired poesy,  was,  in  fact,  but  another  name  for  Duluth; 
that  the  golden  orchard  of  the  Hesperides  was  but  a 
poetical  synonym  for  the  beer  gardens  in  the  vicinity  of 
Duluth.  [Great  laughter.]  I  was  certain  that  Herodo- 
tus had  died  a  miserable  death  because  in  all  his  travels 
and  with  all  his  geographical  research  he  had  never 
heard  of  Duluth.  [Loud  laughter.]  I  knew  that  if 
the  immortal  spirit  of  Homer  could  look  down  from 
another  heaven  than  that  created  by  his  own  celestial 
genius  upon  the  long  lines  of  pilgrims  from  every  nation 
of  the  earth  to  the  gushing  fountain  of  poesy  opened  by 
the  touch  of  his  magic  wand,  if  he  could  be  permitted 
to  behold  the  vast  assemblage  of  grand  and  glorious 
productions  of  the  lyric  art  called  into  being  by  his  own 
inspired  strains,  he  would  weep  tears  of  bitter  anguish 
that,  instead  of  lavishing  all  the  stores  of  his  mighty 
genius  upon  the  fall  of  Ilion,  it  had  not  been  his  more 
blessed  lot  to  crystallize  in  deathless  song  the  rising 

f lories  of  Duluth.  [Great  and  continued  laughter.] 
et,  sir,  had  it  not  been  for  this  map,  kindly  furnished 
me  by  the  Legislature  of  Minnesota,  I  might  have  gone 
down  to  my  obscure  and  humble  grave  in  an  agony  of 
despair  because  I  could  nowhere  find  Duluth.  [Renew- 
ed laughter.]  Had  such  been  my  melancholy  fate,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  with  the  last  feeble  pulsation  of  my 
breaking  heart,  with  the  last  faint  exhalation  of  my 
fleeting  breath,  I  should  have  whispered,  '  Where  is 
Duluth?'    [Roars  of  laughter.] 

"But,  thanks  to  the  beneficence  of  that  band  of  min- 
istering angels  who  have  their  bright  abodes  in  the  far- 
off  capital  of  Minnesota,  just  as  the  agony  of  my  anxie- 
ty was  about  to  culminate  in  the  frenzy  of  despair,  this 
blessed  map  was  placed  in  my  hands  ;  and  as  I  unfolded 
it  a  resplendent  scene  of  ineffable  glory  opened  before 
me,  such  as  I  imagine  burst  upon  the  enraptured  vision 
of  the  wandering  peri  through  the  opening  gates  of 
paradise.  [Renewed  laughter.]  There,  there  for  the 
first  time,  my  enchanted  eye  rested  upon  the  ravishing 
word  'Duluth.' 

•  "If  gentlemen  will  examine  it  they  will  find  Duluth 
not  only  in  the  centre  of  the  map,  but  represented  in 
the  centre  of  a  series  of  concentric  circles  one  hundred 
miles  apart,  and  some  of  them  as  much  as  four  thousand 
miles  in  diameter-  embracing  alike  in  their  tremendous 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


«<feep  the  fragrant  savannas  of  the  sunlit  South  and  the 
eternal  solitudes  of  snow  that  mantle  the  ice-bound 
North  [Laughter.]  How  these  circles  were  produced 
is  perhaps  one  of  those  primordial  mysteries  that  the 
most  skillful  palcologist  ivill  never  be  able  to  explam. 
fRenewed  laughter.]  But  the  fact  is,  sir,  Duluth  is  pre- 
eminently a  central  place,  for  I  am  told  by  gentlemen 
who  have  been  so  reckless  of  their  own  personal  safety 
as  to  venture  away  into  those  awful  regions  where  Du- 
hith  is  supposed  to  be,  that  it  is  so  exactly  m  the  centre 
of  the  visible  universe  that  the  sky  comes  down  at  pre- 
cisely the  same  distance  all  around  it.  [Roars  of  laugh- 
ter 1 

Mv  relation  is  simply  that  of  trustee  to  an  express 
trust. "  And  shall  I  ever  betray  that  trust?  Never,  sir  ! 
Rather  perish  Duluth !  Perish  the  paragon  of  cities  ! 
Rather  let  the  freezing  cyclones  of  the  bleak  Northwest 
bury  it  forever  beneath  the  eddying  sands  of  the  raging 
fit.  Croix  !"  ^  

Phosphorus. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUPFT. 


The  Estate  of  the  Ricnest  Man  in 
the  World. 

Baron  Rothschild's  residence  and  estate  at  Mentmore 
is  described  as  one  of  the  finest  and  most  extensive  in 
England.  It  contains  some  20,000  acres  of  the  finest 
land  in  Buckinghamshire.  It  has  garden,  greenhouses 
and  graperies  so  arranged  as  to  furnish  fruit  every  month 
in  the  year.  Oranges,  pineapples,  figs,  bananas,  and 
other  tropical  fruits  are  grown  in  abundance.  When 
the  Baroness  is  absent,  yaohting  in  the  channel,  or  at 
her  London  house,  orders  by  telegraph  are  sent  to  Ment- 
more daily  for  the  supplies  required.  The  vases  in  the 
fountain  and  Italian  gardens  cost  each  £1,000.  The  sta- 
tuary is  all  of  the  most  costly  kind,  executed  by  the 
first  masters.  The  great  hall,  which  is  about  20x30  feet, 
is  filled  by  vases  and  statuary.  Its  contents  must  re- 
present a  value  of  not  less  than  £100,000.  It  takes  not 
less  than  three  hours  to  pass  through  the  rooms.  The 
finish  is  exquisite,  and  the  furnishing  of  each  sumptuous. 
Some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  whole  from  the  furni- 
ture of  a  single  bed-room,  one  of  the  many  guest  cham- 
bers, costing  £25,000  or  £30,000.  In  the  dining  or  bar- 
onial hall  are  furnishings  exceeding  £200,000.  Costly 

of  ebony,  inlaid  with 


cabinets  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. 


Phosphorus,  when  perfectly  pure,  is  a  transparent, 
colorless  wax-like  solid,  which  when  freshly  cut,  emits  ^  diamonds,  rubies,  and  all  sorts  of  precious 

an  odor  like  garlic.  At  the  ordinary  temperature  of  the  stones;  walls  hung  with  the  costliest  tapestries  of  the 
air,  and  still  more  at  higher  temperatures,  it  shines  with  ^^^^  L^^jg  xyi.,  or  covered  with  the  richest  needle- 
a  greenish-white  light,  as  may  be  seen  by  placing  it  m.  ^^^13^.01^3^^.3^  satin,  may  give  some  idea  of  the  wealth 
the  dark ;  hence  the  name,  from  two  Greek  words,  sig-  lavished  on  this  more  than  princely  mansion.  The  cost- 
mfymg  hght-beanng.  •,  •    1       .  liest  paintings  ad»rn  the  walls,  and  the  most  skillful  and 

But  a  few  years  ago,  it  was  merely  a  chemical  curi-i  expensive  workmanship  is  displayed  on  the  ceilings 


osity  ;  it  has,  however,  lately  become  an  important  ar- 
ticle of  commerce,  and  in  the  making  of  matches  has 
given  thousands  of  persons  employment. 

Phosphorus  occurs  abundantly  in  nature,  although 
the  greater  part  used  is  obtained  from  bones,  which 
contain  a  large  amount  of  phosphate  of  lime.  To  ob- 
tain the  phosphorus,  the  bones  are  first  calcined  and 
sulphuric  acid  added  thereto.  This  decomposes  the 
phosphate  of  lime.  The  liquid  is  evaporated  to  the  con- 
siftence  of  a  syrup  and  mixed  with  charcoal.  The  mix- 
ture is  then  strongly  heated  in  a  retort,  by  which  the 
phosphoric  acid  is  decomposed,  and  the  phosphorus  dis- 
tilled over  as  a  wax-like  substance.  It  is  received  in 
vessels  containing  cold  water. 

Phosphorus  combines  readily  with  oxygen,  and  when 
in  contact  with  air  it  is  all  the  while  undergoing  slow 
combustion.  If  this  slow  combustion  be  increased  in  any 
manner,  the  phosphorus  will  burst  into  a  flame  and  be 
rapidly  consumed.  On  account  of  this  extreme  inflam- 
mability it  should  always  be  kept  in  bottles  containing 
water,  so  that  no  part  of  the  substance  should  be  above 
the  surface  of  the  liquid.  It  should  never  be  cut  except 
under  water,  nor  touched  by  the  finger,  as  the  burn  it 
produces  is  very  serious  and  diflBcult  to  cure. 

A  very  curious  application  of  phosphorus  may  be 
made  by  its  solution  in  bi-sulphide  of  carbon,  to  which 
a  very  little  wax  is  added.  If  the  liquid  so  produced  be 
poured  on  paper,  cloth,  etc.,  after  a  short  time  such  will 
burst  into  flame.  It  has  been  proposed  to  employ  this 
liquid  for  purposes  of  warfare,  by  enclosing  it  in  shells, 
to  be  fired  in  the  usual  manner.  On  such  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  sails  or  hull  of  a  ship,  they  will  at  once 
break,  and,  spreading  the  liquid  on  all  sides,  cause  the 
destruction  of  the  vessel. 

By  means  of  a  mixture  of  phosphorus,  sulphur  and 
chlorate  of  potass,  the  ordinary  lucif  er  match  is  made, 
which,  by  mere  friction,  affords,  as  is  well  known,  our 
chief  source  of  artificial  light  and  heat. 

The  most  important  combination  of  phosphorus  with 
oxygen  is  that  known  as  phosphoric  acid.  This  is  pro- 
duced by  the  combustion  of  phosphorus  in  oxygen  gas, 
and  is  of  great  importance  in  animal  economy.  Com- 
bined with  lime  it  forms  the  chief  constituent  of  the 
bones  of  animals. 

Phosphorus  combines  also  with  chlorine  and  iodine, 
forming  definite  compounds,  which,  however,  do  not 
possess  any  special  interest. 

If  we  could  see  things  as  they  are— if  we  were  not  de- 
ceived  by  the  masquerade  of  this  poor  life — if  we  were  not  so 
easily  taken  in  by  the  masks  and  dresses  of  those  who  act  in 
this  great  drama,  be  it  comedy  or  tragedy — if  we  could  but  see 
what  the  men  are  behind  the  scenes,  penetrate  their  hearts, 
watch  the  hiner  motions,  and  discern  their  secret  feelings,  we 
diould  find  but  few  who  could  bear  the  name  of  "  blest.'^ 


The  idea  of  the  Baron  seems  to  have  been  to  build  and 
furnish  a  mansion  such  as  no  other  person  in  England, 
except,  perhaps,  the  Duke  of  Westminster,  could  expect 
to  rival.  The  stud  is  said  to  contain  more  high-bred 
horses  than  any  other  in  the  world.  It  embraces  thirty- 
five  hunters  and  as  many  racers,  none  of  which  are  less 
in  value  than  £500,  while  many  of  them  run  up  to 
tho'is.ands. 


The  Rabbit's  Tracks. 

The  reason  a  rabbit  makes  but  three  tracks  in  the 
snow  is  thus  explained  :  In  a  deep  snow  a  rabbit  cannot 
ran  because  its  body  is  too  long  and  its  legs  are  too 
short.  Were  it  to  attempt  to  leap  with  its  hind  legs 
spread  apart  like  a  dog's,  which  are  no  longer,  it  would 
only  flounder  like  you  do  when  trying  to  grope  your 
way  upstairs,  after  a  late  return  from  the  "club."  To 
acquire  greater  momentum  and  speed  through  the  snow, 
the  rabbit  places  one  hind  foot  upon  the  other,  and  thus 
concentrating  the  strength  of  both  hind  legs  at  one  point 
instead  of  two,  it  projects  itself  through  the  entangling 
drifts.  Of  course  its  fore  feet  are  spread  apart  to  re- 
ceive the  descending  weight  of  the  body,  else  it  would 
tumble  sidelong  in  the  snow.  As  it  leaps  on  to  its  fore- 
feet it  quickly  places  its  lapped  hind  paws  in  another 
spot,  and  pushing  from  behind  makes  another  leap, 
and  thus  it  goes  on  for  a  great  distance.  And  this  is 
the  reason  why  a  rabbit  leaves  only  three  tracks  in 
the  enow. 


Spare  the  Birds. 

In  support  of  the  recommendation  relative  to  the 
preservation  of  small  birds  necessary  to  horticulture,  the 
figures  of  a  careful  observer  will  show  the  great  losses 
incurred  by  the  destruction  of  only  oue  brood.  A  bird's 
nest  contains,  on  an  average,  five  eggs  or  five  young 
birds.  Each  young  bird  eats  daily  fifty  flies  or  other  in- 
sects, and  this  cououmption  lasts  four  or  five  weeks. 
Now  take  the  average  of  thirty  days,  and  it  will  be 
found  that  the  number  of  insects  destroyed  by  each 
brood,  in  these  thirty  days  is  7,500.  Each  fly  eats  daily, 
in  flovvers,  leaves  and  buds,  a  quantity  equal  to  its 
weight,  until  it  has  attained  its  maximum  growth.  In 
thirty  days  it  will  have  eaten  one  flower  a  day— a  flower 
which  would  have  produced  a  specimen  of  fruit.  Thus 
in  thirty  days,  each  fly  having  eaten  fruits,  the  7,500  flies 
that  a  brood  of  birds  would  have  destroyed  causes  us  to 
lose  225,000  apples,  pears,  peaches  and  other  fruits. 
This  is  a  strong  argument  in  favor  of  the  preservation  ol 
birds,  a  measure  alike  to  the  advantage  of  the  producer 
and  consumer  of  fruits. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


What  Invention  Has  Done. 

Necessity  is  said  to  be  the  mother  of  invention.  That 
may  be,  but  time  is  also.  During  the  years  when  men 
we^e  worked  for  twelve  and  more  hours,  but  few  and 
crude  inventions  lightened  labor,  and  this  because 
mechanics  were  more  concerned  for  what  they  should 
eat  and  wherewithal  they  should  be  clothed,  than  in 
studies  to  adapt  machinery  to  mechanical  uses.  The 
dates  of  the  Patent  OflSce  will  show  that  most  inven- 
tions of  value  have  been  made  since  the  inauguration 
of  the  ten  hour  system,  and  now  the  machinery  of  the 
country  is  equal  to  the  labor  of  twenty-eight  million 
men.  Hitherto  ten  hours'  labor  has  been  necessary  for 
the  wants  of  civilization,  because  of  the  absence  of 
machine  labor,  and  the  presence  of  so  many  men  living 
by  their  wits,  and  at  the  expense  of  the  industry  of  the 
country.  Now  we  have  machinery  by  which  men  are 
enabled  to  do  ten  times  the  work  that  was  or  could  be 
done  by  our  fathers  fifty  years  ago,  and  some  inventions 
do  not  fall  short  of  doing  one  hundred  times  the  amount 
of  work  that  was  then  accomplished.  There  is  no  longer 
a  necessity  for  so  much  work ;  the  wants  of  the  world  do 
not  require  it ;  grain  can  be  raised  and  made  into  bread 
with  a  twentieth  of  the  labor ;  a  ship  can  be  built  in  less 
than  one-fourth  of  the  time ;  a  house  can  be  erected  and 
ready  for  use  in  one-tenth  of  the  time,  and  less  than  a 
tenth  of  the  men  can  do  it ;  one  man  can  make  more 
shoes  and  boots,  and  hats  and  clothes,  than  twenty  men 
eould  then  have  done ;  the  railroads  will  carry  our  goods 
and  produce  two  thousand  miles  and  across  the  conti- 
nent, in  less  time  than  our  fathers  could  haul  their  grain 
to  profitable  market ;  the  daughter  of  twelve  years  of 
age  can  do  the  washing  while  her  mother  gets  breakfast 
and  takes  care  of  the  baby ;  the  accomplished  young 
lady  can  chum  the  butter  while  she  is  hemming  a  hand- 
kerchief, and  can  make  a  dress  in  less  time  than  her 
grandmother  could  have  basted  it  together.  General 
Grant's  father  took  ten  months  to  tan  leather  that  can 
be  done  in  six  days ;  men  of  genius  and  late  inventors 
now  furnish  fuel  from  the  vapor  of  crude  petroleum 
cheaper  than  a  man  can  afford  to  dig  the  coal  or  chop 
the  wood,  if  he  has  plenty  at  his  door ;  we  can  transmit 
the  force  necessary  for  any  kind  of  machinery  from  the 
rocky  banks  of  a  river  to  a  suitable  valley  for  manufac- 
turing purposes  cheaper  than  the  grading  can  be  done 
for  buildings  at  the  source  of  power;  framed  doors, 
window  blinds,  or  sashes,  can  now  be  had  in  less  time 
than  our  grandfathers  could  have  dressed  the  stuff ;  and 
so  on  throughout  the  entire  catalogue  of  ihdustrial  pur- 
suits. 


The  Sun-Dial. 


Grave  Robbers. 

If  you  have  ever  had  occasion  to  take  up  a  vine  that 
had  been  some  years  in  growing,  you  will  often  find  that 
its  roots,  instead  of  growing  in  a  regular,  orderly  way, 
have  hunted  around  for  some  especially  fat  feeding 
ground,  and  there  have  feasted  in  riotous  living.  A 
grape  vine  which  had  grown  at  the  end  of  a  wood-shed 
was  once  transplanted,  and  was  found  to  have  thrown 
out  its  principal  roots  to  one  side  where  a  basket  of 
bones  had  been  buried,  and  there  it  had  made  such  a 
network  of  rootlets  that  it  was  necessary  to  take  up 
bones  and  all.  How  dii  the  vine  know  that  the  bones 
were  there  ? 

In  the  biography  of  Samuel  J.  May  we  find  a  curious 
Instance  related  illustrating  this  peculiarity  of  the  grow- 
ing world.  He  was  one  day  taking  a  walk  when  he 
ipassed  the  tomb  of  an  old  friend  named  James  Otis. 
The  door  of  the  vault  was  open  and  he  passed  in.  Curi- 
osity impelled  him  to  look  into  the  mouldering  coflSn, 
and  ho  found  it  entirely  filled  with  the  fibrous  roots  of 
the  elm,  especially  thick  and  matted  about  the  skuH. 
Stepping  out  he  looked  up  at  a  noble  elm  which  flourisii- 
od  gloriously  above  the  tomb,  and  he  felt  that  there  were 
,the  true  remains  of  his  old  friend. 

It  was  almost  sacrilege  for  those  irreverent  Bostonians 
to  burn  up  James  Otis  for  fire  wood,  but  they  did  it. 

Perhaps  tho  most  curious  instance  of  such  a  transform- 
ation is  in  the  case  of  Roger  Williams,  whose  grave  was 
invaded  by  the  root  of  an  apple  tree.  The  main  branch 
struck  into  the  coflfin  at  its  head,  rounded  around  the 
skull,  branching  off  at  the  shoulders  along  the  two  arms. 
Another  part  followed  the  spine,  branching  at  the  hips, 
-and  even  turning  up  at  the  feet.  The  whole  is  preserved 
4n  a  New  England  Museum.  It  is  a  question  of  some 
mtle  interest  who  eat  the  apples  that  grew  on  that  tree 
from  year  to  year. 

No  doubt  if  the  records  of  thousands  of  graves  «ouid 
'be  brought  to  light  many  such  instances  would  be 
found.  Cora  Belle. 


Marbles. 

The  chief  place  of  the  manufacture  of  marbles — those 
little  pieces  of  stone  which  contribute  so  largely  to  Qie 
enjoyment  of  boys — is  at  Oberstein,  on  the  Nahe,  in  fier- 
many,  where  there  are  large  agate  mills  and  quarries^ 
the  refuse  of  which  is  turned  to  good  paying  account  by 
being  made  into  small  balls,  employed  by  experts  to 
knuckle  with,  and  are  mostly  sent  to  the  American 
market.  The  substance  used  in  Saxony  is  a  hard,  calca- 
reous "stone,  which  is  first  broken  into  blocks,  nearly 
square,  by  blows  with  a  hammer.    These  are  thrown  by 


^        , ,  11.      i  1,.         ^.  1  A  -^ithe  hundred  or  two  into  a  small  sort  of  mill,  which  is 

Gotthold  was  once  looking  at  his  sun-dial  to  ascertam  j  ^^^^^  f  ^  stationary  slab  of  stone,  with  k  number 
whether  his  clock  was  right,  and,  as  usual  with  him,  he '  f  eccentric  furrows  upon  its  face.  A  block  of  oak,  or 
asked  himself  what  he  could  learn  from  it  besides  the  ^    f      diametric  sizre  is  placed  over  the 

time  of  day    "Dials,"  said  he  "are  doubtless  very  ^  partly  resting  upon  them.    The  small  block 

useful  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  time,  but  if  ^  ^  ^  is"  kept  revoMng  while  water  flows  upon  the 
^^^Jwl  ^^""^^  •''''^  ^Y^^  on  them  they  are  of  no  more  ^^^^^  ^j^^^  In  about  fiftlen  minutes  the  stones  are 
worth  than  a  piece  of  black  slate."  t^^^  into  spheres,  and  then,  being  fit  for  sale,  are 

With  us  It  18  exactly  the  same,  Without  the  grace  of  j^  ^  ^^l^  ^^^^^^  marbles.  One  establishment,  Wh 
God,  or  deprived  of  the  quickening  and  enlightenmg  m-  .j^    ^  ^j^^y  thousand  marbles  ea<fli 

fluences  of  His  Holy  Spirit,  we,  too,  are  good  for  noth- 
ing,  whatever  our  talents  and  position  in  life  may  be. 
Those  who  seem  to  be  wise  are  not  so  without  heavenly 
rays  to  illuminate  them,  and  the  most  apt  to  go  wrong 
when  their  understanding  and  judgment  are  not  enlight- 
ened by  the  beams  of  grace.  The  mind  often  falls  into 
the  most  fatal  errors  when  they  fail  to  humbly  seek  to 
catch  their  wisdom  from  the  rays  of  the  Son  of  Right- 
eousness. 

To-day  the  sun  shines,  and  the  dial  is  an  infallible 
guide ;  to-night  it  veils  its  face,  and  what  can  the  dial 
tell  about  the  hour  ?  So  our  most  ingenious  Intellects 
are  uncertain  when  no  longer  drawing  their  light  from 
God.  Not  only  may  they  while  seeming  to  be  correct 
lead  others  astray ;  but  without  God's  aid  would  even, 
lose  the  light  of  reason  as  they  often  do,  and  with  it  the 
respect  of  those  who  often  before  profited  by  their  re- 
flected wisdom. 


As  in  a  letter,  if  the  paper  is  small  and  we  have  muclj 
to  write,  we  write  closer ;  and  so  let  us  learn  to  economise 
and  improve  the  remaining  moments  of  life.  "  Work 
while  it  is  daj ;  the  night  cometh  yjh^  ^  man  caD 


Skin  of  Fur-Bearing  Animals. 

The  obvious  difference  between  the  fur  of  animals  in 
Summer  and  Winter  is  found  by  Donhoff  to  be  associated 
with  an  equally  striking  difference  in  the  texture  and 
thickness  of  their  skin.  Thus,  the  average  weight  of  an 
ox-hide  in  Winter  is  seventy  pounds  ;  in  Summer  fifty- 
five  pounds  ;  the  hair  in  Winter  weighs  about  two 
pounds,  and  in  Summer  about  one  pound,  leaving 
fourteen  pounds  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  proper  sub- 
stance of  the  skin.  These  differences  are  quite  as  de- 
cided in  foetal  animals  as  in  adults.  Calves  born  in 
Winter  have  a  longer  and  thicker  coat  than  those  born  in 
Summer  ;  moreover,  there  is  a  difference  of  more  than  a 

gound  in  the  weight  of  their  skins  after  the  hair  has 
een  removed.  Similar  facts  may  be  observed  in  the 
case  of  goats  and  sheep.  That  these  differences  are  not 
to  be  ascribed  to  any  corresponding  change  in  the  diet 
and  regimen  of  the  parent  animals,  is  proved  by  the 
fact  that  they  are  equally  manifest  in  the  young  of  in- 
dividuals kept  under  cover,  and  on  the  same  food  all  the 
vear  round. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


187 


THE  REVENGE  OF  THE  SWALLOWS ; 

OK, 

How  Baron  Cuvier  became  Interested 
in  Natural  History. 

*  They  fled  our  winter  clime 
To  sunny  lands  of  Spain; 
They  flew  to  us  again, 
Ere  bloomed  our  summer  time." 


tened  to  line  the  interior  with  feathers,  wool  and 
dried  leaves;  and  then  winging  their  flight  to  a 
neighboring  wood  they  continued  absent  for  several 
days. 

As,  however,  the  nest  was  in  the  course  of  build- 
ing, two  sparrows  loolted  on  with  great  curiosity, 
and  no  sooner  had  the  swallows  departed  than  they 
took  possession  of  the  vacant  domicile,  always  leav- 
ing one  on  the  watch,  with  his  sturdy  bill  protruding 
through  the  entrance. 


SWALLOWS. 


The  young  tutor  of  the  children  of  Count  Hericy, 
residing  in  an  old  chateau  in  the  Pays  de  Caus,  at 
Figuainville,  was  accustomed  early  in  the  morning 
to  inhale  the  fresh  air  of  the  garden  on  which  his 
window  opened.  One  morning  he  observed  two 
swallows  building  a  nest  in  the  outer  angle  of  his 
small  casement;  the  male  bringing  moist  clay  in  his 
beak,  which  the  hen  kneaded  together,  and  with 
straws  and  bits  of  hay  formed  thejr  cosy  home.  As 
«£»on  as  the  frame  work  was  completed,  the  pair  has- 


At  length  the  swahows  returned,  when  the  cock 
made  an  indignant  attack  on  the  intruders,  only, 
alas  I  to  endure  a  bleeding  head  and  ruflSed  feathers; 
and  so,  after  a  short  colloquy  with  his  mate  perched 
on  a  green  bough,  they  withdrew  again  together. 
On  the  return  of  the  hen  sparrow,  the  young  tutor 
thought  that  her  husband  gave  her  an  account  of  the 
attack  and  repulse,  over  which  tliey  chuckled;  and 
then  he  saw  them  sally  forth  and  store  up  a  large 
stock  of  provisions,  with  two  beaks  '•eady  to 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


tend  the  entrance.  But  now  cries  resounded  in  the  air  f  j 
crowds  of  swallows  began  to  assemble  on  the  roof  ;  in 
the  midst  he  perceived  the  expelled  builders,  recount- 
ing their  wrongs  to  each  fresh  arrival ;  and  before  long 
two  hundred  of  these  birds  were  assembled.  Suddenly 
a  host  of  them  flew  against  the  nest — still  defended  by 
the  two  sturdy  beaks — each  having  his  bill  filled  with 
mud,  which  he  discharged  against  the  entrance,  and 
then  gave  place  to  another  to  follow  up  the  assault ; 
while  this  they  managed  to  accomplish  within  a  short 
distance  from  the  nest,  and  keeping  well  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  besieged  sparrows.  The  swallows  now 
heaped  mud  on  the  nest  till  it  was  completely  covered, 
and  but  for  the  desperate  efforts  of  the  sparrows,  who 
contrived  to  shake  off  some  of  the  pellets,  the  opening 
would  have  been  quite  choked  up.  But  brief  indeed 
was  the  interval ;  for  a  party  of  swallows  perched  on  the 
nest,  smoothed  and  pressed  down  the  clay  over  the 
opening,  and  soon  hermetically  closed  it,  when  loud 
cries  arose  of  vengeance  and  victory. 

Another  work  was  yet  to  be  done.  The  swallows 
hurried  away  for  fresh  materials;  of  these  they  con- 
structed a  nest  over  the  blocked-up  entrance,  and  in  two 
hours  it  was  occupied  by  the  ejected  swallows.  No 
wonder  the  young  tutor  looked  on  with  inci'easing  in- 
terest; he  observed  the  development  of  the  young 
brood ;  the  male  bird  teaching  them  how  to  seize  their 
prey  in  the  air ;  how  to  fly  high  when  all  was  still,  and 
the  flies  sported  aloft ;  and  how  to  keep  near  the  ground 
when  a  storm  was  coming,  for  then  all  insects  seek  a 
shelter.  So  passed  the  summer,  and  autumn  came. 
Crowds  of  swallows  once  more  assembled  on  the  roof 
t)f  the  chateau  ;  the  little  birds  were  placed  with  other 
little  birds  in  the  midst  of  the  troop ;  and  ere  long  they 
all  took  flight  towards  the  east. 

"And  scarlet  and  geranium  beds  glow  on  the  smooth  green  lawn; 
The  dahlias  glisten  with  the  dews  of  eve  and  early  dawn ; 
The  ivy  round  the  old  gray  church  gives  shelter  to  a  band 
Of  gathering  swallows  taking  flight  toward  a  sunnier  land." 

Spring  came,  and  two  swallows,  lean  and  with  ruf- 
fled feathers,  came  with  it,  and  were  recognized  as  the 
parents  of  the  last  year's  brood ;  they  repaired  and  re- 
lined  the  nest,  and  then  set  out  on  an  excursion  as  in 
the  previous  season.  The  morning  after  their  return,  a 
hawk  pounced  suddenly  on  the  cock,  and  would  have 
borne  him  away  had  not  the  young  tutor  mortally 
wounded  the  assailant  with  a  fowling  piece.  The  swal- 
low was  seriously  wounded  by  the  talons  of  the  hawk, 
and  a  grain  or  two  of  shot  had  grazed  his  breast  and 
broken  one  wing ;  but  the  kind  young  man  dressed  his 
wounds  and  replaced  him  in  the  nest,  while  the  poor 
hen  fluttered  sadly  around  her  mate,  uttering  piercing 
cries  of  distress.  In  spite  of  every  attention  he  soon 
died.  From  that  moment  the  hen  never  left  her  nest,  re- 
fused the  food  that  was  constantly  offered  her,  and  ex- 
pired five  days  after  her  beloved  mate.  These  passages 
in  a  bird's  history  awakened  in  the  mind  of  that  young 
man  an  inextinguishable  interest  in  natural  history ; 
and  often  did  lie  relate  them  when  lie  had  attained  a 
world-wide  fame  as  Baron  Cuvier,  the  great  natural- 
ist. 

**  The  swallow,"  says  Sir  H.  Davy,  in  his  "  Sal- 
monia,"  **  is  one  of  my  favorite  birds,  and  a  rival  of 
the  nightingale;  for  he  glads  my  sense  of  seeing  as 
much  as  any  other  does  my  sense  of  hearing.  He  is 
the  joyous  prophet  of  the  year — the  harbinger  of  the 
best  season;  he  lives  a  life  of  enjoyment  among  the 
loveliest  forms  of  Nature;  winter  is  unknown  to 
him;  and  he  leaves  the  geeen  meadows  of  America 
in  autumn  for  the  myrtle  and  orange  groves  of  Italy 
and  Spain,  and  for  the  palms  of  Africa.  He  has  al- 
ways objects  of  pursuit,  and  his  success  is  sure. 
Even  the  beings  selected  for  his  prey  are  poetical, 
beautiful  and  transient.  The  ephemera  are  saved  by 
his  means  from  a  slow  and  lingering  death  in  the 
evening,  and  killed  in  a  moment,  when  they  had 
known  nothing  of  life  but  pleasure.  He  is  the  con- 
stant destroyer  of  insects — the  friend  of  man;  and, 
with  the  stork  and  the  ibis,  may  be  regarded  as  a 
sacred  bird.  The  instinct  which  gives  him  his  ap- 
pointed seasons,  and  teaches  him  always  when  and  | 
where  to  move,  may  be  regarded  as  flowing  from  a  1 
Divine  source*  and  he  belongs  to  the  oracles  of  Na  | 


ture,  which  speaks  the  awful  and  intelligible  lan- 
guage of  a  present  deity." 

•*  Five  or  six  of  these  birds,"  says  Bewick, "  were  ta- 
ken about  the  latter  end  of  August,  1784,  in  a  bat  fowl- 
ing-net  at  night;  they  were  put  separately  into  small 
cages,  and  fed  with  nightingales'  food.  In  about  a  week 
or  ten  days  they  took  food  of  themselves,  and  seemed 
much  strengthened  by  it ;  they  were  then  put  altogether 
into  a  deep  cage,  four  feet  long,  with  gravel  at  the  bot- 
tom ;  a  broad  shallow  pan  was  placed  in  it,  in  which 
they  sometimes  bathed.  One  day,  Mr.  Pearson  observed 
that  they  went  into  the  water  with  unusual  eagerness, 
hurrying  in  and  out  again  repeatedly,  with  as  much 
swiftness  as  if  they  had  been  suddenly  seized  with  a 
frenzy.  Being  anxious  to  see  the  result,  he  left  them  to 
themselves  about  half  an  hour,  and,  going  to  the  cage, 
found  them  all  huddled  together  in  a  comer,  apparently 
dead ;  the  cage  was  then  placed  at  a  proper  distance 
from  the  fire,  when  only  two  of  them  recovered,  and 
were  as  healthy  as  before  ;  the  rest  died.  The  two  re- 
maining were  allowed  to  wash  themselves  occasionally 
for  a  short  time  only;  but  their  feet  soon  after  became  swelled 
and  inflamed,  which  Mr.  Pearson  attributed  to  their  perching, 
and  they  died  about  Christmas;  thus  the  first  year's  experi- 
ment was  in  some  measure  lost.  Not  discouraged  by  the  fail- 
are  of  this,  Mr.  Pearson  determined  to  make  a  second  trial  the 
succeeding  year,  from  a  strong  desire  of  being  convinced  of  the 
truth  respecting  their  going  into  a  state  of  torpidity.  Accord- 
ingly, the  next  season,  having  taken  some  birds,  he  put  them 
into  the  cage,  and  in  every  respect  pursued  the  same  method 
as  with  the  last;  but,  to  guard  their  feet  from  the  bad  effects 
of  the  damp  and  cold,  he  covered  the  perches  with  flannel, 
and  had  the  pleasure  to  observe  that  the  birds  throve  ex- 
tremely well;  they  sung  their  songs  during  the  winter,  and 
soon  after  Christmas  began  to  moult,  which  they  got  through 
without  any  difficulty,  and  lived  three  or  four  years,  regularly 
moulting  everji;  year  at  the  usual  time.  On  the  renewal  of 
their  feathers,  it  appeared  that  their  tails  were  forked  exactly 
the  same  as  in  those  birds  which  return  hither  in  the  spring, 
and  in  every  respect  their  appearance  was  the  same." 

It  has  been,  however,  sagaciously  conjectured  by  Dr.  Foster, 
that  those  birds  which  have  been  found  in  a  state  of  torpidity, 
in  the  crevices  of  rock,  in  the  holes  of  old  decayed  trees,  in 
ruined  towers,  and  under  the  thatch  of  houses,  had,  owing  to 
some  accident,  been  hatched  later  in  the  year  than  ordinarily, 
and  consequently  had  not  acquired  sufficient  strength  to  un- 
dergo the  fatigue  of  a  long  journey  on  the  wing,  at  the  time 
when  the  migration  of  the  rest  of  their  species  took  place;  and 
that,  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather, 
they  had  sought  retreats  wherein,  from  cold  and  hunger,  they 
had  sunk  into  a  state  of  torpidity. 

Burns  pathetically  asks: — 

"Ilk  hopping  bird,  wee  helpless  thing, 
Which,  in  the  merry  months  of  spring, 
Delighted  me  to  hear  thee  sing, 

What  comes  o'  thee? 
Where  wilt  thou  cover  thy  chittering  wing, 
And  close  thy  e'e?" 

The  answer  to  this  question  may  be  given  with  tolerable  cer- 
tainty in  the  case  of  the  swallows  and  other  birds  of  their 
family.  They  start  in  autumn,  some  due  north  and  south,  over 
the  Continent  of  Europe  and  Africa,  crossing  where  the  strait 
is  narrowest;  others  take  a  more  easterly  course,  by  Malta, 
Sicily  and  Italy,  and  so  on  to  Egypt.  The  winter  is  spent  by 
them  in  the  warmer  climates.  The  tenth  of  May  may  be  taken 
as  the  average  date  of  their  return  to  tliis  country,  and  in  Eng- 
land they  arrive  about  a  month  earlier.  With  reference  to  the 
state  of  exhaustion  in  which  they  arrive  in  England,  Sir  Chas. 
Wager  gives  the  following  account:  "As  I  came  into  sound- 
ings in  our  Channel,  a  great  flock  of  swallows  settled  on  my 
rigging;  every  rope  was  covered.  They  seemed  almost  fam- 
ished and  spent,  and  were  only  feathers  and  bone;  but  being  re- 
cruited with  a  night's  rest,  took  their  flight  in  the  morning  " 

It  appears  likely,  however,  that  the  great  object  of  migration 
is  the  same;  to  find  food  in  other  climes  for  the  young  broods, 
which  the  season  of  autumn  denies  them  in  ours. 

Though  the  flight  of  the  bird  is  low,  it  is  extremely  rapid, 
while  the  observer  is  often  astonished  by  its  sudden  turns  and 
evolutions.  All  day  long,  as  if  absolutely  unwearied,  does  the 
swallow  skim  over  fields  and  meadows,  and  the  surface  of 
pools  and  sheets  of  water.  There,  indeed,  is  a  profusion  of 
food,  and  most  skillfully  does  it  dip  beneath,  emerge  with  its 
insect  prey,  and  then  shake  the  spray  from  its  burnished  plu- 
mage; feeding,  drinking  and  bathing  on  the  wing. 

The  "  swallow  flying  south  "  was  entrusted  with  a  very  pretty 
message  from  her  destined  husband  to  Tennyson's  wilful 
princess.  Utopian  swallows,  no  doubt,  transmit  all  such  com- 
munications faithfully,  but  in  this  prosaic  world  they  usually 
come  and  go  unweighted  even  with  such  light  gear  as  lover's 
vows.  One,  however,  lately  knocked  at  the  window  of  a  pea- 
sant farmer,  in  a  village  in  one  of  the  northern  departments  of 
France,  to  deliver  a  note.  On  being  admitted,  in  a  very  ex- 
hausted condition,  it  perched  upon  the  chimney-piece,  where 
it  allowed  itself  to  be  examined  and  handled,  when  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  little  harbinger  of  summer  had  a  red  ribbon 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  189 


around  its  neck,  to  which  a  paper  was  attached.  This,  on 
being  unfolded,  proved  to  be  an  appeal  on  behalf  of  the  bird 
from  a  member  of  a  household  in  Italy,  whose  home  it  had 
visited  for  six  years.  In  obedience  to  the  wishes  of  its  distant 
protector,  the  swallow  was  caressed,  warmed  and  fed,  and  a 

freen  ribbon  substituted  for  the  decoration  it  had  received  in 
taly.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  the  bird  exhibited  symptoms 
of  impatience;  it  was  set  at  liberty,  flew  out  of  the  window, 
and,  although  it  remained  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  farm, 
never  again  made  any  attempt  to  communicate  with  the  in- 
mates. The  locality  from  which  it  came  being,  as  it  appeared 
from  the  note,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mount  Vesuvius,  the 
occurrence  is  worthy  of  the  attention  of  ornithologists  as  a 
contribution  to  the  data  on  which  to  decide  the  length  and  di- 
rection of  the  flight  of  migratory  birds. 

Swallow  is  the  general  name  of  the  diurnal  fissirostral 
birds  of  the  family  hirundinidae,  including  the  swifts,  many 
of  which  are  called  swallows.  The  typical  genus  {hirundo 
Linn)  having  more  than  fifty  species,  embraces  several  well- 
known,  elegant  swallows,  both  in  America  and  the  old  world, 
remarkable  for  their  great  powers  of  flight. 

Most  species  prefer  the  neighborhood  of  man,  building  their 
nests  in  society  in  his  dwellings  and  buildings;  they  form  at- 
tachments to  places,  returning  year  after  year  to  the  same 
nests.  Though  declared  by  ancient  writers  to  be  one  of  the  two 
untamable  animals  (the  fly  being  the  other),  they  are  docile, 
and  have  been  partially  domesticated;  they  are  useful  toman 
in  destroying  insects— a  single  bird  collecting  about  a  thousand 
in  the  course  of  a  day.  The  nests  are  generally  made  of  clay 
or  mud  mixed  with  straw  and  grass,  of  various  forms,  and  at- 
tached externally  to  some  building.  Many  species  breed  in 
holes  in  sand  banks,  at  the  end  of  which  is  the  nest  of  grasses 
and  feathers;  the  eggs  are  five  or  six.  Swallows  are  alluded 
to  in  the  sacred  and  ancient  writings,  and  are  the  subjects  of 
many  strange  tales  and  stories.  There  is  no  appreciable  diflier- 
ence  between  the  European  and  American  birds,  furnishing 
one  of  the  very  few  instances  (perhaps  the  only  one)  among 
land  birds  of  the  same  species  permanently  inhabiting  both 
continents. 

The  best  known  species  in  the  old  world  is  the  chimney  or 
house  swallow  {H.  rustica.  Linn).  As  its  name  imports,  it  fre- 
quently builds  its  nest  in  chimneys,  a  few  feet  from  the  top; 
it  also  nests  in  old  walls  and  shafts  of  mines,  and  among  the 
rafters  of  barns  and  sheds.  The  analogue  of  this  species  in 
America  is  not  the  one  commonly  called  chimney  swallow 
with  us  (which  is  a  swift),  but  the  barn  swallow  {H.  rufa, 
Vieill).  It  inhabits  North  America,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific;  appearing  in  the  Southern  States  from  the  middle  of 
February  to  March  m,  a  few  at  a  time  reaching  New  England, 
in  mild  seasons,  as  before  stated,  by  the  middle  of  May;  sel- 
dom appearing  before  the  final  melting  of  the  snow  and  the 
commencing  of  fine  weather.  As  it  commits  no  depredations 
on  man's  property,  and  serves  him  in  destroying  noxious  in- 
sects, and  the  teasing  pests  of  horses  and  cattle,  it  is  generally 
liked  and  protected.  It  is  believed  by  some  credulous  people 
that  if  swallows  are  shot  the  cows  give  bloody  milk,  and  that 
their  presence  In  a  barn  prevents  its  being  struck  by  lightning. 
"  When  the  tenets  of  superstition  lean  to  the  side  of  humanity, 
one  can  readily  respect  them." 

This  species  collects  in  large  flocks  in  midsummer,  on  barns 
and  sheds,  telegraph  wires,  etc.,  chirping  almost  continually, 
and  making  short  sallies  in  search  of  insects.  Then  we  have 
the  Cliff  or  Fulvous  swallow  (H,  Lunifrms,  Say).  The  white- 
bellied  swallow,  or  American  house  martin  {H.  licoler  Vieill). 
The  largest  of  the  American  swallows  is  called  the  Martin, 


The  swallows  are  regarded  as  the  winged  heralds  of  summer. 
Many  lovers  of  Nature  will  find  the  expression  of  feelings, 
often  entertained,  in  the  following  verses:— 

"Welcome,  welcome,  feather'd  stranger. 

Now  the  sun  bids  Nature  smile; 
Safe  arrived,  and  free  from  danger, 

Welcome  to  our  blooming  isle! 
Still  twitter  on  my  lowly  roof, 

And  hail  me  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
Each  morn  the  recollected  proof 

Of  time  that  ever  fleets  away! 

"Fond  of  sunshine,  fond  of  shade. 

Fond  of  skies  serene  and  clear; 
E'en  transient  storms  thy  joy  invade, 

In  fairest  seasons  of  the  year. 
What  makes  thee  seek  a  milder  clime? 

What  makes  thee  shun  the  wintry  gale? 
How  knowest  thou  thy  departing  time? 

Hail!  wondrous  bird!  hail,  swallow,  hail! 

"Sure  something  more  to  thee  is  given 

Than  myriads  of  the  feather'd  race. 
Some  gift  divine,  some  spark  from  Heaven, 

That  guides  thy  flight  from  place  to  place. 
Still  freely  come,  still  freely  go. 

And  blessings  crown  thy  vigorous  wing; 
May  thy  rude  flight  meet  no  rude  foe. 

Delightful  messenger  of  spring!" 


We  credit  most  our  sight ;  one  eye  doth  please 
our  trust  far  more  than  ten  ear-witnesses. — Herrick. 


Millions  of  Fish  Distributed. 

A  very  large  amount  of  work  has  been  done  at  the 
State  Fish  Hatchery  at  Caledonia,  near  Rochester.  Dur- 
ing the  season  of  1875-76,  not  yet  closed,  there  have 
been  distributed  1,460,000  salmon  trout  and  eggs,  2.52,000 
brook  trout,  70,000  California  salmon,  150,000  whitefish, 
besides  large  quantities  of  eggs  of  these  fish.  During 
the  last  six  years  there  have  been  distributed  from  this 
single  establishment  10,000,000  salmon  trout  eggs  and 
fry,  10,000,000  of  salmon,  and  1,000,000  each  of  Cali- 
fornia and  Kennebec  salmon.  In  shad  hatching  5,000,- 
000  eggs  were  gathered  and  impregnated  last  year,  a 
large  part  of  which  were  put  in  the  Hudson  river. 


French  and  English  Manners. 

Says  John  Stuart  Mill :  I  did  not  know  the  way  in 
which,  among  the  ordinary  English,  the  absence  of  in- 
terest in  things  of  an  unselfish  kind,  except  occasionally 
in  a  special  thing  here  and  there,  and  the  habit  of  not 
speaking  to  others,  nor  much  even  to  themselves,  about 
the  things  in  which  they  do  feel  interest,  causes  both 
their  feelings  and  their  intellectual  faculties  to  remain 
undeveloped,  or  to  develop  themselves  only  in  some 
single  and  very  limited  direction,  reducing  them,  con- 
sidered as  spiritual  beings,  to  a  kind  of  negative  exist- 
ence. All  these  things  I  did  not  perceive  till  long  after- 
wards ;  but  I  even  then  felt,  though  without  stating  it 
clearly  to  myself,  the  contrast  between  the  frank  socia- 
bility and  amiability  of  French  personal  intercourse  and 
the  English  mode  of  existence,  in  which  everybody  acts 
as  if  everybody  else  (with  few  or  no  exceptions)  was 
either  an  enemy  or  a  bore.  In  France,  it  is  true,  the  bad 
as  well  as  the  good  points,  both  of  individual  and  of 
national  character,  come  more  to  the  surface,  and  break 
out  more  fearlessly  in  ordinary  intercourse,  than  in  Eng- 
land ;  but  the  general  habit  of  the  people  is  to  show,  as 
well  as  to  expect,  friendly  feeling  in  every  one  toward 
every  other,  wherever  there  is  not  some  positive  cause 
for  the  opposite.  In  England  it  is  only  of  the  best  bred 
people  in  the  upper,  or  upper  middle  ranks,  that  any- 
thing like  this  can  be  said. 


Swift  and  His  Servant. 

Dean  Swift,  while  on  a  journey,  and  stopping  at  a 
tavern,  desired  his  servant  John,  who  by  the  way,  was  as 
eccentric  as  his  master,  to  bring  him  his  boots.  John 
brought  up  his  boots  in  the  same  state  they  were  in  the 
evening  previous.  *'Why  didn't  you  polish  my  boots  ?" 
said  the  Dean.  ''There's  no  use  in  polishing  them,"  said 
the  man,  "  for  they  would  soon  be  dirty  again."  ''Very 
true,"  said  the  Dean,  and  he  put  on  the  boots.  Immedi- 
ately after  he  went  down  to  the  landlady,  and  told  her 
on  no  account  to  give  his  servant  any  breakfast.  The 
Dean  breakfasted,  and  then  ordered  his  horse  out.  As 
he  was  ready  to  start,  John  ran  to  him  and  said:  "Mr. 
Dean,  I  haven't  got  my  breakfast  yet."  "0"  replied  the 
witty  divine,  "  there's  no  use  in  your  breakfasting,  for 
you  would  soon  be  hungry  again."  John,  finding  his 
theory  thrown  back  on  himself,  submitted  to  the  priva- 
tion with  the  same  stoicism  as  did  his  master  with  the 
boots.  On  they  rode,  the  Dean  in  front,  reading  his 
prayer-book,  and  the  man  behind  at  a  respectful  distance, 
when  they  were  met  by  a  gentleman,  who  after  eyeing 
the  Dean  very  closely,  accosted  the  servant  with :  "  I 
say,  my  man,  you  and  your  master  seem  to  be  a  sober 
pair :  may  I  ask  who  you  are,  and  where  you  are  going  ?" 
**We  are  going  to  heaven,"  said  John,  "my  master  is 
praying  and  I  am  fasting."  The  gentleman  looked  again 
in  wonderment  at  the  master  and  man,  and  rode  ofE, 
none  the  wiser  for  his  questions. 


A  queer  looking  Insect  was  taken  from  a  street  hy- 
drant in  NashvlUe,  Tennessee.  It  was  an  inch  in 
length,  and  of  a  bright  yellow  color.  Along  its  back 
were  two  rows  of  a  substance  resembling  delicate  fringe, 
which  it  kept  constantly  in  wave-like  motion.  The  eyes 
were  black  and  remarkably  keen  in  expression.  What 
appeared  to  be  three  tails  were  connected  with  a  hardly 
perceptible  membrane,  and  when  spread  out  resembled 
a  fan  in  shape.  This  seemed  to  furnish  the  motive  pow- 
er in  swimming,  though  in  making  its  way  through  the 
water  it  swam  more  like  a  snake  than  a  fish.  It  was 
exhibited  to  several  scientific  gentlemen,  but  none  ot 
them  had  ever  seen  anything  like  it  before. 


190 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Early  Robins. 

I  look  out  from  my  window 

Over  the  garden  bare, 
Rc'ied  in  its  crisp,  white  garment 

Of  feathery  snow-flakes  fair. 

The  raw  March  wind  is  blowing 

In  a  freezing,  fitful  blast; 
While  hurrying  helter-skelter. 

The  flakes  are  falling  fast. 

A  peach  tree  crowned  with  color, 

Its  burdened  branches  bends, 
And  in  half  regretful  sadness, 

A  waft  of  perfume  sends, 

Which  steals  upon  my  senses 
Like  thoughts  of  by-gone  hours, 

And  makes  me  wish  for  summer, 
For  sunshine,  grass  and  flowers. 

Under  the  bending  branches. 

Crouched  among  the  weeds, 
Tucked  in  the  gooseberry  bushes. 

And  picking  up  the  seeds— 

A  hundred  rpbin-re^dbreasts 

Seek  shelter  from  the  storm: 
Their  brown  and  crimson  garments 

Seem  scarce  to  keep  them  warm. 

Russett,  wren  and  chick-a-dee 

Hop  fearlessly  around. 
As  if  on  grassy  carpets. 

Instead  of  snowy  ground. 

With  cheery  chirp  and  twitter. 

They  marrel  at  the  sight. 
Of  pretty  robin-redbreasts. 

In  such  a  woeful  plight. 

O,  sorry  flock  of  wanderers! 

Ye  ventured  north  ere  time; 
Lured  by  tempting  zephyrs 

From  milder  southern  clime. 

O,  darling  little  breast-birds! 

To  all  tne  household  dear. 
The  raging  storm  sweeps  o'er  you. 

Without  a  waft  of  cheer. 

Where  can  ye  rest  at  night-fall, 

While  wild  the  wintry  wind — 
In  snow-clad  trees  and  bushes 

What  shelter  can  ye  find? 

We'll  throw  you  crumbs  of  comfort, 

Dear  birdies !  while  you  stay. 
And  pray  the  morrow's  dawning 
May  bring  a  sunmier  day. 
Eminence,  Ky.,  March,  1876.  B.  H.  MeG. 


Sir  Walter  Scott. 

REMINISCENOBS  OF  HIS  EARLY  DATS. 

In  the  year  1771,  there  was  bom  in  the  City  of  Edin- 
burgh the  little  child  who  grew  to  be  known  throughout 
the  world  as  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  great  writer  and  poet. 
Both  his  parents  were  highly-educated  persons,  and  per- 
haps this  influenced  the  tastes  and  habits  in  which  their 
son  grew  up.  At  about  the  age  of  eighteen  months  he 
lost  the  use  of  his  right  leg,  after  a  severe  attack  of 
fever ;  but  though  he  was  ever  after  lame,  he  was  won- 
derfully brave  and  active  as  he  grew  older.  Those  ear- 
liest days  were  spent  in  his  grandfather's  house  at  Sandy 
Knowe,  and  while  he  stayed  at  the  old  farm  he  would 
go  with  the  cow  bailie  and  roll  about  on  the  grass  for 
hours  among  the  herds  and  flocks,  making  friends  with 
the  sheep  and  lambs,  who  soon  knew  the  little  lame 
boy.  One  of  those  days  he  was  forgotten  among  the 
crags,  and  a  thunder  storm  came  on ;  but  when  his  aunt 
remembered  where  he  was,  and  hastened  herself  in 
search  of  him,  she  found  him  lying  happily  on  his  back, 
watching  the  lightning  and  crying,  "  Bonny !  bonny  1" 
at  every  flash. 

His  grandmother  used  to  tell  him  the  old  Border  talcs 
which  she  had  heard  in  her  own  childhood,  and  so  the 
names  of  Jamie  Telf  er  and  other  heroes  were  f  amUiar 
to  him,  and  he  could  repeat  long  pieces  by  heart  from 
the  stories  and  ballads  with  which  his  Aunt  Janet 
amused  him. 

When  he  was  about  four  years  old  Walter  was  taken 
to  Bath,  with  the  hope  that  the  mineral  waters  might 
cure  his  lameness,  but  very  little  change  took  place.  In 
1779  the  lad  returned  to  Edinburgh  and  was  sent  to  the 
High  School  there,  where  he  was  placed  in  the  second 


class,  which  contained  some  very  good  scholars,  among 
whom  Scott  became  a  general  favorite,  from  his  mirtti- 
fulness  and  fun ;  besides,  in  winter  he  could  tell  any 
number  of  tales  as  they  sat  round  the  fire  in  a  circle  1k- 
tening  to  him.  Of  himself,  he  says  that  he  "  disgusted 
his  kkid  master"  by  his  negligence  and  frivolity  as  much 
as  he  pleased  him  by  his  intelligence  and  talent. 

One  tale  which  Scott  has  now  and  then  told  of  hi$ 
school  days  is  this  : — "  There  was  a  boy  in  my  class,"  he 
says,  "  who  stood  always  at  the  top,  and  with  all  my  ef- 
forts I  could  not  get  above  him.  Days  passed,  but  still 
he  kept  his  place,  do  what  I  would ;  but  at  last  I  noticed 
that  whenever  a  question  was  asked  him  he  fumbled 
with  his  fingers  at  a  particular  button  on  his  waistcoat. 
In  an  evil  moment  I  removed  it  with  a  knife.  When  the 
boy  was  again  questioned  his  fingers  sought  the  button 
in  vain ;  in  his  distress  he  looked  down  for  it,  but  it  was 
not  to  be  seen,  and  as  he  stood  confounded  I  took  his 
place,  nor  did  he  ever  guess  whp  was  the  author  of  his 
wrong.  Often  in  after  life  has  the  sight  of  him  smote 
me  as  I  passed  by  him,  and  I  resolved  to  make  him  some 
reparation,  but  it  always  ended  in  good  resolution." 

When  thirteen  years  old,  young  Scott  first  read  Percy's 
Reliques,  and  this  work  had  a  great  effect  in  making 
him  a  poet ;  still,  before  this  time  he  had  tried  his  hand 
at  verse-making,  some  of  which  attempts  were  found  in 
after  days.  The  rupture  of  a  blood  vessel  laid  him  on  his 
bed  for  many  weeks,  and  then  his  great  amusement  was 
reading ;  for  he  tells  us  he  did  nothing  else  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  unless  some  one  was  charitable  enough  to 
play  chess  with  him.  From  a  circulating  library  ia 
Edinburgh  he  obtained  many  old  romances  and  play$, 
and  when  tired  of  these  he  turned  to  histories,  voyagefe 
and  travels,  and  thus  acquired  a  quantity  of  ill-arrange^ 
information,  which  proved  useful  in  the  literary  work  tb 
which  he  devoted  his  life,  and  which  has  made  his  name 
famous. 

In  1792  he  was  called  to  the  bar  as  an  advocate  ;  btd; 
he  had  very  little  practice.  His  literary  life  had  really 
began,  which  lasted  for  six-and-thirty  years.   In  1805  hfe 

fave  to  the  public  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  and 
ecame  the  poetical  favorite  of  the  day.  "  Marmion," 
the  ''Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  other  poems  followed.  In 
1814  he  published  the  historical  novel  of  "  Waverley," 
but  for  several  years  it  was  a  secret  that  he  was  the 
author  of  the  book,  who  was  spoken  of  as  "  the  Great 
Unknown."  In  the  next  few  years  he  published  with 
his  name  several  similar  romances,  among  them  "Rob 
Roy  "  and  "  The  Heart  of  Midlothian."  He  assisted  in 
starting  "The  Quarterly  Review." 

To  his  pen  he  owed  his  land  and  castle  at  Abbotsford, 
and  from  1820  to  1826  he  lived  there  like  one  of  his  own 
feudal  chiefs ;  but  in  1826  there  came  a  commercial 
crash,  and  the  publishers  of  his  books  became  bankrupt, 
and  he  was  found  to  be  liable  for  a  vast  debt.  Scott  set 
himself  nobly  to  work  to  repay  it.  He  overtasked  his 
strength  in  the  effort,  and  in  1882  breathed  his  last  at 
Abbotsford,  leaving  behind  him  a  name  which  will  never 
be  forgotten. 

Traces  of  the  Past. 

On  the  seacoast  of  Northern  Europe  are  found  im- 
mense heaps  of  sea-shells,  such  as  oysters,  cockles, 
mussels,  periwinkles,  etc.,  varying  from  three  to  ten  feet 
in  height,  and  some  of  them  one  thousand  feet  in  length, 
and  two  hundred  in  width.  I  hese  are  now  known  to  be 
the  mere  refuse  heaps  of  a  very  ancient  race  who  lived 
in  what  geologists  call  the  stone  age,  when  no  imple- 
ments of  metal  were  used.  The  stone  age,  however,  is 
divided  into  two— the  earlier,  when  implements  were 
made  only  of  rough  stone,  and  the  later,  when  the v  were 
polished.  The  implements  found  among  the  shells  are 
the  latter  class.  Besides  these  are  also  fragments  of 
rude  pottery,  and  cinders  of  charcoal,  bones  of  wild  ani- 
mals, but  none  of  the  domestic  except  the  dog.  Human 
skulls  also  are  found,  bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to 
those  of  the  Laplanders.  They  probably  had  no  know- 
ledge of  agriculture,  but  lived  wholly  on  the  products  of 
the  chase  and  fishing — more  or  less  of  their  fish,  as  the 
remains  of  herring  and  cod  show,  being  obtained  from 
the  deep  sea,  probably  by  boats  hollowed  from  a  single 
tree.  It  was  evidently  the  custom  for  the  whole  tribe  to 
,  throw  their  refuse  together  in  one  heap. 

The  annual  honey  product  of  the  United  States  is 
valued  at  $8,000,000. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THE  SLIDE  OF  ALPNACH. 

A  Swiss  Invention  for  Running  Timber  from 
the  High  Alps. 

Switzerland  is  emphatically  the  country  of  the  Alps. 
In  beautiful  and  picturesque  scenery  it  stands  without  a 
rival  in  the  civilized  world.  Alps  piled  upon  Alps  meet 
the  gaze  at  every  turn  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  The 
view  from  their  lofty  summits  is  grand  and  impressive. 
Ranges  of  ponderous  peaks,  appearing  blue  and  cloud- 
like, bound  the  limits  of  vision.  Often,  on  a  pleasant, 
cloudless  morning,  long  rows  of  white  fleecy  fog  fill  the 
lower  valleys,  marking  their  winding  courses  far  and 
near  As  the  sun  rises  in  its  course  the  vapor  is  dissi- 
pated—the vail  is  lifted,  and  the  beauties  of  Nature  dis- 
played. The  white  snow-capped  summits  shining  in  the 
clear  noon-day  sun  form  an  ever-pleasing  contrast  with 
the  thick  forests  of  pine  and  cedar  that  clothe  their  bases 
with  a  covering  of  sombre  green,  while  below  winds  the 
narrow  well-cultivated  valley,  dotted  over  with  neat 
villas  and  hamlets.  Herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  crop  the 
rich  verdure  of  the  little  plain,  rest  in  the  shade  of  some 
favorite  old  tree  along  the  bank,  or  stand  in  the  cool 
glassy  stream  as  it  moves  slowly  on.  Merry  streamlets 
and  calm  lakes  glitter  and  sparkle  in  the  brilliant  rays  of 
the  sun,  while  the  foaming  cataract  leaping  from  some 
Alpine  precipice  appears  like  a  silver  ribbon.  Surround- 
ing all  are  rugged  crags  and  peaks,  down  which  glitter- 
ing icy  glaciers  extend,  and  along  which  the  thunder  of 
the  rolling  avalanche  is  often  heard  ;  but  it  detracts  not 
from  the  beauty  of  the  valley.  Taken  altogether,  an 
Alpine  valley  forms  a  picture  of  enchanting  loveliness 
not  soon  forgotten. 

Mount  Pilate  rises  in  seven  bold  and  rugged  peaks, 
surrounding  a  small  lake,  where,  according  to  the  tradi- 
tion of  the  country,  Pontius  Pilate  drowned  himself. 
In  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  the  precipitous 
sides  of  these  rough,  uneven  peaks  were  covered  with  a 
dense  growth  of  valuable  pine  timber.  The  dark  ever- 
green forest  appeared  almost  impenetrable ;  and  the 
supply,  could  it  only  be  got  at,  would  be  well-nigh  in- 
exhaustible. But  it  stood  in  a  spot  deemed  inaccessible  ; 
and  for  hundreds  of  years  the  giant  trees  had  tossed 
their  sighing  branches  derisively  in  their  elevated  posi- 
tion, as  if  defying  alike  the  power  of  man  and  the 
storm. 

At  length  a  long  European  war  broke  out,  and  there 
was  at  once  a  great  demand  for  timber.  Many  ports 
had  been  blockaded  and  the  supply  cut  off.  If  the  tim- 
ber of  Mount  Pilate  could  reach  the  market  it  would 
bring  the  producer  a  fortune  indeed.  Enterprising  men 
of  scientific  attainments  visited  the  spot  for  the  purpose 
of  devising  some  means  to  reach  the  wealth  that  they 
knew  lay  in  the  pine  forest ;  but  they  shook  their  heads 
and  went  away  disappointed.  In  1816,  M.  Rupp  and 
three  other  noted  Swiss  engineers  ascended  the  moun- 
tain, and  ere  long  they  had  a  plan  matured.  They  were 
the  men  for  the  occasion.  They  believed  human  genius 
capable  of  surmounting  almost  every  obstacle  if  work 
was  only  pushed  ahead  with  energy  and  perseverance, 
and  with  an  eye  fixed  on  success.  They  came  down 
fully  satisfied  that  they  should  succeed  ;  and  in  a  short 
time  a  hundred  and  sixty  men  had  been  sent  upon  the 
mountain  side  to  work.  Large  pine  trees  were  cut 
down,  stripped  of  their  bark,  and  fastened  firmly  to- 
gether in  such  a  manner  as  to  form  an  immense  trough 
about  six  feet  in  width  and  from  three  to  six  feet  deep. 
This  was  carried  in  an  undeviating  line  down  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  over  rocks  and  crags,  along  the  sides  of 
huge  ledges,  over  defiles  and  deep  gorges,  in  mid-air, 
a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  from  the  bottom,  supported 
by  long  props  and  scaffoldings,  through  tunnels  under- 
ground, and  in  many  places  it  was  even  attached  high 
up  the  rugged  face  of  granite  cliffs.  In  eighteen  months 
the  great  structure  was  finished.  It  was  eight  and  a 
half  miles  in  length,  required  25,000  large  pine  trees  to 
construct  it,  and  cost  about  $21,250.  Water  from  the 
mountain  rills  was  let  in  at  various  points,  and  con- 
ducted along  a  groove  in  the  centre  to  keep  the  bottom 
wet,  and  thus  diminish  the  friction  and  prevent  the 
possibility  of  its  taking  fire. 

The  timber  was  now  cut  down,  and  the  most  valuable 
portion  worked  to  the  upper  part  of  the  stupendous 
chute,  or  slide,  as  it  was  termed,  and  preparations  madt», 
for  running  it  dowD  (^\(Vorkmen  were  stationed  at  in- 


tervals along  the  line,  and  when  everything  was  ready 
the  man  at  the  bottom  cried  out  lustily,  'Hachez''  (let 
go).  The  word  was  taken  up  by  the  next  man  above,  and 
passed  on  from  man  to  man  until  it  reached  the  top^ 
when  the  man  holding  the  prepared  timber  shouted 
back,  "  il  vienf"  (it  comes),  and  immediately  let  go  the 
tree— perhaps  three  or  four  feet  in  diameter,  and  a  hun- 
dred feet  in  length.  The  word  was  passed  down  in  ad- 
vance, and  those  below  were  thus  informed  of  its  com- 
ing. 

Ere  long  a  low  murmur  was  heard,  like  the  sighing  of 
the  wind  among  the  branches  of  the  pine  forest  above, 
growing  louder  and  louder  with  each  succeeding  mo- 
ment until  it  resembled  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  hurri- 
cane, and  then  the  forest  was  filled  with  the  roar  of 
thunder ;  the  vast  structure  began  to  jar  and  tremble, 
and  then  the  huge  tree  dashed  into  sight  above,  flashed 
past  with  almost  the  tremendous  velocity  of  lightning, 
and  with  a  splash  and  splurge,  plunged  into  the  depths 
of  Lake  Lucerne  at  the  bottom.  Professor  Playfair 
tells  us  that  he  found  it  impossible  to  strike  even  the 
largest  logs  twice  with  a  stick  while  they  were  passing. 
The  velocity  of  a  cannon  ball  has  been  estimated  at  eight 
miles  per  minute  ;  and  the  speed  of  the  descending  trees 
as  they  dashed  down  this  famous  Alpine  slide  was  often 
one-fourth  as  great,  and  sometimes  even  more.  Thek* 
usual  time  in  passing  down  the  chute — eight  and  one- 
half  mUes — was  about  six  minutes ;  though  they  have 
been  known  to  run  it  in  two  minutes  and  a  half— a.  velocity 
four  or  five  times  greater  than  that  of  the  swiftest  loco- 
motive that  ever  runs. 

At  one  time  an  arrangement  was  made  near  the  lower 
end,  where  the  speed  was  the  swiftest,  to  throw  the  de- 
scending trunks  from  the  slide,  as  an  experiment  to 
show  the  force  acquired  by  such  a  fearftil  descent.  A 
large  trunk  was  let  go  from  the  upper  end  and  came  on 
with  the  speed  of  the  whirlwind.  It  reached  the  ob- 
stacle placed  in  its  way,  and  leaping  from  the  slide  it 
plunged  into  the  solid  earth  to  the  depth  of  twenty-four 
feet.  Another  followed  and  buried  itself  eighteen  feet 
in  the  ground.  A  third  by  accident  struck  against  an- 
other, with  a  sound  like  the  boom  of  a  cannon,  and  cleft 
it  completely  asunder,  from  end  to  end,  as  though  it 
had  been  struck  by  a  bolt  of  lightning.  The  shock  was 
fearful.  A  cloud  of  dust  raised  over  the  spot,  and 
stones  and  splinters  flew  in  every  direction. 

The  timber  was  collected  in  the  lake  and  formed  into 
immense  rafts,  when  it  was  floated  down  the  Reuss  and 
Aar  into  the  River  Rhine,  and  from  thence  onward  to 
the  sea,  where  a  ready  market  was  found.  In  this  way 
millions  of  feet  of  valuable  pme  was  run  from  the  base 
of  Mount  Pilate  ;  but  at  length  the  war  ceased,  and  the 
blockaded  ports  were  thrown  open  ;  and  as  this  mode  of 
obtaining  timber  was  attended  with  considerable  ex- 
pense, large  quantities  could  be  procured  elsewhere 
cheaper,  and  the  celebrated  Slide  of  Alpnach  was  suf- 
fered to  fall  to  ruin.  Hardly  a  vestige  of  the  magnii 
cent  structure  remains  to  mark  the  spot. 

A  Persian  Wedding. 

The  young  man  who  was  to  be  married  came  himsell 
to  invite  us  the  wedding  on  the  day  before  the  ceremony; 
he  was  as  pale  and  trembling  as  though  he  had  come  to 
tell  us  he  was  to  be  hung.  We  all  went ;  the  gentlemen 
took  off  their  shoes  at  the  door  ;  the  ladies  squatted  on 
the  floor  on  one  side  of  the  room  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  bride.  Two  missionary  ladies  went  to  bring  her, 
and  found  her  crying  with  all  her  might  (she  is  expected 
to  cry  for  a  week);  they  at  last  came,  dragging  her  in. 
She  looked  like  a  Dutch  doll.  A  great  big  red  mantle 
was  thrown  over  her  face,  and  where  the  top  of  her  head 
was  was  a  bunch  of  gilt  papers,  one  of  which  each  guest 
picked  off  after  the  ceremony  as  a  memento.  When  we 
went  up  to  kiss  the  bride  we  had  to  fumble  around 
under  the  mantle  to  find  her  face,  which  was  dripping 
with  perspiration,  and  sae  looked  as  if  she  had  not  a 
friend  in  the  world.  We  then  handed  her  our  wedding 
presents  ;  some  brought  a  paper  of  pins,  others  a  cake  of 
soap,  etc.  After  the  ceremony  all  sat  upon  the  floor  to 
partake  of  refreshments.  I  could  not  eat  the  natire 
dishes,  but  enjoyed  the  chicken  and  watermelon. 

Friendship  is  the  medicine  for  all  misforume; 
r  but  ingratitude  dries  up  the  fountain  of  alll  goodness. 
1  Richelieu. 


192 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THE  PRISONED  TORTOISE. 

BY  JENNETTE  GIBSON. 

You  Strange  little  tortoise,  shut  in  a  shell. 
Are  you  not  aweary,  thus  to  ever  dwell; 
Creeping  slowly  onward  thro'  the  grassy  dell, 

Or  resting  all  alone 

On  a  mossy  stone  ? 

Don't  you  long  to  burst  from  your  prison  home, 

O^er  the  lovely  earth  carelessly  to  roam! 

With  a  mighty  strength,  want  to  wail  and  moan, 

In  desperation  sheer 

For  a  new  career? 

Power  do  you  crave,  o'er  the  fields  to  chase 
With  the  nimble  hare,  in  a  merry  race; 
To  with  suppL  limbs  swift  with  airy  grace. 

Leave  him  far  behind 

Seeking  you  to  find? 

If  you  note  the  l)irdies  ever  on  the  wing; 
While  they  11  <;  aloft  'mid  the  trees  and  sing, 
'Till  their  merry  voices  thro'  the  forest  ring: 

Do  yo  :  c  ivet  wings 

And  a  voice  that  smgs? 

May  be  you  exist  without  bright  dreams. 
Do  you  ne'er  in  fancy  catch  soft  gleams 
Of  a  better  life  than  this  one  seems, 

Encased  in  a  box. 

Subjected  to  knocks— 

From  boys  like  me,  who  with  joyous  langh. 
Bound  o'er  the  fields  and  cross  your  path; 
Then  in  wonder  stay,  to  know  what  hath 

An  abiding  place. 

In  a  horny  case? 

Nay,  be  not  fearful  and  draw  in  your  head, 
Making  the  pretense  that  you  are  dead; 
I'll  not  harm  you — have  no  dread 

Of  my  supple  hands 

On  your  iron  bands. 

Can  you  not  answer,  thou  creature  small, 
As  you  crawl  toward  the  old  stone  wall, 
To  conceal  yourself  amid  bushes  tall. 

By  the  river  side, 

Where  you  long  to  hide? 

No  doubt  you're  glad  your  way  to  pursue; 
Awkwardly  crawling  thro'  dust  and  dew. 
With  your  burdened  back  and  joys  but  a  few— • 

You  poor  little  thing, 

You're  not  made  to  sing! 

But  you  like  to  rest  on  the  grass  cool. 
Bask  in  the  sunshine — bathe  in  the  pool- 
Seek  the  quiet  spots  oa  God's  foot-stool. 

And  clumsily  creep 

On  a  log  to  sleep. 


Out  of  sight  passed,  now  rest  in  peace, 
From  human  presence  find  a  release; 
You  were  created  to  live  and  increase 

For  a  purpose  good — 

This  is  understood. 

From  man,  in  God's  image  standing  erect, 
To  the  smallest  insect  the  eye  can  detect-— 
The  beauties  with  which  the  earth  is  decked. 

All  in  their  fitness. 

To  this  bear  witness. 

To  its  sphere  adapted,  each  living  creature 
Is  planned  and  guided  by  the  great  teacher; 
Who  formed  in  wisdom  each  curious  feature 

Of  the  tortoise  bound 

In  a  shell  all  round. 


G-ratitTide  of  a  Lioness. 

The  report  of  the  Eoyal  Zoolo^cal  Society  of  Ireland* 
states  that  "  during  last  year  the  gardens  sustained  a 
iieavy  loss  in  the  death  of  the  beautifullioness familiarly 
called  Old  Girl.  She  was  bom  in  the  gardens,  of  South 
African  stock,  on  Sept.  8th,  1859,  and  died  on  Oct.  7th, 
1875,  after  six  weeks  of  prostration  from  chronic  bron- 
chitis. During  her  long  career  she  presented  the  gar- 
dens with  fifty-four  cubs,  of  which  she  actually  reared 
fifty,  losing  only  four.  This  is  a  feat  unprecedented  in 
the  annals  of  menageries  and  gardens.  She  was  an  ani- 
mal of  very  high  spirit,  although  very  gentle,  and  was 
admitted  by  judges  to  be  the  handsomest  lioness  they 
had  ever  seen.  Her  offspring  not  only  added  to  the  attrac- 
tions of  the  gardens,  but  the  judicious  sale  of  a  portion  of 
them  brought  £1,400  in  cash  to  the  society.  The  closing 
weeks  of  her  useful  life  were  marked  by  a  touching  in- 
cident worthy  of  being  recorded.  The  camivora  when 
in  health  have  no  objection  to  the  presence  of  rats  in 
their  cages  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  rather  welcome  them 
as  a  relief  to  the  monotony  of  existence,  which  consti- 
tutes the  chief  trial  of  a  wild  animal  in  confinement.  In 
illness  the  case  is  different ;  for  the  ungrateful  rats  be- 
gin to  nibble  the  toes  of  the  lord  of  the  forest  before  his 
death,  and  add  considerably  to  his  discomfort.  To  save 
the  lioness  from  this  annoyance,  a  fine  little  tan  terrier 
was  placed  in  her  cage,  who  was  at  first  received  with  a 
sulky  growl ;  but  when  the  first  rat  appeared,  and  the 
lioness  saw  the  little  dog  toss  him  into  the  air,  catching 
him  with  professional  skill  across  the  loins  with  a  snap 
as  he  came  down,  she  began  to  understand  what  the 
terrier  was  for.  She  coaxed  him  to  her  side,  folded  her 
paw  around  him,  and  each  night  the  little  creature  slept 
at  the  breast  of  the  lioness,  enfolded  with  her  paws,  and 
watching  that  his  natural  enemies  did  not  disturb  the 
rest  of  his  mistress.  The  rats  had  a  bad  time  during 
those  six  weeks." 


The  Anglo-Saxon  Cheer. 

What  a  serviceable  cry  and  word-of-all-work  is  pro- 
vided for  us  by  our  familiar  Imrrah!  Probably  no  other 
tongue,  ancient  or  modern,  ever  possessed  a  eheer  bo 
variously  useful.  Certainly  the  Greek  and  Roman  had 
no  cry  of  wider  application,  and  we  may  surmise  that 
the  "hosannah,"  whence,  as  philosophists  say,  huzza 
may  have  come,  as  well  as  the  Gothic  word  of  hurry  and 
agitation  whence  our  "hurrah"  and  the  Swedish  hurra 
are  derived,  were  also  far  more  limited  in  employment. 
We  discharge  our  cheers  in  volleys  of  three  or  volleys 
of  nine,  or  we  load  and  fire  them  at  will ;  we  hurrah  at 
an  oration,  a  procession,  an  after  dinner  toast,  an  extra 
holiday  at  school,  a  show  of  fireworks,  a  yacht  race,  the 
announcement  of  election  returns,  the  ninth  inning  of  a 
base-ball  match,  or  the  storming  of  a  redoubt.  Com- 
pared with  this  the  exultant  cries  of  the  modem  Latin 
race  are  very  contracted  in  application.  They  must  be 
directed  at  some  specific  person  or  thing —  Vive  el  rey, 
Vive  Garibaldi,  Vive  le  President,  or  else  Vive  V  Empire, 
or  r  Assemhlee — and  they  are  not  pure  expressions  of  a 
general  joyous  excitement.  Let  us  concede  that  our 
^'hurrah"  is  rather  a  barbarous  shout,  well  worthy  of  its 
barbarous  origin.  It  certainly  has  not  the  refinement  of 
Vive,  viva,  vivo;  a'-vd  as  it  lacks  their  delicacy  of  sound, 
so  does  it  also  lack  their  definiteness  of  signification. 
Nevertheless,  the  piping  sound  of  vive  can  hardly  give 
the  full-lunged  satisfaction  of  the  yell  "hurrah,"  and 
hence  natives  of  other  countries  who  come  to  our  own, 
take  kindly  to  our  popular  shout,  and  inauire  u^o  more 
than  we  Americans  do  what  the  wofA  tn&aj  mcams. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


^93 


House  Raising  in  the  Island  of  Rugen. 

Prussia  does  not  'Doast  of  many  islands.  Rugen,  the 
largest  and  finest,  is  in  the  province  of  Poraerania.  It 
is  irregular  and  picturesque  in  shape  ;  being  made  up  of 
peninsulas,  which  relieve  it  from  all  monotony  and 


makes  the  scenery  most  attractive.    As  the  beach  is  for  them,  as  they  are  sure  to  extermmaie 
good  it  is  a  favorite  summer  resort  for  bathing  ;  and  the  and  mice,  and  other  noxious  anraals,  actmg^as  il  ^ney 


Visiting  Ants. 

M.  Homberg  relates  that  there  is  a  species  of  ant«  at 
Surinan  which  the  inhabitants  call  visiting  ants.  They 
march  in  troops,  with  the  same  regularity  as  a  larce 
and  powerful  army.  As  soon  as  they  appear,  all  the 
coffers  and  chests  of  drawers  in  the  house  are  set  open 
for  them,  as  they  are  sure  to  exterminate  all  the  rats 


vounjr  find  Tndless  "enioyment  from  the  peninsulas  of  had  a  peculiar  commission  from  nature  to  destroy  them. 
Jasmund  to  the  romantic  scenery  of  the  steep,  rocky  The  only  misforture  is,  they  pay  their  visits  too  seldom ; 


ridge  overlooking  the  level  stretch  on  the  west,  or  the 
rugged  chalky  cliffs  on  the  north  ;  or  they  toil  up  to  the 
ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of  the  princes,  on  Mount 
Rugard ;  or  they  muster  courage  to  strike  into  the  deep 
beachwood,  where  within  the  massive  circular  wall  the 
goddess  Hertha  was  worshipped  in  the  olden  days  of 
paganism.  This  fertile  island  has  witnessed  stirring 
scenes  during  the  lapse  of  ages  ;  and  the  tourist  is  taken 
to  the  King's  Seat,  whence  that  mad  monarch  witnessed 
a  sea-fight  between  the  Danes  and  Swedes.  The  two 
Scandinavian  nations  had  many  a  sharp  contest  for  this 
island,  and  it  has  been  subject  to  Danish,  Swedish  and 
German  rule ;  but  in  the  reparcelling  of  Europe,  after 
the  fall  of  Napoleon,  Rugen  passed  from  all  Scandina- 
vian hands  to  those  of  Prussia. 

Its  people  are  simple  folk,  full  of  traditions  and  lore, 
keeping  up  the  old  patriarchal  ways  and  the  warm  com- 


they  would  be  welcome  every  month,  but  they  do  not 
appear  sometimes  for  three  years  together. 

Ancient  Gluttony. 

The  ancients  were  great  feeders.  Even  the  gods  con- 
descended to  instruct  mere  mortals  in  the  sublime  art 
of  gastronomy.  But  although  they  fed  on  ambrosia  and 
nectar,  their  pupils  were  content  with  humbler  fare. 
Homer's  heroes  delighted  in  roast  beef,  so  that  English- 
men have  classic  authority  for  their  national  predilection 
for  this  celebrated  article  of  food.  But  Homer's  heroes 
delighted  in  quantity,  nothing  less  than  a  fillet  of  beef 
appeasing  the  appetite  of  a  guest  after  a  morning's  con- 
tention with  the  doomed  Trojans. 

Really  the  ancients  must  have  had  voracious  appetites, 
for  we  read  of  one   Theagener  devouring  a  whole 


we  reaa  oi  one 

muiity"  sympathy  that  mark  old  and  very  new  settle-  ^^11,  and  of  Milo  of  Cretona  performing  the  same  feat 
ments.  Political  changes,  wars  and  revolutions  seem  to  Titormur  had  an  ox  served  for  supper.  Astydamur  of 
have  spent  their  force  before  reaching  this  quiet  island.  Miletus  consumed  a  feast  prepared  for  nine  persons,  and 


leaving  the  people  in  their  primitive  simplicity. 

The  house  raising  shows  the  whole  neighborhood  tak- 
ing part ;  busy  hands  have  reared  the  frame  of  good 
solid  timbers,  which  will  last  when  their  grand-children's 
children  shall  talk  of  the  day.  Girls  and  children  take 
part  as  well  as  men.  The  timbers  are  well  and  firmly 
pinned  together  ;  the  mortar  is  mixed  by  bright  girls  ; 
bricks  are  brought,  and  good-sized  ones,  to  fill  up  the 
interstices  of  the  wall ;  the  thatch  is  bound  securely  to- 
gether and  laid  firmly  in  place,  while  a  sturdy  fisher- 
farmer,  of  the  old  Viking  type,  directs  the  whole  till  the 
house  is  crowned,  and  general  merrymaking  rewards 
the  earnest  work  of  the  friends  and  neighbors. 


Iodine. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DU] 

Iodine,  as  usually  met  with  in  commerce,  is  a  sub- 
stance in  small  metal-like  scales  of  a  dark  color.  On 
being  heated  it  affords  a  vapor  of  a  rich  purple  tint, 
hence  its  name.  The  vagor  condenses  and  reforms 
scaly  particles.  Its  discovery  is  of  comparatively  recent 
occurrence,  and  first  arose  from  an  accidental  circum- 
stance. It  was  noticed  that  the  pans  in  which  barilla 
was  manufactured,  became  very  much  corroded  in  some 
parts,  and,  eventually,  chemical  research  accounted  for 
the  fact  by  showing  the  presence  of  a  substance  pre- 
viously unknown  as  a  distinct  body. 

For  some  years  the  uses  of  iodine  was  entirely  confined 
to  medical  purposes,  and  especially  as  an  antidote  or 
preventative  for  the  troublesome  disease  called  goitre. 


Cambis,  King  of  Lydia,  was  such  a  glutton  that  one 
night  he  devoured  his  own  wife  !  The  Persian  Cantibans 
ate  until  his  jaws  were  tired.  But  all  ancient  history 
abounds  with  instances  of  offensive  gluttony,  the  ma- 
jority, no  doubt,  exaggerated,  but  all  showing  that  even 
in  the  remotest  times  dietary  excesses  were  held  in  ab- 
horrence. Rome  was  disgraced  by  her  great  eaters.  The 
Emperor  Claudius  passed  away  his  days  in  eating  an6. 
sleeping.  Vitellius  dined  several  times  a  day.  His  re- 
pasts ruined  many  families,  for  each  cost  not  less  than 
£3,200.  There  are  some  Vitelliuses  among  us  in  this 
day,  but  they  are  studiously  shunned  by  all  dinner-giv- 
ing people.  The  newspapers  inform  us  occasionally  of 
men  (a-hem  !  query  ?)  devouring  incredible  quantities  of 
food  ;  but  we  never  read  of  one  equal  in  digestive  capa- 
city to  one  Nicholas  Wood,  a  native  of  Kent. 

Tulles  says  he  once  ate  a  whole  sheep  at  one  meal. 
One  day  three  dozen  of  pigeons  were  placed  before  him 
and  he  only  left  the  bones.  Luckily,  as  regards  the  price 
of  provisions,  we  have  no  such  Woods  now  ;  the  tenden- 
cy of  the  appetite  is  beginning  to  be  strictly  epicurean. 

J.  J.  w. 


Light  Houses. 
There  are  six  orders  of  lights  in  the  United  Stated 
service,  the  first  being  established  to  give  warning  of  the 
approach  to  land,  and  the  others  being  subsidiary,  to 
mark  headlands  and  points  in  bays,  rivers  and  lakes. 
There  are  white  and  red  lights,  fixed,  revolving,  and  flash 
lights,  and  the  revolving  lights  have  different  intervals, 
.from  a  minute  and  a  half  to  ten  seconds.    There  are  also 
Its  presence  in  cod-liver  oil  has  doubtless  been  highly  'fixed  white  lights  showing  a  red  flash  at  intervals,  and  in 
beneficial  in  scrofulous   and  phthisical   complaints,  some  cases  two  and  even  three  fixed  white  lights  mark  a 
Since  the  discovery  of  photography,  it  has  become  of  headland.    Thus,  on  Cape  Cod,  Chatham  has  two  lights 


great  importance  ;  and,  as  such,  is  now  a  considerable 
product  of  the  operative  chemists'  manufactures.  The 
chief  of  its  combinations,  employed  in  photogi-aphy,  are 
the  iodides  of  potassium,  ammonium  and  cadmium. 
Most  of  the  compounds  of  iodine  are  readily  decom- 
posed by  chlorine. 

Iodine  combines  readily  with  some  of  the  metals, 
either  in  its  state  of  vapor,  or  when  in  combination  with 
other  bodies.  It  is  but  slightly  soluble  in  water,  but  is 
readily  dissolved  by  alcohol,  which  thus  forms  what  is 
termed  the  tincture  of  iodine,  much  used  in  medicine. 
It  unites  with  chlorine,  bromine,  nitrogen  and  hydrogen  ; 
forming  with  th£  latter  an  acid — the  hydriodic.  With 
nitrogen  it  produces  an  explosive  compound,  somewhat 
similar  to  chloride  of  nitrogen,  which  has  been  described 
in  a  previous  article. 

It  unites  also  with  sulphur  and  phosphorous,  pro- 
ducing light  and  heat.  At  the  moment  of  its  combina- 
tion with  the  latter  substance  an  explosion  is  afforded, 
hence  great  care  is  required  when  these  substances  are 
brought  into  contact. 


and  Nausett  three  in  a  row.  These  differences  are  made 
to  enable  mariners  the  more  readily  and  surely  to  distin- 
guish lights  apart,  and  thus  to  be  certain  what  point  or 
headland  they  are  approaching  at  night.  For  the  same 
reason  light-ships  are  numbered  and  have  their  numbers 
painted  on  their  sides.  Buoys,  too,  are  set  in  regular 
order  for  the  better  guidance  of  seamen.  Thus,  on 
entering  a  bay  or  harbor,  the  ship  leaves  red  buoys,  with 
even  numbers,  on  her  starboard,  and  black  buoys,  with 
odd  numbers,  on  her  port  side.  Where  a  buoy  marks  an 
obstruction  in  mid-channel  which  may  be  passed  on 
either  side,  it  is  painted  with  horizontal  red  and  black 
stripes ;  but  if  the  buoy  is  striped  white  and  black  per- 
pendicularly, this  denotes  that  you  must  pass  close  to  it 
to  avoid  danger.  Perches  with  balls  and  cages  on  buoys 
denote  that  they  are  placed  at  turning  points  in  the 
channel.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that,  by  various  ingenious 
expedients,  as  little  as  possible  is  left  to  chance  or  guess- 
work ;  and  the  seaman  who  has  his  chart  before  him, 
and  understands  these  simple  regulations,  can  find  his 
wp.y  into  any  of  our  ports. 


194 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Starting  of  the  Engine. 

Next  to  the  grand  stand,  at  which  the  opening  ceremonies 
of  the  tenth  day  of  May  were  held,  at  the  opening  of  the  Cen- 
tennial Exhibition,  the  greatest  point  of  interest  was  the 
Ulftchinery  Building,  and  the  rush  of  visitors  anxious  to  see 
President  Grant  set  the  great  Corliss  engine  in  motion  was 
simply  irresistible.  The  scene  shortly  after  the  President  ar- 
rived was  indeed  an  impressive  one,  and  calculated  to  excite 
the  interest  of  an  intelligent  people.  It  was  known  that  the 
giant  machine  had  been  erected  at  a  cost  of  $200,000,  and  that 
fourteen  acres  of  machinery  and  thousands  of  miles  of  belting 
and  shafting  were  to  be  driven  by  it,  and  it  was  known  also 
that  one  successful  trial  of  its  capacity  to  do  the  work  had  al- 
ready been  made.  But  had  nothing  happened  since  then,  and 
were  the  great  boiler,  the  wheels  and  valves  still  in  running 
order?  were  the  thoughts  of  the  crowd  audibly  expressed. 
Each  individual  seemed  to  take  a  deep  personal  interest  in  the 
success  of  the  national  undertaking,  and  the  greatest  anxiety 
prevailed.  Amid  an  almost  breathless  silence,  Mr.  George  H. 
Corliss,  the  builder  of  the  engine,  a  thoughtful  man,  tall,  thin, 
and  gray-haired,  and  very  pale,  but  calm  and  self-possessed, 
conducted  President  Grant  and  the  Emperor  of  Brazil  to  the 
two  levers  by  which  the  now  breathless  monster  was  to  be 
made  a  thing  of  life.  Then,  by  a  slight  exertion  of  these 
rulers  of  two  nations,  the  giant  arms  began  to  move,  slowly  at 
first,  and  then  with  a  velocity  that  was  tremendous  in  its 
force  and  majesty.  One  great  sigh  came  from  the  huge  iron 
chest,  the  belts  and  shafts  moved  in  all  directions,  thousands 
of  machines  became  active,  the  great  engine  was  a  great  suc- 
cess, and  then  such  a  shout  went  out  from  the  hearts  of  the 
people  as  is  seldom  heard  in  a  human  life  time.  The  American 
ijixiltitnde  rejoiced  at  its  own  success  in  the  triumph  of  the 
great  American  inventor. 


How  to  Beautify  Your  Rooms. 

'the  first  condition  of  success  in  furnishing  either  a  large  or 
a  small  room  is  that  there  must  be  no  over-crowding.  This  is 
absolute.  When  outline  is  lost,  beauty,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is 
also  lost  We  must  all  know  many  drawing-rooms  in  which, 
perhaps,  the  worth  and  beauty  of  each  individual  thing  is  in- 
disputable, on  entering  which  the  first  thing  that  strikes  one 
jB  a  sense  of  incongruity.  What  might  have  been  an  art  col- 
iection  is  degraded  to  the  level  of  an  old  curiosity  shop.  Most 
women  are  born  with  a  love  of  beauty.  But  generally,  unless 
this  love  is  cultivated  and  trained,  it  runs  to  waste,  and  fritters 
itself  away  on  small  things.  Women  go  into  a  shop  and  hover 
over  a  counter  for  an  hour,  engrossed  in  the  pm-chase  of  fifty 
minute  things,  each  one  of  which  is  pretty  enough  in  itself  if 
taken  up  in  the  hand  and  inspected ;  but  not  one  of  which  can 
be  clearly  defined  at  a  distance  of  two  yards,  and  not  one  of 
which  repays  the  trouble  of  the  minute  inspection.  These  arc 
packed  away  in  shiny  cabinets  that  are  blazing  with  ormolu 
scroll-work,  on  spindle-legged  what-nots  that  seem  to  be  de- 
signed for  no  other  earthly  pmpose  than  to  be  knocked  down 
at  brief  intervals,  and  on  mantle-pieces  that  confuse  one's 
vision  and  muddle  one's  brain  during  the  long  periods  when 
the  need  of  being  near  the  fire  forces  one  to  face  them.  It  is  a 
better  and  higher  system  of  economy  to  buy  two  or  three  good 
bronzes  or  marbles,  on  which  the  eye  can  always  rest  with 
pleasure,  than  to  spend  ten  times  the  sum  on  a  heterogeneous 
mass  of  the  parti-colored  rubbish  which  many  accumulate,  "in 
order,"  they  call  it,  "to  take  off  the  naked  look  of  their  room." 
Better  the  naked  room  ten  thousand  times^  than  the  false 
decorations. 


All  the  performances  of  human  art  at  which  v/e  look 
with  praise  or  wonder  are  instances  of  the  resistless 
force  of  perseverance  ;  it  is  by  this  that  the  quarry  be- 
comes a  pyramid,  and  that  distant  countries  are  united 
with  canals.  If  a  man  were  to  compare  a  single  stroke 
of  a  pick-ax,  or  of  one  impression  of  the  spade,  with  the 
general  design  and  last  result,  he  would  be  overwhelmed 
by  the  sense  of  their  disproportion ;  yet  these  petty 
operations,  incessantly  continued,  in  time  surmount  the 
greatest  diflBculties,  and  mountains  are  leveled  and 
oceans  bounded  by  the  slender  force  of  human  beings ; 
and  continents  girdled  by  the  forces  of  Electricity,  under 
the  dominion  of  man. 


An  Oyster's  Heart. 

Near  the  hinge  of  an  oyster  is  a  cavity  which  leada  to 
its  stomach.  It  may  be  called,  with  a  little  license,  its 
mouth  ;  not  that  it  has  teeth,  or  that  in  any  way  it  mas- 
ticates food,  or  that  it  indicates  the  place  of  the  head, 
for  the  oyster  belongs  to  a  division  of  molluska  known 
as  the  acephalates^  or  headless  ones.  But  it  is  function- 
ally a  mouth,  and  is  like  mouths  in  two  important  par- 
ticulars. It  is  the  entrance  of  the  food  to  the  alimentary 
canal,  and  it  has  certain  lip-like  organs  with  which  to 
control  the  entering  food.  If,  then,  the  oyster's  mouth 
is  thus  situated  near  the  hinge,  that  part  of  the  creature 
should  be  known  as  its  interior,  or  forward  end.  The 
opening  end,  that  which  the  oystermen  call  the  "nib," 
is  therefore  really  the  posterior  extremity.  Every  one 
knows  that  in  opening  an  oyster  the  knife  has  to  be 
passed  through  a  stout  organ,  wrongly  called  by  many 
the  eye  ;  for  the  oyster  is  eyeless.  Some  call  it  the  heart. 
This,  also,  is  incorrect.  It  is  the  great  adductor  muscle, 
with  which  the  animal  draws  together  its  valves.  But 
the  oyster  has  a  true  heart.  It  is  situated  near  to  and 
forward  of  the  adductor  muscle,  that  is,  between  it  and 
the  mouth.  If  a  finger  of  a  glove  were  cut  off  and  infla- 
ted with  air,  being  closed  up  at  the  end,  and  then  a 
thread  were  tied  round  so  as  to  constrict  it  in  the  mid- 
dle, we  shoul5  have  something  resembling  in  shape 
pretty  nearly  the  oyster's  heart.  This  small  organ  is 
divided  by  the  constriction  into  two  lesser  organs,  an 
auricle  and  a  ventricle,  a  receiving  and  a  distributing 
reservoir  of  the  pale,  opalescent  blood — its  true  life  cur- 
rent, which  animates  every  part  of  this  complex  little 
being.  If  an  oyster  be  opened  with  sufficient  tact  and 
care,  the  heart  can  be  seen  at  work,  beating  much  as  our 
hearts  beat — a  true  ihythmical  pulsation.  Indeed,  with 
watch  in  hand;  the  beats  can  be  counted,  as  when  a  phy- 
sician makes  a  diagnosis  of  one's  pulse.  As  death  nears, 
^^  slow  the  throbs  of  the  oyster's  heart. 

The  Tower  of  Babel. 

Babel,  or  Baalbel,  was  a  lofty  temple  built  at  Babylon 
by  Belus,  both  as  an  observatory  and  a  temple  of  the 
sun.  It  remains  still  in  existence,  under  the  name  of 
Birs  Mmrod,  and  has  been  amply  described  by  Rich  and 
Porter.  It  was  formed  of  eight  square  towers,  one  on 
the  other,  650  feet  high,  and  the  same  at  each  side  of  its 
base.  Lately  its  height  was  160  feet,  and  the  reeds  be- 
tween every  three  or  four  layers  of  brick  were  perfectly 
fresh,  while  the  brick  were  calcined  by  fire.  Babylon 
continued  for  2000  years  after  to  be  the  most  splendid 
city  in  the  world,  and  so  Alexander  found  it  as  late  as 
335  B.  C.  According  to  the  Jewish  annals  it  was  built 
2334  B.  C,  beautified  and  enlarged  in  2250,  by  Semiramis, 
who  led  from  it  her  armies  of  all  nations.  It  decayed 
on  the  building  of  Bagdad  by  the  Calipus,  as  better 
sftuated  for  intercourse,  in  760  A.  D. 


The  G-ulf  stream. 

From  the  earliest  periods  of  our  history  this  colossal 
river  of  the  ocean  has  been  a  favorite  subject  of  study. 
Its  vast  depth,  its  width  varying  from  thirty  to  three 
hundred  miles  ;  its  mysterious  journey  of  seven  thousand 
miles  through  the  counter  currents  and  hurricanes  of 
the  Atlantic ;  its  return  to  the  Mexican  Gulf,  where  it 
set  out  and  from  which  it  derives  its  name,  have 
rendered  it  a  marvel  even  to  the  philosophers  of  our  own 
day.  Currents  vaster  and  more  powerful  traverse  the 
Antarctic  Sea  and  the  Pacific,  yet  the  Gulf  Stream  re- 
mains the  most  interesting  of  all.  All  the  rivers  that 
flow  into  the  Gulf  and  the  Caribbean  Sea  mingle  their 
turbid  waters  with  this  stream,  and  are  borne  with  it 
far  upon  the  ocean,  there  to  be  deprived  of  the  elements 
of  disease.  But  for  its  ceaseless  flow  the  tropical  heat 
would  become  insufferable,  and  perpetual  ice  and  snow 
would  rest  on  the  shores  of  all  Northern  Europe.  While 
it  stores  up  the  sun's  heat  and  wafts  it  to  northern 
climes,  it  induces  counter  streams  from  the  Polar  Seas, 
which  carry  their  chilling  waters  to  the  tropical  zone. 
Apart  from  the  beneficial  purpose  it  thus  subserves  in 
the  economy  of  the  creation,  its  great  practical  utility 
to  the  mariner  is  well  known.  The  science  of  navigation 
embraces  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  nature  and 
location  of  this  current.  It  is  also  important  that  shij^ 
masters  desiring  to  enter  or  leave  the  Stream  should 
possess  a  most  accurate  knowledge  of  its  limits. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD, 


195 


Color  of  the  Red  Sea. 

In  a  communication  to  the  Bombay  Geographical 
Society,  a  writer  confirms  the  opinion  hitherto  expressed 
by  scientific  observers  that  the  color  of  the  Red  Sea 
18  due  to  large  portions  being  covered  with  patches, 
from  a  few  yards  to  some  miles  square,  composed  of 
microscopic  vegetables,  or  animalculse,  particularly 
abundant  in  spring,  and  which  dye  the  water  an  intense 
blood  red  ;  when  not  affected,  however,  by  these  organic 
beings,  the  deep  waters  are  intensely  blue,  and  the  shoal 
waters  shades  of  green.  Contrary  to  the  usual  belief, 
the  water  of  this  sea  is  not  remarkably  salt,  the  salme 
matter  being  only  about  forty-one  grains  in  one-thousand.  ^ 
The  evaporation  is  equal  to  eight  feet  annually,  while  j  ^^^^ 


seen  one  with  seven  rattles  larger  than  one  with  twelve 

rattles,  both  killed  on  the  same  day.  Twenty-eight 
rattles  is  the  greatest  number  of  rattles  I  have  seen  on 
one  snake,  and  it  was  not  as  large  as  some  I  had  seen 
with  a  less  number  of  rattles.  Of  the  mortal  enmity  ex- 
isting between  the  black  snake  and  the  rattlesnake,  two 
instances  have  come  under  my  notice,  in  each  of  which 
the  rattlesnake  proved  an  arrant  coward,  making  a 
great  noise,  while  the  black  snake  did  all  the  fighting — 
if  I  may  call  it  fighting ;  it  was  rather  a  strangling  and 
a  squeezing.  My  attention  was  aroused  by  the  rattle- 
snake passing  close  to  me,  paying  no  attention  to  my 
presence,  but  apparently  trying  to  get  away  from  some- 
thing in  pursuit,  his  rattles  springing  to  their  loudest 
I  was  in  the  act  of  throwing  the  gun  up  to  stop 


not  more  than  one  inch  of  rain  or  rain  water  is  added  in  j  him,*  when  the  black  snake  passed  like  S  flash  ;  going 
thP  snmft  time,  f or  althouEfh  there  are  heavy  rams  on  the  ^„++i«„„„i.^»i  v,^ 


five  yards  to  the  rattlesnake's  one,  and  the  way  he  seized 
i  that  rattlesnake  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  went 


the  same  time,  for  although  there  are  heavy 
shore,  they  are  sucked  up  by  the  parched  sand.   There  ^^^^ 

suit  of  such  enormous  evaporation  is,  according  to  this  around  him  was"  something  "^^^  liT  experience 

author,  to  produce  a  constant  descent  of  heavy  salt  water     .-    -     .  .  -         -&>.-  j 

to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  when  this  heavy  fluid 
arises  to  the  level  of  the  Mocha  barrier,  it  falls  over  in 
an  outward  current,  and  is  replaced  by  an  upper  in- 
flowing current — in  this  manner  the  whole  of  the  water 
being  changed  once  a  year. 


with  the  king  snake  and  the  moccasin  ran  through  a 
course  of  thirteen  years,  and  in  that  time  I  have  seen 
the  king  snake  get  outside  of  the  raoccasio  many 
times.  When  the  king  first  seizes  his  prey,  lie  coils 
around  it  until  they  are  almost  like  a  ball,  turning  oc- 
casionally and  biting  the  coils  of  the  moccasin.  After 
being  some  time  in  the  coil,  he  will  open  out,  and  if  the 
moccasin  shows  signs  of  life,  it  receives  another  embrace. 
When  life  is  extinct,  the  king  snake  stretches  out  its 

It  takes  some  time 
inside  is  about  as 


Perceptions  of  the  Blind. 

The  organ  of  vision  is  considered  the  most  delicate  or-  ^  x,.  t  ^ 

ffanization  of  the  human  frame  ;  yet  many  who  were  \  victim  and  commences  at  the  head, 
bom  blind  have  been  enabled  to  see  by  surgical  opera-^ ;  to  gorge,  especially  if  the  one  going 

tions,  and  the  following  is  an  interesting  fact  concerning  ;  large  as  the  one  crawling  outsxae.  

one  of  that  class :  ,  .  i  ^  ^  i  • 

A  youth  had  become  thirteen  years  of  age,  when  his  German  Oourtships. 

eyes  were  touched  by  a  surgeon.  He  thought  scarlet 
the  most  beautiful  color ;  black  was  painful.  He  f an^ 
cied  every  object  touched  him,  and  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish by  sight  what  he  perfectly  well  knew  by  feel- 
ing ;  for  instance,  tlie  cat  and  dog.  When  his  second 
eye  was  touched,  he  remarked  that  the  objects  were  not 
BO  large  in  appearance  to  this  as  the  one  opened  at  first. 
Pictures  he  considered  only  partly  colored  surfaces,  and 
a  miniature  absolutely  astonished  him,  seeming  to  him 
like  putting  a  bushel  into  a  pint. 

Stanly,  the  organist,  and  many  blind  musicians  have 
been  the  best  performers  of  their  time  ;  and  a  school- 
mistress of  England  could  discover  that  the  boys  were 
playing  in  a  distant  comer  of  the  room,  instead  of  study-r 
mg,  although  a  person  using  his  eyes  could  not  detect 
the  slightest  sound. 

Prof.  Sanderson,  who  was  blind,  could,  in  a  few 
minutes,  tell  how  many  persons  were  in  a  mixed  com- 
pany, and  of  each  sex.  A  blind  French  lady  could 
dance  in  figure  dances,  sew  and  thread  her  own  needle. 
A  blind  man  in  Derbyshire,  England,  has  actually  been 
a  surveyor  and  planner  of  roads,  his  ear  guiding  him  as 
to  distance  as  accurately  as  the  eye  to  others ;  and  the 
late  Justice  Fielding,  who  was  blind,  on  walking  into  a 
room  for  the  first  time,  after  speaking  a  few  words,  said, 

This  room  is  twenty-two  feet  long,  eighteen  wide,  and 
twelve  high,"  all  of  which  was  revealed  to  him  with  ac- 
curacy through  the  medium  of  the  ear. 

Verily,  "  we  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made." 


Snakes  and  their  Habits. 

If  the  rattlesnake  uses  its  rattles  as  a  love  note  I  have 
never  observed  it ;  but  that  he  uses  it  as  a  slogan  of 
war,  and  to  gather  the  clans  to  the  fray,  I  have  seen  and 
heard  the  pibroch  sounding,  sounding  from  afar.  In 
1860  I  had  an  experience  in  which  one  answered  the  call 
for  assistance.  Up  to  1869  I  have  met  many  of  them, 
and  have  never  known  them  to  spring  their  rattles  unless 
excited  by  anger  or  within  hearing  distance  of  one  in 
trouble,  when  they  would  answer  and  come  in  haste 
When  gorged  they  will  remain  undisturbed,  apparently 
unconscious  of  the  enemy ;  but  let  a  dog  come  on  the 
ground,  and  peace  is  at  an  end — it  is  fight  or  nin.  I  do  not 
know  of  anything  that  will  excite  them  so  quickly  as  a 
dog,  and  they  seem  to  smell  a  dog  at  a  considerable 
distance.  Their  food  is  rats,  mice,  birds  and  eggs, 
youn^  rabbits,  squirrels  and  toads.  A  rattle  for  every 
year  is  no  criterion  to  judge  age  by.  I  have  known  one 
instance  of  two  rattles  being  matured  in  one  year,  and  1 
believe  if  they  could  be  carefully  noticed  there  woulc 
be  instances  of  stni  more.  I  have  seen  a  snake  witl 
three  rattles  larger  in  length  and  girth  than  one  with 


Domesticity  is  the  quality  that  German  men  of  the 
middle  class  most  value  in  their  wives.  The  young  girls 
are  very  carefully  trained  in  this  respect  by  their  moth- 
ers, and  at  the  age  at  which  they  marry  they  are  nearly 
^ways  equal  to  the  domestic  duties  of  their  position. 
They  know  how  to  knit  men's  hose,  and  to  deal  out 
rations  to  the  servants.  In  the  little  parties  the  young 
lady  is  expected  to  make  the  necessary  display  of  h» 
domestic  accomplishments,  aided,  of  course,  by  judi- 
cious hints  from  her  mother.  The  beer  garden  is  the 
place  at  which  many  matches  are  made,  and  an  observ- 
ant suitor  can  generally  tell  by  the  second  evening  in  the 
garden  whether  he  is  a  favorite  with  the  mother  of  his 
fair  enslaver.  If,  on  his  appearance  the  second  evening 
at  the  rendezvous,  she  innocently  offers  him  a  place  be- 
side the  daughter,  or  accidentally  makes  a  place  for 
him,  as  it  were  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  he 
knows  at  once  that  one  formidable  outpost  is  carried. 
Perhaps  the  most  interesting  scene  is  a  mother  who,  at 
a  public  place  like  that,  has  three  or  four  daughters  to 
adjust  among  as  many  ardent  or  reluctant  suitors. 
From  the  pair  who  are  most  advanced  in  their  wooing 
and  may  be  left  pretty  much  to  themselves,  to  the  paii 
who  least  harmonize,  and  consequently  need  the  most 
direct  attention  and  encouragement — from  the  one  ol 
these  extremes  to  the  other,  along  the  intermediate 
grades  of  connubial  readiness,  the  care  of  this  watchful 
mother  ranges  and  operates.  When  a  young  couple  be- 
come really  engaged,  the  man  pays  the  lady's  reckoning 
as  well  as  his  own.  Up  to  that  time  the  maiden's  gimse- 
hrateii  has  been  reckoned  at  the  close  of  every  evening 
with  the  account  of  the  family,  and  paid  for  by  the  fond 
parent ,  but  now  the  burden  has  been  lightened.  The 
future  son-in-law  meets  his  sweetheart's  expenses,  but 
them  alone.  Even  if  there  be  nobody  else  with  them 
but  the  mother,  she  always  pays  her  own  bill.  Night 
after  night  one  may  see,  at  the  same  restaurants,  a  young 
man  pay  for  himself  and  his  sweetheart,  while  the 
worthy  matron  just  as  regularly  is  left  to  the  resources 
of  her  own  purse.  The  German  lover  considers  that  the 
expense  of  the  young  lady's  entertainment  is  in  itself 
enough,  and  he  ought  not  to  contribute  anything  toward 
the  amusement  of  the  mother;  is  it  not  enough  that  he 
will  soon  take  her  daughter  off  her  hands  altogether  f 
Surely  she  must  be  satisfied  with  that. 


thirteen  rattles,  both  killed  on  the  same  day.   Have  i  *  y^^- 


London  Bootblacks.— The  bootblacks  of  London  are 
four  hundred  in  number.  They  are  well  organized,  and 
so  successful  that  they  seldom  remain  very  long  in  the 
brigade.  Promotion  is  certain,  and  often  very  rapid. 
The  total  earnings  of  these  bootblacks  exee«^  $60,000 


196 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  House  on  the  Water. 

The  journey  from  Rotterdam  to  Amsterdam  by  canal 
is  one  of  great  interest  to  the  American  traveller.  All 
along  the  canal  are  windmills  used  for  pumping  and  for 
grinding  grain.  A  family  residence  is  in  each  mill,  and 
children  and  babies  abound.  The  girls  of  these  lower 
classes  wear  dark  woolen  stuff  dresses  with  long  skirts, 
short  waists,  straight,  close  sleeves,  and,  up  to  fourteen 
years  of  age,  skull-caps  knit  of  white  cotton.  The  babies 
wear  the  same  dresses,  sleeves  and  caps  ;  so,  as  the  gen- 
uine Dutch  girl  looks  like  a  Dutch  old  woman,  a  Dutch 
baby  looks  like  them  both,  but  is  much  the  funniest  of 
the  three.  Nobody  can  look  at  one  of  the  little  creatures 
without  wanting  to  laugh  ;  such  fat,  round,  comfortable, 
stolid,  old-fashioned  babies  they  are.  As  is  well-known, 
dairy  farming  is  one  of  the  specialties  of  Holland,  and 
nothing  can  be  prettier  than  the  large,  flat  fields  on 
either  side  of  the  canal,  covered  with  herds  of  cows, 
often  several  hundred  in  a  herd.  Through  the  fields  run 
lines  of  tubs  set  regularly  and  filled  with  grain  from  the 
distilleries,  which  are  numerous.  Little  houses  stand 
very  close  to  the  edge  of  the  canal,  nearly  all  having 
gardens  more  or  less  pretentious,  and  many  having 
around  the  door  rows  of  wooden  shoes,  carefully  washed 
and  stood  on  end  to  dry  by  the  sun.  These  shoes  are 
seldom  worn  in  the  house,  being  replaced  by  cloth  slip- 
pers or  bare  feet.  In  many  cases,  the  boat  of  a  Hol- 
lander is  his  home.  When  he  marries  he  takes  his  wife 
there  and  they  get  on  yery  comfortably  till  the  advent 
of  three  or  four  childre^^  drives  them  into  larger  quar- 
ters, when  they  sell  the  boat  to  a  couple  just  beginning 
housekeeping,  and  buy  for  themselves  a  larger  one.  It 
is  surprising  in  passing  another  boat  to  see  a  whole  fam- 
ily of  little  white  heads  pop  suddenly  out  of  holes  in 
the  deck,  and  to  hear  from  below  the  noise  of  ducks, 
hens  and  chickens.  The  woman  washes  and  scrubs  and 
cleans,  as  Dutch  women  love  to  do,  while  on  the  bank 
her  husband,  with  a  band  around  his  shoulders,  a  rope 
fastened  to  the  boat,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  walks 
off,  leaving  the  boat  to  follow.  After  a  time  the  man 
comes  to  take  care  of  the  children,  the  woman  goes  to 
the  bank,  puts  the  band  around  her  shoulders,  folds  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  and  leaning  far  forward  at  every 
step,  goes  wearily  away,  dragging  behind  her  the  boat 
and  the  family.  Boys,  horses  and  dogs  do  the  same 
work.  The  canal  is  all  alive  with  boats,  and  in  spite  of 
the  long  ropes  that  connect  them  with  the  motive  power 
on  the  bank,  they  meet  and  pass  each  other  as  readily  as 
carriages,  the  rope  of  one  being  thrown  very  gracefully 
over  the  next.  Altogether,  a  trip  by  canal  is  a  very 
pleasant  affair,  and,  to  the  stranger,  filled  with  novel 
Bights  and  sounds. 


A  Legendary  Crow. 

A  correspondent  relates  that  among  the  noteworthy 
things  of  the  woods  and  parks  of  Versailles,  France, 
which  are  remarked  by  visitors,  is  a  fine  old  crow,  who 
is  more  than  usually  interesting  from  the  fact  that  he 
was  crow-in-ordinary  to  Queen  Marie  Antoinette.  That 
is  to  say,  that  he  was  one  of  her  great  favorites,  and 
followed  her  about  like  a  dog.  This  worthy  old  relic  of 
the  old  regime  usually  frequented  the  trees  and  lawns  of 
the  Petit  Trianon,  and  can  be  easily  observed,  as  he 
allows  himself  to  be  approached,  and  picks  up  with 
pleasure  the  crumbs  that  are  thrown  him.  His  story  is  a 
curious  one,  an^i  is  told  as  follows  by  an  old  frequenter  of 
the  woods  of  Trianon  :  One  fine  morning  in  the  month 
of  October,  1785,  Marie  Antoinette  was  at  the  window 
of  her  boudoir  opening  on  the  fine  lawn  that  stretches 
on  the  east  of  the  Petit  Trianon.  The  Queen  had  a 
biscuit  in  her  hand  which  she  steeped  in  a  cup  of  milk, 
when  the  crow  came  upon  the  window  ledge,  beating 
his  wings  as  though  applying  for  food.  The  Queen, 
though  rather  alarmed  by  the  visit  of  this  bird  of  sinister 
omen,  willingly  gave  him  the  remainder  of  her  biscuit, 
and  then,  pensive,  shut  the  vtdndow  of  her  boudoir.  At 
brea,kf  ast,  Marie  Antoinette  related  to  the  Eang  the  inci- 
dent of  the  morning,  and  made  her  royal  husband  share 
the  painful  impression  which  the  visit  of  the  crow  had 
produced  upon  her.  The  following  morning  the  same 
scene  between  the  Queen  and  the  crow  took  place.  The 
bird  became  so  attached  to  her  majesty,  that  when,  in 
her  white  morning-dress,  with  a  simple  straw  hat  on  her 
head,  she  went  to  the  Hameau  to  visit  her  sheep  or  to 
fish  in  the  lake,  she  was  followed  by  the  faithful  bird. 


who  flew  from  tree  to  tree,  and  only  left  her  when  she 
re-entered  the  palace.  From  1789  the  bird  was  seen  no 
more,  but  when  in  1800,  the  Empress  Marie  Louise  came 
to  occupy  the  pavilion,  she  was  fond  of  breakfasting  on 
the  island,  under  the  shelter  of  the  little  temple,  and 
she  one  day  remarked  a  crow  that  kept  constantly  hov- 
ering over  the  little  building,  and  cawed  loudly  as  if 
wishing  for  a  share  of  the  repast ;  it  was  the  crow  of 
Marie  Antoinette. 

The  incident  was  told  to  Napoleon,  who,  being  rather 
superstitious,  expressed  the  wish  that  Marie  Louise 
should  leave  Trianon,  which  she  hastened  to  do.  But  in 
1814  the  same  Princess  returned  to  Trianon  after  the  de- 
thronement of  Napoleon,  and  on  the  19th  of  April  had 
an  interview  with  the  Emperor  of  Austria  in  this  resi- 
dence. The  Empress  was  walking  with  her  father  in  the 
winding  alleys  of  the  park,  and  after  a  few  turns  both 
sat  down  on  a  stone  bench  near  the  little  bridge  leading 
to  the  island.  The  Princess  was  thinking  of  the  happy 
days  she  passed  there  a  few  years  before,  and  took  pleas- 
ure in  relating  them  to  her  father,  when  suddenly  a 
formidable  "caw  !  caw  !"  was  heard  close  to  their  ears. 
They  looked  and  saw  a  bird  flying  from  the  thicket  be- 
hind them.  Marie  Louise  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  for 
she  had  recognized  the  crow  of  1810.  The  legendary 
bird  has  not  forsaken  the  trees  and  the  lawns  of  Trianon. 
The  gardener  and  servants  of  the  palace  are  most  atten- 
tive to  the  wants  of  the  old  pensioner,  provide  it  with 
food  in  abundance,  and  relate  its  wonderful  story  to 
Visitors.   

Training  "Wild  Animals. 

Beyond  a  rough  training  elephants  receive  in  the 
countries  where  they  are  caught,  which  teaches  them  to 
mind  the  words  of  the  teacher,  and  to  submit  to  its 
necessary  bonds,  it  has  to  undergo  a  special  education 
to  go  through  its  many  tricks  in  the  broad  arena  of  the 
circus.  Being  more  intelligent  than  a  dog,  as  tractable 
as  a  horse,  and  as  full  of  pride  and  vanity  as  a  woman, 
and  quite  as  willing  to  learn  as  his  master  is  to  have 
him,  his  teaching  is  a  matter  of  short  duration.  He 
learns  by  imitation,  and  wiD  adopt  a  new  trick  from  see- 
ing another  animal  perform  it,  far  more  readily  than  a 
dog  will.  A  little  coaxing,  feeding  with  mucih  loved 
delicacies,  (he  is  passionately  fond  01  sweets  of  all  kinds, 
and  fruits)  appealing  to  his  vanity  by  gay  trappings  and 
dresses,  and  Mr.  Elephant  soon  learns  to  trot,  walk,  lie 
^down,  get  up,  walk  lame,  sham  dead,  climb  steps,  stand 
on  tubs,  walk  the  tight  rope,  and  in  fact  to  undertake 
anything  which  the  keeper  can  make  him  understand. 

It  being  very  natural  for  monkeys  to  climb,  it  is  very 
easy  to  teach  them  to  run  up  balconies,  to  collect  small 
change  from  people;  a  sharp  jerk  from  the  cord  attached 
to  their  waists  soon  brings  them  back  to  earth  if  they 
seem  disposed  to  wander  outside  of  the  bounds. 

They  are  taught  to  hold  little  sticks  in  their  hands, 
to  imitation  of  guns,  by  placing  the  stick  in  their 
hands,  and  rapping  them  sharply  if  they  let  them  fall 
before  the  word  is  given.  A  great  advantage  is  also 
taken  of  the  monkey's  faculty  of  imitation.  The  trainer 
"Will  handle  the  stick  or  fire  the  pistol,  or  pick  up  pen- 
nies from  the  ground  and  put  them  into  a  red  cap,  and 
in  a  short  time,  if  left  to  himself,  Mr.  Monkey  is  sure 
to  imitate  all  the  operations,  thus  unconsciously  learn- 
ing all  the  lessons  which  are  to  earn  him  his  living  in 
after  life. 

The  little  street  performer,  with  his  miUtary  suit,  is 
corrected  much  more  severely  for  losing  or  over-looking 
a  penny  in  the  collection  of  the  day,  than  forgetting  or 
bungling  any  of  the  tricks. 

This  accounts  for  the  restless  eagerness  with  -which 
a  street-monkey  wUl  scratch  over  every  inch  of  dust  and 
gravel,  and  the  great  sigh  of  relief  and  satisfaction  he 
will  give  when  he  at  last  picks  up  the  last  of  the  scanty 
donations.  Losing  a  penny  means  to  him,  also,  losing 
supper  as  well,  to  say  nothing  of  a  sound  whipping 
thrown  in  gratuitously.  J* 

A  gourd  wound  itself  round  a  lofty  palm,  and  in  a 
few  weeks  climbed  up  to  its  very  top.  ''How  old 
may'st  thou  be?"  asked  the  new  comer.  "About  a 
hundred  years,"  was  the  answer.  *'A  hundred  years, 
and  no  taller  1  Only  look,  I  have  gro^vn  as  tall  as  you 
in  fewer  days  than  you  count  years."  "  I  know  that 
well,"  replied  the  palm,  "every  summer  of  my  life  a 
gourd  has  climbed  up  me,  as  proud  as  thou  art ;  and  aa 
short  lived  as  thou  wUt  be." 


* 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD, 


197 


Plant  Travellers. 

One  of  the  curiosities  of  plant-life  is  the  rapidity  with  which 
it  travels,  in  one  way  and  another.  Some  bulbs  throw  out  a 
new  tuber  on  the  opposite  side  from  a  decaying  one,  every 
year,  and  thus  if  they  have  a  fair  chance,  would  shift  their 
place  in  the  flower-bed  considerably  in  a  term  of  years.  The 
strawberry  puts  on  its  "seren-league  boots  "  and  travels  out 
of  the  rich  man's  garden  over  into  the  borders  of  the  poor 
man's  plot,  or  into  the  very  highway  side.  I  wonder  how  long 
it  would  take  a  plant  with  a  fair  field,  well  prepared,  to  travel 
a  mile  ? 

The  raspberry  is  no  stay-at-home.  It  winds  its  way  to  new 
fields,  bending  down  a  vigorous  brier  and  sending  out  a  little 
rootlet  to  catch  in  the  soil,  and  so  it  travels  on  and  on,  coming 
into  my  garden  under  the  boards  of  my  neighbor's  fence,  and 
giving  me  a  fine  row,  without  robbing  him. 

The  little  fruits  and  lovely  fiowers  may  be  great  travellers ; 
but  they  eannot  keep  pace  with  the  mischief-makers  in  the 
vegetable  world.  Set  out  a  Canada  thistle  in  your  garden  and 
give  it  some  moderate  cultivation,  and  see  how  long  it  will  be 
before  your  own  and  your  neighbor's  field  will  be  overrun 
with  the  nuisance.  No  good  plant  will  ever  spread  itself  with 
such  rapidity.  It  is  very  much  like  soil  in  the  moral  world. 
The  second  crop  from  one  thistle  seed,  provided  all  germina- 
ted, would  produce  five  hundred  and  seventy-six  millions  of 
thistle  plants.  What  a  pity  th  ey  could  not  be  utilized.  A 
single  poppy-head  has  been  found  to  contain  eight  thousand 
seed. 

The  dandelien  rises  on  its  little  feathery  wing  and  floats 
away  on  the  lightest  breeze,  till  it  finds  a  lodging-place  in 
some  favoring  spot,  where  it  makes  a  new  home  for  itself  and 
rears  its  numerous  family.  No  wonder  our  meadows  and  va-^ 
cant  lots  are  covered  mth  its  golden  blossoms. 

Vacant  Minds. 

Most  of  us  attribute  our  ill-health,  or  unhappiness,  to  a  low 
condition  of  the  body  and  want  of  physical  exercise  and 
pleasure,  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  mind  has  a  most  impor- 
tant infiuence  upon  the  bodily  system,  and  is  often  the  cause 
of  much  suffering  which  might  easily  be  avoided  if  we  only 
iooked  to  the  source  of  the  evil  and  considered  the  means 
necessary  for  its  prevention.  Few  people  attach  suflBcient 
importance  to  the  care  of  the  mental  faculties,  which  are  fre- 
quently either  injured  by  an  undue  degree  of  exertion  or 
weakened  by  neglect  and  disuse.  The  vast  amount  of  "social 
pressure"  which  bears  upon  the  daily  life  of  business  men 
furnishes  only  too  many  instances  of  the  abuse  of  the  mind 
jy  over-exertion.  The  rising  man  who  is  making  a  mark  in 
his  profession,  or  amassing  wealth  in  mercantile  pursuits, 
finds  ere  long  that  his  strength  is  only  human,  and  just  as  he 
may  be  about  to  reach  the  summit  of  his  ambition  he  breaks 
down,  and  for  the  want  of  a  little  timely  care  his  brightest 
hopes  are  wrecked  and  he  is  condemned  to  drag  out  a  weary 
and  shattered  existence.  The  instances  of  mental  neglect 
are  not  less  sad,  for  many  a  man,  whose  abilities  would  have 
fitted  him  for  the  highest  spheres  of  usefulness,  allows  the 
demon  sloth  to  exert  its  fatal  influence  and  incapacitate  him 
for  any  active  walk  in  life.  Restless  and  dissatisfied,  he  seeks 
relief  and  excitement  in  the  reckless  indulgence  of  his  bodily 
appetites,  and  wantonly  destroys  the  brilliant  talents  which 
might  have  been  turned  to  so  good  an  account.  The  opposite 
sex  also  affords  numerous  instances  of  misused  and  neglected 
minds.  The  sphere  of  woman's  life  being  necessarily  more 
limited  than  that  of  a  man,  she  has  not  so  wide  a  choice  of 
occupation  or  amusement.  This  often  causes  women  who  are 
naturally  capable  of  considerable  mental  exertion  to  use  their 
powers  in  an  inordinate  and  unnatural  degree.  They  choose 
some  peculiar  occupation,  into  which  they  throw  all  their  en- 
ergy with  such  force  that  they  become  not  only  hard  and  mas- 
culine in  manner,  but  eccentric.  Often  they  fall  into  the 
opposite  extreme.  Not  being  possessed  of  sufiicient  force  of 
character  to  take  up  any  really  intellectual  pursuit,  and  being 
easily  influenced  by  any  unusual  excitement,  they  rest  their 
hopes  of  happiness  on  such  slight  foundations  that  when  these 
fail  them  they  have  no  power  to  rally.  The  vacant  mind 
broods  over  trifles  for  sheer  want  of  occupation ;  inaction  pro- 
4nces  a  feeling  of  fatigue,  which  induces  a  desire  for  solitude; 
solitude  soon  gives  rise  to  melancholy,  and  a  general  weari- 
ness of  existence  makes  the  sufferer  only  too  glad  to  embrace 


any  chance  of  relief.  Hence  arise  ill-assorted  marriages,  mel- 
ancholia, religious  mania  and  conventual  life. 

If  persons  of  both  sexes  would  pay  more  attention  to  the 
care  of  the  mind  our  lunatic  asylums  would  be  less  full  than 
they  now  are,  and  the  health  of  the  body  would  be  much  bet. 
ter  preserved,  for,  as  Schiller  truly  says,  mental  pleasure  is 
invariably  attended  by  animal  pleasure,  mental  pain  by  animal 
pain.  It  is  too  much  the  custom  for  people  to  live  in  one  nar- 
row groove  of  thought  and  action.  They  consequently  have 
no  interest  or  sympathy  for  matters  outside  their  little  world, 
and  having  only  one  support  to  lean  on  they  tccome  utterly 
demoralized  when  it  fails  them.  A  change  oi  occupation  is 
as  desirable  and  beneficial  for  the  mind  as  walking  exercise 
for  the  body.  It  should  be  the  practice  of  every  one  to  culti- 
vate at  least  one  form  of  mental  occupation  other  than  that 
which  forms  the  chief  purpose  of  life ;  for  a  wide  range  of 
knowledge  and  ideas  is  of  inestimable  value,  and  may  prove 
to  be  not  only  a  means  of  recreation  and  pleasure  in  pros- 
perous times,  but  a  source  of  profit  and  comfort  when  accident 
or  misfortune  renders  it  impossible  for  the  ordinary  pursuit 
to  be  followed.  He  who  has  two  oars  in  his  boat  has  a  great 
advantage  over  the  man  who  has  but  one.  An  enlargement  of 
the  field  of  thought  not  only  yields  benefit  to  ourselves  by  ex- 
panding the  mind  and  making  it  more  fit  to  bear  the  harassing 
cares  and  troubles  of  the  world,  but  promotes  liberal  views, 
which  rise  us  above  the  petty  jealousies  and  prejudices,  soften 
the  heart,  and  tend  to  make  us  more  kind  and  considerate  to 
others.  Though  no  amount  of  study  and  application  can 
make  a  dull  man  clever,  yet  he  may  by  the  practice  of  self- 
cultivation  become  well-informed  and  studious.  Every  at- 
tempt to  gain  knowledge  is  productive  of  some  good  result, 
for,  if  it  does  nothing  else,  it  leads  to  a  spirit  of  inquiry, 
which  is  of  itself  beneficial. 

The  mental  faculties  should  never  be  allowed  to  sink  into 
lethargy,  for  nothing  is  more  productive  of  irreparable  mis- 
chief than  a  listless  inaction. 

Cheer  Him. 

At  a  fire  in  a  ±arge  city,  while  the  upper  stories  of  a 
lofty  dwelling  were  wrapped  in  smoke,  and  the  lower 
stories  all  aglow  with  flame,  a  piercing  shriek  told  the 
startled  firemen  that  there  was  some  one  still  in  the 
building  in  peril.  A  ladder  was  quickly  reared,  until  it 
touched  the  heated  walls,  and  diving  through  the  flames 
and  smoke,  a  brave  young  fireman  rushed  up  the  rounds 
on  his  errand  of  mercy.  Stifled  by  the  smoke,  he  stop- 
ped, and  seemed  about  to  descend.  The  crowd  was  in 
agony,  as  a  life  seemed  lost,  for  every  moment  of  hesita- 
tion seemed  an  age.  While  this  shivering  fear  seized 
every  beholder,  a  voice  from  the  crowd  cried  out,  "Cheer 
him  !  Cheer  him  !"  and  a  wild  "Hurrah"  burst  from  the 
excited  spectators.  As  the  cheer  reached  the  fireman, 
he  started  upward  through  the  curling  smoke,  and  in  a 
few  moments  was  seen  coming  down  the  ladder  with  a 
child  in  his  arms.  That  cheer  did  the  work.  How  much 
can  we  do  to  help  the  brave  ones  who  are  struggling 
with  temptation,  or  almost  fainting  in  their  efforts  to  do 
good  to  others.  Don't  find  fault  with  your  brother  in 
his  trial,  but  cheer  him.  Give  him  a  word  that  shall 
urge  him  on  the  way ;  and  if  you  cannot  help  in  any 
other  way,  give  him  a  cheer. 

Divorce  Customs. 

In  Australia,  among  the  original  natives,  divorces  are 
never  sanctioned.  The  Thibetans  can  obtain  divorces 
with  the  consent  of  both  interested  parties.  In  Morocco, 
if  the  wife  has  no  so?i,  she  can  gain  the  consent  of  her 
tribe  for  a  divorce,  and  marry  again.  In  Abyssinia  no 
form  of  marriage  is  necessary,  hence  it  follows  likewise 
with  a  divorce.  The  Siberian  men  have  divorcing  all  in 
their  own  hands,  for,  if  dissatisfied  with  a  wife,  they  tear 
her  head-dress  off,  and  she  has  to  skedaddle.  In  Siam 
the  first  wife  may  be  divorced,  but  not  sold,  as  may  be 
the  other  wives.  In  the  Arctic  regions  the  hus- 
band desiring  a  divorce  leaves  his  home  in  anger,  re- 
mains a  few  days,  and,  returning,  finds  his  wife  has 
"taken  the  hint"  and  cleared  out.  The  Tartars  have  it 
all  their  own  way,  both  husband  and  wife,  or  either  party 
can  decamp  from  the  other,  and  the  same  rule  applies  to 
the  Hindoos.  The  Indians  of  this  country  bum  tis 
tokens  of  marriage  as  a  sign  of  divorce,  but  a  chief  nene-J 
divorces  a  wife  who  has  borne  him  a  son. 


198 


THE  GROPVING  WORLD. 


Subaqueous  Life. 

The  effort  to  clothe  with  intelligence  subaqueous  life 
must  have  been  greatly  strengthened  among  primitive 
nations  by  the  musical  sounds  peculiar  to  some  species. 
Those  mysterious  breathings  were  associated  with  a  hu- 
man will,  and  gave  forebodings  from  their  very  sweet- 
ness. Everywhere  they  are  associated  with  a  passionate 
or  pathetic  mystery,  and  the  widely-spread  area  over 
which  their  island  home  is  portrayed  as  existing  strength- 
ens the  conclusion  that  the  strange  music  of  the  sea 
belongs  not  in  Ceylon  or  Florida  or  the  Mediterranean 
alone.  It  affords  us  another  instance,  by  that  common 
enjoyment  of  sweet  sounds,  of  the  chain  of  sympathy 
between  all  irtelligent  creatures,  and  better  prepares  us 
for  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  beings  which  people 
the  sea.  We  have  prejudices  and  preconceived  ideas  to 
get  rid  of,  whose  strength  has  crystallised  into  aphor- 
isms. "Cold  as  a  fish"  and  "fish-eyed"  are  ordinary  ex- 
pressions. Then  the  touch  of  a  fish,  cold,  slippery, 
serpent-like,  causes  an  involuntary  shrinking. 

But  the  submarine  diver  has  a  new  revelation  of 
piscine  character  and  beauty,  and  perhaps  can  better 
understand  the  enticings  of  a  siren  or  fantastic  Lurlei 
than  the  classical  scholar.  In  the  flush  of  aureal  light 
tinging  their  pearly  glimmering  armor  are  the  radiant, 
graceful,  frolicsome  inhabitants  of  the  sea.  The  glu- 
tinous or  oily  exudation  that  covers  them  is  a  brilliant 
varnish.  Their  lustrous  colors,  variety  of  crystalline 
tints  and  beautiful  markings  and  spots,  attract  the  eye  of 
the  artist,  even  in  the  fish-market ;  but  when  glowing 
with  fuU  life,  lively,  nimble,  playful,  surely  the  most 
graceful  living  creatures  of  earth,  air  or  sea,  the  soul 
must  be  blind  indeed  that  can  look  upon  them  unmoved. 

The  dull  optic  seen  glazing  in  the  death-throes  upon 
the  market-stall,  with  coarse  vulgar  surroundings,  be- 
comes, in  its  native  element,  full  of  intelligence  and 
light.  In  even  the  smaller  fry  the  round  orb  glitters  like 
a  diamond  star.  One  cannot  see  the  fish  without  seeing 
Its  eye.  It  is  positive,  persistent,  prevalent,  the  whole 
animate  existence  expressed  in  it.  As  far  as  the  fish  can 
be  seen  its  eye  is  visible.  The  glimmer  of  scales,  the 
grace  of  perfect  motion,  the  rare  golden  pavilion  with 
Its  jeweled  floor  and  heavy  violet  curtains,  complete  a 
scene  whose  harmony  of  color,  radiance  and  animal  life 
Is  perfect.  The  minnow  and  sun-perch  are  the  pages  of 
the  tourney  on  the  cloth  of  gold.  There  is  a  fearless 
familiarity  in  these  playful  little  things,  a  social,  frank 
intimacy  with  the  novel  visitor,  that  astonishes  while  it 
pleases.  They  crowd  about  him,  curiously  touch  him, 
and  regard  all  his  movements  with  a  frank,  lively  in- 
terest. Nor  are  the  larger  fish  shy.  The  sheeps-head, 
red  and  black  groper,  sea-trout  and  other  familiar  fish 
of  the  sportsman,  receive  him  with  frank  honhommie  or 
fearless  curiosity.  In  their  large  round  beautiful  eyes 
the  diver  reads  evidence  of  intelligence  and  curious 
wonder  that  sometimes  startles  him  with  its  entirely 
human  expression.  There  is  a  look  of  interest  mixed 
with  curiosity,  leading  to  the  irresistible  conclusion  of  a 
kindred  nature.  No  faithful  hound  or  pet  doe  could 
express  a  franker  interest  in  its  eyes.  Curiosity,  which 
I  take  to  be  expressly  destructive  of  the  now-exploded 
tiieory  of  instinct,  is  expressed  not  only  by  the  eye,  but 
by  the  movements.  As  in  man  there  is  an  eager  passion 
to  handle  that  which  is  novel,  so  these  curious  denizens 
of  the  sea  are  persistent  in  their  efforts  to  touch  the 
diver.  An  instance  of  this  occurred  in  Mobile  bay,  at- 
tended with  disagreeable  results  to  one  of  the  parties, 
and  that  not  the  fish.  The  Eve  of  this  investigation  was 
a  large  catfish.  These  fish  are  the  true  rovers  of  the 
water.  They  have  a  large  round  black  eye,  full  of  intel- 
ligence and  fire ;  their  war-like  spines  and  gaff-topsails 
give  them  the  true  buccaneer  buUd.  One  of  these,  while 
the  diver  was  engaged,  incited  by  its  fearless  curiosity, 
slipped  up  and  touched  him  with  its  cold  nose.  The 
man  involuntarily  threw  back  his  hand,  and  the  soft 
palm  striking  the  sharp  gaff,  it  was  driven  into  the  flesh. 
There  was  an  instant's  struggle  before  the  fish  wrenched 
Itself  loose  from  the  bleeding  member,  and  then  it  only 
swung  off  a  little,  staring  with  its  bold  black  eyes  at  the 
intruder,  as  if  it  wished  to  stay  for  further  question.  It 
Is  hard  to  translate  the  expression  of  that  look  of  curious 
wonder  and  surprise  without  appearing  to  exaggerate, 
but  the  impression  produced  was  that  if  the  fish  did  not 
speak  to  him,  it  was  from  no  lack  of  intelligent  emotions 
to  be  expressed  in  language,  * 


A  pK)longed  stay  in  one  place  gave  a  diver  an  oppor 
tunity  to  test  this  intelligence  further,  and  to  observe 
the  trustful  familiarity  of  this  variety  of  marine  life.  He 
was  continually  surrounded  at  his  work  by  a  school  of 
gropers,  averaging  a  foot  in  length.  An  accident  having 
identified  one  of  them,  he  observed  it  was  a  daily  visitor. 
After  the  first  curiosity  the  gropers  apparentlv  settled 
into  the  belief  that  the  novel  monster  was  harmless  and 
clumsy,  but  useful  in  assisting  them  to  their  food.  The 
species  feed  on  Crustacea  and  marine  worms,  which 
shelter  under  rocks,  mosses,  and  sunken  objects  at  the 
sea-bottom.  In  raising  anything  out  of  the  ooze,  a  dozen 
of  these  fish  would  thrust  their  heads  into  the  hoUow 
for  their  food  before  the  diver's  hand  was  removed. 
They  would  follow  him  about  eyeing  his  motions,  dash- 
ing in  advance  or  around  in  sport,  and  evidently  with  a 
hking  for  their  new-found  friend.  Pleased  with  such  an 
unexpected  familiarity,  the  man  would  bring  them  food 
and  feed  them  from  his  hand,  as  one  feeds  a  flock  oi 
chickens.  The  resemblance,  m  their  familiarity  and 
some  of  their  ways,  to  poultry  was,  in  fact,  very  strik- 
ing. As  a  little  chick  will  sometimes  seize  a  large  crumb 
and  scurry  off,  followed  by  the  flock,  so  a  fish  would 
sometunes  snatch  a  morsel  and  fly,  followed  by  the 
school.  If  he  dropped  it  or  stopped  to  enjoy  his  bonne 
houche,  his  mates  would  be  upon  him.  Sometimes  two 
would  get  the  same  morsel,  and  there  would  be  a  trial 
of  strength,  accompanied  with  much  flash  and  glitter  of 
shining  scales.  But  no  matter  how  called  off,  their  in- 
terest and  curiosity  remained  with  the  driver.  They 
would  return,  pushing  their  noses  about  him,  caressingly 
in  appearance  if  not  intent,  and  dive  into  the  treasures 
of  worm  and  shell-fish  his  labor  exposed.  He  became 
convinced  that  they  were  sportive,  indulging  in  dash 
and  play  for  the  fun  of  it,  rather  than  for  any  grosser 
object  to  be  attained. 

This  curious  intimacy  was  continued  for  weeKS ;  the 
fish,  unless  driven  away  by  some  rover  of  prey  of  their 
kind,  were  in  regular  attendance  durmg  his  hours  of 
work.  Perhaps  the  solitude  and  silence  of  that  curious 
submarine  world  strengthened  the  impression  of  recog- 
nition and  intimacy,  but  by  every  criterion  we  usually 
accept  in  terrestrial  creation  these  little  creatures  had 
an  interest  and  a  friendly  feeling  for  one  who  furnished 
them  food,  and  who  was  always  careful  to  avoid  injur- 
ing them  or  giving  them  any  unnecessary  alarm.  He 
could  not,  of  course,  take  up  a  fish  in  his  hand,  any 
more  than  a  chicken  wUl  submit  to  handling ;  but  as  to 
the  comparative  tameness  of  the  two,  the  fish  is  more 
approacuable  than  the  chicken.  That  they  knew  and 
expected  the  diver  at  the  usual  hour  was  a  conclusion 
impossible  to  deny,  as  also  that  they  grew  into  f  amiliaritv 
with  him,  and  were  actuated  by  an  intelligent  recogsi- 
tion  of  his  service  to  them.  It  would  be  hara  to  convmce 
this  gentleman  that  a  school  of  fish  cannot  be  as  readily 
and  completely  tamed  as  a  flock  of  chickens. 

Why  not  ?  The  fear  of  man  is  no  instinctive  feeling  in 
the  invertebrate  creation.  The  pioneer  who  penetrates 
Into  the  uninhabited  wilds  of  our  western  frontier  finds 
bird  and  beast  fearless  and  familiar.  Man's  cruelty  is  a 
lesson  of  experience.  The  timid  and  fearful  of  the  lower 
creation  belong  to  creatures  of  prey.  The  shark,  for 
example,  is  as  cowardly  as  the  wolf. 


Caesar's  Nose. 

The  Koman  nose  is  the  very  incarnation  of  the  idea  of  com« 
bativeness,  and  suggests  the  notion  that  is  borrowed  from  a 
bird  of  prey.  In  describing  Julius  Caesar,  Byron  called  him 

"The  black-eyed  Eoman  with 
The  eagWs  beak  between  those  eyes  which  ne'er 
Beheld  a  conquerer,  or  looked  along 
The  land  he  made  not  Rome's  while  Rome  became 
His,  and  all  theirs  who  heired  his  very  name." 

The  "eagle's  beak,"  as  the  observant  student  must  be  well 
aware,  may  be  regarded  as  the  common  characteristic  of  men 
of  a  daring,  dashing,  audacious,  energetic  and  enterprising 
nature;  and  taken  by  itself,  it  need  not  be  looked  upon  as 
typical  of  anything  very  admirable  or  desirable,  since  its  owner 
IS  often  as  thoughtless  and  unscrupulous  as  he  is  bold  and 
dashing.  It  was  said  of  Napoleon,  that  if  he  wanted,  in  emer- 
gencies, any  bold  thing  done  of  a  sudden,  and  had  no  tried 
men  at  hand  to  whom  he  could  trust  the  exploit,  he  was  ac- 
customed  to  select  a  man  with  a  good  military  noee,  and  th« 
person  thus  selected  was  generally  successful. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  Hunting  Bird  that  Lures  Game  to  its  Master; 

OB, 

INSTANCES  OF  SAGACITY  IN  PARROTS. 

A  correspondent  sends  us  the  following  account  of  a 
common  poll-parrot  which  has  not  only  been  tramed  to 


last  trip  to  that  city,  a  fine  young  parrot,  to  which  he 
soon  became  more  attached  than  any  thing  on  earth. 
Others  did  not  share  his  high  regard  for  this  pet,  and 
and  not  a  few  quarrels  did  he  have  with  those  who 
saw  fit  to  abuse  what  they  called  a  "squawking 
nuisance,"  Loving  his  pot  more  than  all  the  world 
beside,  and  above  all  desiring  to  live  in  peace,  Nat 
Lask  took  up  his  residence  in  the  out-of-the-way 


iJlii' 


FEEDING  THE  PET  PARROT. 


htmt,  hut  which  has  learned  to  take  a  great  delight  in 
the  chase.  The  owner  and  trainer  of  this  hunting 
parrot  is  a  boatman  who  formerly  plied  between  Little 
Rock  and  New  Orleans,  but  who  some  years  since 
gave  up  the  business  of  boating  and  has  since  led  the 
life  of  a  hunter,  living  in  a  snug  cabin  at  the  junc- 
tion of  Big  Mammelle  creek  with  the  Arkansas  River. 

This  hunter  hermit,  whose  name  is  Nathan  Lask, 
brought  with  him  from  New  Orleans,  on  making  his 


place  mentioned  above,  his  parrot  being  his  constant 
companion. 

Here  he  may  be  said  to  have  lived  the  life  of  a 
hermit,  for  few  and  short  were  the  visits  he  received 
from  his  kind  at  his  lone  cabin.  His  bird  was  all  and 
all  to  him.  All  the  love  that  he  would  have  lavished 
upon  a  wife  and  weans  it  received. — Seated^ on  his 
shoulder,  the  parrot  attended  him  in  all  his  walks. 
To  train  the  bird  and  talk  to  it  was  almost  his  sole  oc- 


200 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


cupation.  With  the  careful  training  of  so  loving  a 
master,  added  to  its  great  natural  talent  for  imitating 
all  manner  of  cries  of  birds  or  animals,  this  bird  be- 
came a  marvel  of  cunning,  and  a  great  wonder  in  its 
way.  Taken  into  the  hills  bordering  Big  Mammelle 
creek,  and  the  signal  being  given  at  intervals,  it 
utters  the  cry  of  the  turkey  so  perfectly  as  to  deceive 
the  oldest  and  most  astute  gobbler  that  ever  strutted. 
On  being  answered  by  a  gobbler,  the  parrot  proceeds 
to  lure  him  to  death  in  the  most  fiendishly  coquetish 
manner  imaginable.  Seated  on  his  master's  shoulder, 
charily  and  coyly  the  parrot  replies.  Once  he  has 
fully  attracted  the  attention  of  the  vain  and  anxious 
gobbler,  often  allowing  him  to  call  in  a  fret- 
ful tone  twice  or  thrice  before  deigning  to  an- 
swer, he  then,  in  a  few  low  and  tender  notes, 
lures  the  proud  bird  of  the  forest  within  range  of  the 
hunter's  deadly  rifle.  Seeing  the  turkey  struggling  in 
the  agonies  of  death  fills  the  parrot  with  delight,  to 
which  he  gives  utterance  in  a  succession  of  blood-chilling 
"ha,  ha's,"  in  all  manner  of  diabolical  tones  and  keys. 

Should  the  hunter  miss  his  aim,  however,  the  parrot 
ruffles  his  feathers,  croaks  and  scolds,  pulls  his  master's 
hair,  and  long  refuses  to  be  pacified. 

Duck  hunting  in  Forche  and  Meto  Bayous  is,  how- 
ever, the  parrot's  chief  delight.  Seated  in  the  bow  of 
his  master's  boat,  snugly  ensconced  in  a  patch  of  tall 
huUrushes,  the  parrot  bursts  forth  into  such  a  "quack, 
quacking  !"  and  general  duck  gabble  that  there  seems  to 
be  in  the  vicinity  a  whole  flock  of  these  birds,  all 
enjoying  themselves  immensely.  Tlius  are  many  pass- 
ing flocks  of  ducks  lured  within  range  of  the  gun  of  the 
hunter.  Geese  are  in  the  same  way  called  up  by  this 
wonderful  parrot ;  also  many  other  wild  fowl  and  even 
deer,  as  the  bird  imitates  the  plaintive  bleating  of  a  fawn 
or  doe  to  a  nicety. 

No  money  would  buy  the  bird,  and  Nat  Lask,  seen 
strolling  through  the  woods,  gun  in  hand,  and  with  his 
almost  inseparable  companion  seated  on  his  left  shoul- 
der, seems  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe.  Although  so,, 
perfect  in  his  imitations  of  birds  and  animals,  the  parrot ' 
is  not  a  great  talker ;  indeed  his  vocabulary  is  limited  to 
a  few  words  and  one  or  two  short  phrases.  He  will 
sometimes  sing  out,  "  Nat,  you  lubber !"  and  when  Dan 
Lanagan  (a  brother  boatman  of  Nat's,  living  at  the  head 
of  Bayou  Forche  and  almost  his  only  visitor),  in  his  dug- 
out, is  seen  paddling  in  towards  the  mouth  of  Big  Mam- 
melle creek,  the  parrot — whose  name  we  forgot  to  say 
is  "Bobby" — will  shout,  "Lanagan,  ahoy!  Lanagan, 
a-a-hoy !"  The  moment  Bobby  sees  his  master  take 
down  his  gun  he  is  in  a  great  flutter.  He  cocks  his  head 
on  one  side,  his  great  red  eyes  sparkling  with  delight, 
and  in  a  low,  inquiring  tone  says  :  "  Turkey  ?  turkey  ?" 
"  No,  Bobby,"  Nat  will  perhaps  say,  "  not  turkey  to-day, 
Bobby  cocks  his  head  the  other  way  and  softly  says, 
"  Quack,  quack,  quack  ?"  "  Yes,  Bobby,"  says  Nat, 
"  quack  !  quack  !"  Bobby  then  bursts  into  a  loud  "  ha ! 
ha  !  ha  !"  and  cries,  "Nat,  you  lubber — quack  !  quack  ! 
quack !"  Then  he  ha  ha's  tUl  the  whole  cabin  rings 
again.  This  parrot  has  green  plumage,  excepting  the 
head,  which  is  yellow. 

The  colors  of  the  plumage  of  the  parrots  are  ex- 
ceedingly varied,  being  also  almost  always  pure  and 
brilliant.  Green  is  in  general  the  predominating  color, 
then  comes  red,  blue,  and  finally  yellow.  This  last 
color  appears  among  the  parrots  to  be  the  general 
substitute  for  the  white  observed  in  other  birds  ;  and 
it  is  remarkable  that  in  many  of  the  species  there  are 
varieties  uniformly  yellow.  Very  often  when  the 
feathers  are  plucked,  red  and  yellow  ones  will  shoot 
forth,  whatever  may  have  been  the  color  of  the 
former.  Their  food  consists  principally  of  the  pulps 
of  fruit,  such  as  those  of  the  banana,  the  coffee-tree, 
the  palm,  and  the  lemon.  Some  of  this  family  are 
also  said  to  live  on  roots  and  herbs. 

Several  years  ago  a  parrot  was  entrusted  to  my 
care  for  a  few  months.  It  proved  a  very  amusing 
addition  to  our  family.  Its  breakfast  usually  con- 
sisted of  a  cup  of  coflEee  and  a  cracker.  Resting  on 
its  perch  with  one  foot,  it  reached  down,  soaking  the 
cracker  in  the  coffee  with  the  other;  then  the  soaked 
part  was  eaten  and  the  cracker  dipped  in  the  coffee 


again,  and  so  on  until  it  all  eaten.  It  the  cottee 
gave  out  we  heard  a  loud  call  for  "  coffee  !  coffee  !  " 
and  Miss  Poll  waited  impatiently  cracker  in  hand  for 
a  second  cup,  when  she  resumed  the  process  of  soak- 
ing. This  parrot  regularly  came  up  two  flights  of 
stairs  in  the  morning,  crawled  upon  the  bed  and 
perched  on  the  foot,  exclaiming,  ' '  Come  to  break- 
fast," until  we  exhibited  signs  of  awaking.  She  re- 
peated many  phrases  plainly. — "  Pretty  poll,"  "  good 
bye,"  "up  in  a  balloon,  boys,"  "never  mind  the 
noise,"  etc.,  were  familiar  to  our  ears. 

Parrots  of  singular  powers  are  occasionally  met 
with.  A  friend  of  the  writer  was  in  Edinburgh, 
Scotland,  at  the  time  of  the  great  Peel  demonstration, 
and  in  a  morning  call  was  shown  into  the  drawing- 
room,  where  a  parrot  was  in  his  cage.  Fond  of 
animals,  he  went  at  once  to  the  bird,  who,  looking 
very  knowing,  instantly  inquired,  "  What  do  you 
think  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  now?"  Another  party, 
advanced  in  life,  with  hair  of  a  snowy  white- 
ness, had  the  still  more  strange  question  put  to  him 
by  a  parrot  in  a  room  into  which  he  was  shown 
in  London,  "Who  kissed  the  cook?"  But  an- 
other bird,  an  ash-colored  or  gray  parrot,  the 
property  of  an  acquaintance,  is  exceedingly  sagacious. 
Unlike  the  birds  which  questioned  a  stranger  at  once, 
she  has  a  strong  aversion  to  visitors,  refusing  usually  to 
speak  in  their  presence,  and  always  expressing,  in  her 
own  way,  her  hatred  or  contempt.  She  is  now  twelve 
years  old,  and  for  some  days  after  her  arrival  at  the 
house  of  my  friend  did  not  utter  a  single  word.  Her 
first  words  were,  "  pretty  cockatoo,"  but  she  soon  uttered 
others,  until  she  became  very  loquacious,  and  is  still 
picking  up  all  she  hears. 

As  soon  as  the  mistress  comes  down  stairs  in  the  morn- 
ing the  bird  says,  "Mother,  how  do  you  do?  good 
morning."  As  breakfast  is  being  prepared  she  watches 
attentively  every  movement.  Should  that  frequent 
domestic  Incident  occar,  she  makes  the  house  ring  with,  "  The 
kettle  boils  I  the  kettle  boilcil"  bustling  about  the  cage  with 
restless  activity.  Observing  the  cutting  of  a  round  of  bread, 
she  quietly  says,  "Polly  likes  a  bit;"  if  asked,  "what  does 
Polly  like?"  the  answer  is,  "  Toast— just  one  little  bit;"  on  re- 
ceiving which  she  adds,  "Polly  likes  two  bits."  As  soon  as 
the  milk  is  taken  in  she  calls,  "Puss!  puss!"  it  being  the  prac- 
tice to  give  the  cat  some;  but  if  the  basin  is  about  to  be  set 
down  without  her  own  portion  being  given,  she  calls,  "  Come! 
come!  come!"  until  she  is  supplied  and  has  drank  off  the  milk 
heartily.  If  the  door  bell  is  rung  without  being  attended  to, 
she  raps  loudly  on  her  perch  and  calls,  "Mother!  mother!  Mrs. 

P  !  Mrs.  P  !"  the  name  of  her  mistress,  nor  does  she 

stop  until  the  bell  is  answered. 

This  bird  can  vary  her  voice  from  that  of  an  aged  man  to  the 
cry  of  a  child.  When  she  supposes  herself  to  be  in  danger,  as 
one  day  when  her  cage  tipped  over,  she  called,  "Mother! 
mother!"  just  like  a  child,  until  she  was  set  right.  For  a  little 
dog,  named  Peg,  she  was  accustomed  to  whistle  and  to  call, 
"Peg!  Peg!"  but  only  for  him  to  hear  her  say,  "Ah!  ah!— get 
out  with  you!"  To  a  green  parrot,  which  was  in  the  house  for 
a  time,  she  was  thoroughly  unkind,  calling  out,  "Hold  your 
noise!  get  out!"  and  in  consequence  the  bird  was  given  away. 
Whenever  she  is  offended  she  says,  "I  will  kick  up  a  row;" 
and  she  keeps  her  word,  the  house  forthwith  resounding  with 
her  screams.  On  behaving  ill  she  makes  her  amende  with 
"Naughty  Poll!  naughty  Poll!"  but  her  tune  is  soon  changed 
into  " Pretty  Poll!  pretty  Poll  P  !"   Polly  is  a  great  beauty. 

In  addition  to  this  account,  I  may  mention  that  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Hooker,  of  Rottingdean,  near  Brighton,  Eng.,  has  a  parrot 
which  evinces  almost  equal  sagacity.  If  a  jpiece  of  tape  is  given 
it,  it  weaves  it  into  a  sort  of  basket,  and  will  tie  a  knot  with  its 
beak  and  foot. 

The  imitative  propensity  of  the  parrot,  amusing  as  it  in  gene- 
ral may  be,  is,  however,  sometimes  to  be  guarded  against,  as 
the  following  instance  will  show:  A  parrot,  which  was  kept 
upon  a  quay  m  a  seaport  town,  had  learned  the  term,  with  its 
appropriate  enunciation,  used  by  carters  in  backing — that  is, 
making  the  horse,  by  a  retrograde  motion,  place  the  cart  or 
wagon  in  the  most  convenient  station  for  loading  or  unloading. 
This  term  the  bird  one  day  made  use  of  when  a  horse  and  cart 
had  imprudently  been  left  unattended  for  a  short  time,  and  the 
horse,  obeying  the  mandate  of  the  bird,  continued  to  keep 
moving  backwards  till  both  were  precipitated  over  the  quay, 
and  the  unfortunate  animal  drowned. 

Mr.  Jesse  gives  the  following  account  of  a  gray  parrot: — "I 
have  seen  and  heard  so  much  of  this  bird,  that  I  requested  the 
sister  of  its  owner  to  furnish  me  with  some  particulars  respect- 
ing it,  and  I  now  give  the  account  in  her  own  agreeable  manner 
of  stating  it.  I  will  only  add  that  its  accuracy  cannot  be 
doubted, 

"As  you  wished  me  to  write  down  whatever  I  could  collect 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


20I 


about  my  sister's  wonderful  parrot,  1  proceed  to  do  so,  only 
promising  that  I  will  tell  you  nothing  but  what  I  can  vouch  for 
Wing  myself  heard.  Her  laugh  is  quite  extraordinary,  and  it 
is  impossible  to  help  joining  in  it  oneself,  more  especially  when 
in  the  midst  of  it  she  cries  out,  'Don't  make  me  laugh  so;  I 
shall  die,  I  shall  die;'  and  then  continues  laughing  more  vio- 
lently than  before.  Her  crying  and  sobbing  are  curious,  and  if 
you  say, '  Poor  poll,  what  is  the  matter?'  she  says,  '  So  bad,  so 
bad;  got  such  a  cold;'  and  after  crying  some  time  will  gradu- 
ally cease,  and  makini»  a  noise  like  drawing  a  long  breath,  say, 
'Better  now,' and  begin  to  laugh.  .  ^ 

It  is  singular  enough,  that  whenever  she  is  affronted  m  any 
way  she  begins  to  cry,  and  when  pleased  to  laugh.  If  any  one 
happens  to  sneeze  or  cough,  she  says,  '  What  a  bad  cold.'  One 
day,  when  the  children  were  playing  with  her,  the  maid  came 
into  the  room,  and  on  their  repeating  to  her  several  times 
things  which  the  parrot  had  said,  poll  looked  up  and  said  quite 
plainly,  'No  I  didn't."  Sometimes,  when  she  is  inclined  to  be 
miscliievous,  the  maid  threatens  to  beat  her,  and  she  often  says, 
'No  you  won't.'  She  calls  the  cat  very  plainly,  saying,  'Puss, 
puss,'  and  then  answers,  '  Mew;'  but  the  most  amusing  part  is, 
that  whenever  I  want  her  to  call  it,  and  for  that  purpose  say, 
'Puss,  puss,' myself,  she  always  answers,  'Mew,' till  I  begin 
mewing,  and  then  she  begins  calling  'Puss'  as  quickly  as 
possible. 

She  imitates  every  kind  of  noise,  and  barks  so  naturally  that 
I  have  known  her  to  set  all  the  dogs  on  the  parade  at  Hampton 
€ourt  barking;  and  I  dare  say,  if  the  truth  were  known,  won- 
dering what  was  barking  at  them;  and  the  consternation  I  have 
seen  her  cause  in  a  party  of  cocks  and  hens  by  her  crowing  and 
cackling,  has  been  the  most  ludicrous  thing  possible.  She 
sings  just  like  a  child,  and  I  have  more  than  once  thought  it 
was  a  human  being;  and  it  is  most  ludicrous  to  hear  her  make 
what  one  would  call  a  false  note,  and  then  say,  '  Oh,  la!'  and 
burst  out  laughing  at  herself,  beginning  again  quite  in  another 
key.  She  often  performs  a  kind  of  exercise  which  I  do  not 
know  how  to  describe,  except  by  saying  that  it  is  like  the  lance 
exercise.  She  puts  her  claw  behind  her,  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other,  then  in  front,  and  round  her  head,  and  whilst 
doing  so  keeps  saying,  "  Come  on,  come  on,'  and  when  fin- 
ished says,  'Bravo,  beautiful!'  and  draws  herself  up.  Before  I 
was  as  well  acquainted  with  her  as  I  am  now,  she  would  stare 
in  my  face  and  say,  'How  d'ye  do,  ma'am?'  This  she  invari- 
ably does  to  strangers.  One  day  I  went  into  the  room  where 
she  was,  and  said,  to  try  her,  '  Poll,  where  is  Dayne  gone!'  and 
to  my  astonishment  and  almost  dismay  she  said,  '  Down  stairs.' 
I  cannot  at  this  moment  recollect  anything  more  that  I  can 
vouch  for  myself,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  trust  what  I  am  told; 
Jbut  from  what  I  have  myself  seen  and  heard,  she  has  almost 
made  me  believe  in  transmigration." 

The  Gray  Parrot  is  a  native  of  Western  Africa.  Like  most  of 
Its  kind  it  is  said  to  breed  in  the  hollows  of  decayed  trees;  and 
the  instinctive  propensity  for  such  situations  does  not  appear 
to  desert  it  even  in  a  state  of  captivity,  for  Buffon  mentions  a 
pair  in  France  that,  for  five  or  six  years  successively,  produced 
and  brought  up  their  young,  and  that  the  place  they  selected 
for  this  purpose  was  a  cask  partly  filled  with  saw-dust. 

The  longevity  of  the  feathered  race,  we  believe,  in  general 
far  exceeds  what  is  commonly  supposed;  at  least,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  age  attained  by  various  birds,  even  when  sub- 
jected to  captivity  and  confinement.  Thus,  we  have  instances 
of  eagles  living  for  half  a  century;  the  same  of  ravens,  geese, 
and  other  large  birds,  as  well  as  among  the  smaller  kinds 
usually  kept  caged.  The  gray  parrot,  like  many  others  of  its 
tribe,  often  lives  to  a  great  age,  and  we  are  told  of  individuals 
attaining  to  fifty,  sixty,  or  even  a  hundred  years.  According  to 
Le  Vaillant,  one  which  lived  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Meninck  Huy- 
eer,  at  Amsterdam,  for  thirty-two  years,  had  previously  passed 
forty-one  with  that  gentleman's  uncle;  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  it  must  have  been  two  or  three  years  old  at  the  time  of 
its  arrival  in  Europe.  When  Le  Vaillant  saw  it,  the  bird  was  in 
a  state  of  entire  decrepitude,  and  in  a  kind  of  lethargic  condi- 
tion, its  sight  and  memory  being  both  gone,  and  it  was  fed  at 
intervals  with  biscuits  soaked  in  Maderia  wine.  lu  the  time  of 
its  youth  and  vigor,  it  had  been  distinguished  for  its  colloquial 
powers  and  distinct  enunciation,  and  was  of  so  docile  and 
obedient  a  disposition  as  to  fetch  its  master's  slippers  when  re- 
quired, as  well  as  to  call  the  servants.  At  the  age  of  sixty  its 
memory  began  to  fail,  and  instead  of  acquiring  any  new  phrase, 
it  began  tolose  those  it  had  before  attained,  and  to  intermix  in 
a  discordant  manner  the  words  of  its  former  language.  It 
moulted  every  year  regularly  till  the  age  of  sixty-five,  when  this 
process  grew  irregular,  and  the  tail  became  yellow,  after  which 
no  further  change  of  plumage  took  place. 

The  intelligence  of  the  parrot  has  often,  we  conceive,  been 
greatly  exaggerated.  It  is  certainly  true  that  these  birds  ex- 
hibit the  most  perfect  brain  which  is  found  among  the  feather- 
ed race.  But  the  parrot's  imitation  seems  purely  mechanical; 
it  articulates  words  indeed,  but  this  cannot  be  regarded  as  a 
true  language.  In  the  same  manner  that  an  air  is  taught  to  a 
linnet  with  a  bird-organ,  so  are  words  taught  to  a  parrot,  and  he 
repeats  them  without  knowing  wherefore. 

Our  illustration  is  taken  from  Jan  Steen's  celebrated  paint' 
ing  "  Feeding  the  Pet  Parrot." 


Bunker  Hill  Monument 

This  monument  stands  in  the  center  of  the  grounds 
included  within  the  breast-works  of  the  old  redoubt  on 
Breed's  Hill.   Its  sides  are  precisely  parallel  with  those 


of  the  redoubt.  It  is  composed  of  Qulncy  granite,  and 
is  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  feet  in  height.  The 
foundation  is  composed  of  six  courses  of  stone,  and  ex- 
tends twelve  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground  and 
base  of  the  shaft.  The  four  sides  of  the  foundation  ex- 
tend about  fifty  feet  horizontally.  There  are  in  the 
whole  pile  ninety  courses  of  stone,  six  of  them  below 
the  surface  of  the  ground  and  eighty-four  above.  The 
foundation  is  laid  in  lime  and  mortar  ;  the  other  parts  of 
the  structure  in  lime  and  mortar,  mixed  with  cinders, 
iron  filings,  and  Springfield  hydraulic  cement. 

The  base  of  the  obelisk  is  thirty  feet  square  ;  at  the 
spring  of  the  apex  fifteen  feet.  Inside  of  the  shaft  is  a 
round  hollow  cone,  the  outside  diameter  of  which,  at  the 
bottom,  is  ten  feet,  and  at  the  top  six  feet.  Around  this 
inner  shaft  winds  a  spiral  flight  of  stone  steps,  two  hun- 
dred and  ninety-five  in  number.  In  both  the  cone  and 
shaft  are  numerous  little  apertures  for  the  purpose  of 
ventilation  and  light.  The  observatory,  or  chamber  at 
the  top  of  the  monument,  is  seventeen  feet  in  height  and 
eleven  in  diameter.  It  has  four  windows,  one  on  each 
side,  which  are  provided  with  iron  shutters.  The  cap- 
piece  of  the  apex  is  a  single  stone,  three  feet  six  inches 
in  thickness  and  four  feet  square  at  its  base.  It  weighs 
two  and  a  half  tons. 

Almost  fifty  years  had  elapsed  from  the  time  of  the 
battle  before  a  movement  was  made  to  erect  a  commemo- 
rative monument  on  Breed's  Hill.  An  association  for 
the  purpose  was  founded  in  1832 ;  and  to  give  eclat  to 
the  transaction  and  to  excite  enthusiasm  in  favor  of  the 
work,  General  La  Fayette,  then  "the  Nation's  guest," 
was  invited  to  lay  the  comer  stone.  Accordingly,  on  the 
17th  of  June,  1825,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  battle, 
that  revered  patriot  performed  the  interesting  ceremony, 
and  the  Hon.  Daniel  Webster  pronounced  an  oration  on 
the  occasion,  in  the  midst  of  an  immense  concourse  of 
people.  Forty  survivors  of  the  battle  were  present,  and 
on  no  occasion  did  La  Fayette  meet  so  many  of  his  fel- 
low-soldiers in  our  Revolution  as  at  that  time.  The  plan 
of  the  monument  was  not  then  decided  upon ;  but  one 
by  Solomon  Willard,  of  Boston,  having  been  approved, 
the  present  structure  was  commenced  in  1827  by  James 
Savage,  of  the  same  city.  In  the  course  of  a  little  more 
than  a  year  the  work  was  suspended  on  account  of  a 
want  of  funds,  about  fifty-six  thousand  dollars  having 
been  collected  and  expended.  The  work  was  resumed 
in  1834,  and  again  suspended  within  a  year  for  the  same 
cause,  about  twenty  thousand  dollars  more  having  been 
expended. 

In  1840  the  ladies  moved  in  the  matter.  A  fair  was 
announced  to  be  held  in  Boston,  and  every  female  in  the 
United  States  was  invited  to  contribute  some  production 
of  her  own  hands  to  the  exhibition.  The  fair  was  held 
at  Faneuil  Hall  in  September,  1840.  The  proceeds 
amounted  to  suflBcient,  in  connection  with  some  private 
donations,  to  complete  the  structure,  and  within  a  few 
weeks  subsequently  a  contract  was  made  with  Mr.  Sav- 
age to  finish  it  for  forty-three  thousand  dollars.  The 
last  stone  of  the  apex  was  raised  at  about  six  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  23rd  of  July,  1842.  Edward  Games, 
Jr.,  of  Gharlestown,  accompanied  its  ascent,  waving  the 
American  flag  as  he  went  up,  while  the  interesting  event 
was  announced  to  the  surrounding  country  by  the  roar 
of  cannon.  On  the  17th  of  June,  1843,  the  monument 
was  dedicated ;  on  which  occasion  the  Hon.  Daniel 
Webster  was  again  the  orator,  and  vast  was  the  audience 
of  citizens  and  military  assembled  there.  The  President 
of  the  United  States  (Mr.  Tyler)  and  his  whole  Cabinet 
were  present. 

In  the  top  of  the  monument  are  two  cannons,  named 
respectively  "  Hancock  "  and  "Adams,"  which  former- 
ly belonged  to  the  Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery 
Company.  The  "  Adams  "  was  burst  by  them  in  firing  a 
salute.  The  following  is  the  inscription  upon  the  two 
guns : 

"sacred  to  liberty." 

"  This  is  one  of  the  four  cannons  which  constituted  the 
whole  train  of  field  artillery  possessed  by  the  British 
Colonies  of  North  America  at  the  commencement  of  the 
war,  on  the  19th  of  April,  1775.  This  cannon  and  its 
fellow,  belonging  to  a  number  of  Citizens  of  Boston, 
were  used  in  many  engagements  during  the  war.  The 
other  two,  the  property  of  the  Government  of  Massachu- 
setts, were  taken  by  the  enemy. 

By  order  of  the  United  States,  in  Congress  assembled. 
May  19tb,  1778." 


202 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


The  Origin  of  Vaccination. 

In  the  year  1716,  the  celebrated  Lady  Mary  Wort  ley 
Montague  was  sojourning  in  Tuikey  in  Europe,  and  the 
following  extract  is  from  a  letter  written  to  one  of  her 
friends  in  England : 

"Apropos  of  distempers,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a 
thing  that  will  make  you  wish  yourself  here.  The 
small-pox,  so  fatal  and  so  general  amongst  us,  is  here 
entirely  harmless  by  the  invention  of  ingrc^ting,  which  is 
the  term  they  give  it.  There  is  a  set  of  old  women  who 
make  it  their  business  to  perform  the  operation  every 
Autumn,  in  the  month  of  September,  when  the  great 
beat  is  alsated.  People  send  to  one  another  to  know  if 
any  of  their  family  has  a  mind  to  have  the  small-pox. 
They  make  parties  for  this  purpose,  and  when  they  are 
met  (commonly  fifteen  or  sixteen  together)  the  old 
woman  comes  with  a  nut-shell  full  of  the  matter  of  the 
best  sort  of  small-pox,  and  asks  what  vein  you  please  to 
have  opened.  She  immediately  rips  open  that  you  offer 
to  her  with  a  large  needle  (which  gives  you  no  more  pain 
than  a  common  scratch)  and  puts  into  the  vein  as  much 
natter  as  can  lie  upon  the  head  of  her  needle,  and  after 
tliat  binds  up  the  little  wound  with  a  hollow  bit  of 
shell :  and,  in  this  manner,  opens  four  or  five  veins. 
The  Grecians  have  commonly  the  superstition  of  open- 
ing one  in  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  one  in  each  arm, 
and  one  on  the  breast,  to  mark  che  sign  of  the  cross ; 
but  this  has  a  very  ill  effect,  all  these  wounds  leaving 
Lttle  scars,  and  is  not  done  by  those  who  are  not  super- 
stitious, who  choose  to  have  them  in  the  legs  or  that 
part  of  the  arm  which  is  concealed.  The  children  or 
young  patients  play  together  all  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
are  in  perfect  health  to  the  eighth.  Then  the  fever  be- 
gins to  seize  them,  and  they  keep  their  beds  two  days, 
very  seldom  three.  They  have  very  rarely  above 
twenty  or  thirty  sores  on  their  faces,  which  never  mark, 
and  in  eight  days'  time  are  as  well  as  before  their  illness. 
Where  they  are  wounded,  there  remain  running  sores 
during  the  distemper,  which,  I  don't  doubt,  is  a  great 
relief  to  it.  Every  year,  thousands  undergo  this  opera- 
tion ;  and  the  French  Ambassador  says,  pleasantly,  that 
they  take  the  small-pox  here  by  way  of  diversion,  as 
they  take  the  waters  in  other  countries. 

"There  is  no  example  of  any  one  who  has  died  in  It, 
and  you  may  believe  that  I  am  well  satisfied  of  the 
safety  of  this  experiment  since  I  intend  to  try  it  on  my 
dear  little  son.  I  am  patriot  enough  to  take  pains  to 
bring  this  useful  invention  into  fashion  in  England,  and 
I  should  not  fail  to  write  to  some  of  our  doctors  very 
particularly  about  it  if  I  knew  any  one  of  them  that  I 
thought  had  virtue  enough  to  destroy  such  a  consider- 
able branch  of  their  revenue  for  the  good  of  mankind. 
But  that  distemper  is  too  beneficial  to  them  1.0c  to  ex- 
pose to  all  their  resentment  the  hardy  wight  who  should 
undertake  to  put  an  end  to  it.  Perhaps,  if  I  live  to  re- 
turn, I  may,  however,  have  courage  to  war  with  them." 

The  discovery  of  Dr.  Jenner  of  the  efficacy  of  vaccine 
matter  took  place  several  years  subsequent  to  the  date 
of  this  letter,  and  related  only  to  the  kind  of  virus. 
With  whom  and  how  originated  the  idea  of  ingrafting  ii 
would  be  interesting  to  know. 


How  the  Spider  Builds. 

Having  first  decided  upon  the  general  location  of  her 
net,  the  spider  probably  takes  position  head  downward 
upon  the  "leeward"  side  of  a  twig  or  small  branch,  or 
upon  its  top,  and  then,  turning  her  abdomen  outward, 
expresses  from  her  spinners  a  drop  of  gum,  which  in- 
stantly dries  so  as  to  form  a  fine  end  of  a  silken  thread. 
This  is  taken  by  the  wind  (and  careful  experiments  have 
proved  that  a  current  of  air  is  sbsolutely  necessary  to 
the  extension  of  the  line)  and  wafted  outward,  waving 
from  side  to  side,  and  usually  tending  upward  from  its 
extreme  lightness,  until  at  last  it  touches  some  other 
branch  at  a  greater  or  less  distance  from  the  first.  When 
this  stoppage  is  perceived  by  the  spider,  she  turns  about 
and  pulls  in  the  slack  line,  until  she  is  sure  that  the 
other  end  is  fast.  K  it  yields,  she  tries  again  and  again, 
until  successful.  If  it  holds,  she  attaches  her  end  firmly 
by  pressingher  spinners  upon  the  wood,  so  as  to  include 
the  line.  The  first  and  most  important  step  in  the  con- 
struction of  all  geometrical  nets  has  now  been  taken, 
and  the  spider  can  meet  with  no  serious  difficulty  in 
completing  her  task. 


Nothing  to  Show  for  It. 

Ancient  fable  relates  that  the  fifty  daughters  of  Danaas,  for 
a  certain  crime,  were  compelled  to  perform  the  endless  task  ol 
filling  botomless  buckets  with  water.  Not  only  are  these  ill- 
fated  women  still  at  their  hopeless  task,  but  in  this  country, 
to  say  nothing  of  any  other,  how  many  thousands  of  their 
sisters  are  at  the  same  never-ending  work ! 

It  is  the  standing  wonder  of  most  women  and  all  men  where 
the  housewife's  time  goes  to,  and  why  she  has  so  little  to  show 
for  it.  A  place  for  everything  and  everything  in  its  place." 
"A  time  for  everything  and  everything  in  its  time,"— these 
two  maxims  ought  of  themselves  to  keep  things  straight  and 
bring  up  every  Saturday  night  with  the  vjreek's  work  entirely 
done  and  nothing  left  over  for  the  next  six  secular  days.  The 
"routine  work  does  itself,"  so  to  speak,  and  ought  to  leave 
abundant  leisure,  as  it  appears,  for  accomplishing  a  great  deal 
beside. 

Nothing  seems  easier  to  the  casual  observer,  who  has  not 
been  behind  the  scenes,  than  to  keep  a  house  in  perfect  order* 
Are  there  not  closets,  bureaus,  shelves,  pantries,  chests,  rows 
of  hooks  in  which  and  on  which  is  a  place  for  everything? 
And  when  everything  is  in  its  place,  the  "  eternal  fitness  of 
things"  makes  one  really  feel  that  nothing  is  easier  than  order 
system,  neatness,  perfection.  Brooms,  dusters,  house-cloth* 
in  abundance,  leave  no  excuse  for  dirt  or  finger-marks  any- 
where, and  if  there  are  buttons  and  darning-cotton  in  the 
work  basket,  what  is  more  natural  than  that  the  button  should 
gravitate  to  its  place  on  the  neck-band  or  waist-band,  and  that 
the  perforations  in  hose  should  close  up  of  themselvea  ? 

Three  meals  a  day?  Of  course.  Snowy  bread,  delicious 
mashed  potato,  savory  meat,  golden  butter— these  are  the  mere 
necessaries  of  life ;  and  when  the  raw  materials  are  provided, 
why  should  they  ever  be  wanting  ?  If  company  comes  unex- 
pectedly no  inconvenience  results ;  the  ironing,  like  knitting 
work,  can  be  put  away  and  finished  some  other  time;  there 
are  in  the  store-rooms  cans  of  fruits,  jars  of  cake,  crisp  pas- 
tries, waiting  the  emergency,  and  for  the  time,  hospitality  is 
the  duty  and  the  pleasure  of  the  hour. 

Winter  comes  on.  The  bedding  must  be  looked  after,  unless 
everything  needed  has  been  attended  to  in  the  proper  time,  the 
spring ;  new  sheets  and  pillow-slips  are  to  be  got  ready,  new 
comforts  pierced  and  knotted,  and  ample  provision  made  foi 
the  coldest  of  fi'osty  nights.  The  children's  clothes  need 
going  over;  a  patch  here,  a  darn  there,  sponging  everywhere, 
will  make  some  suits  almost  as  good  as  new,  and  only  a  little 
time  is  required  for  this.  Just  get  the  machinery  out  and  set 
it  in  motion,  and  somehow  the  work  does  itself.  When  the 
little  ones,  with  clean  hands  and  faces,  neatly  combed  hair, 
and  books  nicely  covered,  have  gone  to  school,  when  the  morn* 
ing  work  is  done,  all  the  picking  up  and  putting  away  attended 
to,  the  sitting-room  freshly  dusted,  the  plants  watered,  the 
bird  fed,  the  book-shelves  arranged,  the  newspapers  folded, 
then  there  is  time  for  at  least  thinking  which  one  of  all  the 
"little  things"  that  need  doing  is  the  most  important.  By 
the  time  the  selection  is  made  and  the  work  begun,  twelve 
o'clock  comes  and  brings  with  it  muddy  feet  and  hungry 
stomachs,  bright  faces  and  loud  voices,  all  with  demands  of 
their  own. 

Nothing  to  show  for  it.  Meantime,  under  the  constant  daily 
supervision  of  patient,  industrious,  motherly  hands,  and  the 
all-enduring  love  of  a  motherly  heart,  grow  up  stalwart,  health- 
ful bodies,  strong,  robust  characters,  systematic,  orderly  men 
and  women ;  these  go  out  in  life  and  show  on  a  large  scale  the 
virtues  of  cleanliness  in  heart  and  life  which  they  have  learned 
little  by  httle  at  their  mother's  side ;  and  those  to  create  in 
the  nooks  and  byways  of  the  great  world,  cozy,  tidy,  happy 
homes,  from  which  may  go  forth  another  generation  of  faith- 
ful workers.  And  this  is  all  there  is  to  show  for  it. 


The  Insects  of  Commerce. 

The  trade  in  insects  is  one  which  is  far  more  extended  thaa 
is  generally  supposed.  The  cochineal  insect  is  found  fn  various 
countries  near  the  tropics,  and  those  most  largely  exported 
are  found  in  Mexico.  They  are  of  two  kinds,  wild  and  culti- 
vated, the  latter  being  nearly  twice  the  size  of  the  former. 
Many  thousands  of  people  gain  a  livelihood  by  picking  them 
from  cactus  plants,  on  which  they  grow,  knocking  them  ofi 
with  a  blunt  knife,  and  killing  them  with  boiling  water.  They 
Eire  then  spread  out  to  dry,  after  which  they  are  packed  in  bage 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


203 


and  sent  all  over  the  earth  for  dyeing  purposes,  the  color  they 
give  being  a  brilliant  red.  It  was  formerly  thought  that  they 
were  a  vegetable  product.  It  is  said  that  every  pound  contains 
some  seventy  thousand  of  these  insects.  So  the  supply  must  be 
very  great  to  keep  the  markets  of  the  world  so  well  supplied. 

Lac-dye,  another  beautiful  red  or  a  very  deep  pink,  is  also 
the  work  of  another  insect,  though  it,  too,  has  been  counted 
among  the  vegetable  products.  So  nut-galls  are  formed  from  a 
puncture  in  the  young  oak,  by  a  species  of  fly,  which  there 
deposits  her  eggs.  An  irritating  fluid  which  goes  with  it, 
causes  the  limb  to  swell  like  a  tumor,  which  is  often  the  size 
of  a  marble.  These  balls  are  gathered,  and  are  of  much  use  in 
medicine,  in  dyeing,  and  in  the  manufacture  of  ink. 

Though  we  do  not  trade  extensively  in  edible  insects,  we 
yet  deal  largely  in  the  products  of  the  busy  bee,  and  sell  fine 
swarms  at  a  handsome  figure. 

Some  one  suggests  that  in  those  countries  where  locusts  are 
eaten,  the  fashion  first  began  because  the  locusts  left  them 
nothing  else  to  eat.  Certainly  there  were  enough  grasshoppers 
at  the  West  of  late  years  to  give  the  people  a  chance  to  try 
what  goodness  there  was  in  a  very  near  kin  to  the  locust.  Some 
curious  people  actually  did  try  the  experiment,  cooking  them 
In  various  ways— an  editor  was  among  them— but  I  do  not 
think  any  of  them  cared  to  take  the  second  meal.  If  they 
only  could  turn  over  the  crop  to  some  of  those  hungry  Orien- 
tals, what  a  big  thing  they  could  make  of  the  harvest. 

But  the  silk-worm  is  probably  the  insect  which  has  done  the 
most  for  commerce,  and  has  given  employment  to  millions  of 
people.  A  short  crop  among  the  raisers  of  this  worm,  is  a 
cause  of  as  much  solicitude  as  a  failure  of  the  wheat  crop  with 
ne.  It  starts  in  a  little  egg,  the  size  of  a  tiny  bead,  which  it 
much  resembles.  It  goes  through  various  changes  in  quick 
Bucceesion,  eating  between  times  most  voraciously  of  the 
mulberry  leaves  scattered  over  the  frame  on  which  it  is  laid. 
1  have  heard  a  small  army  of  them  feeding,  and  it  sounded  like 
a  sharp  summer  shower.  They  were  gentle,  kind-looking 
little  creatures,  though  repulsive  at  first  sight.  When  full 
grown  the  room  was  filled  with  branches  cut  from  the  trees, 
and  the  poor  worm  crawled  off  to  choose  a  spot  in  which  to 
weave  itself  a  winding-sheet.  In  about  twenty  days,  the 
Ehrysalis  gnaws  its  way  through,  and  emerges  a  white-winged 
moth,  which  lays  its  eggs  and  dies.  But  where  the  silk  is  the 
object,  and  not  the  rearing  of  silk-worms,  the  coccoons  are 
boiled  or  baked  before  the  worm  gnaws  out,  and  so  cuts  the 
threads. 

This  is  becoming  more  and  more  an  industry  in  our  own 
country,  and  American  silk  is  taking  a  high  rank  as  a  most 
excellent  and  serviceable  article. 

The  Wandering  Minstrel. 

Many  years  ago,  and  during  that  time  so  well  known 
as  the  "  Dark  Ages,"  when  onr  language  was  but  half 
formed,  our  literature  almost  without  a  beginning,  and 
the  mass  of  the  people  in  a  deplorable  state  of  igno- 
rance, there  could  be  seen,  at  intervals,  the  wandering 
minstrel,  roaming  from  land  to  land,  with  harp  slung 
over  his  back,  or,  it  may  be,  borne  by  some  faithful  ser- 
vant. Now  stooping  beneath  some  wide  spreading 
tree,  now  adding  mirth  to  an  evening  party,  or  forming 
a  welcome  guest  in  the  halls  of  kings,  and  of  men  of 
noble  blood,  he  roused  their  spirits  by  his  stirring  ballads 
of  love  and  war. 

He  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  cell-loving  monk, 
whose  seclusive  habits  cut  off  all  intercourse  with  the 
men  about  him,  and,  consequently,  the  feeling  that 
existed  between  the  two  was  far  from  having  any  ten- 
dency to  friendship. 

The  minstrel  was  naturally  very  popular.  He  was 
known  to  all  and  welcomed  by  all.  It  can  be  imagined 
With  what  delight  his  coming  was  hailed  by  the  people 
Whose  only  instruction  consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of 
What  he  had  to  tell  them.  Reading  was  unknown  to  the 
majority;  and  even  had  it  been  taught  them,  the  scarcity 
of  books,  and  the  want  of  all  other  literature,  would 
have  precluded  them  from  benefitting  very  much  from 
each  an  acquirement.  Very  few  festivals  took  plac3 
without  the  cheering  mirth  of  the  minstrel. 

He  was  present  on  all  state  occasions,  at  tournaments, 
at  nuptials,  and  even  on  any  solemn  occasions.  It  would 
eeem  that  the  mirth  on  any  occasion  could  not  be  com- 
plete without  his  presence.  It  must,  however,  be  re- 
membered) that  he  was  something  more  than  a  minstrel 


in  our  sense  of  the  word.  BUs  abilities  were  not  ex- 
hausted in  the  recital  of  poems,  or  in  performing  upon 
the  harp. 

In  him  were  combined  a  multiplicity  of  talents.  Be- 
sides his  skill  as  a  poet  and  musician,  he  jjossessed  won- 
derful imitative  powers,  and  by  his  gestures,  which  are 
now  included  in  the  professions  of  juggler  and  tumbler, 
gave  additional  amusement  to  his  audience. 

And  yet  his  vocation  was  not  very  much  looked  down 
upon  by  the  higher  classes.  It  was  in  the  garb  and  in 
the  character  of  a  minstrel,  that  Alfred  entered  the 
camp  of  the  Danes;  and  the  fact  of  his  having  a  servant 
behind  him  to  bear  his  harp,  only  confirms  what  is  known 
to  have  been  customary  with  many  of  the  minstrels. 
The  dress,  which  was  peculiar  to  the  minstrels,  and 
which  Alfred  must  have  assumed,  consisted  of  a  long 
creen  gown,  with  sleeves  to  the  middle  of  the  leg.  A 
large  red  belt  girted  his  waist;  and  there  was  not  unfre- 
quently  a  red  ribbon  about  his  neck.  His  tomure  some- 
what resembled  that  of  the  monks.  A  pair  of  eootr 
blackened  boots,  and  a  few  minor  adornments  compieved 
his  attire. 

In  early  Grecian  times,  the  bards,  of  whom  Homer  was 
a  specimen,  sang  their  own  lays  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  lyre,  as  did  the  "  scalda  "  of  Northern  Europe 
some  centuries  after.  There  was,  however,  another 
class  of  reciters,  known  as  the  rhapsodists,  who  neither 
rehearsed  their  own  verses  nor  used  any  manner  of  in- 
strument, relying  solely  upon  the  effect  they  were  capa- 
ble of  producing  by  their  voice  and  gestures.  Like  the 
minstrels,  they  went  from  one  place  to  another,  known 
by  the  laurel  branch  they  bore,  just  as  the  minstrels  were 
distinguished  by  their  peculiar  badge — a  wrest  turning 
or  key. 

The  gradual  downfall  of  minstrelsy  took  away  many  of 
the  attributes  which  formerly  belonged  to  the  wandering 
life  of  the  bard.  The  minstrel  was  only  to  be  known  as 
the  musician  and  poet,  while  feats  of  jugglery  and  ges- 
turing were  taken  up  by  another  professional  class. 
The  minstrel  is  now  the  poet;  the  juggler  and  tumbler 
are  now  the  professions  followed  only  by  the  lowest 
classes  of  people. 


True  Nobility. 

It  does  not  consist  in  a  pompous  display  of  wealth,  t, 
high  sounding  name,  a  long  line  of  ancestry  whom  the 
world  delighted  to  honor;  nor  yet  in  jeweled  crowns, 
steel-emblazoned  armor  or  costly  apparel  of  purple  and 
fine  linen.  Indeed,  these  adjuncts  as  frequently  indi- 
cate the  absence  of  a  truly  noble  heart  and  mind  as  other- 
wise. It  too  often  happens  that  the  form  and  not  the 
substance  of  things  is  the  object  desired,  and  as  so  many 
are  incapable  of  distinguishing  between  appearance  and 
reality,  it  is  a  very  easy  matter  to  dazzle  their  eyes  with 
a  false  display  of  greatness  and  goodness.  And  since 
the  world  sets  so  much  value  on  a  lofty  title,  it  is  too 
frequently  the  case  that  its  possessor  makes  little  effort 
to  merit  the  name  he  bears.  The  conventional  rules  ol 
la  beau  monde  have  perverted  the  word  so  that  its  true 
meaning  could  scarcely  be  reco^^ed  from  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  at  present  used.  That  man  is  not  to  be  re- 
lied upon  who  makes  his  name  and  inheritance  the 
stepping-stone  to  his  entrance  into  good  society.  Divest 
him  of  these,  and,  like  an  imitation  statue,  he  will  fall 
to  the  ground  and  crumble  away,  unless  possessed  of 
some  internal  worth.  Next  to  downright  hypocrisy 
there  is  nothing  more  ignoble  than  to  base  one's  stand- 
ing on  the  merits  of  others. 

It  is  neither  an  evidence  of  a  noble  mind  and  heart  to 
do  a  praiseworthy  act  at  the  risk  of  personal  safety, 
when  you  have  hopes  of  a  liberal  reward.  There  are 
many  who  will  expose  their  lives  to  save  that  of  another 
when  they  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  risk  involved 
will  be  amply  remunerated,  whereas  nine-tenths  will  re 
fuse  to  do  so  when  fchey  have  no  such  expectations. 
We  pay  homage  to  men  who  have  slain  thousands  in  the 
bloody  field  of  war,  and  won  many  battles  for  the  sake 
of  victory,  and  call  them  great;  yet  a  rough  sailor  who 
plunges  into  the  sea  to  save  a  drowning  child  for 
humanity's  sake  alone,  has  a  far  nobler  heart  beating 
within  his  sunburnt  bosom  than  the  victor  of  a  thousand 
tattles.  Were  I  called  upon  to  suggest  four  words  aa 
synonymous  with  the  word  nobility,  I  would  say  truth, 
honesty,  bravery  and  charity. 


204 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


Hear  as  little  as  possible  of  that  whicli  is  to  the  prejudice  of 
other  people. 


Influence  of  Commerce. 

One  of  the  most  distinctive  and  characterizing  features 
of  the  age  in  which  we  live,  is  the  rapid  and  steady  pro- 
gress of  the  influence  of  commerce  upon  the  social  con- 
dition of  man.  Commerce  doubtless  originated  in  the 
first  wants  of  man  which  he  was  unable  to  satisfy  with- 
out recourse  to  others  ;  but  it  could  not  have  existed  as 
a  distinct  occupation  until  a  certain  degree  of  luxury 
had  been  attained.  The  adventurous  sought  in  other 
lands  what  could  not  be  found  at  home,  and  intercourse 
between  countries  having  thus  been  commenced,  refine- 
ment and  civilization  progressed  as  it  increased.  While 
these  pioneers  of  commerce  travelled  from  country  to 
country,  engaged  in  trafllc  with  men  of  all  nationalities, 
they  imperceptibly  adopted  customs  which  assimilated 
them  in  manners,  and  thus  the  merchant  became  an  in- 
strument in  advancing  the  condition  of  nations. 

The  effect  of  commerce  is  soonest  shown  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  nation.  The  farther  a  nation's  commerce  ex- 
tends the  more  extensive  and  comprehensive  its  lan- 
guage will  become ;  for  every  commodity,  every  new 
idea  or  invention  arising  from  the  intercourse  of  nations, 
is  followed  by  a  name  or  meet  expression ;  so  that  as 
the  commerce  of  a  country  increases,  its  language  be- 
comes more  copious  from  the  addition  of  words  from 
various  ancient  and  modem  tongues.  Commerce  also 
has  great  influence  upon  the  progress  of  art  and  science. 
By  bringing  into  contact  with  each  other  the  talented 
and  learned  of  all  countries,  it  arouses  the  desire  for 
superiority  which  is  inherent  in  human  nature,  and  pro-> 
gress  is  thereby  greatly  promoted. 

The  spirit  of  commerce,  too,  is  the  spirit  of  peace,  and 
peace  is  the  element  of  all  moral  progress.  Through 
the  agency  of  commerce  the  relative  position  of  nations 
has  been  changed  ;  whereas  they  were  upon  a  footing  of 
barbarism.  They  are  now  placed  upon  a  footing  of 
friendship  and  civilization. 

We  are  indebted  to  commerce  for  printing,  the  labora- 
tory, the  observatory,  and  for  science  in  general,  and  its 
influence  has  contributed  more  actively  to  abstruse 
search  and  scientific  investigation  than  any  other  one 
influence. 

Commerce  brings  to  us  the  products  of  every  zone, 
treasures  from  every  kingdom,  and  the  discoveries  of 
every  land  and  age,  so  that  through  its  agency  we  not 
only  have  all  that  the  earth  brings  forth,  but  also  the 
benefit  of  the  education  and  development  which  is 
given  in  searching  them  out  and  bringing  them  together. 
After  what  has  already  been  said,  it  is  scarcely  n«ces 
sary  to  add  that  commerce  tends  to  refinement.  The 
natural  and  artificial  productions  of  one  country,  with 
the  refinements  of  its  people,  pass  to  another ;  thus  we 
have  marbles  and  paintings  from  Italy,  music  from  Ger- 
many, costly  and  beautiful  fabrics  from  France,  to  adorn 
our  homes  and  persons,  and  to  gratify  our  love  for  the 
beautiful  in  form,  color  and  soimd.  It  matters  not 
where  any  good  is  created,  commerce  imparts  univer- 
sality to  it. 

But  while  considering  the  advantages  of  commerce  we 
must  not  neglect  to  notice  its  disadvantages.  The  most 
significant  of  the  evil  effects  of  commerce  is  the  facility 
which  it  affords  for  the  diffusion  of  evil.  It  brings 
through  the  same  channel  falsehood  and  truth  indis- 
criminately. In  commercial  transactions  the  tempta- 
tions are  to  dishonesty  and  untruth.  That  this  is  so  the 
list  of  adulterations  and  frauds  continually  thrown  upon 
our  markets  is  suflflcient  proof.  To  such  an  extent  bed 
this  taken  place,  even  in  earlier  times,  that  Dr.  Chal- 
mers expressed  his  belief  that  commerce  in  its  lower 
form  was  incompatible  with  manlinesS  a^  honor  ;  and 
Goldsmith,  in  "The  Traveller,"  says Honor  sinks 
where  commerce  long  prevails."  But  ■v¥hen  the  spirit  of 
selfishness  is  exorcised  from  commerce  it  will  become  an 
influence  noble  and  omnipotent  for  good. 

It  is  like  a  great  arterial  system  spreading  over  the 
world,  and  it  has  created  for  itself  a  code  of  interna- 
tional laws  which  to  some  extent  makes  one  empire  ol 
all  nations. 

If  you  search  the  history  of  man  from  the  beginning 
till  now,  you  will  not  find  among  all  the  arts,  invention^ 
and  institutions  of  the  race  one  so  beneficent,  one  which 
shows  so  broad  a  stride  of  progress  as  this.  And  it  pror 
mises  to  go  on  extending  its  sway  till  it  has  given  rules 
to  the  conduct  of  nations,  provided  redress  for  all 
wrongs,  and  thus  ruled  out  forever  all  war  from  the 
earth.  t.  e.  w. 


OVER  THE  RIVER. 

BY  MIRA  LIZZIE  DONELSON. 

Over  the  river,  over  the  river — 

The  river  silent  and  deep — 
When  the  boats  are  moored  on  the  shadow  »hore, 

And  the  waves  are  rocked  to  sleep; 
When  the  mists  so  pale,  like  a  bridal  veil, 

Lie  down  on  the  limpid  tide, 
I  hear  sweet  sounds  in  the  still  night-time, 

From  the  flowing  river's  side; 
And  the  boat  recedes  from  the  earthly  strand, 

Out  o'er  the  liquid  lea- 
Over  the  river,  the  deep  dark  river, 

My  darlings  have  gone  from  me. 

Over  the  river,  over  the  river. 

Once,  in  Summer  time. 
The  boatman's  call  we  faintly  heard, 

Like  a  vesper's  distant  chime; 
And  a  being  fair,  with  soft  dark  hair, 

Paused  by  the  river's  side, 
For  the  snowy  boats  with  the  golden  oars 

That  lay  on  the  sleeping  tide; 
And  the  boatman's  eyes  gazed  into  hers, 

With  their  misty  dreamlike  hue — 
Over  the  river,  the  silent  river. 

She  passed  the  shadows  through. 

Over  the  river,  over  the  river, 

Scarce  fifteen  moons  ago. 
Went  a  pale  young  bride  with  fair,  slight  form. 

And  a  brow  as  pure  as  snow; 
And  music  low,  with  a  silver  flow, 

Swept  down  from  the  starry  skies. 
As  the  shadows  slept  in  her  curling  hair, 

And  darkened  her  twilight  eyes. 
Still  the  boat  swept  on  to  the  spirit  shore, 

With  a  motion  light  and  free- 
Over  the  river,  the  cold  dark  river, 

My  sister  has  gone  from  me. 

Over  the  river,  over  the  river, 

When  the  echoes  are  asleep, 
I  hear  the  dip  of  the  golden  oars. 

In  the  waters  cold  and  deep; 
And  the  boatman's  call,  when  the  shadows  faik. 

Floats  out  on  the  evening  air. 
And  the  light  winds  kiss  his  marble  brow, 

And  play  with  his  wavy  hair. 
And  I  hear  the  notes  of  an  angel's  harp. 

As  they  sweep  o'er  the  liquid  lear— 
Over  the  river,  the  peaceful  river, 

They  are  calling— calling  for  me. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


205 


Great  Writers  as  Conversers. 

It  is  said  that  neither  Pope  nor  Dryden  was  brilliant 
In  conversation— the  one  being  too  ''saturnine  and  re- 
served," and  the  other  too  much  a  friend  of  the  author 
of  the  Essay  on  Man.  . 

Neither  Addison  nor  Cowper  shone  in  society,  and  the 
same  is  true  of  the  celebrated  French  authors,  Descartes, 
Moliere,  La  Fontaine  and  Buffon.  Addison,  indeed, 
could  talk  charmingly  to  one  or  two  friends,  but  he  was 
shv  and  absent  before  strangers.  To  use  his  own  happy 
metaphor,  he  could  draw  bills  for  a  thousand  pounds, 
though  he  had  not  a  guinea  in  his  pocket. 

Hume's  writings  were  so  superior  to  his  conversation, 
that  Horace  Walpole  used  to  say  that  he  understood 
nothing  till  he  had  written  upon  it. 

Goldsmith  was  a  blundering  converser,  and  showed 
hardly  a  spark  of  the  genius  that  blazes  through  his 
writings.  Occasionally  he  blurted  out  a  good  thing,  as 
whea  he  applied  to  Johnson's  sayings,  in  one  of  Gibber's 
plays :  "There  is  no  arguing  with  Johnson,  for  when  his 
pistol  misses  fire,  he  knocks  down  his  adversary  with  the 
butt  end  of  it."  But  generally  he  "talked  like  poor 
Poll,"  and  when  he  made  an  accidental  hit,  soon  neu- 
tralized its  efEects  by  saying  something  very  foolish. 

Neither  Comeille,  the  great  French  dramatist,  nor 
Marmontel,  the  novelist,  were  masters  of  the  intellectual 
foils.  „ 

Nicolle  said  of  a  sparkling  wit :  "He  vanquishes  me  m 
the  drawing-room,  but  surrenders  to  me  at  discretion  on  1 
tiiG  stSfirs  "  I 

The  eloquent  Rosseau,  whose  writings  have  bewitched 
thousands,  confessed  that  when  forced  to  open  his 
mouth  he  infallibly  talked  nonsense,  "I  hastily  gobble 
over  a  number  of  words  without  ideas,  happy  only  when 
they  chance  to  mean  nothing ;  thus  endeavoring  to  con- 
quer or  hide  my  incapacity  I  rarely  fail  to  show  it." 

The  witty  Charles  II.,  who  was  so  charmed  with  the 
humor  of  Hudibras  that  he  caused  himself  to  be  intro- 
duced privately  to  the  author,  found  Butler  an  intoler- 
ably dull  companion.  He  was  confident  that  so  stupid 
a  fellow  never  wrote  a  book.  The  earl  o*  Dorset,  who 
sought  an  interview  with  the  great  satirist,  was  similarly 
disappointed.  Taking  three  bottles  of  wine  with  him, 
he  found  the  poet  dull  and  heavy  after  the  first  had  been 
drained,  somewhat  sparkling  after  the  second  bottle, 
and,  after  the  third  more  stupid  and  muzzy  than  ever. 
"Tour  Triend."  said  the  earl,  after  he  had  left  with  his 
introducer,  "is  like  a  nine  pin — small  at  both  ends,  and 
great  in  the  middle." 


The  G-reat  Bridge. 

The  first  object  that  strikes  the  stranger,  at  St.  Louis,  is  the 
bridge  across  the  Mississippi.  This  is  a  magnificent  piece  of 
work,  a  credit  to  St.  Louis  and  to  the  brains  and  muscles  of 
the  men  who  could  conceive  and  execute  it.  To  be  appre- 
ciated, as  Barnum  says  of  his  show,  it  must  be  seen.  It  is  a 
great  work — so  great  that  it  will  be  more  of  a  financial  success 
twenty  years  hence  than  now.  It  is  ahead  of  this  day  and 
generation ;  a  bigger  thing  than  the  day  and  generation  can 
pay  a  living  interest  upon.  On  the  west  side  the  bridge  shoots 
above  the  houses,  then  in  among  them,  then  under  them,  into 
the  ground  and  under  it,  the  ground  gradually  sloping  to  the 
river,  and  the  bridge  and  the  tunnel  running  into  one  another, 
so  that  it  is  hard  to  tell  where  the  one  begins  and  the  other 
ends.  The  cost  of  this  stupendous  structure,  tunnel  and  all, 
is  put  down  at  thirteen  millions  of  dollars  !  Think  of  it,  for 
two  miles  of  superstructure,  which  is  about  the  length  of  the 
bridge  and  tunnel.  This  is  more  than  Cincinnati  expects  to 
pay  for  the  Southern  Railroad,  or  rather  more  than  she  set 
apart  for  the  purpose. 

The  first  thing  a  cold-blooded  person  asks,  one  who  does 
not  take  glory  at  the  regular  St.  Louis  rates,  does  the  bridge 
pay  ?  It  does  not.  The  stock,  if  we  are  correctly  informed 
will  be  rendered  worthless  by  the  first  mortgage  holders,  who 
of  course,  have  lien.  The  receipts  of  the  bridge,  deducting 
expenses,  will  not  pay  more  than  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  on 
its  cost.  The  effect  of  this,  of  course,  will  be  to  eat  up  the 
stock  of  the  stockholder.  But  the  rich  men  of  St.  Louis  had 
rather  have  their  pockets  operated  upon  considerable  than  not 
to  have  the  bridge.  It  is  their  pride  and  glory.  The  one  big 
thing  among  big  things,  a  section  of  the  Great  Future  brought 
into  service  ahead  of  time. 


Morlach  Bag-pipers  of  Dalmatia. 

Dalmatia  is  a  district  which  lies  out  of  the  way  of 
travel  and  commerce.  We  have  no  direct  intercourse 
with  it ;  tourists  do  not  visit  it,  and  it  lies  as  a  sort  of 
lost  land  escaping.  Dalmatia  forms  a  narrow  strip 
bounded  by  Cuatia  and  the  province  of  Herzegovina, 
which,  by  its  present  outbreak  against  Turkish  tyranny, 
has  perplexed  the  governments  in  Europe,  while  it  wine 
the  sympathy  of  the  people  whose  impulses  are  not 
guarded  by  policy. 

In  early  autumn,  before  November  sets  in  with  its 
dangers,  you  can  run  down  the  Adriatic  and  enjoy  the 
silvery  waters,  the  clear  tints,  the  mountains  that  seem 
to  float  in  a  light  amber  air.  When  you  reach  Dalmatia, 
which  looks  like  a  row  of  islands,  you  find  a  dry,  rocky 
soil  with  little  to  repay  agriculture,  and  flocks  and  herds 
of  bony  animals  constitute  the  whole  wealth  of  the  land. 
Of  goats  alone,  Dalmatia  boasts  more  than  a  million. 

The  people  are,  as  becomes  mountain  men,  strong  and 
enthusiastic.  They  are  ignorant,  but  simple  and  loyal. 
80  honest  are  they,  that  locks  are  unknown,  and  theft  is 
unknown.  Unfortunately,  the  men  are  indolent,  and 
the  drudgery  falls  to  the  share  of  the  women. 

Zara,  the  capital,  is  a  military  city;  pandours,  covered 
with  gold  and  silver  coin,  meet  you  at  every  turn ;  but 
the  people  begin  to  wear  an  Oriental  look,  telling  you 
that  you  have  passed  the  limits  of  the  west.  The  cos- 
tumes of  the  women  are  various  and  striking.  They 
generally  wear  a  heavy  linen  chemise,  embroidered  on 
the  sleeves  aud  breast  with  a  little  sleeveless  jacket,  a 
skirt,  a  gay  apron,  the  apanke  or  Slavonian  chaimnre, 
the  neck  and  head  decked  with  beads  or  coin. 

Zara,  long  a  Venetian  town,  still  bears  the  look  of  that 
city,  and  the  language  is  the  same,  dashed  with  a  flavor 
of  Slavonian. 

The  bag-pipe  is  a  favorite  instrument  with  the  Dalma- 
tians, and  the  pipers  rival  those  of  Scotland.  They 
dance  to  their  own  music,  and  in  dress  and  instrument 
are  a  study  and  a  type  of  this  outlying  portion  of  the 
Austrian  Empire.  J.  J.  w. 

Iron  in  the  Blood. 

Probably  no  fact  in  medical  or  chemical  science  is 
more  widely  understood  than  that  there  is  "  iron  in  the 
blood."  As  a  fact  it  is  no  more  remarkable  than  that 
this  fluid  holds  potassium  or  sodium,  or  that  the  brain 
is  permeated  with  phosphorus.  The  popular  curiosity 
and  interest  regarding  iron  as  it  exists  in  the  circu- 
lation have  been  excited  by  the  venders  of  quack 
remedies,  alleged  to  contain  some  combination  of  the 
element.  While  there  is  much  that  is  very  absurd  in 
the  statements  popularly  presented,  it  is  impossible  to 
overlook  the  importance  of  the  well-being  of  the  in- 
dividual of  the  few  grains  of  iron  found  in  the  blood. 
If  the  quantity  is  diminished  from  any  cause,  the  whole 
economy  suffers  serious  derangement.  We  have  reason 
to  believe  that  when  the  normal  quantity  (about  100 
grains)  is  reduced  ten  per  cent,  the  system  is  sensibly 
affected,  and  the  health  suffers.  How  sensitive  to  all 
the  chemical  reactions  going  on  within  and  around  is 
this  complex  machine  we  call  the  body  1  But  iron, 
among  the  mineral  constituents  of  the  body,  does  not 
stand  alone  in  its  important  relationship.  The  metals 
exist  combined  with  other  bodies,  or  they  are  locked  up 
in  the  form  of  salts,  which  are  vital  to  the  economy. 
There  are  five  pounds  of  phosphate  of  lime,  one  of  car- 
bonate of  lime,  three  ounces  of  fluoride  of  calcium, 
three  and  a  half  ounces  of  common  salt,  all  of  which 
have  important  offices  to  fill.  Not  one  of  them  must  be 
allowed  to  fall  in  quantity  below  the  normal  standard. 
If  the  lime  fails,  the  bones  give  way  ;  if  salt  is  withheld, 
the  blood  suffers,  and  digestion  is  impaired;  if  phos- 
phorus is  sparingly  furnished,  the  mind  is  weakened  and 
the  tendency  is  toward  idiocy. 

A  Deep  WeU. 

This  well,  which  is  over  four  thousand  feet  in  depth, 
is  in  the  village  of  Sperenberg,  about  twenty  miles 
distant  from  Berlin.  It  was  begun  about  five  years  ago 
by  the  government  authorities,  to  ascertain  the  existence 
of  rock  salt  beneath  the  strata  of  gypsum  occurring  in 
the  locality.  At  a  depth  of  two  hundred  and  eighty 
feet  the  salt  was  reached.  The  boring  was  prosecuted 
by  steam  until  the  final  depth  was  attained.  At  the 
.Viwest  point,  the  6»Jt  denosits  still  continue. 


2o6 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Rosewood. 

It  has  puzzled  many  people,  says  a  contemporary,  to 
decide  why  the  dark  wood  so  highly  valued  for  furniture 
should  be  called  rose-wood."  Its  color  certainly  does 
not  look  much  like  a  rose  ;  so  we  must  seek  for  some 
other  reason.  Upon  asking,  we  are  told  that  when  the 
tree  is  first  cut  the  fresh  wood  possesses  a  very  strong, 
rose-like  fragrance — hence  the  name.  There  are  half  a 
dozen  or  more  kinds  of  rose-wood  trees.  The  varieties 
are  found  in  South  America,  and  in  the  East  Indies  and 
neighboring  islands.  Sometimes  the  trees  grow  so  large 
that  planks  four  feet  broad  and  ten  feet  in  length  can  be 
cut  from  them.  These  broad  planks  are  principally  used 
to  make  the  tops  of  piano-fortes.  When  growing  in  the 
forest  the  rose-wood  tree  is  remarkable  for  its  beauty  ; 
but  such  is  its  value  in  manufactures  as  an  ornamental 
wood  that  some  of  the  forests  where  it  once  grew 
abundantly  now  have  scarcely  a  single  specimen.  In 
Madras  the  Government  has  prudently  had  great  planta- 
tions set  out,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  supply. 


Charcoal. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Charcoal,  or  lampblack,  is  commonly  taken  as  the 
third  form  of  carbon.  This  kind  of  carbon  can  be  ob- 
tained in  a  tolerable  state  of  purity,  either  by  heating  in 
a  close  vessel  sugar,  starch  or  some  other  organic  sub- 
stance which  contains  no  organic  constituents,  or  by 
burning  oil  of  turpentine  in  a  quantity  of  air,  insufficient 
for  its  combustion. 

For  use  in  the  arts  charcoal  is  sometimes  prepared  by 
distilling  wood  in  retorts,  but  more  generally  by  burning 
the  wood  with  but  little  access  of  air.  Logs  of  wood 
are  piled  up  into  a  large  stack  or  mound,  around  a  cen- 
tral aperture,  which  subsequently  serves  as  a  temporary 
chimney  and  also  for  the  introduction  of  burning  sub- 
stances for  firing  the  heap.  The  finished  heap  is  covered 
with  leaves,  chips,  sods,  and  a  mixture  of  moistened 
earth  and  charcoal  dust,  a  number  of  holes  being  left 
open  around  the  bottom  of  the  heap  to  allow  air  to  enter 
and  the  products  of  distillation  and  combustion  to 
escape.  The  whole  is  then  fired  at  the  middle,  and  then 
left  to  bum  during  three  or  four  weeks.  When  the  process 
is  thought  to  be  finished,  all  the  holes  are  carefully 
stopped  up  in  order  to  suffocate  the  fire,  and  the  whole 
is  left  to  itself  until  cold.  The  charcoal  retains  the  form 
of  the  wood,  but  it  occupies  a  smaller  area  than  the 
wood ;  generally  its  bulk  does  not  occupy  more  than 
three-fourths  that  of  the  wood,  while  its  weight  never 
exceeds  one-fourth  that  of  the  wood.  Sometimes  the 
wood  is  burnt  in  retorts,  in  which  case  a  liquid  product 
of  tar  and  acetic  acid  is  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  re- 
tort.   This  product  is  always  saved  and  utilized. 

Upon  the  large  scale,  lampblack  is  made  by  heating 
tar,  resin  or  pine  knots  until  vapors  are  disengaged,  and 
then  burning  those  vapors  in  a  current  of  air  insufficient 
for  their  complete  combustion.  These  vapors  consist 
of  compounds  of  carbon  and  hydrogen,  and  the  supply 
of  air  being  insufficient  for  the  consuming  of  both,  a 
large  portion  of  the  carbon  of  the  material  does  not 
burn,  but  is  deposited  as  a  fine  powder  precisely  similar 
to  that  which  constitutes  the  black  portion  of  common 
smoke. 

The  chief  ingredient  of  printers'  ink  is  lampblack, 
which  is  also  much  used  in  the  arts  as  a  pigment.  In 
all  its  varieties  charcoal  is  a  very  important  chemical 
agent,  chiefly  because  of  the  readiness  and  energy  with 
which  it  combines  with  oxygen  at  high  temperatures. 
At  the  ordinary  temperature  of  the  air,  the  chemical 
energy  of  charcoal  is  exceedingly  feeble.  It  is,  in  fact, 
one  of  the  most  durable  of  substances.  Specimens  have 
been  found  at  Pompeii  and  upon  Egyptian  mummies, 
the  action  of  the  air  continued  for  centuries  having  ex- 
erted no  appreciable  influence  upon  it.  Fence-posts 
which  are  sunk  into  the  ground  are  often  charred  on 
the  outside,  and  thus  rendered  more  durable. 

Charcoal  is  much  employed  as  a  disinfecting  agent, 
being  capable  of  removing  many  offensive  odors  from 
the  air.  Animal  matter  in  a  state  of  putrefaction  loses 
all  offensive  odor  when  covered  with  charcoal,  and  the 
body  of  a  dead  animal  buried  beneath  a  thin  layer  of 
charcoal  will  gradually  waste  away  without  o.mitting  any 
offensive  odor. 


Punishment  of  Drunkards  in  old  Mexico. 

The  more  we  know  of  the  primitive  "civilized"  na- 
tions (i.  e.y  those  who  flourished  before  the  beginning  of 
history,)  the  more  we  are  impressed  with  the  evidence 
that  drunkenness  is  a  vice  of  the  later  ages.  The  ideas 
of  temperance  prevalent  among  the  ancient  Aztecs — a 
nation  much  like  the  Chinese,  who  are  a  temperate  peo- 
ple—may well  astonish  us,  though  the  severity  of  their 
laws  in  regard  to  it  appears  excessive.  Mr.  H.  H.  Ban- 
croft says ; 

The  young  man  who  became  drunk  was  conveyed  to 
jail,  and  there  beaten  to  death  with  clubs ;  but  the  young 
woman  was  stoned  to  death.  In  some  parts,  if  the 
drunkard  was  a  plebeian,  he  was  sold  for  a  slave  for  the 
first  offence,  and  suffered  death  for  the  second ;  and  at 
other  times  the  offender's  hair  was  cut  off  in  the  public 
market-place,  he  was  then  lashed  through  the  streets, 
and  finally  his  house  was  razed  to  the  ground,  because, 
they  said,  one  who  would  give  up  his  reason  to  the  use 
of  strong  drink  was  unworthy  to  possess  a  house  and  be 
numbered  among  respectable  citizens. 

Cutting  off  the  hair,  as  we  shall  see,  was  a  mode  of 
punishment  frequently  resorted  to  by  these  people,  and 
so  deep  was  the  degradation  supposed  to  be  attached  to 
it,  that  it  was  dreaded  aimost  equally  with  death  itsel£ 
Should  a  military  man,  who  had  gained  a  distinction  m 
the  wars,  become  drunk,  he  was  deprived  of  his  rank 
and  honors,  and  considered  thenceforth  infamous.  Con- 
Tiction  of  this  crime  rendered  the  culprit  ineligible  for 
all  future  emoluments,  and  especially  was  he  debarred 
from  holding  any  public  office. 

A  noble  was  invariably  hanged  for  the  first  offence, 
his  body  being  afterward  dragged  without  the  limits  of 
the  town  and  cast  into  a  stream  used  for  that  purpose 
only.  But  a  mightier  influence  than  mere  fear  of  the 
penal  law  restramed  the  Aztec  nobility  and  gentry  from 
drinking  to  excess :  this  influence  was  social  law. 

It  was  considered  degrading  for  a  person  of  quality  to 
touch  wine  at  all,  even  in  seasons  of  festivity,  when,  as 
I  have  said,  it  was  customary  and  lawful  for  the  lower 
classes  to  indulge  to  a  certain  extent. 

Wine  bibbing  was  looked  upon  as  a  coarse  pleasure, 
peculiar  exclusively  to  the  common  people,  and  a  mem- 
ber of  the  higher  orders  who  was  suspected  of  practicing 
the  habit  would  have  forfeited  his  social  position,  even 
though  the  law  suffered  him  to  remain  unpunished. 
The  heathen,  however,  seem  to  have  recognized  the 
natural  incongruity  existing  between  precept  and  prac- 
tice fully  aj_much_as  the  most  advanced  Christian. 

Taking  Advantage  of  an  Accident. 

Three  men-of-war  ships — Dutch,  French  and  English 
— while  anchored  in  port,  were  contending  with  each 
other  for  the  best  display  of  sailorship,  so  that  the 
captain  of  each  vessel  determined  to  send  aloft  an  active 
sailor  to  perform  some  deed  of  grace  and  daring.  The 
Dutch  captain  sent  a  Dutchman,  the  French  a  French- 
man, and  the  English  an  Irishman.  The  Dutchman 
stood  on  the  top  of  the  mainmast  with  his  arm  extended. 
The  Frenchman  then  went  aloft  and  extended  both 
arms.  Now  the  Irishman  thought  if  he  could  stand  on 
the  top  of  the  mainmast  with  a  leg  and  an  arm  extended 
he  would  be  declared  the  most  daring  sailor.  Nimbly 
he  climbed  aloft  until  he  reached  the  highest  point, 
then  he  carefully  balanced  himself  on  both  feet,  ex- 
tending his  right  hand  with  a  graceful  motion.  Then  he 
threw  out  his  left  leg  until  it  came  into  line  with  his 
right  arm.  In  doing  so  he  ingloriously  lost  his  balance 
and  fell  from  the  mast,  crushing  the  rigging  toward  the 
deck.  The  various  ropes  with  which  he  came  in  con- 
tact broke  his  fall,  but  his  velocity  was  not  too  great  to 
prevent  his  grasping  a  rope  attached  to  the  mainyard. 
To  this  he  hung  for  two  seconds,  then,  dropping  lightly 
to  the  deck,  landed  safely  on  his  feet.  Folding  his  arms 
triumphantly,  as  if  fall  and  all  was  in  the  programme, 
he  glanced  toward  the  rival  ships  and  joyously  ex- 
claimed : — 

There,  bate  that  if  you  can  1" 

K  man  has  generally  the  good  or  ill  qualities 
which  he  attributes  to  mankind.  Shenstone. 

Ignorance  and  Violence. — There  never  was  any 
party,  faction,  sect,  or  cabal  whatsoever,  in  which  the 
most  Ignorant  were  not  the  most  violent ;  for  a  bee  is 
not  a  busier  animal  than  a  blockhead.— Pope. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


207 


Dying  Words  of  Pious  Women 

Under  the  head  of  "  Dying  Words  of  Pious  Women" 
a  religious  journal  gives  the  following Oh,  those 
rays  of  glory ! "  from  Mrs.  Clarkson  when  dying.  *«My 
God,  I  come  flying  to  thee  1 "  said  Lady  Alice  Lucy.  Lady 
Hastings  said,  *'  Oh,  the  greatness  of  the  glory  that  is 
revealed  to  me  1 "  Beautiful  the  expression  of  the  dying 
poetess,  Mrs.  Hemans,  "I  feel  as  if  I  were  sitting  with 
Mary  at  the  feet  of  my  Redeemer,  hearing  the  music  of 
his  voice,  and  learning  of  Him  to  be  meek  and  lowly." 
Hannah  More's  last  words  were,  "Welcome  joy!" 
'"Oh  sweet,  sweet  dying!"  said  Mrs.  Talbot  of  Read- 
ing. '  "If  this  be  dying,"  said  Lady  Glenorchy,  "it  is 
the  pleasantest  thing  imaginable."  "Victory,  victory 
through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  !  "  said  Grace  Bennett, 
one  of  the  early  Methodists.  "  I  shall  go  to  my  Father 
this  night,"  slid  Lady  Huntingdon.  The  dying  injunc- 
tion of  the  mother  of  Wesley  was,  "Children,  when  I 
am  gone,  sing  a  song  of  praise  to  God  1 "  To  the  above 
may  be  added  the  last  words  of  Mrs.  Manchester,  who 
died  recently  in  Pittsburg,  aged  105  years.  She  said, 
while  dying,  "I  was  afraid  God  had  forgotten  me,  he  has 
left  me  in  this  world  of  sorrow  so  long." 


when  tbey  gem  a  winter  sky.  Life  may  be  but  a  winter's  day, 
but  the  winter's  day  has  a  sunny  side.  We  have  found  means 
to  Iceep  off  its  chill  and  to  gather  about  us  all  its  brightness. 
Can  we  not  also  find  means  to  keep  the  chill  of  life's  winter 
day  from  the  heart,  and  to  gather  about  us  all  its  brightness  ? 

"  Life  is  what  we  make  it,"  says  one.  This  also  may  be,  and 
probably  is  true.  But  the  answer  will  intrude  itself:  We 
make  it  according  to  what  we  have  to  make  it  of  and  to  make 
it  with.  Behind  this  is  deep  water,  in  which  many  have 
foundered  without  touching  bottom.  Standing  on  the  safe 
side  of  the  unfaihomless  depths  we  can  see  that  we  are  en- 
dowed with  manifold  capacities,  among  which  is  the  power  to 
discern  good  from  evil ;  that  we  train,  cultivate,  and  develop 
those  faculties  that  tend  to  good,  while  suppressing  and 
holding  in  restraint  those  that  tend  to  evil.  We  may  brighten 
the  years  by  purity,  by  charity,  by  faith,  by  hope,  by  love ;  or 
darken  them  by  malice,  by  deceit,  by  dishonor,  by  cc^uption. 

Thus  life  becomes  what  we  make  it ;  and  we  make  it  what  it 
is  by  making  ourselves  what  we  are.  By  all  we  can  conceive 
of  the  spirit's  life  we  can  measure  the  gain  that  may  come  to 
US ;  by  that  also  we  can  measure  the  possible,  infinite  loss. 


The  Benefit  of  Sunlight.  [ 

The  exact  reason,  and  the  exact  way  of  the  sanitary 
influence  of  the  sunlight,  are  not  yet  fully  understood, 
but  the  fact  is  acknowledged.  It  is  an  influence  which 
works  in  all  kinds  of  diseases.  Inflammatory  diseases, 
nervous  diseases,  digestive  troubles,  are  all  cured  by  a 
full  supply  of  the  sun's  rays.  These  rays  assist  other 
remedies.  They  work  in  the  allopathic  way  upon 
jaundice  and  bilious  maladies,  bringing  light  out  of 
darkness  ;  and  they  work  in  the  homoeopathic  way  upon 
pale  lymphatic  disorders,  changing  the  unhealthy  pallor 
to  the  whiteness  of  health.  The  direct  action  of  the 
sun  upon  skin  is,  indeed,  dreaded  by  many,  and  it  is  not 
probable  that  any  protests  of  a  journal  of  health  will 
lessen  the  sale  of  French  kid  gloves  or  drive  vails  out 
of  use.  A  white  hand  and  a  fair  cheek  will  still  be  pre- 
ferred to  the  bronze  and  tan  of  a  sun-browned  skin. 
Some  protection  against  the  burning  of  the  sun  may  be 
allowed.  The  best  sanitary  influence  of  the  sunlight  is 
not  that  of  the  hot  ray  directly  upon  the  skin,  but  rather 
of  the  light  in  the  air  that  is  around  the  body,  or,  in 
other  words,  the  light  that  envelops  rather  than  the  light 
that  impinges  upon  the  frame.  The  sunny  atmosphere, 
more  than  the  battery  of  rays,  forces  the  frame  into 
vigor.  Reflected  sunlight,  if  we  can  have  plenty  of  it. 
Is  even  better  than  the  direct  sunlight,  the  diJSused 
stream,  more  than  the  exuberant  fountain,  dispenses  the 
blessing.  It  is  enough  if  we  are  only  in  the  light,  and  it 
is  not  necessary  to  be  always  "  under  the  sun."  By  an 
arrangement  of  pivoted  mirrors,  such  as  damsels  of 
Amsterdam  use  to  bring  images  of  the  street  into  their 
chambers,  one  may  get  the  disk  of  the  sun  itself  into  the 
room  ;  but  there  is  no  need  of  that,  if  the  reflected  light 
is  allowed  to  enter  freely.  This  light  does  not  lose  its 
virtue,  though  it  may  have  been  beaten  back  from 
wall  or  tower,  and  may  have  taken  many  paths  on  its 
capricious  race  from  its  orb  in  the  sky.  We  may  get  all 
the  good  of  the  sunlight  without  being  either  burned  or 
dazzled ;  without  feeling  too  sharply  the  hot  hand  of 
the  sun  upon  our  head. 

Life. 

"  Life  is  but  a  winter's  day, 
A  journey  to  the  tomb." 
So  runs  the  old  hymn,  and  the  words  seem  spoken  in  a  dole- 
ful mood.  Granting  their  truth,  we  fail  to  see  why  they  should 
hold  so  much  of  gloom  as  they  do.  The  whole  idea  seems 
stamped  with  indescribable  sadness.  Surely  a  winter's  day  la 
not  so  had  a  thing ;  let  us  look  at  it.  How  often  it  breaks  in 
brightness,  and  the  glow  of  the  sunrise  throws  a  vail  of  delicate 
color  over  wide  fields  of  white  snow.  The  stern  hills  are 
softened  and  enriched  with  a  beauty  belonging  solely  to  a  win- 
ter landscape.  'Tis  true,  tbe  day  is  short,  and  the  sun  sinks 
early  behind  the  hills ;  but  his  going  down,  like  his  coining, 
is  shrouded  in  beauty.  Again,  hillsides  and  valleys  are 
wrapped  in  a  mist  of  rosy  light,  and  thus  the  evening  and  the 
morning  are  alike  fair  to  see.  The  swift-fading  twilight  passes 
like  a  fleet,  delightful  dream.  The  cold  sky  is  wonderfully 
<^ear,  and  studded  with  stars  that  seem  never  so  bright  as 


Wonders  of  an  Alabama  Lake. 

FROM  k  CORRESPONDENT. 

At  the  Dickinson  place,  on  Bullard  Creek,  Ala.,  near  Six>mfle 
station,  is  a  ten-acre  field  which  is  nothing  more  nor  lees  than 
a  subterranean  lake,  covered  with  soil  about  eighteen  inches 
deep.  On  the  soil  is  cultivated  a  field  of  com,  which  will  pro- 
duce thirty  or  forty  bushels  to  the  acre.  If  any  one  will  take 
the  trouble  to  dig  a  hole  the  depth  of  a  spade  handle  he  will 
find  it  to  fill  with  water,  and  by  using  a  hook  and  line  fish  four 
and  five  inches  long  can  be  caught.  These  fish  are  difi"erent 
from  others  in  not  having  either  scales  or  eyes,  and  are  perch 
like  in  shape.  The  ground  is  a  black  marl,  alluvial  in  its  na- 
ture,  and  in  all  probability  at  one  time  it  was  an  open  body  of 
water,  on  which  was  accumulated  vegetable  matter,  which 
has  been  increased  from  time  to  time,  until  now  it  has  a  crust 
sufficiently  strong  and  rich  to  produce  fine  corn,  though  it  has 
to  be  cultivated  by  hand,  as  it  is  not  strong  enough  to  bear  the 
weight  of  a  horse.  While  nooning,  the  field  hands  catch  great 
strings  of  delicate  fish  by  merely  punching  a  hole  through  the 
earth.  A  person  raising  on  his  heel  and  coming  down  suddenly 
can  see  the  growing  corn  shake  all  around  him.  Any  one  hav- 
ing  the  strength  to  drive  a  rail  through  this  crust  will  find  on 
releasing  it  that  it  will  disappear  entirely.  The  whole  section 
of  country  surrounding  this  field  gives  evidence  of  marshiness, 
and  the  least  shower  of  rain  produces  an  abundance  of  mud. 
But  the  question  comes  up.  Has  not  this  body  an  outlet  ?  Al- 
though brackish,  the  water  tastes  as  if  fresh,  and  we  have  no 
doubt  but  that  it  is  anything  else  than  stagnant.  Yet  these 
lash  are  eyeless  and  scaleless— similar  to  those  found  in  caves, 
it  is  a  subject  for  study,  and  we  would  like  to  have  some  of 
our  "  profound  "  citizens  investigate  it. 


A  Family  of  G-iants. 

The  most  gigantic  family  in  Europe  are  the  O'Neals* 
of  Queen's  County,  Ireland.  The  father  stood  six  feet, 
and  weighed  twenty-seven  stone.  The  mother  is  forty- 
five  years  of  age,  stands  five  feet  two  inches  in  height, 
measures  round  her  arm  twenty-six  inches,  across  her 
shoulders  three  feet,  round  her  waist  five  feet  six  inches, 
and  weighs  two  hundred  and  ninety-four  pounds.  Her 
eldest  son  is  twenty-five  years  of  age,  stands  six  feet 
two  inches,  weighs  two  hundred  and  fifty-seven  pounds. 
At  the  present  time  he  is  a  Life-Guard.  All  the  sons  and 
daughters  were  of  large  dimensions.  Miss  Ann  O'Neal, 
the  eldest  daughter,  is  tv/enty  years  of  age  ;  she  stands 
five  feet  six  inches  in  height,  and  measures  round  the 
ai-m  twenty-seven  inches,  across  the  shoulders  one  yard 
and  a  half,  round  her  waist  eight  feet,  and  has  the 
enormous  weight  of  five  hundred  and  forty-six  pounds. 
Her  younger  sister  is  eighteen  years  of  age  ;  she  stands 
five  feet  two  inches  in  height,  measures  round  her  arm 
twenty-five  inches,  across  her  shoulders  three  feet,  round 
her  waist  six  feet,  and  weighs  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  pounds.  The  eldest  daughter  is,  as  may  well  be 
imagined,  on  account  of  her  obesity,  scarcely  able  to 
walk.  She  appears  to  be  uneasy  on  her  legs,  and  ia 
compelled  to  lean  up  against  the  wall  for  support. 


208 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD. 


The  Human  Eye. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

It  is  surprising  to  what  extent  the  human  eye  is  capa- 
ble of  modifying  itself  to  the  extremes  of  light  and  dark- 
ness. When  we  first  enter  a  dark  room  we  cannot  see 
the  surrounding  objects  distinctly ;  but  in  a  few  mo- 
ments if  the  room  be  not  very  dark  we  can  see  nearly 
as  well  as  in  the  open  air.  Again,  on  emerging,  we  are 
dazzled  by  the  intensity  of  light.  These  phenomena  are 
caused  by  what  is  called  the  expansion  and  contraction 
of  the  pupil  of  the  eye. 

During  the  reign  of  Bang  Charles  the  First,  a  major,  of 
great  courage  and  understanding,  was  sent  to  Madrid  to 
do  his  king  an  important  service.  He  failed  in  his  at- 
tempt, and,  in  consequence,  was  thrown  into  a  dark 
dungeon  immediately  after  his  return  to  England.  No 
ray  of  light  was  ever  permitted  to  enter  his  dismal  cell. 
In  this  state  the  unfortunate  gentleman  lived  for  some 
weeks,  when  he  began  to  discern  the  outlines  of  the 
walls  of  his  prison.  They  grew  plainer  and  plainer  until 
he  could  distinctly  see  and  count  the  stones  of  which 
they  were  built.  Soon  after  he  was  able  to  see,  not 
only  the  mice  as  they  ran  across  the  cell,  but  even  the 
crumbs  on  which  they  fed.  At  last  he  was  set  free  ;  but 
such  was  the  effect  of  the  darkness  on  his  eyes  that  for 
some  months  afterward  he  could  not  bear  the  full  light 
of  the  sun. 

From  this  circumstance  the  truth  of  two  scientific 
theories  may  be  clearly  proven  :  1st — That  it  is  impos- 
sible to  produce  absolute  darkness  in  any  place  except 
an  aii'-tight  apartment.  2d — That  the  human  eye  may 
adapt  itself  to  any  degree  of  darkness  the  same  as  the 
eyes  of  nocturnal  animals,  though  not  as  readily.  It  is 
plain  that  there  must  have  been  light  in  the  cell,  for  had 
there  been  absolute  darkness,  no  matter  to  what  size  the 
pupils  of  the  eyes  might  have  expanded,  the  gentleman 
could  not  have  discerned  a  single  object  in  his  prison. 

Among  some  savage  tribes  a  favorite  method  of  pun- 
ishing criminals  is  to  tie  a  bandage  very  tightly  around 
the  eyes  of  the  prisoner.  After  several  days  he  is  taken 
to  a  public  place  where  his  face  is  turned  toward  the 
Bun  and  the  bandage  is  taken  off.  We  can  have  but  a 
small  idea  of  the  pain  which  such  a  punishment  must 
cause ;  nor  is  the  present  pain  the  least  to  be  dreaded, 
for  the  person,  it  is  said,  becomes  totally  blind  for  the 
remainder  of  his  lifetime.  Death  at  the  stake  is  much 
preferable  to  this  cniel  torture,  for  then  the  prisoner  has 
but  few  hours  in  which  to  suffer ;  but  in  this  case  he 
must  endure  a  terrible  torture  for  weeks,  and  months, 
and  even  years,  besides  losing  his  sight  forever. 

It  is  probable  that  by  careful  training  the  human  eye 
may  become  so  accustomed  to  a  strong  light  as  to  be 
able  to  gaze  steadily  on  the  sun.  But  it  is  an  experi- 
ment which  we  do  not  at  present  care  to  try. 

The  Food  of  the  Ancients. 

The  diversity  of  substances  which  we  find  in  the  cata- 
logue of  articles  of  food,  is  as  great  as  the  variety  with 
which  the  art  or  the  science  of  cookery  prepares  them. 
The  notions  of  the  ancients  on  this  important  subject 
are  worthy  of  remark.  Their  taste  regarding  meat  was 
various.  Beef  they  considered  the  most  substantial 
food ;  hence  it  constituted  the  chief  nourishment  of 
their  athlete.  Camel's  and  dromedaries'  flesh  was  much 
esteemed,  their  heels  more  especially.  Donkey  flesh 
was  in  high  rapute,  and  the  wild  ass  brought  from  Africa 
was  compared  to  venison. 

In  more  modern  times  we  find  Chancellor  Cupret  hav- 
ing asses  fattened  for  his  table.  The  hog  and  the  wild 
boar  appear  to  have  been  held  in  high  estimation.  Their 
mode  of  killing  swine  was  refined  in  barbarity  as  epicur- 
ism. Pigs  were  slaughtered  with  red-hot  spits,  that  the 
blood  might  not  be  lost ;  stuflBng  a  pig  with  assafoetida 
was  a  luxury.  Young  bears,  dogs,  and  foxes  (the  latter 
esteemed  when  fed  upon  grapes,  were  also  much 
admired  by  the  Romans,  who  were  also  so  fond  of  various 
birds  that  some  consular  families  assumed  the  names  of 
those  they  most  esteemed.  Catius  tells  us  how  to  drown 
fowls  in  Falernian  wine,  to  render  them  more  luscious 
and  tender.  Pheasants  were  brought  over  from  Colchis, 
and  deemed  at  one  time  such  a  rarity  that  one  of  the 
Ptolemies  bitterly  lamented  his  never  having  tasted  any. 
Peacocks  were  carefully  reared  in  the  island  of  Samos, 
and  sold  at  such  a  high  price^  that  Varro  inform  us 


they  fetched  yearly  upwards  of  $10,000  of  our  money. 
The  guinea-fowl  was  considered  delicious  :  but  the  Ro- 
mans knew  not  the  turkey,  a  gift  which  we  modems  owe 
to  the  Jesuits.  The  ostrich  was  much  relished.  Helio- 
gabalus  delighted  in  their  brains,  and  Apicius  especially 
commends  them.  Tke  modem  gastronome  is,  perhaps, 
not  aware  that  it  is  to  the  ancients  he  owes  his  fattened 
duck  and  goose  livers — the  inestimable  foxes  gras  of 
France.  The  swan  was  also  fattened  by  the  Romans, 
who  first  deprived  it  of  sight ;  and  cranes  were  by  no 
means  despised  by  the  people  of  taste. 

While  the  feathered  creation  was  doomed  to  form  part 
of  ancient  delights,  the  waters  yielded  their  share  of 
enjoyments,  and  several  fishes  were  immortalized.  The 
carp  was  educated  in  their  ponds,  and  rendered  so  tame 
fhat  he  came  to  be  killed  at  the  tinkling  of  his  master's 
bell  or  the  sound  of  his  voice.  The  fame  of  the  lamprey 
is  generally  known  ;  and  sturgeon  was  brought  to  table 
with  triumphant  pomp ;  but  the  turbot,  one  of  which, 
was  brought  to  Domitian  from  Ancona,  was  considered 
such  a  splendid  present  that  this  emperor  assembled  the 
senate  to  admire  it.  The  red  mullet  was  held  in  such  a 
distinguished  category  among  genteel  fishes,  that  three 
of  them,  although  of  small  size,  were  known  to  fetch 
upwards  of  $1,000.  They  were  more  appreciated  when 
brought  aJive,  and  gradually  allowed  to  die,  when  the 
Romans  feasted  their  eyes  in  the  anticipated  delight  of 
eating  them,  by  gazing  on  the  dying  creatures  as  they 
changed  color  like  an  expiring  dolphin.  Snails  were 
also  a  great  dainty ;  Fulvius  Herpinus  was  immortalized 
for  the  discovery  of  the  art  of  fattening  them  on  bran, 
and  other  articles;  and  Horace  informs  us  that  they 
were  served  up,  broiled  upon  silver  gridirons,  to  give 
a  relish  to  wine.  Oysters  were  brought  from  England  to- 
Rome,  and  frozen  oysters  were  much  extolled.  Grass- 
hoppers, locusts,  and  various  insects,  were  equally  ac- 
ceptable to  our  first  gastronomic  legislators. 


Manners  in  Travelling. 

There  are  few  situations  in  which  people  are  placed, 
that  so  thoroughly  bring  out  and  show  up  their  honest 
selves,  as  a  long  journey  in  a  stage-coach  or  a  railway 
car.  If  there  is  selfishness,  or  meddlesomeness,  or  cyni' 
cism,  or  irritability  in  an  individual,  it  is  as  sure  to  mani- 
fest itself  as  do  the  opposite  traits  of  benevolence,  for- 
bearance, graciousness  and  amiability.  There  are  certain 
inconveniences  that  all  alike  must  suffer  from  when 
travelling ;  but  as  a  general  rule,  those  who  endure  with 
these  the  most  patiently  are  free  from  those  same  in- 
conveniences at  home ;  and  though  they  suffer  most 
keenly  from  them  when  home,  they  keep  silence.  It  is 
a  fair  inference  to  make  that  those  loudest  in  complaints 
of  dust,  flies,  noise,  bad  fare  at  lunch-houses,  uncon- 
genial associations  and  broken  sleep,  come  from  homes 
where  these  are  the  rule  and  not  the  exception.  The 
parvenu  may  be  known  when  travelling  by  showy  dress, 
a  barbaric  display  of  jewelry,  elaborate  and  pompous 
manner  and  general  assumption  of  superiority.  Not  one 
of  these  signs  will  be  manifest  in  your  true  lady  or  gen- 
tleman, who  will  be  attired  plainly,  be  quiet  and  re- 
served in  manner,  and  avoid  notice  as  much  as  possible. 
Around  the  traly  gentle  there  will  be  an  air  of  refine- 
ment, of  courtesy  and  of  modesty,  which  will  act  as  an 
impracticable  barrier  against  mdeness  of  all  sorts,  so 
that  a  person  of  this  character  may  travel  from  end  to 
end  of  the  land  in  perfect  security  from  unseemly  m- 
trusion.  There  is  much  more  to  be  learned  in  travelhng 
than  persons  think.  One  can  almost  find  by  dextrous 
management  an  intelligent,  communicative  fellow-pas- 
senger, who  will  give  valuable  information  of  the  locali- 
ties along  the  rout,  and  interesting  character  studies  of 
the  inhabitants.  Conversation  on  general  topics  can  be 
carried  on  with  perfect  propriety  betv^een  entire  stran- 
o-ers  who  have  no  other  introduction  than  a  desire  tor 
mutual  entertainment  and  instruction  from  each  other, 
and  in  this  way  many  a  long  hour  has  been  beguiled  of 
its  tedium  and  weariness,  and  much  valuable  knowledge 
Acquired.  The  men  and  women  who  recognize  eveiy 
other  man  and  woman  as  human,  of  like  interest  and 
oassions,  and  as  equally  precious  in  the  Divme  eye  with 
.hemselves,  will  be  brought  neai-er  and  nearer  to  the 
miversal  heart  of  humanity,  and  by  so  much  be  lifted 
nto  the  resemblance  of  Him  who  styles  Himself  our 
elder  brother.  A  Fellow  Traveller. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


Sea  Birds. 

How  they  seem  to  blend  in  the  picture  together— the  bine, 
swelling  waves  with  the  white  foam  upon  the  beach,  the  sands 


ed  colliers  or  f  ruitiers,  with  a  cargo  valueless  to  wreck- 
ers, but  a  ship  whose  hold  from  Keelson  to  deck  beams 
was  packed  with  a  thousand  tons  of  choice  silks  and 
stuffs  for  the  black-eyed  brunettes  of  Havana,  just 


at  ebb  tide,  the  sea-weed  and  the  shells-and  the  great  birds  ^^^^^j^  damaged  to  oblige  them  to  be  sold  at  auction  in 


with  their  long,  slender  wings,  making  the  dizzy  sweep,  rising 
and  falling  with  a  free  flutter  of  their  pinions. 

How  the  lives  of  the  sea-birds  differ  from  those  of  the  land 
bird.  The  ocean  is  their  home,  and  God  has  ordered  a  fitness 
between  them  and  their  surroundings.  Instead  of  fruit  or  in- 
sect, their  food  is  fish ;  instead  of  wavering  wmgs  and  short 
rapid  flights,  they  make  the  steady  sweep  and  circle  over  the 
tossing  sea.  No  cosy,  downy  nests  for  them  and  their  little 
ones,  but  on  the  bare  edge  of  the  flinty  rock  and  beetling  cliff 
they  rear  their  hardy  young,  and  early  in  life  they  commence 
their  tempest-tossed  career. 

The  beautiful  land  birds  give  us  the  sweet  quavering  melo- 
dious songs  and  trills,  but  the  sea-fowl  shouts  the  harsh,  short 
calls,  made  to  mingle  with  roar  of  wind  and  tide. 

By  the  bold,  rugged  coast,  where  the  ragged  rocks  project 
over  the  rush  and  foam  of  the  waves,  and  echo  back  the  thunder 
of  the  incoming  tide,  sweet,  soft  bird  songs  would  be  unheard, 
but  the  gull  and  its  fellows  swoop  down,  swoop  up,  throwing 
off  the  spray  with  a  full,  free  flutter  of  the  wings,  and  their 
wild,  fierce  scream  cuts  through  the  tempest's  roar. 

Gulls  live  upon  fish.  Other  sorts  of  sea-birds  feed  upon 
shrimps,  crabs  and  shell-fish  to  be  found  at  low  water,  and 
although  they  will  fly  far  inland  they  invariably  return  to  the 
shore  as  the  tide  ebbs  out.  The  sea-gull  cares  nothing  for 
wind  or  storm,  it  can  fly  in  the  face  of  the  strongest  gale,  and 
dash  down  upon  its  prey  from  the  wildest  wave.  There  are 
few  more  striking  pictures  than  the  steady,  measured 
circle  and  dip  of  this  calm  bird,  when  the  hurricane  tears  the 
ragged  clouds  and  mountain  billows  roll  and  rage.  Thus  hap 
pily  does  God  fit  His  creatures  for  their  surroundings. 


Wrecking  on  the  Bahamas. 

A  writer  says  :  "Wrecking  is  a  branch  of  business  for 
which  the  Bahamas  have  long  been  famous,  owing  to 
their  Intricate  navigation.  At  one  time  this  was  very 
lucrative,  but  it  has  been  falling  off  of  late  years.  For- 
merly everything  saved  from  a  wreck  was  sold  at  auc- 
tion In  Nassau ;  now  all  goods  not  of  a  perishable  nature 
and  undamaged,  are  reshipped  to  the  port  of  destination. 
Collusion  between  shipmasters  and  the  pilots  was  also 
frequent ;  but  increased  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  in- 
surance companies  has  interfered  with  this  nefarious 
business,  while  the  numerous  lighthouses  recently  erect- 
ed by  the  Government  with  noble  self-sacrifice  have 
operated  in  the  same  direction. 

The  uncertainties  attending  money-making  in  this 
precarious  way  have  their  effect  on  the  character  of  the 
people,  as  is  the  case  when  the  element  of  chance  enters 
largely  into  business  ;  the  prizes  in  the  lottery  are  few,* 
but  are  occasionally  so  large  as  to  excite  undue  expecta- 
tions, and  thus  unfit  many  for  any  pursuit  more  steady 
but  less  exciting.  For  months  they  will  cruise  about, 
watching  and  hoping,  and,  and  barely  kept  alive  on  a 
scant  supply  of  sugar  cane  and  conches  ;  then  they  fall  in 
with  a  wreck,  and  make  enough  from  it  perhaps  to  keep 
them  going  another  year.  It  is  not  a  healthy  or  desir- 
able state  of  affairs. 

One  Sunday  morning  a  commotion  arose  quite  unusual 
in  the  uncommonly  quiet  and  orderly  streets  of  Nassau. 
There  was  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  the  sounds  of  voices 
shrill  and  rapid,  caused  by  some  sudden  and  extraor- 
dinary excitement.  The  wharves  of  the  little  port  were 
thronged  and  positively  black  with  eager  negroes,  and 
great  activity  was  noticeable  among  the  sloops  and 
schooners.  Some  were  discharging  their  cargoes  of 
sponges,  shells,  fish,  and  cattle  in  hot  haste ;  others 
were  provisioning  or  setting  up  their  rigging;  others 
again  were  expeditiously  hoisting  their  sails  and  heaving 
up  their  anchors ;  while  the  crews,  black  and  white,  sang 
Bongs  in  merry  chorus,  as  if  under  the  influence  of  great 
and  good  tidings.    What  could  it  all  mean  ? 

It  means  this— another  vein  in  the  Bahama  gold  mines 
had  been  struck,  another  lead  discovered,  and  the  miners 
were  off  to  develop  it,  each  hoping  to  be  the  lucky  one 
to  turn  out  the  largest  nugget,  and  retire  on  it  for  life. 
In  other  words,  news  had  just  been  brought  of  the  wreck 
of  a  Spanish  vessel  on  the  Lavadeir's  Shoal;  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  away.  She  was  none  of  your  wretch- 


Nassau,  where  all  wrecked  goods  must  be  brought  for 
adjudication.  Verily,  we  thought,  "It's  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  nobody  any  good ;"  the  misfortune  which  has 
wrung  the  soul  and  perhaps  ruined  the  happiness  of  one 
or  two  in  far  lands  has  made  glad  the  hearts  of  several 
thousand  darkies,  raulattoes,  and  whites  in  the  Bahamas. 
Here  is  a  text  lor  La  Rochefoucauld,  the  modem  cynic 


A  Bird  story. 

The  intelligence  of  birds  is  well  illustrated  by  a  little  inci- 
dent which  occurred  among  the  featbered  tribe  in  Vallejo 
very  recently.  A  pair  of  young  swallows  commenced  building 
a  nest  under  the  roof  of  a  certain  house.  They  were  plainly 
green  at  the  business,  and  judging  from  their  general  appear* 
ance  the^were  young  lovers  who  had  just  contracted  the  nup- 
tial obligation.  Under  such  circumstances  it  was  not  sur- 
prising that  their  first  attempt  to  get  up  a  household  should 
be  a  failure,  since  it  occasionally  nappens  among  wiser  beings 
than  birds  that  newly  married  couples  do  not  regulate  their 
domestic  economy  with  the  most  profound  foresight.  And 
this  attempt  was  an  undoubted  failure,  for  before  the  nest  was 
completed  down  it  fell.  The  birds  did  not  try  to  rebuild  it 
themselves,  for  they  had  probably  become  convinced  of  their 
own  incapacity  to  remedy  matters.  But  instead  they  disap- 
peared for  a  day  or  two,  and  when  they  returned  brought  back 
with  them  an  old  bird,  who  might  have  been  a  professional 
architect  and  builder,  or  again  might  have  been  a  sage  old 
mother-in-law,  or  some  other  relative.  But  whatever  were  the 
relations  sustained  towards  the  pair,  the  third  comer  evidently 
understood  the  art  of  building  a  nest,  and  had  no  less  evidently 
been  brought  to  boss  the  job.  He— or  she,  as  the  case  might  have 
been— stayed  around  supervising  the  work  until  it  was  satis- 
factorily  completed,  which  occurred  after  a  great  deal  of  flying 
back  and  forwards  and  an  immense  deal  of  twittering,  part  of 
which  may  be  accounted  for  if  we  suppose  the  old  bird  had  to 
occasionally  lecture  the  young  pair  for  spending  too  mach 
time  in  conjugal  caresses,  and  non-attention  to  their  basinees. 


Route  to  the  Pacific. 

On  the  route  to  the  Pacific,  through  the  Smoky  Hill  country, 
there  are  some  very  wonderful  natural  monuments. 

First  Is  Castle  Rock,  three  miles  west  of  the  stage  station  of 
that  name,  and  six  hundred  and  fifty  miles  west  of  St.  Louis. 
It  consists  of  a  soft  limestone,  of  a  grey  color  at  its  base,  and 
yellow  towards  the  top.  It  is  about  eighty  feet  in  height, 
and  is  half  a  mile  from  the  Bluffs,  of  which  it  once  formed  a 
part.  Embedded  in  the  limestone  are  quantities  of  pebbles 
and  shells. 

These  singular  monuments  are  some  fifty  or  sixty  in  number, 
all  bemg  of  a  similar  composition.  At  a  distance,  they  have 
the  appearance  of  a  ruined  temple.  The  route  in  this  vicinity 
is  very  dangerous,  as  amid  these  wonderful  columns  the  wi|y 
savage  finds  a  choice  locality  lor  his  villainous  method  of 
maurading  and  murder. 

But  the  action  of  wind,  rain  and  frost  constantly  makes 
changes  in  the  appearance  of  the  columns,  and  ere  many  years 
have  passed  the  impressible  limestone  monuments,  no  doabt, 
will  yield  to  the  elements,  and  "  the  place  that  once  knew  them 
wil  Icnow  them  no  more  forever.'' 


Evert  Farmer  ought  to  have  one  good  riding  horse— that 
is,  every  farmer  who  keeps  three  horses  or  more.  Even  if  he 
keeps  but  two,  it  is  more  economical  to  keep  a  saddle,  and  use 
it  wherever  it  can  be  used  as  a  substitute,  than  to  wear  and 
tear  a  harness  and  carriage  over  the  miserable  roads  which  are 
too  generally  found.  A  good  riding  horse  can  generally  be 
purchased  for  the  price  of  a  good  harness  and  carriage.  The 
cost  of  keeping  is  scarcely  greater  if  tbe  utility  and  improve- 
ment in  value  of  a  well  cared- for  horse  is  taken  into  account. 
We  should  like  to  see  horseback  ndmg  for  both  men  and 
women  become  fashionable.  We  would  far  rather  see  a 
young  farmer  w^  mounted  on  a  good,  strong  aaddle  horse, 
than  see  him  riding  m  a  sulky  behind  his  fancy  trotter  simn^^ 
la  ting  the  air  and  appearance  of  a  jockey. 


2IO 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


The  Modern  Colossus. 

The  sentiments  of  cordiality  between  the  people  of  France 
and  those  of  the  United  States,  which  grew  out  of  our  element 
of  Huguenot  settlers,  and  received  solid  recognition  by  effi- 
cient aid  to  us,  deciding  our  revolutionary  struggle,  have 
lately  been  most  poetically  expressed  in  a  gift  from  French- 
men to  Americans,  unique  in  its  character  and  unexampled 
in  its  embodiment  of  the  sentiment  of  a  whole  people.  The 
people  of  France  have  in  preparation  for  the  people  of  the 
United  States,  a  magnificent  colossal  statue  of  Liberty,  to  be 
placed  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  of  the  metropolis  of  the 
country.  New  York.  Its  expense  is  borne  entirely  by  private 
Bubecription,  mainly  individual  contributions,  without  any 
aid  sought  or  accepted  from  the  government.  The  gift  and  its 
acceptance  will  constitute  a  significant  act  of  fraternization, 
as  sublime  in  its  grandeur  as  the  mass  meetings  in  New  York 
at  the  time  of  the  revolution  of  1848,  when  Americans  and 
Frenchmen  united  in  the  patriotic  songs  of  the  two  countries. 

Never  since  the  erection  of  the  Rhodian  Colossus  has  such  a 
work  been  attempted — at  least  nothing  made  of  similar  ma- 
terial. That  was  of  cast  bronze,  and  this  is  to  be  of  beaten 
copper.  The  statue  will  represent  a  female  draped  figure 
holding  aloft  a  torch.  The  figure,  from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to 
the  crown  of  the  head,  will  measure  112  feet,  and  the  ex- 
tended right  arm  and  torch  will  make  the  total  height  138 
feet.  Then  the  pedestal  is  to  be  72  feet  high,  making  the 
height  above  the  ground  210  feet.  But  the  apparent  height 
will  be  considerably  more,  as  the  site  selected  on  Bedloe's 
Island  is  considerably  above  the  surrounding  sea  level. 

To  make  this  beautiful  gift  successful,  the  people  of  this 
country  must  contribute  to  the  cost  of  a  pedestal  and  its  erec- 
tion. Undoubtedly  most  of  our  people  visiting  the  Centennial 
Exhibition  will  contribute  something,  as  it  is  intended  by 
Bartholdi,  the  artist  who  made  the  design,  to  have  a  cast  of 
the  uplifted  arm  on  exhibition  there.  It  is  hoped  and  ex- 
pected that  the  entire  work  of  completing  the  statue  and 
placing  it  in  position  will  be  done  in  time  to  brave  the  storms 
of  our  wintry  Atlantic  in  early  autumn. 

A  Drawing -Room  Incident 

A  young  nobleman  whose  family  had  not  been  at  court 
since  the  accession  of  Her  Majesty,  a  fine,  tall  fellow 
of  manly  bearing,  was  presented  the  last.  As  his  name, 
Lord  George  Alfred  Connaught,  was  being  announced, 
he  passed  Prince  Albert  and  the  young  princess  in  an; 
apparently  haughty  manner,  without  removing  his  cha-' 
peau.  They  seemed  enraged,  but  as  it  might  be  a  mis- 
take arising  from  embarassment  in  a  young  nobleman 
first  approaching  his  sovereign,  no  notice  was  taken  of 
the  apparent  rudenesc.  When  he  reached  the  Queen, 
however,  he  uncovered  his  head,  knelt  gracefully  before 
her,  kissed  the  profEered  hand,  arose,  thrust  his  chapeau 
in  a  positive  manner  upon  his  head,  and  turned  to  ad- 
dress Prince  Albert.  The  latter  drew  back,  and  flushed 
scarlet.  It  looked  like  an  intended  insult  to  the  Prince 
Consort  and  his  wife  in  the  presence  of  his  sovereign. 
A  murmur  of  indignation  ran  through  the  throne-room. 

The  old  Duke  of  Wellington,  bending  under  the  weight 
of  seventy-eight  years,  and  covered  with  decorations, 
stepped  forward  to  interfere.  The  Lord  Chamberlain, 
however,  was  before  him,  and  when  just  on  the  point  of 
arresting  the  offender,  the  Queen  interposed,  saying, 
"Right,  right  1  Lord  Connaught  is  right!"  and  then, 
turning,  explained  the  transaction  to  the  Prince,  the 
young  nobleman  meanwhile  looking  on. 

It  was  some  time  before  this  strange  conduct  could  be 
understood  by  those  present.  Lord  Connaught,  the  only 
person  present  whose  head  was  covered,  moving  with 
great  self-possession  among  bishops  and  chancellors, 
leaders  of  the  Commons  and  dons  of  the  Universities, 
the  observed  of  all  observers. 

It  seemed  that  for  special  services  rendered  to  the 
King  by  a  Lord  Connaught  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  a 
right  had  been  given  by  a  patent  in  perpetuity  to  the 
senior  of  the  house  in  each  succeeding  generation  to 
remain  with  covered  head  in  the  presence  of  the  ruling 
sovereign.  This  right  had  been  in  abeyance  during  the 
minority  of  the  present  Lord  Connaught,  and  had  been 
forgotten  by  all  but  the  Queen.  He  had  uncovered  his 
bead  to  her  as  a  woman,  but,  jealous  of  the  inherited 
privilege,  had  resumed  his  chapeau  upon  rising,  and  con- 
tinued to  wear  it  afterward. 


Migration  of  the  Buffalo. 

There  is  a  feature  in  the  migratory  character  of  the 
buffalo  not  generally  known,  except  to  hunters,  and 
that  is,  that  the  vast  body  of  the  herd  is  never  round 
in  the  same  district  of  country  two  seasons  in  suc- 
cession. The  buffalo  of  North  America  forms  an  im- 
mense army,  marching  in  one  continuous  circuit,  but 
perhaps  three-fourths  of  the  entire  number  of  which 
are  found  within  a  range  of  from  two  to  three  hundred 
miles.  Thus,  where  buffaloes  are  abundant  one  year, 
they  are  fewer  the  next,  unt«l  the  great  body,  having 
completed  its  circuit,  again  makes  its  appearance. 
Thi  scircuit  is  completed  in  about  four  years.  Its  western 
limit  is  the  eastern  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
'  its  eastern  is  bounded  by  a  marginal  outline  of  civiliza- 
tion, extending  from  the  British  settlements  on  the 
north  to  northern  Texas  on  the  south.  The  range  of 
latitude  traversed  has  for  many  years  been  about  twenty- 
three  degrees,  extending  from  the  Cross  Timbers  of 
Texas  to  the  tributaries  of  Lake  Winnepeg  on  the  north. 
The  band  travels  southward  on  the  eastern  line,  and 
northward  on  the  western,  never  crossing  the  Rocky 
Mountains.    

"Why  Bees  work  m  the  Dark. 

Every  one  knows  what  fresh  honey  is  like— a  clear, 
yellow  syrup,  without  any  trace  of  solid  sugar  in  it. 
After  straining,it  gradually  assumes  a  crystal  appearance; 
it  candies,  as  the  saying  is,  and  ultimately  becomes  a 
solid  mass  of  sugar.  It  has  been  suspected  that  this 
change  is  due  to  photographic  action — the  same  agent 
which  alters  the  molecular  arrangement  of  the  iodine  of 
silver  on  the  excited  collodion  plate  and  determines  the 
formation  of  camphor  and  iodine  crystals  in  a  bottle, 
causes  honey  to  assume  a  crystalline  form.  M.  Scheiber 
enclosed  strained  honey  in  well-corked  flasks,  some  of 
which  he  kept  in  perfect  darkness,  while  the  others  were 
exposed  to  the  light.  The  result  has  been  that  the 
portion  exposed  to  the  light  soon  crystallizes,  while  that 
kept  in  the  dark  remains  unchanged.  Hence  we  see 
why  the  bees  are  so  careful  to  work  in  the  dark,  and 
why  they  are  so  careful  to  obscure  the  glass  windows 
which  are  sometimes  placed  in  their  hives.  The  ex- 
istence of  the  young  depends  on  the  liquidity  of  the 
saccharine  food  presented  to  them,  and  if  light  were 
allowed  access  to  this,  in  all  probability  it  would  prove 
fatal  to  the  inmates  of  the  hive. 


A  Duel  Fought  in  the  Air. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  duel  ever  fought  took  place  in 
1808.  It  was  peculiarly  French  in  its  tone,  and  could  hardly 
have  occurred  under  any  other  than  a  French  state  of  society. 
M.  le  Grandpre  and  M.  le  Pique  had  a  quarrel,  arising  out  of 
jealousy  concerning  a  lady.  They  agreed  to  fight  a  duel  to 
settle  their  respective  claims ;  and,  in  order  that  the  heat  of 
angry  passion  should  not  interfere  with  the  polished  elegance 
of  the  proceeding,  they  postponed  the  duel  for  a  month,  the 
lady  agreeing  to  bestow  her  hand  on  the  survivor  of  the  two, 
if  the  other  was  killed ;  at  all  events,  this  was  inferred  by  the 
two  men,  if  not  actually  expressed.  The  duellists  were  to 
fight  in  the  air.  Two  balloons  were  constructed  alike.  On 
the  day  denoted,  Le  Grandpre  and  his  second  entered  the  car 
of  one  balloon,  Le  Pique  and  his  second  that  of  the  other; 
it  was  in  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  amid  an  immense  con 
course  of  spectators.  The  gentlemen  were  to  fire,  not  at  each 
other,  but  at  each  other's  balloon,  in  order  to  bring  it  down 
by  the  escape  of  gas ;  and,  as  pistols  might  hardly  have  served 
this  purpose,  each  aeronaut  took  a  blunderbuss  in  his  car.  At 
the  given  signal  the  ropes  that  retained  the  cars  were  cut, 
and  the  balloons  ascended.  The  wind  was  moderate,  and 
kept  the  balloons  at  about  eighty  yards  apart.  When  half  a 
mile  above  the  surface  of  the  earth,  a  preconcerted  signal  for 
firing  was  given.  M.  le  Pique  fired,  but  missed.  M.  le  Grand- 
pre fired,  and  sent  a  ball  through  Le  Pique's  balloon.  The 
balloon  collapsed,  the  car  descended  vnth  frightful  rapidity, 
and  Le  Rque  and  his  second  were  dashed  to  pieces.  Le 
Grandpre  continued  his  ascent  triumphantly,  and  terminated 
bis  aerial  voyage  successfully. 

As  no  roads  are  so  rough  as  those  that  have  been  mended, 
so  no  sinners  are  so  intolerant  as  those  that  have  just  turned 
saints.  Colton* 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD, 


211 


THE  NESTING-  OF  PIGEONS, 

OB  ; 

Flflcts  of  tie  Wild  Birds  240  Miles  Long! 


"  There's  a  flying  and  fluttering'  over  there— 
A  storm  of  wings  in  the  forest  wide ; 
The  rising  pigeons  deluge  the  air,  • 
Enveloping  the  trees  on  every  side, 
To  build  their  nests." 
During  October  and  the  first  days  of  November,  small 
flocks  of  pigeons  are  seen  swiftly  passing  in  various 
directions.   These  are  prospecting  flocks,  which  visit 
every  portion  of  the  continent  south  of  the  frozen  region. 


top,  uniil  it  breaks  down,  or  becomes  a  solid  mass  of 
birds. 

These  pigeor  roosts,  as  they  are  called,  on  an  aver- 
age will  occupy  a  distance  ten  to  twelve  miles  in  di- 
ameter. I  visited  one  in  the  night  time  that  was  in 
full  blast.  I  traversed  the  dangerous  places  the 
greater  part  of  the  niglit,  avoiding  the  vicinity  of  the 
large  loaded  trees  ;  for  the  snapping  and  crashing  of  the 
branches  soon  taught  me  the  necessity  of  carefulness. 
— The  breaking  limbs  of  the  trees,  the  screech- 
ing and  proaking  voices,  and  the  flutter- 
ing of  wings  that  was  momentarily  occur 
ring  over  an  area  of  forty  or  fifty  square  miles,  kept  up  a 
continuous  uproar  that  was  wonderful  to  contemplate. 


WILD  PIGEONS  ROOSTING. 


and  return  and  report.  TBen,  and  not  until  then,  do ! 
they  [know  in  what  portion  of  the  temperate  zone 
they  will  take  up  Winter  quarters.  The  greatest 
quantity  and  the  widest  district  of  their  natural  food 
reported,  decides  the  matter.  (The  principal  food  of 
the  wild  pigeon  consists  of  the  acorns  of  various  oalis, 
2  oUudloba,  2  catesby,  2  phallos,  2  aquatica,  2  virens, 
the  nuts  of  all  the  Fagus  family,  cane  seeds  and  the 
nut-like  seeds  of  various  other  trees  and  vines.) 

^  A  section  of  country  four  or  five  hundred  miles  in 
diameter  is  selected,  and  about  the  center  of  it  the 
sleeping  ground  is  located.  For  this  they  prefer  an 
elevated  country  with  large  timber.  Here  they  all 
come  to  sleep  every  [night,  and  it  is  curious  to  see 
how  they  can  pile  up  on  the  branches  of  a  thick  tree 


The  ground  lay  strewed  with  dead  and  crippled  pigeons; 
hogs,  foxes,  racoons,  and  opossums  all  became  so  fat 
they  could  barely  get  out  of  the  way. 

The  birds  continued  to  occupy  that  roost  every  night 
for  about  six  weeks,  or  until  their  peculiar  food  of  that 
section  had  been  consumed.  (It  is  my  opinion  that  the 
entire  hosts  of  that  species  of  the  genus  coluniba,  roosted 
there.)  And  when  there  was  no  more  acorns  within 
reach,  they  departed  to  some  other  region  where  they 
could  find  something  to  eat.  They  were  all  gone  in  a 
single  day.  The  value  of  the  soil  in  a  pigeon  roost  is 
increased  a  hundred  per  cent. 

The  breeding  places  differ  from  the  roosting  places  in 
their  greater  extent.  In  the  western  countries,  as  the 
states  of  Ohio,  Kentucky,  and  Indiana,  these  are  gener- 
ally in  back-w^oods,  and  often  extend  in  nearly  a  straight 
line  across  the  country  for  a  great  way.    When  these 


212 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


birds  have  frequented  one  of  these  places  for  some  time, 
the  appearance  it  exhibits  is  surprising.  The  ground  is 
covered  to  the  depth  of  several  inches  with  their  dung ; 
vill  the  tender  grass  and  underwood  are  destroyed ;  the 
surface  is  strewed  with  large  limbs  of  trees,  broken  down 
by  the  weight  of  the  birds  collecting  one  above  another ; 
and  the  trees  themselves  for  thousands  of  acres  killed  as 
completely  as  if  girdled  with  an  axe, 

"  The  vast  expanse  is  dead  and  bare." 

Not  far  from  Shelbyville,  in  the  state  cf  Kentucky, 
eome  years  ago,  there  was  one  of  these  breedSing  places, 
which  stretched  through  the  woods  in  nearly  a  north  and 
south  direction,  was  several  miles  in  breadth,  and  was 
said  to  be  upwards  of  forty  miles  in  extent.  Hawks  and 
buzzards  were  sailing  about  in  great  numbers,  and  seiz- 
ing the  young  squabs  from  the  nests  at  pleasure,  while 
from  twenty  feet  upwards  to  the  top  of  the  trees,  the 
Tiew  through  the  woods  presented  a  perpetual  tumult  of 
crowding  and  fljring  multitudes  of  pigeons,  their  wings 
roaring  like  thunder.  Numerous  parties  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, from  all  parts  of  the  ajacent  country,  came  with 
wagons,  axes,  beds  and  cooking  utensils ;  many  of  them 
accompanied  by  the  greater  part  of  their  families,  and 
encamped  for  several  days  at  this  immense  nursery. 
Several  of  them  stated  that  the  noise  was  so  great  as  to 
terrify  their  horses,  and  that  it  was  difficult  for  any  per- 
son to  hear  another  speak  without  bawling.  On  some 
♦ingle  trees  upwards  of  one  hundred  nests  were  found, 
tt  was  dangerous  to  walk  under  these  flying  and  flutter- 
iig  millions,  from  the  frequent  fall  of  large  branches, 
broken  down  by  the  weight  of  the  multitudes  above,  and 
which  in  their  descent  often  destroyed  numbers  of  the 
birds  themselves ;  while  the  clothes  of  those  engaged  in 
traversing  the  woods  were  completely  covered  with  the 
excrements  of  the  pigeons. 

These  circumstances  were  related  to  Wilson  by  many 
of  the  most  respectable  portion  of  the  community  in  that 
quarter,  and  were  confirmed  in  part  by  what  he  himself 
witnessed.  "I  passed,"  he  says,  "for  several  miles 
through  this  same  breeding  place,  where  every  tree  was 
spotted  with  many  nests,  the  remains  of  those  described,* 
but  the  pigeons  had  abandoned  this  place  for  another 
sixty  or  eighty  miles  distant,  where  they  were  said  to  b 
equally  numerous.  From  the  great  numbers  that  wer 
e.onstantly  passing  over  our  heads  to  and  fro  from  tha 
quarter,  I  had  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  this  statement. 

The  food  had  been  chiefly  consumed  in  Kentucky;  and 
the  pigeons  every  morning,  a  little  before  sunrise,  set 
fcut  for  the  Indiana  territory,  the  nearest  part  of  which 
was  sixty  miles  distant,  returning  before  noon.  I  had 
left  the  public  road  to  visit  the  remains  of  the  breeding 
place  at  Shelbyville,  and  was  traversing  the  woods  with 
my  gun  on  my  way  to  Frankfort  when,  about  ten  o'clock, 
the  pigeons  which  I  had  observed  flying  the  ^eater  part 
of  the  morning  northerly,  began  to  return  in  such  im- 
mense numbers  as  I  never  before  had  witnessed.  I  was 
astonished  at  their  appearance ;  they  were  flying  with 
great  steadiness  and  rapidity,  and  at  a  height  above  gun- 
-shot,  in  several  strata  deep,  and  so  close  together 
ihat,  could  shot  have  reached  them,  one  discharge 
could  not  have  failed  of  bringing  down  several  indi- 
•^iduals.  From  right  to  left,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  the  breadth  of  this  vast  procession  extended, 
seeming  everywhere  equally  crowded.  I  took  out 
my  watch  to  note  the  time,  and  sat  down  to  observe 
them.  It  was  then  half -past  one  ;  I  sat  for  more 
than  an  hour,  but,  instead  of  diminution  of  this  pro- 
digious procession,  it  seemed  rather  to  increase  both 
in  numbers  and  rapidity  ;  and,  anxious  to  reach 
Frankfort  before  night,  I  rose  and  went  on.  About 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  crossed  the  Kentucky 
river,  at  the  town  of  Frankfort,  at  which  time  the 
living  torrent  above  my  head  seemed  as  numerous 
and  extensive  as  ever.  Long  after  this  I  observed 
them  in  large  bodies  that  continued  to  pass  for  six 
or  eight  minutes,  and  these  again  were  followed  by 
other  detached  bodies,  all  moving  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, till  after  six  in  the  evening,  The  great  breadth 
f  of  front  which  this  mighty  multitude  preserved 

would  seem  to  indicate  a  corresponding  breadth  of 
their  breeding  place." 

Wilson    then    enters    into    a»  rough  calcu- 


lation of  the  numbers  of^  this  mass,  and 
he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  its  whole 
length  was  240  miles,  and  that  the  numbers  composing 
it  amounted  to  3,230,272,000  pigeons,  observing  that  this 
is  probably  far  below  the  actual  amount.  He  adds  that, 
allowing  each  pigeon  to  consume  half  a  pint  of  food 
daily,  the  whole  quantity  would  equal  17,422,000  bush- 
els daily.   Audubon  confirms  Wilson  in  every  point. 

I  enjoyed  the  opportunity  in  the  month  of  April,  1832, 
of  making  observations  on  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  wild  pigeons,  through  the  entire  period  of  nest  mak- 
iDg,  setting,  hatching,  and  feeding,  until  they  abandoned 
and  left  their  young  ones  screaming  for  food.  It  occur- 
red on  a  heavy  timbered  section  of  the  Tombigbee  bo*^ 
tom,  fifteen  miles  in  length  and  one  and  a  half  to  two 
miles  wide,  latitude  33'='  16'  north.  The  timber  was 
very  tall,  consisting  of  oak,  hickory,  beech,  sweet  gum, 
and  cypress — the  undergrowth,  cane,  vines,  and  bushes. 
Here  the  "  putchee  nashoba,"  lost  dove,  as  the  Chock- 
taws  call  the  wild  pigeon,  nested. 

I  made  excursions  of  six  or  seven  miles  through  the 
bottom  twice,  during  the  time  they  were  constructing 
their  nests — they  were  so  much  engaged,  they  paid  but 
little  attention  to  me — and  three  other  excursions  after 
they  had  laid  their  eggs.  They  made  their  nests  of  small  dry 
twigs,  bits  of  sticks,  dry  leaves,  and  all  kinds  of  trash  found  on 
the  ground,  and  by  the  time  they  had  completed  their  work, 
the  entire  bottom  looked  black  and  clear  of  litter  as  if  it  had 
been  swept  with  a  broom.  Not  a  leaf  nor  a  stick  was  left,  and 
to  judge  from  the  appearance  of  the  scanty  nests,  the  birds 
did  not  have  half  enough. 

One  day  after  incubation  had  commenced,  three  other  men 
and  myself  went  to  the  bottom  to  make  observations.  The  dis- 
coveries we  made  filled  every  mind  with  surprise  and  amaze- 
ment at  the  work  that  had  been  done  by  these  little  birds  during 
the  past  eight  days.  Through  all  the  before-mentioned  thirty 
square  miles  of  that  densely  timbered  bottom,  from  as  high  as 
one's  head  on  horseback  on  the  saplings  to  the  topmost  limbs 
of  the  tallest  trees,  not  a  vacant  spot  where  a  nest  could  be 
crowded  in,  was  to  be  found  anywhere,  We  all  searched  with 
that  object  in  view, 

"  But  in  every  place  there  was  built  a  nest. 
Where  a  pigeon's  nest  could  be." 

The  foliage  of  the  trees  had  not  yet  unfolded,  but  the 

Sacked  and  muflSied  up  appearance  of  their  tops  made  the  swamp 
ark  as  midsummer.  On  the  large  horizontal  prongs  of  the  big 
trees  were  long  rows  of  nests,  closely  jammed  side  by  side,  ana 
in  all  the  forks,  on  projecting  knots,  and  many  more  unlikely 

{)laces,  nests  were  found.  Many  on  the  saplings  were  frequent- 
y  found  so  low  that  sitting  on  horseback  one  could  peep  into 
them;  and  finding  but  one  egg  in  each,  we  surDoised  that  they 
were  not  done  laying.  We  therefore  examined  all  we  could 
reach  in  passing  through  seven  or  eight  miles  of  the  bottom. 
'Twas  all  the  same;  one  egg  only.  Every  nest  was  occupied, 
and  the  occupant,  from  her  reluctance  to  leave  it,  seemed  to  be 
setting.  However,  we  still  clung  to  the  idea  that  they  would 
lay  another  egg.  Three  days  after  we  went  again,  but  there 
were  no  more  eggs;  one  apiece  was  all  that  was  deposited  at 
that  nesting  place. 

It  is  a  subject  worthy  of  notice  that  no  nest  was  found  on  any 
tree  that  stood  on  ground  higher  than  the  level  of  the  bottom, 
nor  even  on  those  trees  whose  branches  interlocked  with  the 
limbs  of  the  low-land  timber,  but  having  their  roots  on  higher 
ground  at  the  foot  of  the  up-land  slope. 

We  usually  arrived  at  the  nesting  ground  about  8  o'clock  a. 
M.,  when  the  whole  region  would  be  as  silent  as  death.  The 
setting  pigeons  all  on  their  nests,  but  not  a  sound  was  uttered 
anywhere;  no  other  bird  wonld  deign  to  enter  the  filthy  district, 
"  The  boughs  with  the  wildwood  flocks  are  filled. 
The  sweet  notes  of  other  birds  are  stilled." 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  the  faithful  cocks  have  returned, 
bringing  breakfast  for  their  patient  mates,  the  roar  of  the  rush- 
ing diouds  dashing  and  whirling  into  the  thick  timber,  with  the 
cooing  and  screaming  of  the  thankful  hens,  that  accompanied 
the  deafening  storm  of  wings,  is  beyond  the  power  of  this 
pencil  to  portray. 

Fortunately  for  the  spectator,  this  stunning  uproar  was  of 
short  duration.  Vast  sections  of  the  birds  would  seem  to  de- 
part as  if  by  signal,  and  the  sudden  simultaneous  stroke  of  their 
million  wings,  would  produce  heavy  atmospheric  concussions. 

At  first,  while  the  food  is  near,  the  cocks  make  four  trips  a 
day,  but  by  the  time  the  young  ones  come,  food  has  become  so 
distant  that  two  trips  a  day  are  as  much  as  they  can  make,  and 
now  both  males  and  females  go  out  in  search  of  food  to  supply 
the  daily  increasing  demands,  and  leaving  the  young  ones 
alone,  their  incessant  cries  and  clamor  for  food  are  truly  an. 
noying.  ,  .  , 

A  few  days  later,  and  they  made  one  trip  per  day,  going  out 
at  early  mom,  and  returning  at  night.  At  this  stage  of  their 
nesting  period,  being  at  Columbus,  Miss.,  fifty  miles  south  of 
their  nursery,  and  observing,  about  sundown,  many  flocks  of 
pigeons  passing  over,  returning  toward  their  nests,  I  got  an  old 
shot  gun,  and  popped  one  of  them  down,  wbQji,  greatly  to  my 


THE  GROUPING  IVORLD. 


213 


Burprise,  I  found  his  crop  full  of  live  oi^iiquercus  vlrens) 
acorns.  The  live  oaks  nearest  to  that  point,  in  that  direction, 
are  in  Florida,  five  hundred  miles  distant,  and  more  westerly, 
along  the  Gulf  coast  toward  Mobile.  (Pigeons  have  been  shot 
near  New  York,  having  their  crops  still  full  of  rice;  which  they 
could  not  have  found  nearer  than  the  fields  of  Georgia  and 
Carolina.  This  fact  proves  that  they  must  have  traveled  at  least 
six  hundred  miles,  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute.)  1  returned 
home  the  next  day,  and  seeing  no  pigeons  all  day,  began  to  con- 
jecture that  now  they  could  fly,  they  had  removed  their  young 
ones  to  where  more  convenient  supplies  could  be  obtained. 
When  I  arrived  at  home  all  were  saying,  "  The  pigeons  are 
gone."   They  had  all  disappeared  in  a  single  day. 

I  concluded  that  1  would  go  out  early  the  next  morning  and 
try  to  find  some  signs  left,  that  I  could  read,  and  ascertain  if  1 
could  the  cause  of  their  departure.  When  I  came  within  a  mile 
of  the  place  next  morning,  the  very  singular,  frying,  hissing 
and  confused  sound  that  saluted  my  ears  was  utterly  inexplica- 
ble. The  nearer  I  came  to  it  the  less  I  could  conceive  what 
produced  it,  and  the  louder  it  became,  until  it  increased  to  a 
perfectly  indescribable  clamor.  All  the  frog  ponds  in  the 
world  in  full  chorus  could  not  compare  with  it.  But  entering 
the  old  nursery  the  cause  of  the  great  clamor  was  discovered. 
Standing  erect  in  every  nest  were  the  deserted  young  pigeons, 
screaming  and  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices  for  something 
to  eat.  My  near  approach  did  not  seem  to  alarm  them.  Their 
cries  and  lamentation  distressed  me  so  I  had  to  leave. 

I  could  not  get  rid  of  the  impression  the  scene  had  made  on 
me,  and  during  the  night  I  conceived  a  plan  and  prepared  a 
large  basket  to  take  the  young  birds  home  in,  besides  some 
peas  and  cold  bread  with  which  to  allure  and  catch  enough  to 
fill  my  basket.  I  intended  to  take  them  home  and  treat  them 
so  kindly  that  they  would  stay  with  me,  and  I  would  have  a 
flock  of  wild  pigeons  of  my  own.  When  I  came  near  with  my 
basket  I  could  hear  no  noise  of  any  kind,  and  on  entering  the 
old  nesting  place  I  found  every  nest  had  been  evacuated;  not  a 
bird  of  any  description  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  anywhere. 
There  were  no  indications  left  whereby  I  could  venture  a  con- 
jecture of  what  had  become  of  them.  Opposite  this  place,  in 
the  Chickasaw  Nation,  and  southwest  in  the  Chocktaw  country, 
lay  vast  prairie  plains,  which  at  that  time  of  the  year  (the  first 
or  May)  were  literally  covered  with  strawberries,  that  were  just 
beginning  to  ripen.  Two  days  after  the  young  birds  had  aban- 
doned their  nests,  I  heard  they  were  on  the  prairies,  and  were 
eating  all  the  strawberries,  and  that  the  Indian  boys  were  kill- 
ing them  with  stickb  and  packing  home  as  many  as  they  could 
carry,  every  day.  They  say,  "You  eat  up  our  strawberries,  we 
will  eat  you,  Mr.  Pigeon."  They  remained  scattered  over  the 
extended  prairie,  sleeping  two  or  three  in  a  bunch  on  the 
ground  until  the  strawberry  season  was  over. 

In  riding  over  the  prairie  with  my  hunting  lamp  on  my  head, 
during  this  period,  they  were  so  often  fluttering  up  from  be- 
neath my  horse's  feet  that  they  defeated  all  attempts  to  get  a 
venison  on  the  prairie. 

They  fattened  upon  the  strawberries,  and  were  very  nice  for 
the  table.  There  seemed  to  be  such  countless  numbers  of  them 
spread  over  thousands  of  square  miles  of  the  country,  that  I 
thought  it  might  be  that  the  old  birds  had  got  with  them  again, 
and  towards  the  close  of  the  strawberry  season,  when  they  were 
all  fat,  I  went  over  the  river  into  the  prairie  and  shot  a  dozen 
brace  of  them.  They  were  all  squabs,  and  the  Indians  who 
were  camped  around  on  the  borders  of  the  timber  land,  and 
were  living  on  the  pigeons  and  berries,  told  me  that  they  were 
all  "  putchusee,"  young  ones.  On  being  asked  what  had  be- 
come of  the  old  ones,  they  replied,  the  old  ones  had  picked  up 
and  fed  to  their  hungry  young  all  the  acorns  and  beechnuts  in 
the  world;  had  starved  themselves  until  they  could  hardly  fly; 
the  cries  of  the  young  were  as  loud  as  ever;  that  there  was 
nothing  more  in  reach  to  give  them,  and  being  about  to  perish 
themselves,  they  concluded  to  leave  the  starving  young  to  their 
fate,  and  had  gone  away  north,  where  food  was  always  plenty 
after  the  ice  had  melted;  that  the  young  ones  had  remained, 
starving  on  their  nests  two  days,  when  they  made  the  discovery 
that  they  could  fly  .,00,  and  rising  above  the  tall  trees  could  see 
the  plains,  where  they  immediately  pitched,  and  finding  the 
strawberries,  had  remained  and  got  fat,  making  plenty  meat  for 
a  hituck  hoppe  hooma — the  red  man.  "  But,"  said  the  Indian, 
"  this  fat  feast  is  nearly  at  an  end;  two  or  three  days  hence  and 
all  these  fat  birds  will  be  gone.  A  few  little  gangs  of  the  old 
ones  will  come  and  tell  them  '  the  food  here  being  exhausted, 
you  must  go  with  us  to  a  more  northern  region,  where  the  ber- 
ries are  just  now  beginning  to  be  plenty.'  Then  making  a  few 
rapid  and  very  wild  gyrations  over  the  far-reaching  prairies,  the 
young  ones,  as  with  the  same  impulse,  will  spring  up,  flapping 
their  strong  whirring  wings,  and  will  disappear  like  a  storm 
cloud." 

This  is  what  the  Indian  told  me;  and  so  it  turned  out.  When 
I  went  four  days  later  to  get  another  mess  of  the  nice  birds 
before  they  left,  I  found  that  birds,  Indians,  and  strawberries 
bad  aM  disappeared.   The  scene  was  lonesome. 

"  The  wildwood  pigeon,  rock'd  on  high. 
Has  coo'd  his  last  soft  note  of  love." 


Benedict  Arnold's  Boyhood. 

An  old  proverb  says,   "The  child  is  father  of  the 
lan  ;"  and  experience  proves  that  the  habits  of  early 
years  go  with  one  through  life.    Benedict  Arnold  was 
the  only  General  in  the  American  Revolution  who  dis- 


graced his  country.  He  had  superior  military  talents 
indomitable  energy,  and  a  courage  equal  to  any  emerg«- 
ency.  The  capture  of  Burgoyne's  army  was  due  more 
to  Arnold  than  to  Gates  ;  and  in  the  fatal  expedition 
against  Quebec,  he  showed  rare  powers  of  leadership. 
Had  his  character  been  equal  to  his  talents,  he  would 
have  won  a  place  beside  Washington  and  Green,  inferior 
only  to  them  in  character. 

But  he  began  life  badly,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  ended  it  in  disgrace.  When  a  boy,  he  was  detested 
for  selfishness  and  cruelty.  He  took  delight  in  torturing 
insects  and  birds,  that  he  might  watch  their  sufferings. 
He  scattered  pieces  of  glass  and  sharp  tacks  on  the  floor 
of  the  shop  he  tended,  that  the  barefooted  boys  who 
visited  it  might  have  sore  and  bleeding  feet.  The  selfish 
cruelty  of  boyhood  grew  stronger  in  manhood.  It  went 
with  him  into  the  army.  He  was  hated  by  the  soldiers, 
and  distrusted  by  the  officers,  in  spite  of  his  bravery, 
and  at  last  became  a  traitor  to  his  country.  

English,  versus  American  G-ood 
Breeding. 

There  is  wide  fundamental  distinction  between  En^^- 
lish  good-breeding  and  American  good  manners,  whicll 
is  half  indicated  in  the  difference  between  the  wordij 
themselves.  English  breeding  consists  in  a  training 
which  results  in  an  acquired  faculty  of  instinctively 
doing  or  avoiding  particular  things.  A  well-bred  Enu- 
lishman  is  taught  from  his  cradle  how  to  sit,  walk, 
speak,  eat,  drink,  enter  a  room,  leave  it;  he  is  also  taugh*, 
notwithstanding  his  behavior  in  this  country,  how  to 
dress.  He  is  taught,  also,  to  whom  to  be  respectful, 
whom  to  treat  as  an  equal,  how  to  bear  himself  toward 
inferiors.  The  result  of  this  training  is  that  one  detects 
in  a  well-bred  Englishman  the  result  of  a  sort  of  military 
discipline,  a  stiff  regularity  which  suggests  the  notion  of 
dress  parades  and  the  manual  of  early  life.  There  is  in- 
deed something  in  the  relation  between  English  fathers 
and  children  which  suggests  the  drill-sergeant  and  raw 
recruits.  In  American  families,  however,  in  which  thero 
is  any  training  at  all,  the  process  is  quitt  different.  The 
attempt  is  made,  and  certainly  no  one  wUl  deny  that  in*, 
some  cases  it  is  made  with  success,  to  give  the  child  not 
a  series  of  rigid  rules  for  its  guidance  in  life,  but  a  founda- 
tion in  character  of  urbanity  and  amiability  which  will  en- 
able him  as  he  goes  through  life  to  make  rules  for  himseli 
He  is  taught  as  much  as  possible  that  though  rules  ol 
good  manners  are  always  in  existence  for  the  conven- 
ience of  mankind,  the  foundation  of  good  manners  does 
not  consist  in  rigid  adhesion  to  one  rule,  but  in  an  amiable 
endeavor  to  make  social  intercourse  agreeable  ;  that  ha 
is  the  best  mannered  man  who  is  most  suave,  most 
hospitable,  most  benevolent,  most  honorable,  most 
brave,  most  upright.  The  American  who  is  really  well 
brought  up,  is  taught  from  the  earliest  moment  that  the 
first  rule  of  good  manners  is  to  sacrifice  his  individuality 
to  the  general  social  good,  and  that  all  rules  of  detail  are 
subordinate  to  that.  He  is  taught  that  he  must  not  be 
silent  in  the  midst  of  people  who  are  talking ;  that  he 
must  not,  on  the  other  hand,  monopolize  the  conversa- 
tion. He  is  taught  that  he  must  keep  his  feelings  to 
himself,  and  not  try  to  force  his  opinions  down  others* 
throats  ;  he  must  not  be  dogmatic,  obstinate  or  selfish. 
He  must  not  even  be  too  original.  He  mu..fc  always  con- 
sult the  interest  of  the  whole,  and  allow  the  "  individ- 
ual" to  "  wither."  We  do  not  mean,  to  say  that  there 
are  many  families  in  America  where  this  code  of  man- 
ners is  taught.  Bnt  there  are  enough  (there  once  were 
more  than  there  are  now)  to  make  such  a  scheme  of 
social  behavior  an  American  ideal.  There  are  people 
who  continually  have  it  in  their  mind  when  they  describe 
that  mythical  character,  the  American  gentleman.  To 
put  the  matter  in  other  words,  the  English  ideal  of  man- 
ners is  a  practical  ideal,  and  consists  of  submission  to 
certain  rules  and  conventions  which  have  been  adopted 
in  England  for  the  convenience  of  Englishmen.  The 
American  ideal  of  manners  is  a  vague  ideal,  which  might 
in  Utopia  be  carried  into  practice,  which  regards  all  niles 
as  means  to  ends,  and  which  aims  at  substituting  for  the 
hard,  systematic  code  of  other  days,  a  code  of  brotherly 
love,  Christianity,  or  what  Mr.  Arnold  calls  "sweetness 
and  light."  Possibly  some  persons  may  see  in  this  dif- 
ference between  the  English  ideal  and  the  American 
ideal  of  manners,  the  fundamental  difference  between 
the  two  peoples  which  makes  it  so  difficult  for  them  to 
ttttderstand  each  other. 


214 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Curious  Chances. 

A  Versailles  wine-shop  keeper  was  at  work  in  his  cellar, 
when  suddenly  the  ground  gave  way,  and  he  fell  into  what 
was  at  first  thought  to  be  a  well ;  but  on  lights  being  brought, 
the  hole  was  found  to  be  the  entrance  to  another  wine-cellar, 
containing  some  of  the  best  vintages  of  France  and  Spain. 
The  archaeologists  of  Versailles  were  aroused;  and  their 
examination  proves  thafc  this  mysterious  subterranean  wine- 
cellar  formed  part  of  the  Pavilion  du  Rendezvous,  which  Louis 
XV.  annexed  to  the  Pare-aux-Cerfs,  about  which  so  many 
queer  things  are  related  by  the  court  chroniclers  of  the  period. 
The  wine  is  said  to  have  attracted  connoisseurs  from  all  parts. 
A  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tavistock  was  as  lucky  in 
another  way.  In  repairing  an  old  mahogany  secretaire, 
knocked  down  to  him  at  auction,  he  discovered  a  secret 
drawer  containing  forty  sovereigns,  a  gold  enameled  ring,  and 
a  lot  of  securities  for  money,  one  of  which  was  a  certificate  for 
five  hundred  pounds  in  three  per  cent,  consols.  An  old  scrap  of 
paper  dated  1700  led  to  the  belief  that  forty  guineas  had 
originally  been  placed  there,  but  had  been  taken  out  in  modern 
times  and  replaced  by  the  sovereigns. 

A  French  lady  not  long  since  frequently  missed  some  of  her 
valuables  in  a  most  unaccountable  manner.  One  day  her  ser- 
vant fell  down  stairs  and  was  severely  hurt.  On  acting  the 
good  Samaritan  and  pouring  oil  into  her  wounds,  the  mistress 
was  astonished  to  find  all  her  lost  jewels  in  the  pocket  of  her 
maid,  who,  it  seems,  had  all  the  time  been  the  culprit.  How 
much  oftener  accidents  contribute  to  the  loss  of  money 
scarcely  needs  comment;  but  the  manner  in  which  a  gentle- 
man lost  all  his  winnings  at  play  is  worth  repetition,  as  an 
instance  of  the  fickleness  of  fate.  He  had  won  nine  hundred 
pounds  at  the  "  green  table  "  at  Monaco,  and  was  only  waiting 
for  his  laundress  to  bring  his  dozen  shirts  home  before  he 
shonld  quit  the  place.  The  laundress,  however,  did  not  turn 
up  at  the  appointed  time,  and  to  while  away  the  hours,  he 
Vf ent  into  the  Casino.  Of  course  he  played— and  not  ouly  lost 
all  he  had  already  won,  but  twelve  hundred  pounds  besides, 
which  made  him  heartily  wish  he  had  left  the  shirts  behind, 
that  cost  him  one  hundred  pounds  apiece  for  the  washing. 

Among  those  who  have  been  most  remarkably  affected  by 
accidental  surprises  are  the  deaf  and  dumb,  and  tales  of  un- 
known anti<iuity  relate  how  speech  or  hearing  has  been  re- 
covered or  improved  in  this  way.  As  a  case  in  point :  About 
1750  a  merchant  of  Cleves  named  Jorissen,  who  had  become 
almost  totally  deaf,  sitting  one  day  near  a  harpsichord  while 
Bome  one  was  playing,  and  having  a  tobacco  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
the  bowl  of  which  rested  accidentally  against  the  body  of  the 
instrument,  was  agreeably  surprised  to  hear  all  the  notes  in 
the  most  distinct  manner.  This  accident  was  a  happy  one,  for 
Jorissen  soon  learned,  by  means  of  a  piece  of  hard  wood 
placed  against  his  teeth,  the  other  end  of  which  was  placed 
against  the  speakers  teeth,  not  only  to  keep  up  a  conversation, 
bat  to  understand  the  least  whisper.  Other  cures  have  been 
brought  about  less  by  skill  than  by  accidental  circumstances. 
There  is  the  story  of  a  Frenchman  who,  through  a  sword- wound 
received  in  a  duel,  suffered  from  internal  abscesses,  which 
forced  him  to  walk  in  a  stooping  posture.  Sometime  after, 
becoming  engaged  in  another  affair  of  honor,  this  time  with 
pistols,  the  bullet  of  his  adversary  chanced  to  pass  exactly 
through  the  abcesses  caused  by  the  former  wound,  which, 
making  them  discharge,  not  only  relieved  him  from  the  stoop, 
but  caused  him  to  walk  with  rather  a  stiff  carriage  ever 
afterward. 


Swimming. 

In  the  essential  part  of  swimming,  tliat  is,  the  art 
of  keeping  the  head  above  water,  there  is  no  skill 
required ;  confidence  in  the  sustaining  power  of  the 
water  is  the  only  secret;  and  if  the  novice  will  only 
dare  to  trust  the  water,  and  remember  three  simple 
rules,  he  cannot  possibly  sink:  1,  On  entering  the 
water  and  attempting  to  swim,  keep  the  hands  and 
feet  well  below  the  surface,  and  immerse  the  whole 
body  up  to  the  chin.  2.  Hollow  the  spine  and 
throw  the  back  of  the  head  on  to  the  shoulders.  The 


reason  of  this  is  in  order  that  the  solid  mass  of  the  brafn 
may  be  supported  by  the  air-filled  lungs,  and  the  eye& 
and  nostrils  kept  above  the  surface.  The  mouth  should 
be  firmly  closed,  and  respiration  conducted  through  the 
nostrils,  so  that  no  water  can  enter.  3.  Move  the  limbs 
quietly.  A  jerky,  fussy  swimmer  is  never  a  good  one; 
and  while  he  continues  these  habits  will  never  accom- 
plish any  long  distance  or  achieve  any  elegance  in  swim- 
ming. A  slow  stroke  is  the  very  essence  of  good  swim- 
ming, and  when  endurance,  not  speed,  is  requisite,  is  the 
most  vahiable.  There  is  nothing  like  the  slow  style  for 
learning  to  swim  ;  you  may  graft  upon  it  all  sorts  ol 
natatory  accomplishments ;  but  in  time  of  danger  the 
slow  stroke  is  your  sheet-anchor.  Two  novices  who  are 
wishing  to  learn  to  swim  may,  with  a  few  practical  direc- 
tions, be  very  useful  to  each  other.  Of  course,  the  sea 
is  the  easiest  medium  for  a  beginner,  on  account  of  its 
being  of  a  more  buoyant  nature  than  fresh  water  ;  but 
if  you  are  not  by  the  sea,  why,  you  must  go  into  a  shal- 
low river  or  lake  instead.  Walk  in  together  until  you 
are  breast-deep ;  then  let  one  spread  himself  upon  the 
water,  while  his  companion  supports  him  with  one  hand 
under  the  chest.  Lying  on  the  water  in  this  way  he  can 
practice  the  various  movements  easily,  and  when  he  is 
tired  he  can  exchange  duties  with  his  companion.  It  is 
astonishing  how  much  can  be  done  in  a  few  days,  and 
how  soon  the  learner  becomes  independent  of  the  sup- 
porting hand.  As  soon  as  the  learner  feels  confidence, 
and  that  he  has  gained  a  mastery  over  the  water,  his 
companion  should  withdraw  his  hand,  until  at  last  its 
support  is  not  needed.  When  the  pupD  can  swim  twenty 
yards  in  shallow  water,  let  him  try  his  mettle  in  water 
out  of  his  depth,  accompanied,  however,  by  some  good 
swimmer  ;  but  beginners  should  always  make  a  practice 
of  swimming  toward  the  shore,  if  possible,  so  that  every 
stroke  may  bring  them  into  shallower  water  as  they  get 
tired.  Practice  in  swimming,  as  in  every  other  art,  is 
the  great  thing  to  insure  perfection,  for  as  the  swimmer 
feels  his  own  safety  in  the  water,  and  the  almost  impos- 
sibility of  sinking  if  left  to  himself,  he  indulges  in  all 
sorts  of  gyrations  and  antics,  to  vary  the  monotony  of 
simple  progression.  There  are  innumerable  ornamental 
additions  capable  of  being  made  to  ordinary  swimming. 
There  is  walking  or  treading  the  water,  leaping  like  a 
goat,  lying  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  spinning  round 
like  a  top  ;  and  a  clever  performer  can  turn  somersaults 
in  the  water,  "carry  his  leg  in  one  hand,"  swim  with 
his  legs  tied,  and  achieve  numberless  other  remarkable 
diversions  in  the  element  over  which  he  has  attained 
piastery. 


Only  a  Beetle. 

A  distinguished  naturalist  was  once  shut  up  in  a  gloomy 
French  prison  for  some  political  reason.  While  there  his  active 
mind  prevented  him  from  sinking  in  despondency,  for  even  hia 
cheerless  cell  furnished  him  with  food  for  thought  and  study. 
The  very  insects,  which  to  another  would  have  been  merely 
objects  of  aversion,  were  to  him  as  fresh  leaves  from  the  ever 
interesting  book  of  nature. 

The  surgeon  who  visited  the  prison  found  the  naturalist 
one  day  intently  examining  a  beetle,  which  had  intruded  on 
his  solitude.  He  informed  the  physician  that  the  insect  was 
a  rare  one,  and  proceeded  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  naturalist 
tc  speak  of  its  peculiarities.  The  physician  begged  that  he 
might  have  it  for  two  young  friends  who  were  ardent  students 
of  the  science,  and  it  was  readily  granted  to  him. 

The  students  were  well  acquainted  with  the  fame  of  the 
celebrated  Latreille,  and  when  they  learned  his  situation  they 
forthwith  took  active  measures  to  secure  his  release.  So  suc- 
cessful were  they,  that  the  scholar  was  at  length  set  at  liberty, 
and  could  ever  after  feel  that  he  owed  his  life  to  an  insect.  A 
month  later,  and  all  his  fellow-prisoners  were  put  on  board  a 
ship  for  transportation.  The  vessel  foundered  in  the  Bay  of 
Biscay,  and  all  on  board  perished. 

How  small  the  means  God  uses  often  to  save  our  life,  or  to 
take  it  away.  And  if  we  will  but  look  back  along  the  line  of 
our  personal  history,  shall  we  not  usually  find  that  the  most 
trivial  events  have  frequently  decided  one  whole  life  course. 
Great  events  do  not  often  happen  to  us,  and  when  they  do  the 
result  is  not  what  we  expected.  But  the  chance  meeting  with 
an  individual,  the  perusal  of  some  book,  or  even  a  paragraph 
in  a  newspaper  which  deeply  impresses  us,  may  be  the  meana 
of  changing  our  whole  life  current 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


215 


Play  With  the  Children. 

"When  we  were  all  children  at  home,"  said  a  friend,  "noth- 
ing delighted  us  so  much  as  a  romp  with  my  father ;  the  hour 
of  his  home-coming  was  the  happiest  in  all  the  twenty-four. 
I  often  think  if  all  parents  would  play  with  their  children, 
home  discipline  might  entirely  lose  its  severe  aspect,  and  be- 
come a  law  of  love."  Children  are  not  made  good  by  the  rod 
of  power.  How  many  parents  are  willing  to  devote  an  hour 
or  so  to  play  with  the  children  ?  As  a  little  kitten  will  stop 
lapping  her  milk  to  play  with  the  string  you  draw  across  the 
floor,  so  will  the  child  leave  almost  everything  for  a  romp  with 
itsfather  or  mother.  In  these  romps,  and  during  these  mo- 
ments of  recreation,  the  great  lesson  of  love  is  learned  by  the 
child.  This  close  companionship  makes  the  bond  between 
parent  and  child  which  results  in  the  future  acceptance  of  ad- 
vice and  guidance.  Perhaps  you  are  naturally  a  dignified  per- 
son, and  unaccustomed  to  play.  So  when  your  infant  first 
came  to  you,  you  were  not  accustomed  to  its  care;  but  yet  did 
not  for  that  reason  allow  it  to  go  uncared  for.  If  you  are 
harassed  by  worldly  anxieties,  the  recreation  will  benefit  you 
as  much  as  it  benefits  the  child,  and  your  sleep  will  be  the 
TOunder  for  it.  The  experiment  is  worth  trying. 


The  Eye— Some  of  the  Common  Dangers 
it  is  Subject  to. 

The  sculptor  Crawford  was  accustomed  all  his  life  to 
read  lying  down.  To  this  very  largely  physicians  attri- 
bute the  Toss  of  his  eye.  Very  soon  a  cancer  formed  in 
the  other  which  caused  his  death. 

The  great  historian,  Prescott,  lost  his  eyesight  when  a 
student  by  a  bit  of  bread  thrown  in  sport  by  a  fellow- 
student  at  table.  Never  be  careless  in  such  little  mat- 
ters. A  pair  of  scissors  or  a  fork,  thrown  in  sport  or 
anger,  has  often  caused  the  loss  of  an  eye,  which  the 
wealth  of  the  world  cannot  replace. 

A  lady  who  was  very  desirous  of  finishing  a  set  of 
linen  for  her  brothers,  spent  almost  a  winter  in  fine 
stitching,  sitting  up  often  late  at  night  over  the  work, 
in  which  she  took  great  delight.  The  result  was,  the 
nerve  of  the  eye  was  so  injured  that  she  was  obliged 
wholly  to  give  up  sewing,  knitting  and  reading,  under 
the  penalty  of  becoming  perfectly  blind. 

A  young  lady  who  lived  but  ten  mUes  by  train  from 
school,  used  to  spend  the  time  in  stud  ng  a  certain  les- 
son while  she  was  riding  down  in  the  aoming.  The  re- 
sult was  a  severe  affection  of  the  eyes,  which  disabled 
her  from  study  for  a  long  time.  It  is  always  hurtful 
to  the  eyes  to  read  in  the  train,  though  we  may  not  see 
the  effects  so  plainly  when  it  happens  only  occasionally. 

A  steady  practice,  like  this  young  lady's,  may  produce 
even  worse  results  when  the  system  is  in  a  bad  state. 

Never  read  by  twUight,  nor  before  eating  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  little  you  gain  in  time  will  be  doubly  lost  by  a 
failing  of  the  eyesight  long  before  life's  sundown. 

A  young  clergyman,  who  is  a  remarkably  well-read 
man,  but  whose  eyes  are  a  perfect  deformity,  says  he 
ruined  them  by  reading  at  night,  long  and  intently,  while 
he  was  getting  his  education.  He  seems  to  have  no  con- 
trol of  the  lids,  which  twitch  and  move  in  a  most  gro- 
tesque manner.  Do  not  fancy  you  can  do  as  you  please 
with  your  eyes,  and  yet  have  them  serve  you  faithfully. 
Tilke  as  good  care  of  them  as  you  would  of  gold,  for 
gold  can  never  replace  lost  eyesight. 


Leaf  and  Flower  Impressions. 

Oil  a  piece  of  white  paper  on  one  side ;  hold  the  oiled 
side  over  and  in  the  smoke  of  a  lamp  or  pine-knot  till 
quite  black;  place  the  leaf  on  the  black  surface— smooth 
Bide  up,  as  the  veins  and  fibres  of  the  leaf  show  plainer 
on  the  under  part.  Now  press  on  all  parts  of  the  leaf 
with  the  fingers  ;  then  take  up  the  leaf  and  put  the  black 
oiled  sides  on  the  page  of  a  book  made  for  leaf  impres- 
cions — ^with  an  extra  piece  of  paper  on  the  top  to  pre- 
sent smutting  the  opposite  page.  Press  this  a  few  mo- 
ments ;  then  remove  the  green  leaf  and  the  impression 
will  be  left  on  the  page  as  beautifully  as  if  it  were  an 
engraving.  Flowers  of  single  corolla  can  be  pressed  in 
like  manner.  Many  of  the  Geranium  leaves  make  beau- 
tiful impressions.  The  impression  book  may  be  made 
Btill  more  interesting  by  giving  botanical  classifications 
%A  each  leaf  and  flower. 


A  Living  Popgun. 

There  is  a  little  fish,  the  choetodon,^  abounding  in  the 
eastern  seas,  from  Ceylon  to  Japan,  which  secures  ita 
prey  by  means  of  an  instrument  like  the  blowpipe  used 
by  mischievous  school-boys  for  projecting  peas  and  othei 
means  of  torment.  The  nose  of  the  fish  is  a  kind  ol 
sharp  beak,  through  which  he  has  the  power  of  propel- 
ling a  drop  of  water  with  force  enough  to  disable  a  fly, 
preparatory  to  swallowing  it.  His  aim  is  accurate,  and 
he  rarely  misses  his  object.  The  unsuspecting  fly  sits  on 
a  spray  of  weed,  a  twig,  a  tuft  of  grass,  near  the  water, 
pluming  himself  in  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun.  The  fish 
cautiously  places  himseK  under  the  fly,  steathily  projects 
his  tube  from  the  water,  takes  a  sure  aim,  and  lets  fly. 
Dowr  dr^ps  the  little  innocent  to  be  swallowed  by  the 
fish.  

Celestial  Oddities. 

Mr.  William  Simpson,  according  to  his  recently  pub- 
lished book  of  travels  in  China,  saw  many  wonderful 
things  in  that  strange  country,  and  among  others  a  de- 
vice for  raising  subscriptions  which  we  commend  to  the 
fittention  of  energetic  clergymen  in  their  normal  condi- 
tion, that  is  to  say,  endeavoring  to  raise  fundp  for  chari- 
table purposes.  Mr.  Simpson  saw  an  enthusiast  in  a 
Budhist  temple  which  was  in  need  of  restoration.  He 
Was  locked  into  a  kind  of  small  wooden  sentry-box.  A 
hole  in  the  side  enabled  him  to  pull  a  string  which 
worked  the  hammer  of  a  bell.  He  pulled  it  every  few 
minutes  to  attract  attention  to  his  position.  He  had 
only  just  room  to  sit  upright,  and  a  number  of  large 
nails  were  driven  through  the  side  of  his  box  with  the 
points  projecting  inwards.  Whenever  a  benevolent  per- 
son paid  a  sufficient  sum,  one  of  the  nails  were  extracted, 
making  the  position  of  the  inmate  rather  less  uncom- 
fortable ;  and  a  piece  of  paper  was  pasted  on  the  spot 
with  the  name  of  the  donor.  This  is  really  a  very  inge- 
nious device ;  and  we  would  suggest  to  any  parish  in 
want  of  a  new  church  that  they  should  catch  a  popular 
clergyman  and  immure  him  in  such  a  box  in  some  public 
place.  The  effect  would  no  doubt  be  striking  ;  and  he 
might  deliver  sermons  from  his  permanent  pulpit  with 
singular  emphasis.  The  Chinese  devotee  m  question 
was,  it  seems,  to  be  shut  up  for  three  years ;  but  it 
Would  be  better  to  make  the  duration  of  the  imprison- 
ment depend  on  the  amount  of  the  subscriptions.  Per- 
haps, however,  some  preachers  would  then  have  to  look 
forward  to  a  rather  excessive  term. 

The  most  amusing  page  in  Mr.  Simpson's  book  is  per- 
haps that  in  which  he  gives  a  specimen  of  pigeon-Eng- 
lish—a language  which,  according  to  him,  is  spreading 
With  great  rapidity,  and  possibly  destined  to  establish 
itself  permanently  as  a  means  of  communication  even 
between  natives  who  speak  mutually  unintelligible  dia- 
lects. At  present  it  can  hardly  be  called  graceful.  The 
fragments  which  we  give  are  taken  from  a  translation  of 
^'Excelsior."  We  will  on-ly  add  that  the  phrase  "galow" 
is  said  to  be  untranslatable  ;  but  that  it  has  the  effect  of 
converting  "topside"  into  an  exclamation  nearly  equiv- 
alent to  "excelsior-"  Here  is  a  verse  or  two ;  the  whole 
poem  is  given  in  Mr.  Simpson's  pages.  "  Maskey  "  means 
notwithstanding  " — 

That  mighty  time  begin  chop-chop, 
One  young  man  walkey— no  can  stoj)— 
Maskey  snow  I  maskey  ice ! 
He  carry  flag  vid  chop  so  nice — 

Topside-galow! 
Hira  muchee  sorry;  one  pieceyeye 
Ixjokee  sharp— so— all  same  my 
Him  talkey  largey— talkey  strong. 
Too  muchey  curio— all  same  gong, 

Topside-galow! 
The  stanza  about  the  falling  avalanche  and  the  St. 
Bernard  monks  who  heard  a  voice  fall  through  the 
Startled  air  become — 

"  Take  care  1  that  spoil  'um  tree,  young  man ! 
Take  care  that  ice,  he  wont  man-man." 
That  coolie  chin-chin  he  good  night, 
He  talkey  "  my  can  go  all  right." 

Topside-galow/ 
Joss-pidgeon  man  he  soon  begin 
Morning-time  that  Joss  chin-chin. 
He  no  man  see— him  plenty  fear 
Cas  some  man  talkey — him  can  hear, 

Topside-galow! 
We  look  forward  to  the  translation  of  Shakspeare  iutO 
this  delicious  dialect. 


2l6 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


BRING-  FLOWERS 

BT  MBS.  G.  W.  P. 

Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  when  my  soul  is  sad. 
They  ever  in  cheerful  tones  are  clad; 
They  whisper  of  Him,  who  those  gems  hath  made, 
I  can  see  His  hand  in  each  varying  shade; 
They  tell  of  His  love.  His  mighty  power, 
Beautiful  emblems  1  bring  flowers,  bright  flowers! 

Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  from  the  shady  dell, 

A  tale  of  my  early  youth  they  tell — 

Of  the  bright  green  lane,  the  oak-tree  shade 

Where  the  violets  grew  in  the  open  glade, 

And  the  rippling  brook,  where  in  summer  hours 

We  ofttimes  waded  ;  bring  flowers,  bright  flowers  1 

Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  their  fragrance  recalls 
The  vines  that  clambered  the  garden  walls; 
They  were  planted  there  by  my  mother's  hand. 
While  we  gathered  near,  her  little  band, 
To  watch  their  growth  with  the  passing  hours — 
How  sweet  the  remembrance  ;  bring  flowers,  bright  flowers  I 

V 

Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  their  sweet  perfume, 
Xy  heart  to  holier  thoughts  attune; 
They  tell  of  the  land  of  immortal  birth. 
Where  the  weary  find  rest  from  the  toils  o^  earth, 
Where  the  glorified  spirit  receives  its  dower — 
O,  when  I  am  weary,  bring  flowers,  bright  flowers! 

Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  to  lay  on  my  breast, 

When  my  form  is  shrouded  for  its  final  rest. 

And  when  dark  earth  shall  pillow  my  head. 

May  sweet  flowers  brighten  my  lowly  bed, 

Though  my  spirit  ascend  to  holier  bowers, 

Of  my  dust  they  are  emblems;  bring  flowers,  bright  flowersf 


Intelligence  of  Toads. 

The  belief  is  common  in  old  countries  that  toads  live 
a  hundred  ;^ears  without  partaking  food,  for  they  have 
been  found  in  little  cavities  of  rocks,  where  there  is  no 
apparent  entrance  to  admit  the  animal,  and  hence  the 
theory  that  the  toad  must  have  been  there  when  the 
rock  was  formed  and  thrown  up  ages  ago.  The  toad 
can  live  a  long  time  on  water  or  moisture  alone,  as  it  im- 
bibes it  rapidly  through  its  very  porous  skin ;  but  that  it 
fives  thus  a  hundred  years  is  totally  absurd  ;  the  most 
reasonable  solution  of  the  problem  being,  that  a  very 
small,  almost  imperceptible  crack  or  opening  to  the 
cavity  exists,  through  which  an  egg  of  a  toad  was 
washed  in,  and  hatched  or  grew  or  developed  into  a  fair 
sized  creature,  and  there  lived  and  thrived  a  reasonable 
time  on  small  insects  which  now  and  then  crept  or 
drifted  in. 

The  intelligence  of  a  toad,  as  observed  by  Thomas 
Hill,  is  certainly  remarkable.  When  an  insect  is  too 
large  to  swallow,  it  thrusts  the  creature  against  a  stone 
to  push  it  down  its  throat.  "  On  one  occasion,"  said  he, 
*  when  a  toad  was  attempting  to  swallow  a  locust,  the 


head  was  down  the  former's  throat,  the  hinder  parta 
protruding.  The  toad  then  sought  a  stone  or  clod,  but 
as  none  was  to  be  found,  he  lowered  his  head  and  crept 
along,  pushing  the  locust  against  the  ground.  But  the 
ground  was  too  smooth  (a  rolled  path),  and  the  angle  at 
which  the  locust  lay  to  the  ground  too  small,  and  thus 
no  progress  was  made.  To  increase  the  angle  he 
straightened  up  his  hind  legs,  but  in  vain.  At  length  he 
threw  up  his  hind  quarters  and  actually  stood  on  his 
head,  or  rather  on  the  locust  sticking  out  of  his  mouth, 
and,  after  repeating  this  once  or  twice,  succeded  in  get- 
ting himself  outside  his  dinner."  On  another  occasion 
he  "saw  a  toad  dispose  of  an  earth-worm,  which  was  so 
long  that  it  had  to  be  swallowed  by  sections.  But  while 
one  end  was  in  the  toad's  stomach  the  other  end  was 
coiled  about  his  head.  He  waited  until  the  worm's 
writhing  gave  him  a  chance,  and  swallowed  half  an 
inch ;  then  taking  a  nip  with  his  jaws  waited  for  a 
chance  to  draw  in  another  half  inch.  But  there  were  so 
many  half  inches  to  dispose  of  that  at  length  his  jaws 
grew  tired,  lost  their  firmness  of  grip,  and  the  worm 
crawled  out  five-eighths  of  an  inch  between  each  half 
inch  swallowing.  The  toad  perceiving  this  brought  its 
right  hand  to  his  jaws,  grasping  his  abdomen  with  his 
foot,  and  by  a  little  effort  got  hold  of  the  worm  in  his 
stomach  from  outside  ;  he  thus,  by  his  foot,  held  fast  to 
what  he  had  gained  by  each  swallow,  and  presently  suc- 
ceeded in  g«ttinff  ^ite'  Torm  entirely  down." 


A  Chinese  Book  for  G-irls. 

China  is  making  a  contribntion  to  female  literature.  A  vol- 
ume has  recently  been  published  there  called  "A  Book  for 
Girls."  It  is  written  in  verse  and  contains  advice  amd  sugges- 
tions to  women  from  the  time  they  are  born  until  they  become 
grandmothers.  Every  line  is  characteristic  of  the  position  oc- 
cupied by  women  in  China.  Nothing  is  said  about  intellectual 
development,  and  the  duty  of  complete  submission  to  the 
wills  of  their  masculine  relatives  of  every  grade  is  constantly 
impressed  upon  them.  The  book  opens  with  suggestions  con- 
cerning early  rising,  suitable  morning  toilettes,  and  proper 
female  occupations.  Then  follow  warnings  against  idleness 
and  foolish  conversation.  "A  maiden  must  learn  to  guard 
her  tongue."  For  each  year  of  her  life  there  is  a  particular 
lesson.  "  At  seve  vears  learn  to  imitate  those  who  are  grown 
up.  At  eight  and  i.  e,  love  your  older  and  younger  brothers 
and  sisters,  divide  your  food  with  them,  and  do  not  be  angry 
or  jealous  if  your  share  is  less  than  theirs.  At  ten,  be  indus- 
trious, learn  from  your  mother,  and  do  not  leave  the  house 
without  permission.  At  eleven  years  you  are  grown — attend 
to  making  the  tea,  cooking  the  rice,  and  fill  up  your  leisure 
time  with  knitting."  Then  follow  directions  regarding  the 
great  aim  of  existence — marriage.  To  the  obedience  exercised 
toward  parents  and  relatives  shall  be  added  submission  to  a 
husband.  After  this  come  practical  and  economical  rules 
about  cooking  and  cleanliness.  Humility  is  enjoined.  "  The 
husband  is  to  the  wife  as  heaven  is  to  the  earth.  Your  feet 
are  bound  so  that  you  shall  not  leave  the  house  and  wander 
foolishly  about  in  search  of  vain  amusement."  Then  come 
suggestions  to  young  mothers,  rules  for  walking,  resting,  sit- 
ting and  sleeping.  "  When  thy  daughters  are  grown,  see  that 
they  marry  well,  and  are  obedient  to  their  husbands  and  sub- 
missive to  his  relatives."  With  such  views  in  regard  to  tha 
education  of  women,  a  glimpse  of  the  positions  they  occupy 
in  other  countries  might  well  astonish  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Celestial  Empire. 


Sunlight  and  Health. 

At  the  rear  end  of  our  parlor  it  was  not  very  dark. 
Indeed,  we  could  see  to  read  small  newspaper  print  at 
the  least  lighted  point.  At  that  point  we  put  a  bracket 
against  the  wall,  and  transferred  to  it  a  plant  from  the 
window.  In  four  days  it  looked  sick  ;  in  two  weeks  it 
was  yellow  ;  in  five  weeks  it  was  apparently  dead.  An- 
other plant  was  placed  on  the  center-table,  which  was 
about  half  way  from  the  front  windows  to  the  position 
of  the  first  plant.  At  the  end  of  five  weeks  that  had 
lost  its  green,  aud  was  evidently  failing.  The  girls  in 
our  parlor,  who  were  not  out  more  than  an  hour  a  day 
on  an  average,  except  when  they  went  to  places  of 
amusement  in  the  evening,  were  as  pale,  yellow  and 
sickly  as  the  plants,  and  we  think  for  the  same  reason— 
a  lack  of  full,  strong  light.  Dio  Lewis. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


A  Mechanical  Eye. 

No  mechanic  can  attain  distinction  nnless  lie  is  able  to  de- 
tect ordinary  imperfections  at  eight,  so  that  he  can  see  if 
things  are  out  of  plumb,  out  of  level,  out  of  square,  and  out  of 
proper  shape ;  and  unless  he  can  also  detect  disproportioned  or 
ill-shaped  pattenis.  This  is  a  great  mechanical  attainment. 
We  say  attainment,  because  it  may  be  attained  by  any  ordi- 
nary person.  Of  course  there  are  defective  eyes,  as  there  are 
other  defective  organs  ;  the  speech,  for  instance,  is  sometimes 
defective,  but  the  eye  is  susceptible  of  the  same  training  as 
a,ny  other  orgsto.  The  muscles,  the  voice,  the  sense  of  hearing, 
all  require  training.  Consider  how  the  artist  must  train  the 
organ  of  sight  m  order  to  detect  the  slightest  imperfection  in 
shade,  color,  proportion,  shape,  expression,  etc.  Not  one 
blacksmith  in  five  ever  attains  the  art  of  hammering  square ; 
yet  it  is  very  essential  to  his  occupation.  It  ia  simply  because 
he  allows  himself  to  get  into  a  careless  habit ;  a  little  training 
and  care  is  all  that  is  necessary  for  success. 

The  fact  is  that  the  eye  is  not  half  as  much  at  fault  as  the 
heedless  mind.  Some  carpenters  acquire  the  careless  habit  of 
using  a  try-square  every  time  they  plane  off  a  shaving,  in 
place  of  giving  their  minds  right  to  their  business  and  properly 
training  their  eyes ;  and  unless  they  cultivate  this  power  of 
the  eye,  they  will  always  be  at  journey-work.  Look  at  the 
well-trained  blacksmith ;  he  goes  across  the  shop,  picks  up 
the  horse's  foot,  takes  a  squint,  returns  to  his  anvil,  forges  the 
shoe,  and  it  exactly  fits  the  foot.  Contrast  him  with  the  bun- 
gler who  looks  at  the  foot,  then  forges  the  shoe,  then  fits  the 
foot  to  it,  often  to  the  ruin  of  a  fine  horse.  Now  the  fault  lies 
in  the  proper  shape  f o^  the  foot ;  he  should  determine  to  make 
the  shoe  fit  the  foot  in  place  of  the  foot  fitting  the  shoe,  and 
should  follow  it  up  until  the  object  is  accomplished. 

A  very  good  way  to  discipline  the  mechanical  eye  is  to  first 
measure  an  inch  with  the  eye,  then  prove  it  with  the  rule,  then 
measure  a  half -inch,  then  an  eighth,  and  so  on,  and  you  will 
soon  be  able  to  discover  at  a  glance  the  difference  between 
a  twelfth  and  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch  ;  then  go  on  to  the  tbree 
inches,  six,  twelve,  and  so  on.  Some  call  this  guessing,  but 
there  is  no  guess-work  about  it ;  it  is  measuring  with  the  eye 
and  mind.  Acquire  the  habit  of  criticising  for  imperfections 
every  piece  of  work  you  see ;  do  everything  as  nearly  as  you 
can  without  measuring,  (without  spoiling  it)  or  as  nearly  as 
you  can  trust  the  eye  with  its  present  training.  If  you  cannot 
see  things  mechanically,  do  not  blame  the  eye  for  it ;  it  is  no 
more  to  blame  than  the  mouth  is  because  we  cannot  read,  or 
the  fingers  because  we  cannot  write.  A  person  may  write  a 
very  good  hand  vnth  his  eyes  closed,  the  mind  of  course  direct- 
ing the  hand.  The  eye  is  necessary,  however,  to  detect  imper- 
fections. 

Every  occupation  in  life  requires  a  mechanically- trained  eye, 
and  we  should  realize  more  than  we  do  the  great  importance 
of  properly  training  that  organ. 

Heroism  of  the  True  Orator. 

We  reckon  the  bar,  the  Senate,  journalism  and  the 
pulpit  peaceful  professions,  but  you  cannot  escape  the 
demand  for  courage  in  these,  and  certainly  there  is  no 
true  orator  who  is  not  a  hero.  His  attitude  in  the  ros- 
trum or  the  pulpit  requires  that  he  counterbalance  his 
oratory.  He  la  the  challenger,  and  must  answer  all 
comers.  The  orator  must  often  stand  with  forward  foot 
in  the  attitude  of  the  defensive.  His  speech  must  be  just 
ahead  of  the  assembly,  ahead  of  the  whole  human  race 
or  it  is  superfluous.  His  speech  is  not  to  be  distinct 
from  action.  It  is  the  electricity  of  action.  It  is  action 
as  the  general's  word  of  command  and  the  chart  of  battle 
is  action.  He  must  feel  that  as  the  speaker  he  compro- 
mises himself ;  his  oratory  counts  for  something  or 
nothing ;  it  is  the  cry  to  the  charge  and  the  fight,  or  let 
him  be  silent.  Tou  go  to  a  town  meeting  where  th 
people  are  called  to  some  disagreeable  duty,  such  as 
often  occurred  during  the  war — on  the  occasion  of  a  new 
draft,  for  instance.  They  go  unwilling.  They  have 
spent  their  money  once  or  twice  very  freely  ;  they  have 
sent  their  best  men,  the  young  and  ardent,  those  of  a 
martial  temperament,  who  answered  the  first  draft  or 
the  second,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  see  who  else  can  be 
spared  or  induced  to  go.  The  silence  and  coldness  of 
the  aesembly,  after  the  meeting  has  been  called  to  order 
and  the  purpose  stated,  are  not  very  encouraging.  Then 
a  fifood  man  rises  in  the  cold  and  malicious  assembly, 


and  they  say:  *'Well,  sir,  it  would  be  prudenter  to  be 
silent',  why  not  rest,  sir,  on  your  good  record.  Nobody 
doubts  your  power,  but  for  the  present  business  we  kno^ 
all  about  it,  and  are  tired  of  being  pushed  into  patriotism 
by  people  who  stay  at  home."  But  he,  taking  no  coun- 
sel of  best  things,  but  only  of  the  inspiration  of  his  to- 
day's feelings,  surprises  them  with  his  tidings,  with  his 
better  knowledge,  his  larger  view,  his  steady  gaze  at 
the  new  and  future,  of  which  they  had  not  thought, 
and  they  are  interested  like  so  many  children,  and 
he  gains  the  victory  by  prophesying  where  they  ex- 
pected repetition.  He  knew  that  they  were  looking  be- 
hind, and  he  was  looking  ahead,  therefore  it  was  right 
to  speak.  Then  the  observers  say,  "  What  a  godsend  is 
this  manner  of  man  to  a  town,  and  what  facilities  he 
has  !  He  is  put  together  like  a  Waltham  watch,  or  like 
a  locomotive  just  finished  at  the  Tredegar  works." 

Ralph  Waldo  Emekson. 


Be  Willing  to  Learn. 

A  man  progresses  just  as  long  as  he  is  willing  to  learn,  but 
progression  ceases  whenever  he  reaches  that  point  where  he 
places  his  knowledge  in  the  balance  against  that  of  all  other 
men.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  there  are  a  good  many  just 
such  men  as  this  in  the  world.  Some  cannot  be  taught  any- 
thing, no  matter  to  what  branch  of  human  knowledge  it  be- 
longs. Others  are  perfect  only  in  one  thing,  and  that  relates 
to  the  business  they  follow.  It  is  here  that  this  egotistical 
importance  works  the  most  mischief,  for  it  always  cripples  a 
man's  usefulness  in  life. 

There  is  another  class  of  persons  who  will  accept  knowledge 
only  from  those  whom  they  acknowledge  as  superiors.  They 
must  know  the  source  of  every  item  of  information,  and  it  ia 
rejected  as  error,  or  accepted  as  truth,  accordingly.  They 
never  think,  reason,  or  experiment  for  themselves,  and  hence 
their  belief  and  practice  exhibit  a  strange  mixture  of  the 
practicable  and  impracticable,  of  truth  and  error. 

The  truly  progressive  class  accept  truth  wherever  they  find 
it,  and  reject  nothing  because  of  its  source.  A  hint  dropped 
from  the  beggar's  lips  is  just  as  valuable  as  though  it  came 
from  royalty  itself.  These  ar<e  the  men  who  do  think,  reason 
and  experiment  for  themselves.  Like  the  miner,  it  ia  the  gold 
they  are  after,  and  like  him,  they  never  reject  it  because  it  is 
associated  with  dross  and  dirt,  but  go  resolutely  to  work  to 
separate  the  pure  from  the  impure,  retaining  only  the  former. 


Recovered  Treasures. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  large  steamship  America, 
plying  between  Panama  and  San  Francisco,  was  burned 
a  few  years  since  on  the  Pacific  coast.  Since  that  time 
various  efforts  have  been  made  to  recover  the  treasure 
which  was  on  board.  Some  of  these  recent  efforts 
have  been  attended  with  success,  and  the  precious 
metals  have  been  delivered  at  the  Assay  OflQce  in  San 
Francisco,  Cal. 

Twenty-three  boxes  of  melted  coin,  weighing  from  200 
to  400  pounds  each,  were  scattered  around  the  room,  and 
besides  these  were  piles  of  bars  and  irregular  masses  of 
valuable  metal  lying  around  loose.  Two  pieces  of  the 
melted  mass,  with  a  length  each  of  about  three  feet,  and 
a  width  of  eighteen  inches,  weighing  one  hundred 
pounds,  looked  like  a  section  of  frozen  clay,  bristling 
with  oysters.  These  oysters  were  twenty  dollar  gold 
pieces,  Mexican  gold  dollars,  and  half  dollars  of  Ameri- 
can coinage,  with  dimes  and  half  dimes  for  little  oysters, 
and  iron  spikes  and  bits  of  brass  and  steel  to  represent 
the  shell  fish  that  are  wont  to  burrow  in  the  bed  of  the 
ocean,  the  whole  forming  a  valuable  specimen  of 
Crustacea.  In  some  instances  the  coins  are  welded 
together  in  rolls,  and  at  other  times  they  form  one 
lava-like  gob.  The  melted  matter  and  the  coins  are  a 
deep  green  color. 

The  large  bars  of  bullion  were  less  affected  by  the  fire 
than  the  coin,  and  do  not  appear  to  have  lost  much  in 
weight.  The  metal  is  to  be  recoined.  Two  twenty  dol- 
lar gold  pieces  in  the  lot  were  kindly  donated  to  the 
representatives  of  the  press,  who  were  among  the  relia- 
ble persons  present,  and  had  not  the  coins  been  welded 
to  the  bar  they  would  have  been  taken  away.  Three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  worth  of  treasure,  half  melted, 
colored  by  fire  and  the  action  of  the  water,  is  a  curiosity 
that  few  people  ever  had  an  opportunity  to  see. 


2l8 


THE  GROWIx^G  WORLD. 


New  Year's  Day  in  China*  j 

In  some  points  the  holiday  resembles  our  "yhristmas 
Day.  Friends  separated  by  long  distances  a*<}  invited; 
relatives  make  strenuous  efforts  to  partakb  of  each 
other's  hospitality;  presents,  consisting  of  tea,  silk,  edi- 
bles, and  bouquets,  are  made;  mutual  congratulations 
tendered,  and  a  general  air  of  good  fellowship  prevails. 
Upon  tho  occurrence  of  New  Year's  Day,  the  Celestial 
Government,  through  its  organ,  announces  that  from, 
say  the  20th  of  the  12th  Moon  the  offices  will  be  closed 
for  four  weeks,  thus  enabling  its  employes  to  enjoy  a 
month's  holiday.  During  this  period  "those  under 
Heaven  "  make  the  most  of  the  time,  and,  as  far  as  this 
world's  goods  will  permit,  keep  up  a  succession  of  feasts 
and  rejoicings.  Before  iCxiulging  in  earthly  pleasures, 
the  Chinese  deem  it  necessary  to  propitiate  their  house- 
hold gods  by  rigidly  performing  various  rites  of  a  do- 
mestic nature — such  as  "sweeping  their  hearths 
which  they  look  upon  as  honoring  their  deities;  and  on 
the  eve  of  the  New  Tear  invariably  indulge  in  a  bath  of 
what  may  be  termed  sweet  water,  as  it  is  highly  scented 
and  fragrant;  and,  as  the  midnight  hours  draw  near,  don 
their  most  gorgeous  apparel,  and  prostrate  themselves 
before  Heaven  and  Ko-tou.  Being  of  a  very  ritualistic 
turn  of  mind,  the  altars  are  brilliantly  illuminated,  in- 
cense and  gold  and  silver  paper  are  burned;  and,  to 
heighten  the  effect,  crackers  are  constantly  let  off. 
These  ceremonies  last  till  daylight,  when  the  interchange 
of  visits  and  the  decoration  of  the  houses  are  commenc- 
ed, each  striving  to  outdo  his  neighbor  in  embellish- 
ments. I  cannot  say  much  for  the  artistic  merit,  from 
an  American's  point  of  view;  but  probably  the  inhabits 
'  ants  would  think  my  ideas  barbaric.  The  decorations 
consist  principally  of  inscriptions  hung  in  every  cont*eiv- 
able  place  on  the  exterior  and  in  the  interior  c  •  /he 
house,  and  also  suspended  on  long  poles  or  masts  out- 
side of  the  premises.  These  inscriptions,  as  a  rule,  are 
in  the  form  of  proverbs,  such  as  "To  be  happy  I  must 
be  just;"  others  containing  requests  of  not  too  modest  a 
kind,  as  "  May  I  be  so  learned  as  to  bear  in  my  memory 
the  substance  of  three  million  novels."  What  a  book  of 
reference  that  Chinaman  would  make  were  his  wish 
gratified  I  These  sentences  are  written  on  various  color- 
ed papers,  showing  what  loss,  if  any,  the  family  have 
sustained,  the  degree  of  mourning  being  denotec  i>y 
white,  blue,  pale  red,  and  scarlet,  and  those  families  to 
whom  time  has  dealt  kindly,  and  who  have  no  loss  to  de- 
plore, use  a  dark  crimson.  Mowers  are  also  used  exten- 
sively in  the  decorations;  scarcely  a  house  can  be  passed 
without  floral  designs  meeting  the  eye.  Although  New 
Year's  Day  is  a  general  holiday,  yet  in  a  walk  through  a 
Chinese  city  scarcely  a  pedestrian  is  to  be  seen,  unless  it 
be  some  gaily-dressed  servant  speeding  to  acquaint  Mrs. 
Twang-Chow,  by  means  of  a  small  pink  card,  that  Mrs. 
Chow-Twang  will  do  herself  the  inestimable  pleasure  of 
paying  her  a  visit.  Were  it  not  for  this  occasional  sign 
of  life,  one  would  imagine  one's  self  in  Goldsmith's  de- 
serted village,  or  fancy  some  fearful  calamity  had  sud- 
denly overtaken  the  inhabitants,  or  that  one  were  in  a 
city  of  the  dead.  The  shops  are  all  closed,  private  house 
doors  bolted,  the  touters,  portable  cook  shops,  beggars, 
street  itinerants,  quacks,  and  venders  of  the  celebrated 
razor  paste  for  the  million,  have  disappeared.  Even  for 
the  day  that  common  object  of  the  Chinese  street,  the 
little  dirty  street  Arab,  is  not  seen;  he,  for  once,  is  being 
treated  like  a  human  being,  and  taken  from  the  mud  into 
some  hospitable  house  and  feasted  on  the  best.  Every 
one  on  New  Year's  Day  seems  to  have  commenced  a  new 
Mfe.  Even  the  saucy  boat  girls,  who  are  at  all  times 
only  too  ready  to  crack  a  joke  or  give  an  incisive  repar- 
tee— often  of  a  questionable  nature — are  on  their  digni- 
ty, and  must  not  be  addressed  in  a  flippant  manner, 
"  coming  down  "  on  one  rather  severely  if  one  happens 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  habits  and  behavior  appertaining 
to  the  day  in  question.  Although ,  as  I  have  before  re- 
marked, this  is  a  day  of  general  feasting,  yet  it  bears 
most  favorable  comparison  with  civilized  countries,  or, 
we  will  say,  Christian  America.  We  see  no  drunkenness 
in  the  streets;  and,  moreover,  whether  the  class  be  rich 
or  poor,  the  in-door  behavior  is  of  the  utmost  decomm, 
the  amusements  being  rational  in  the  extreme;  no  Hbald 
song  or  jest  is  to  be  heard  or  excessive  drinking  inoluiged 
in,  each  endeavoring  to  outvie  his  neighbor  m  correct 
behavior.  Again  I  could  not  help  contrasting  this  with 
our  Western  mode  at  enloyina:a^li/*'»v    In  evo>*v  r&. 


epect  the  host  Is  most  punctilious,  mating  no  dlstlnctlcMj 
as  to  the  quality  of  his  guests,  but  seeing  that  each  one 
is  properly  attended  to,  and  personally  serving  first  one 
and  then  another  with  some  dainty  morsel  with  the  chop* 
sticks  he  has  himself  just  used,  and  pledging  them  to 
drink,  each  guest  being  provided  with  a  diminutive  chi- 
na  cup,  capable  of  holding  about  a  table-spoonful. 
When  all  the  cups  are  charged,  at  a  given  signal  from 
the  host,  each  guest  raises  his  cup  to  his  head,  as  a 
pledge,  and  then  drinks  the  contents,  or  merely  nolds 
the  cup  to  his  lips  during  the  time  of  drinking  by  the 
test — as  an  ancient  writer  remarks,  "  For  if  the  outward 
ceremonies  are  observed  and  kept,  it  is  all  one  to  them 
whether  you  drink  or  not.*' 


#   The  Magical  Instrument. 

There  was  once  a  poor  musician  who  found  it  %  hard  matter 
to  support  a  growing  family,  and  a  coquettish  little  wife  of  a  \ 
very  extravagant  turn.  So  he  cultivated  the  musical  talents 
of  his  children  that  they  might  aid  him,  and  was  especially 
pains-taking  with  regard  to  a  little  fellow,  who  at  three  years 
old  could  play  tunes  on  the  harpsichord.  The  man  ought  ta 
have  been  a  Yankee  to  have  such  an  invention  dawn  upon  him 
as  now  crept  through  his  brain.  He  contrived  a  spinnet  with 
three  banks  of  keys,  and  when  all  was  in  readiness  proceeded 
to  Paris  with  his  instrument,  whose  marvelous  powers  he  took 
care  duly  to  announce  on  his  hand-bills. 

He  and  two  little  ones  would  play  a  piece,  and  then  remov- 
ing from  the  instrument,  command  the  spinnet  to  repeat  it. 
To  the  astonishment  of  all,  a  set  of  keys  would  play  it 
through,  apparently  without  the  touch  of  any  one's  fingers.  He 
would  pretend  to  wind  it  up  with  a  winch,  which  produced  a 
most  discordant  sound.  Then  stepping  back  and  raising  his 
wand,  he  would  command  in  an  authoritative  voice,  "  Spinnet, 
play  such  a  piece,"  and  the  obedient  instmment  would  at  once 
comply.  He  would  issue  other  orders  in  quick  succession,  of 
various  kinds,  and  every  time  with  complete  success.  His 
fame  spread  far  and  wide,  and  in  less  than  five  weeks  he  had 
accumulated  twenty  thousand  crovms,  enabling  him  to  make 
amends  for  his  former  bad  fortune. 

He  was  sent  for  at  length  by  the  Court,  and  as  he  was  not 
mtich  accustomed  to  courtly  ways,  he  wound  up  his  machine 
with  fearful  din  and  discord.  This  was  too  much  for  the  deli- 
cate nerves  of  royal  ladies,  and  the  Queen  demanded  that  he 
should  at  once  open  the  machine,  and  let  them  see  what  it 
contained.  The  poor,  disconcerted  musician  stammered  ex- 
cuses, among  them  stated  that  he  had  lost  the  key.  "Well," 
said  the  King,  "  cannot  somebody  break  it  open  ?  " 

With  terror  on  his  face,  the  poor  man  was  forced  to  obey. 
The  spinnet  was  opened,  and  there  sat  the  doll-like  figure  of 
his  little  son,  seated  before  a  row  of  keys,  on  which  he  per- 
foi-med  all  the  magic  there  was  in  the  machine.  The  little 
fellow  was  nearly  fainting  from  having  been  so  much  longer 
than  common  in  the  close  box,  but  the  smelling  bottles  of  the 
ladies  were  plentifully  tendered,  and  he  soon  revived  under 
their  kind  and  lavish  attentions.  His  music  was  most  warmly 
applauded,  and  his  father  reaped  such  a  harvest  of  gold,  from 
what  seemed  likely  to  be  a  defeat,  that  he  could  hardly  gather 
it  up. 

All  might  have  ended  well  enough  if  the  greed  of  gain  had 
not  taken  possession  of  the  father's  soul.  Though  Jtie  had 
now  enough  to  bring  up  his  family  in  comfort,  he  yet  thirsted 
for  more— more.  So  he  equipped  his  family  for  a  band  of 
players,  the  little  one  being  so  expert  that  he  always  brought 
down  the  house.  He  was  killed  by  a  wound  received  in  a  farce 
which  ended  one  of  the  acts,  and  died  in  his  sixth  year.  A 
little  sister,  to  whom  he  was  devotedly  attached,  died  of  grief 
shortly  afterwards. 


Hygroscopic  Paper. 

The  Journal  of  the  Franklin  Institute  gives  a  mode  of 
preparing  a  useful  hygroscopic  paper,  by  Percy  Smith. 
A  bibulous  paper  is  impregnated  with  a  concentrated 
solution  of  chloride  of  cobalt.  It  is  very  sensitive  to  at- 
mospheric variations,  being  blue  in  a  dry  atmosphere, 
changing  to  red  when  the  air  becomes  humid.  Four  ob- 
iservations  a  day,  made  for  a  year,  with  every  precau- 
tion, prove  that  this  paper  may  be  employed  to  indi- 
cate readily  and  precisely  the  hygrometric  state  of  the 
•jr. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


219 


star  Dust. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  curiosities  to  us  in  the  Govern- 
ment Building,  at  the  Centennial,  was  a  large  aerolite  which 
weighed  several  tons,  and  had  in  it  a  hole  two  or  three  feet  in 
diameter.  From  what  far  distant  land  had  it  descended  to  this 
earth  of  ours  ?  What  wondrous  tales  it  could  tell  us  of  that 
mysterious  realm  which  lies  within  our  sight,  yet  so  far 
away  1 

Accounts  of  these  strange  visitants  from  another  sphere  have 
been  given  to  the  world  from  very  remote  times ;  but  they 
were  formerly  regarded  something  as  tales  of  sea  serpents  are 
still.  But  in  our  country,  so  many  have  been  observed  by 
credible  witnesses,  that  their  existence  is  no  more  doubted 
than  that  a  volcano  sends  out  showers  of  somewhat  similar 
products. 

They  have  been  found  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  when 
picked  up  at  once  are  found  to  be  warm,  and  even  hot. 

Some  sixty  years  ago,  in  the  town  of  Weston,  Connecticut 
a  brilliant  meteor  was  seen  one  winter's  morning  moving  across 
the  sky.  It  disappeared,  and  three  loud  reports,  like  those  of 
a  cannon,  quickly  followed.  One  man  was  startled  by  a  heavy 
crash  outside  his  house.  He  found  that  a  large  stone  had  fallen 
upon  a  rock  near  his  house  and  been  shivered  to  pieces.  The 
pieces  were  still  warm,  and  altogether  weighed  about  twenty 
pounds.  In  another  place,  not  far  away,  another  similar  stone 
was  found,  which  had  cut  its  way  down  through  the  turf,  and 
buried  itself  ten  feet  in  the  earth.  And  so  they  were  sprinkled 
around  through  the  region  in  chunks  of  from  ten  to  two  hun- 
dred pounds— any  of  them  much  too  large  to  drop  on  a  man's 
head  with  comfort.  It  is  estimated  that  several  hundred  aero- 
lites fall  to  the  earth  every  year ;  if  they  may  be  supposed  to 
visit  the  different  parts  of  the  earth  impartially,  and  not  con- 
fine themselves  to  those  parts  that  are  best  known.  No  doubt 
the  sea  has  closed  over  a  vast  number,  and  gave  no  sign  a 
moment  after. 

Though  these  aerolites  have  no  new  elements,  yet  the  ele- 
ments are  found  in  combinations  differing  from  any  thing 
found  on  the  earth.  This  peculiarity  enables  scientific  men  to 
distinguish  a  fragment  which  has  thus  come  down  to  us,  from 
any  other  rock.  For  instance,  all  meteoric  stones  have 
in  them  a  substance  composed  of  iron,  nickel  and  phosphorus, 
which  has  never  been  found  except  in  aerolites. 

There  are  many  theories  to  account  for  these  strange  visitors. 
Some  have  supposed  them  to  be  thrown  up  from  volcanoes  on 
the  earth ;  others,  that  they  are  hurled  down  upon  us  from  our 
attendant  planet,  the  moon,  which  seems  to  abound  in  volca- 
noes. But  there  are  diflaculties  in  the  way  of  each  supposition. 
The  most  likely  idea  seems  to  be  that  these  small  bodies  re- 
volve like  the  comets  about  the  sun,  and  that  the  earth,  by 
times,  runs  against  them  in  their  orbital  motion.  There  is  a 
periodicity  about  them  which  seems  to  depend  on  the  eeasons 
of  the  year.  This  goes  to  show  that  they  revolve  about  the 
sun  rather  than  the  earth.  They  appear  to  be  most  abundant 
about  the  time  of  the  August  and  Novembers  meteors,  which 
shows  there  is  a  close  connection  between  meteors  and  aero- 
lites. 


When  Men  are  at  Their  Best. 

Dr.  Beard  states  that  from  an  analysis  of  the  lives  of  a 
thousand  representative  men  in  all  the  great  branches  of  the 
human  family,  he  made  the  discovery  that  the  golden  decade 
was  between  40  and  50 ;  the  brazen  between  20  and  30 ;  the 
Iron  between  50  and  60.  The  superiority  of  youth  and  middle 
life  over  old  age  in  original  work  appears  all  the  greater  when 
we  consider  the  fact  that  all  the  positions  of  honor  and  pres- 
tige—professorships and  public  stations— are  in  the  hands  of 
the  old.  Reputation,  like  money  and  position,  is  mainly  con- 
fined to  the  old.  Men  are  not  widely  known  until  long  after 
they  have  done  their  work  that  gives  them  their  fame.  Por- 
traits of  great  men  are  delusions ;  statues  are  lies  I  They  are 
taken  when  men  have  become  famous,  which,  on  the  average, 
is  at  least  twenty-five  years  after  they  did  the  work  which  gave 
them  their  fame.  Original  work  requires  enthusiasm.  If  all 
the  original  work  done  by  men  under  45  were  annihilated,  they 
would  be  reduced  to  barbarism.  Men  are  at  their  beet  at  that 
time  when  enthusiasm  and  experience  are  almost  evenly  bal- 
anced. This  period,  on  an  average,  is  from  38  to  40.  After 
this  the  law  is  that  experience  increases,  but  enthusiasm 
decreases. 


Neglected  Truth. 

The  phrase  "lights  and  shadows"  is  often  used  as  a  simile  to 
illustrate  the  variable  life-scenes  of  man  ;  the  human  life  allot, 
ment  is  short,  too  short  for  the  accomplishment  of  aggregrate 
life-work  as  measured  by  hope,  determination  or  fancy ;  the 
measurement  of  time's  passage,  during  its  progress,  is  subject 
to  imaginary  fluctuation  which  originate  the  expressions 
"how  long  the  day^"  or  "how  quickly  the  time  flies,"  without 
intention  of  calling  in  question  the  regularity  of  the  universe 
machinery.  On  the  life  scale,  limed  by  the  music  of  this 
mundane  sphere,  we  have  the  fractional  and  dotted  notes  ;  the 
tones  when  harsh  and  out  of  harmony  with  desire  run  longer, 
and  shorter  when  soul-enchanting  music  leads  to  forgetfulness 
of  care.  A  life  may  be  found  enjoying  seeming  immunity 
from  its  cares  ;  another  where  the  opposing  force  of  ill  fortune 
hangs  over  like  an  evil  spirit ;  another  where  experience  flick- 
ers with  the  changing  wind.  So  various  are  trial  tests,  that  no 
life  picture  wouia  exactly  portray  another;  much  of  this  vari- 
able unsatisfactoriness  find  its  cause  within  ourselves. 

The  most  effective  result  is  accomplished  by  regular  applica- 
tion of  power ;  the  most  perfect  art  work,  by  the  study  of  the 
agreement  of  parts,  and  while  most  effective,  uniformity  is  also 
most  pleasing,  and  the  lack  of  this  distinctive  feature  is  life's 
peculiarity,  and  almost  a  universality.  Destiny  shaping  should 
be  a  spiritual,  mechanical  work,  under  the  control  of  ourbet« 
ter  nature,  the  mental  controlling,  the  physical  leading  to  re. 
suit.  Mind  aspiration  leads  toward  advancement,  the  body 
ruling  the  mind  leads  to  the  reverse  ;  its  passions  and  frailties 
contract  the  mental,  dwarf  the  intellect  and  produce  narrow- 
mindedness  ;  disquietudes  and  repinings  are  but  the  clam, 
orings  of  the  body  caged  spirit ;  happiness  in  life  is  propor- 
tionately dependent  upon  the  ratio  of  the  exercise  of  mind 
and  body  rule ;  mental  government  manifests  its  rule  by  even- 
ness and  regularity  of  result,  and  might  be  said  to  occupy  a 
mean  position  in  the  exercise  of  its  functions,  for  giddy, 
thoughtless  pleasure  is  also  a  manifest  action  of  body  ruling ; 
at  some  time  its  shallow,  fickle  character  is  shown,  the  absence 
of  soul  culture,  being  more  forcibly  shown  by  the  after  great 
extreme  of  despondency.  Upon  this  principle  are  founded  the 
expressions,  "Too  happy  to  last;"  "Too  good  to  be  tnie," 
and  others,  experience  proving  its  transient  and  unsatisfactory 
character. 

Can  the  troubles  of  life  be  lessened  ?  It  is  necessary  to  a 
correct  answer  to  carefully  distinguish  between  cause  and 
effect,  between  trouble  so-called,  and  the  reality,  its  influence 
upon  ourselves.  We  perhaps  may  not  hold  an  influence  over 
the  happenings  that  cross  the  pathway,  but  the  influence  of 
these  can  be  limited  by  bringing  to  our  aid  all  the  fortitude  at 
our  command,  enabling  us  to  view  life  from  a  philosophical 
Btandpoint;  there  is  a  proverb  to  "cry  for  spilled  milk,"  in- 
stead of  making  the  effort  exhausted  in  crying  serve  a  good 
purpose  in  procuring  a  new  supply. 

The  injurious  influence  of  the  dispirited  is  not  confined  to 
self,  but,  in  despair,  grasps  if  possible  some  other,  having 
destruction  in  its  death  grip,  instead  of  manfully  with  God- 
given  energy,  hope  and  resolution,  striking  out  bravely,  look- 
ing upward,  throwing  away  irresolution,  and  though  amid 
snow  and  ice,  be  led  on  by  the  word  "excelsior." 

We  hear  the  word  temperament  used  to  describe  character ; 
it  is  but  a  word  significant  of  will  force.  What  is  his  tempera- 
ment, or,  in  what  degree  is  his  body  under  will  control  ?  are 
synonymous  questions.  There  is  no  plane  which  could  be- 
come universal  in  himian  experience,  only  because  the  mental 
control  is  found  in  all  stages  of  development.  We  find  the 
estimate  of  condition  very  eccentric ;  we  find  poor  that  esteem 
themselves  rich,  and  ever  ready  to  respond  to  the  call  of 
charity,  and  the-rich  ever  poor,  every  action  evincing  a  sordid, 
stingy  nature.  The  nearer  we  arrive  at  unanimity  of  senti- 
ment the  more  would  our  actions  be  conducive  of  the  general 
happiness  of  mankind.  A  nation  is  most  prosperous  when 
singleness  of  purpose  throbs  in  the  public  heart;  and  the 
same  is  no  less  true  of  individuals ;  sympathy  is  the  outflow  of 
mutual  feeling;  a  proper  mental  culture  brought  into  exercise 
has  a  tendency  to  bring  us  nearer  to  each  other;  and  whatever 
unites  us  makes  life's  burdens  lighter,  lessens  the  sharp  points 
of  contrast,  and  proves  the  parent  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  for 
In  its  atmosphere  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity  flouribh. 


Let  them  obey  that  know  how  to  rule. — Sha^kespeabf 


220 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Human  Sympathy. 

It  is  delightful  to  contemplate  the  love  of  the  human  heart 
Ibr  its  kind,  aud  to  believe  that  time  strengthens  and  increases 
It.  David  and  Jonathan,  and  Damon  and  Pythias,  blaze  in 
fcharming  beauty  on  every  page  of  modern  history.  In  these 
were  represented  the  sacred  tie  of  brotherhood.  Now  bro- 
therhood is  universal.  Its  recognition,  which  was  once  so 
rare  that  it  was  like  an  Italian  garden  in  the  snow-beds  of 
Lapland— like  a  cooling  zephyr  kissing  the  burning  surface  of 
the  desert,  is  as  a  melting  and  diffusion  of  the  heart  of  God 
into  a  sky  of  Summer-sunset  magnificence.  The  chord  that 
links  man  to  man,  man  to  angels,  and  angels  to  God,  now 
vibrates  from  limit  to  limit  whenever  a  heart  from  here  to 
heaven  weeps  a  tear. 

Joseph  Mazzini,  moving  among  his  kind  like  a  soft  sunbeam 
streaming  from  the  first  glow  of  the  morning,  and  laughing 
amidst  the  frowning  rocks — his  character  radiant  with  love 
and  sympathy,  and  paling  the  blaze  of  beauty  which  nature 
had  kindled  in  the  gardens  of  his  native  Italy;  Father 
Mathew,  with  his  great  heart  full  of  sunshine  and  God;  John 
Howard,  so  full  of  heaven  that  he  left  it  glowing  m  every  foot- 
print he  made;  Florence  Nightingale— one  of  the  silvery  links 
that  chain  the  earth  to  the  beautiful  yonder— the  sweet  flower 
blooming  among  the  briars ;  and  our  own  George  Peabody,  are 
but  a  few  stars  in  ihe  sky  of  to-day,  whose  azure  background 
is  ablaze  with  a  confluence  of  radiant  spots  of  philanthropy 
and  fraternal  love  to  all  mankind. 

It  was  a  rich  legacy  to  have  been  a  countryman  of  George 
Peabody.  The  monument  of  his  memory  cost  eight  and  a 
half  millions  of  dollars  and  he  paid  for  it  himself.  It  stands 
upon  two  continents,  and  the  poor  of  London  and  the  children 
of  America  gather  in  its  shadow,  and  thai^k  God  for  the  nation 
that  gave  George  Peabody  to  the  world.  The  Queen  of  Eng- 
land did  him  the  honor  to  present  him  with  her  portrait,  and 
he  did  the  noble  queen  the  honor  to  accept  it.  % 

Down  in  the  human  heart  of  the  nineteenth  cencury  there  is 
a  burning  love  for  humanity.  Sometimes  we  do  not  realize  it 
ourselves.  But  it  is  there ;  it  burns  like  fire  in  the  open  grate 
in  mid-summer ;  it  glows  like  the  sun  at  noonday ;  it  is  as 
charming  as  the  radiancy  of  love  can  make  it. 

Some  twenty  years  ago,  in  mid-winter,  the  darkness  of  the 
night  was  kindled  into  a  glare  by  the  burning  of  a  ferry  boat, 
which  took  fire  when  midway  between  Philadelphia  and  Cam- 
den. The  mad  flames  leaped  into  the  cold  air,  like  tongues  of 
fire  from  raging  hell ;  they  painted  the  skies  with  the  red 
shadow  of  reckless  frenzy,  and  in  the  light  the  grinning 
skeleton  of  death  was  reflected  in  the  cakes  of  ice  upon  the 
surface  of  the  Delaware  in  horrible  distinctness.  Rapidly  the 
flames  spread,  and  soon  the  ill-iated  boat  appeared  like  a 
moving  mountain  of  flame.  Now  a  stream  of  fire  would  shoot 
up  towards  the  stars,  and  laughing,  seem  to  taunt  the  mass  of 
-flame  below  for  its  indolence;  then,  as  if  to  resent  the  indig- 
nity, another  column  would  leap  still  higher,  as  if  determined 
"now  or  never  to  sit  beside  the  palo-faced  moon."  The 
sportive  sparks  rode  on  the  winds,  and  frolicked  together  as  if 
It  were  a  May-day  festival  to  the  two  hundred  human  beings 
on  the  deck  of  that  burning  boat.  The  passengers  ran  hither 
«nd  thither— the  flames  streaming  from  many  as  they  ran; 
men  fell  upon  their  knees  and  called  to  God  for  mercy ;  women 
screamed  in  the  agony  of  despair ;  mothers  called  frantically 
for  their  lost  dear  ones ;  children  were  crying  for  parents ;  all 
was  confusion  and  horror,  and  the  multitude  upon  the  wharf 
ked  on  the  feast  of  death  in  breathless  agony.  Now  a 
steady  stream  of  immortal  souls  began  to  pour  from  the  holo- 
caust into  eternity. 

Men  leaped  for  life,  but  into  death,  upon  the  glistening  ice ; 
women  shot  like  burning  meteors  from  the  flames  upon 
the  frozen  bier  that  encased  the  floundering  boat;  mothers 
hurled  their  burning  children  overboard,  and  then  followed 
them  to  the  gate  of  heaven ;  the  mangled  and  roasted  dead  be- 
gan to  lay  in  heaps  upon  the  ice.  The  boat  is  coming  towards 
the  wharf— she  increases  her  speed— the  wheels  beat  the  ice 
away,  and  between  two  winrows  of  burning  corpses  she  brings 
to  safety  the  fifty  men  and  women  that  yet  remain  on  board. 
Nearer  and  nearer  she  comes;  every  heart  on  the  wharf  is 
fluttering  with  expectancy ;  every  man  is  eager  to  catch  the 
rope  and  place  the  gang  planks ;  she  almost  touches  the  wharf, 
and  a  thousand  strong  men  rush  forward  with  outstretched 
arms  to  catch  the  impeiilled  who  are  crowding  towards  life. 


but — it  cannot  be  possible— the  boat  seems  swinging  away— 
she  is— she  is  drifting  out  into  the  stream.  "Why  don't  you 
put  her  in?  "  shrieked  ten  thousand  voices  to  the  pilot.  "  It 
will  set  the  shipping  on  fire,"  was  the  pilot's  reply.  An  old 
sailor,  who  looked  as  if  all  the  humanity  had  been  crushed  out 
of  him  by  the  storms,  and  as  if  his  heart  had  been  bake(' 
blazing  suns,  shouted,  "What  is  all  the  shipping  in  Philadel- 
phia worth  compared  to  those  men  and  women  you've  got  on 
board  that  boat,  you  infernal  scoundrel  ?"  and  an  Amen  to  the 
sentiment  of  love  burst  from  twenty  thousand  throats,  and 
frightened  that  boat  to  the  dock.  That  is  the  feeling  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Love  is  universal ;  fraternity  is  not  cir- 
cumscribed ;  culture  has  kindled  the  embers  of  brotherhood 
into  a  quenchless  flame,  and  in  its  sweet  warmth  heaven  plays 
about  every  heart,  glows  in  every  pathway,  illumines  every 
home.  Tiue,  there  are  hearts  and  homes  that  do  not  feel  it, 
but  there  are  homes,  too,  in  which  the  sunbeams  never  laugh 
or  play ;  the  shutters  are  kept  barred ;  the  curtains  are  never 
raised.  Floods  of  sunshine  without  are  ever  trying  to  melt 
their  way  in,  but  never  succeed.  Thus  it  is  with  the  heart  or 
home  that  never  feel  the  warming  touch  of  sympathising 
love.  It  is  as  free  and  brilliant  as  the  light  of  noonday,  and 
bubbles  in  the  heart  like  a  never-failing  spring  upon  the  moun- 
tain. From  the  hill-tops  the  birds  mingle  their  music  with  the 
soft  throbbings  of  the  human  heart  and  the  melodies  of  an- 
gelic choristers,  and  love's  harmonious  strains  fill  the  valleys 
of  the  fields  and  trill  through  the  arches  of  the  universe ;  on 
the  flowers  and  crystal  streams,  in  the  morning's  daybreak  and 
in  the  evening's  twilight,  twinkling  in  the  sweet  light  of  the 
stars  and  in  the  gentle  laughter  of  the  moon,  on  all  nature, 
animate  or  inanimate,  there  is  the  gentle  reflection  of  the 
joys,  the  smiles,  the  divinity  of  love.  The  race  is  living  in 
fhe  vestibule  of  heaven— in  the  garden  of  perpetual  bloom  and 
tailliancy. 


Ancient  Mode  of  Living. 

The  ancient  mode  of  living  may  be  somewhat  under- 
Btood  by  reference  to  an  old  book,  precious  in  the  si^ht 
of  the  antiquarians — ^the  household  book  of  an  Earl  of 
Northumberland.  It  appears  that  the  old  earl  had  a 
large  family.  It  consisted  of  six  hundred  and  sixty-six 
persons,  masters  and  servants.  Fifty  was  the  average 
number  of  his  daily  guests.  There  was  a  very  precise 
sumptuary  code,  and  given  out  In  parcels  and  by  rule. 
From  midsummer  to  Michaelmas  fresh  meat  was  allowed; 
for  the  rest  of  the  year  salted  provisions  were  alone  ad- 
missible. Mustard  was  in  great  demand.  One  hundred 
and  sixty  gallons  a  year  were  used  at  the  table ;  no  doubt 
the  character  of  the  fresh  and  salt  meat  required  a  po- 
tent stimulus  to  make  it  go  down.  One  bottle  and  a 
third  of  beer  was  given  to  each  person  daUy.  No  sheets 
for  the  beds  were  used.  The  table  cloths  were  few ;  they 
were  changed  but  once  a  month,  and  washing  days  were 
rare.  Ninety-one  dozen  candles  served  the  family  for  a 
year.  The  family  rose  at  six  in  the  morning,  dined  at 
ten,  and  supped  at  four.  The  earl  and  his  lady  had  at 
their  breakfast  something  better  than  the  rest — a  quart 
of  beer,  a  quart  of  wine,  two  pieces  of  salt  fish,  six  red 
herrings,  a?d  a  dish  of  sprats. 


St.  Augustine. 

One  of  the  channs  of  St,  Augustine,  Fla.,  is  the  num. 
ber  of  feathered  songsters.  Among  the  wild  thickets  of 
its  neighborhood  the  mocking  bird  finds  its  chosen  home. 
Blackbirds  are  abundant;  there  is  a  showy  red  bird  which 
has  a  peculiar  song,  and  martens  are  numerous.  Flori- 
da has  likewise  the  eagle,  the  turkey  buzzard  in  great 
numbers,  cranes,  herons,  pelicans,  the  great  woodpeck- 
er, flamingoes,  roseate,  spoonbills  and  the  lovely  and 
graceful  snakehawk,  or  blue  darter,  with  wings  spread- 
tog  three  feet,  soaring  over  the  moccasin-infested 
swamps  of  Florida.  Deer  and  wildcats  and  other  game 
are  abundant,  and  panthers  may  be  had  at  short  notice, 
and  the  fishing  is  extraordinary. 


Idleness. — It  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  only  the 
violent  passions,  such  as  ambition  and  love,  can  triumph 
over  the  rest.  Idleness,  languid  as  she  is,  often  masters 
them  all ;  she,  indeed,  influences  aU  our  designs  and  ac» 
tions,  and  insensibly  consumes  and  destroys  both  pas* 
sions  and  virtues. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


221 


A  Singular  Meeting. 

What  strange  events  happen  ;  what  wonderful  coinci- 
dences spring  into  being  along  the  pathway  of  life  of 
some  persons  1  I  have  just  learned  of  an  eventful  meet- 
ing between  two  soldiers  of  the  RebeUion,  which  I  will 
give  the  readers  of  this  paper  as  they  came  to  me. 

Among  the  various  regiments  recruited  in  Central 
New  York,  during  the  war,  was  the  160th,  which  was 
sent  to  the  Department  of  the  Gulf,  and  attached  to  the 
army  under  the  command  of  General  Banks.  This  regi- 
ment took  an  active  part  in  the  operations  against  Port 
Hudson,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to  enter  that  place  at 
the  time  of  its  surrender,  July  9,  1863.  It  was  one  of 
the  regiments  of  Weltzel's  Brigade,  and  the  following 
year  took  part  in  an  expedition  to  Sabine  Pass,  between 
Louisiana  and  Texas,  where  a  large  amount  of  Confede- 
rate stores  were  destroyed.  One  of  the  companies  be- 
longing to  the  160th  was  raised  in  Palmyra,  N.  T.,  and 
among  its  members  was  Mr.  O.  S.  Stevens,  who  served 
full  time,  was  discharged  at  its  disbandment,  and  is  now 
ft  merchant  at  Palmyra. 

A  few  days  since  Mr.  Stevens  had  occasion  to  go  to 
fl'artford,  Conn.,  and  left  home  on  the  5  P.  M.  train  on 
the  Central  Railroad.  After  becoming  well  settled  in 
one  of  the  sleeping  cars,  he  discovered  a  tall,  sandy- 
complexioned  man  in  the  opposite  section,  who,  though 
a  perfect  stranger,  had  a  large  Roman  nose  which  Stevens 
thought  he  had  seen  before,  but  failing  to  recall  any  re- 
semblance of  such  a  face,  he  gave  no  attention  to  it  until 
the  train  reached  Syracuse,  when  a  long  arm  reached 
across  the  aisle,  and  a  brawny  hand  touched  him  on  the 
phoulder,  the  stranger  at  the  same  time  asking  if  they 
stopped  there  for  supper.  To  this  Stevens  answered  in 
the  aflarmative,  telling  him  if  he  would  go  along  he 
wrould  show  him  where  to  get  a  good  lunch.  At  that 
they  passed  out  together,  and  after  supper  the  stranger 
offered  Stevens  a  cigar,  and  then  went  into  the  smoking 
car,  where  the  following  conversation  ensued : 

Well,  stranger,  I  reckon  you  live  somewhere  in  these 
parts  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  live  in  Palmyra,"  said  Stevens. 

"  And  I  live  way  down  in  Texas.  I  was  what  you  used 
to  call  a  Johnny  Reb  during  the  war." 

"  Ah,  what  part  of  the  South  did  you  serve  in  ?  "  asked 
Stevens. 

Thrusting  his  Idng  legs  under  the  seat  in  front,  and 
turning  part  way  round,  he  said  : 

"  I  was  at  Port  Hudson  until  your  army  nearly  starved 
us  out,  and  we  had  to  surrender.  After  I  was  exchanged 
I  was  a  Texas  ranger,  and  finally  got  reconstructed." 

"  And  you  were  a  prisoner  at  Port  Hudson  ?  Do  you 
remember  seeingthe  160th  New  York  Volunteers  there  ?  " 
eaid  Stevens. 

"I  think  I  do,"  said  the  Texan;  "and  if  I'm  not 
mistaken,  that  was  the  very  regiment  our  boys  first  met. ' ' 

"  And  do  you  remember  trading  canteens  with  one  of 
them?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  got  a  tin  canteen  with  the  initials  0.  S.  8. 
oQ  it ! " 

"And  I  got  a  wooden  one  with  J.  T.  P.  on  it,"  said 
Stevens. 

"That  was  mine,"  said  the  Texan:  "my  name  is 
John  T.  Pond.  By  George  1  we  have  drank  from  the 
same  canteen,  old  friend;  give  me  your  hand  for  life," 
and  he  brought  a  tremendous  squeeze  on  Stevens'  hand, 
which  fairly  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes. 

If  the  conversation  had  been  lively  before  it  was 
doubly  so  then,  Mr.  Pond  going  into  a  full  detail  of  his 
history  before  and  after  the  war.  He  had  left  Connecti- 
cut twenty-two  years  ago,  and  had  settled  at  Sabine  Pass, 
and  was  part  owner  of  a  large  mill,  which  Stevens'  com- 
mand had  destroyed  the  year  following  the  surrender  of 
Port  Hudson ;  he  was  now  on  his  way  to  New  Haven  to  visit 
a  sister  he  had  not  seen  in  all  these  years.  He  said  that 
he  returned  to  Sabine  after  the  war,  rebuilt  the  mill,  was 
successful,  and  now  had  secured  a  competence  that  en- 
abled him  once  more  to  visit  his  friends  in  the  North. 
Stevens  gave  him  an  accurate  account  of  the  destruction 
of  his  mill,  the  first  he  had  ever  obtained,  and  the  two 
sat  up  and  conversed  the  entire  night,  while  the  sleeping 
car  conductor  wondered  why  they  did  not  return  to 
occupy  their  berths.  The  next  morning  they  parted  at 
Hartford ;  and  though  their  first  meeting  had  been  as 
enemies,  they  bid  each  other  good-by  with  many  regrets, 
6uch  as  the  best  of  friends  omy  know. 


Silk  Culture. 

According  to  history,  the  silk  worm  originated  1b 
China.  As  a  regular  branch  of  human  industry  it  seems 
to  have  come  into  vogue  four  thousand  five  hundred  and 
fifteen  years  ago,  through  the  encouragement  of  the 
Empress  Si-ling-Chi,  to  whom  is  attributed  the  invention 
of  silk  stuffs.  The  country  was  enriched  through  the 
development  of  this  industry,  and  from  that  day  to  this 
the  memory  of  Si-ling-Chi  has  been  held  in  the  greatest 
reverence.  She  has  been  placed  among  the  deities  of 
the  land,  and  her  name  changed  to  that  of  Sein-Thsan, 
which  signifies  "the  first  who  raised  silkworm."  The 
secret  of  silk  worm  culture  was  finally  stolen  from 
China,  and  ultimately  spread  all  over  the  globe ;  for 
twenty  years,  however,  the  Chinese  kept  the  secret  faith- 
fully ;  death  was  the  penalty  which  any  one  incurred 
who  attempted  to  impart  a  knowledge  of  it  to  any  out- 
side nation,  and  their  frontiers  were  guarded  closely  to 
prevent  the  secret  from  being  carried  abroad. 

Timidity  of  Great  Men. 

It  is  frequently  the  case  that  persons  accustomed  to 
appear  before  the  public  are  notably  modest,  not  to  say 
timid,  in  private.  Examples  are  often  seen  among 
clergymen,  and  particularly  among  actors.  Many  of 
the  most  eloquent  of  pulpit  orators— used  to  face,  with- 
out shrinking,  large  congregations  nearly  every  day- 
assume  a  very  different  bearing  in  a  parlor  to  that 
which  marks  them  in  church;  and  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  theatrical  performers  are,  away  from_  the 
footlights,  the  most  easily  disconcerted  of  men.  Thus 
the  famous  Matthews  could  very  seldom  be  mduced  to 
exhibit  his  talent  among  his  personal  friends.  He  was 
nervous  and  shy,  and  his  performances  created  no  enthu- 
siasm. Theodore  Hook,  an  incorrigible  wag  and  jester, 
had  all  imaginable  assurance  in  playing  those  funny 
pranks  upon  people  for  which  he  was  so  celebrated ;  but 
on  one  occasion  he  was  to  take  part  in  some  amateur 
theatricals,  and  it  was  generally  surprising  to  see  so  bold 
a  gentleman,  when  he  made  his  appearance,  utterly 
paralyzed  with  fright  and  unable  to  utter  a  word  or  move 
a  limb.  A  famous  French  author  was  afflicted  with  a 
morbid  shyness  which  amounted  almost  to  insanity.  A 
word  or  a  look  disconcerted  him,  and  of  the  ladies  he 
stood  in  absolute  terror.  Byron,  too,  was  shy,  on  first 
acquaintance,  even  to  awkwardness.  In  fact,  many 
people  of  genius  and  talent  are  so  painfully  backward 
in  society  that  strangers  are  apt  to  mistake  them  for 
dolts  or  wall  flowers.  

A  Paper  Age. 

If  this  has  not  been  a  golden  age,  or  an  iron  age,  one  might 
fairly  call  it  a  paper  age.  Surely  we  are  finding  as  many  uses 
for  paper  as  the  people  of  the  Orient  do  for  their  palm  tree» 
which  is  said  to  supply  three  hundred  and  fifty  of  their  wants. 
When  we  consider  that  shoddy,  now  so  largely  used,  is  only 
1  kind  of  paper  made  of  woolen  rags  instead  of  cotton,  we  can 
see  the  many  purposes  lo  which  it  may  yet  be  applied.  A 
friend  who  owned  large  paper  roofing  factories,  showed  me 
one  day  samples  of  what  I  took  to  be  very  handsome  silk 
of  heavy  quality,  and  of  rich  dark  colors.  They  were  only 
samples  of  paper  made  to  imitate  dotted  silk,  and  were  in- 
tended for  milliner's  uses.  I  have  used  the  roofing  paper  on  a 
half  floor,  and  when  painted  it  is  an  excellent  substitute  for 
oil-cloth,  and  not  so  cold  t  >  the  feet.  I  have  seen  a  large  house 
built  with  only  this  paper  for  its  sides  ani  roof,  and  it  was 
said  to  stand  the  weather  well,  and  to  be  very  comfortable. 

A  paper  carpeting  printed  in  small,  neat  patterns,  is  consid- 
erably used  on  office  floors,  as  it  wears  well  and  is  quite  inex- 
pensive. We  are  all  familiar  with  paper  flour  bags,  tied  with 
paper  twine,  paper  toys  of  all  sorts,  from  tops  to  whistles,  and 
paper  collars  and  cufi's  have  become  more  conunon  than  linen 
ones. 

Some  seer  is  predicting  a  time  when  people  shall  go  clad 
from  head  to  foot  in  paper  suits,  which  will  cost  less  than  the 
washing  of  a  cloth  one.  Surely  we  are  coming  on  toward  that 
day  when  we  hear  of  paper  vest  for  summer  of  the  most  ap- 
proved Marseilles  stamp,  and  when  we  wear  on  our  feet  paper 
sole  leather,  which  we  never  suspect  until  the  shoes  are  about 
worn  out.  Summer  wardrobes,  when  that  good  time  dawns, 
will  be  very  inexpensive  affairs,  and  will  not  require  a  pocket 
iiill  of  paper  greenbacks  to  purchase,  as  at  the  present. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


An  Odd  Trade. 

There  are  many  curious  trades  carried  on  in  the  highways 
and  byways  of  this  world,  which  would  quite  surprise  us  were 
we  to  become  acquainted  with  them. 

They  have  a  curious  class  of  single  women  in  Chinese  so- 
ciety who  ply  the  business  of  gossip  mongers.  They  gather, 
with  the  assiduity  of  an  old  bone  collector,  all  the  stray  bits 
of  neighborhood  news,  all  the  choice  little  scandals  afloat, 
which  they  deck  up  in  a  becoming  manner,  and  then  retail 
them  out  in  ears  polite  at  about  the  rate  of  fifty  cents  an  hour. 
They  go  about  in  a  quiet  way,  and  when  they  reach  the  home 
of  a  wealthy  customer  they  beat  a  little  drum  to  announce 
themselves.  Forthwith,  there  is  a  flutter  among  the  housed- 
tip  Celestial  beauties,  who  have  none  of  the  reliefs  of  our 
modern  society,  as  shopping  excursions,  morning  calls,  at 
which  they  can  hear  and  tell  their  own  gossip,  or  even  public 
assemblies.  So  no  wonder  these  talking  dames  are  gladly  wel- 
comed, and  all  are  in  haste  to  have  them  open  their  budget  of 
news,  and  begin  their  delightful  stories. 

Like  all  true  gossips,  they  are  also  very  useful  to  their 
patrons  at  times,  in  matters  of  courtship,  rivalry,  and  the  like, 
and  receive  many  beautiful  gifts  from  those  whom  they  serve, 
They  generally  make  themselves  so  agreeable  that  their 
patrons  are  warmly  attached  to  them,  and  they  have  a  good 
provision  laid  up  for  their  old  age. 

It  may  be  a  slander  on  the  sex,  but  it  is  said  they  never  re- 
tire from  business,  unless  compelled  by  actual  infirmity,  their 
trade  is  so  congenial  to  their  feminine  tastes.  We  know  a 
good  many  women  out  of  China  who  follow  the  trade  with  a 
similar  assiduity,  but  I  cannot  say  that  any  one  of  them  ever 
came  to  much  power  or  profit  by  the  business. 

Concerning  Sulphur. 

In  1683  there  was  a  rlolent  eruption  from  Mount  Etna, 
in  Sicily,  which  was  attended  with  an  earthquake,  where- 
by 60,000  persons  were  destroyed.  The  sulphur  which  is 
now  sold  in  the  markets  of  the  world  is  said  to  be  largely 
derived  from  veins  produced  on  that  memorable  occasion. 
The  sulphur  is  ejected  from  the  volcanoes  at  the  time  of 
their  activity,  and  fills  up  vacant  spaces  in  the  lava  or 
frothy  pumice-stone.  When  this  is  quarried  or  mined, 
and  dug  out,  it  forms  the  brimstone  of  commerce.  When 
this  brimstone  is  melted  and  cast  into  sticks,  it  produces 
the  roll  sulphur  of  the  shops  ;  and  when  the  brimstone 
is  boiled,  and  its  vapor  is  allowed  to  escape  into  an  air- 
tight chamber,  the  variety  called  flowers  of  sulphur  is 
the  result.  Sulphur  in  its  natural  state  is  found  only  fn 
volcanic  regions ;  but  in  combination  there  is  scarcely 
any  substance  so  universally  diffused  over  the  world.  It 
is  found  not  only  united  with  all  kinds  of  metals  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  but  also  in  plants  and  animals,  and  is 
of  so  much  importance  to  these  that  they  cannot  exist 
without  it.  The  exquisite  perfume  of  wall-flowers  is  a 
peculiar  compound  of  sulphur.  If  a  silver  spoon  be  left 
in  an  egg,  it  soon  becomes  black  ;  that  effect  is  caused 
by  the  sulphur  of  the  egg  uniting  with  the  metal.  A 
compound  of  sulphur  is  always  present  in  the  air  we 
breathe  ;  and  although  small  in  proportion  to  its  other 
constituents,  yet  the  air  is  never  free  from  it. 

Commercially  speaking,  sulphur  rules  the  destiny  of 
man  both  in  the  arts  of  peace  and  in  the  appliances  of 
war.  It  is  the  key  which  opens  the  door  to  the  most 
important  chemical  manufactures.  From  it  we  make 
sulphuric  acid,  or  oil  of  vitriol,  which  has  well  been 
called  "the  king  of  acids."  By  its  aid  we  are  enabled 
to  produce  so  many  substances  that  the  bare  mention  of 
them  would  fill  the  whole  of  this  paper.  Bleaching, 
dyeing,  soda-making,  metal-refining,  electro-plating,  and 
electro-telegraphing  are  primarily  indebted  to  this  acid. 
Many  of  the  most  valuable  medicines,  such  as  ether, 
calomel,  etc.,  could  not  be  made  without  it.  Sulphur 
being  the  chief  ingredient  of  gunpowder,  all  the  applica- 
tions of  that  explosive  in  war  and  peace  are  dependent 
upon  it.  A  people  that  does  not  possess  lucif  er  matches 
stands  beyond  the  pale  of  civilization,  yet  matches  can- 
not be  made  without  sulphur ;  not  because  matches  are 
dipped  into  melted  brimstone  before  they  are  tipped 
with  the  phosphoric  composition  which  ignites  them,  but 
because  this  very  material  could  not  be  made  without 
the  indirect  use  of  sulphur.  England  alone  consumes 
more  than  60,000  tons  of  sulphur  annually,  which  is  all 
brought  from  the  volcanic  regions  of  Sicily. 


Jewish  Life  in  the  Time  of  Our  Lord. 

Altogether,  it  seems  eighteen  garments  were  supposed 
to  complete  an  elegant  toilette.  The  material,  the  coloi 
and  the  cut,  distinguished  the  wearer.  While  the  poor 
used  the  upper  garment  for  a  covering  at  night,  the 
fashionable  wore  the  finest  linen  white,  embroidered  or 
even  purple  garments,  with  curiously  wrought  silk 
girdles.  It  was  around  this  upper  garment  that  "the 
borders"  were  worn  which  the  Pharisees  "enlarged" — 
(Matt.  xxii:5.)  Of  these  we  may  speak  hereafter.  Mean- 
time we  continue  our  description.  The  nine  garment 
went  down  to  the  heels.  The  head-dress  consisted  of  a 
pointed  cap,  or  kind  of  turban,  curiously  wound,  of 
more  or  less  exquisite  material,  the  ends  often  hanging 
gracefully  behind.  Gloves  were  generally  used  only  for 
protection.  As  for  ladies,  besides  the  difference  in  dress, 
the  early  '"barge  of  Isaiah  (iii:16,  24,)  against  the  daugh- 
ters of  t/  erusalem,  might  have  been  repeated  with  ten- 
fold emphasis  in  the  New  Testament  times.  We  read  of 
three  kinds  of  vails.  The  Arabian  hung  down  from 
the  head,  leaving  the  wearer  free  to  see  all  around ;  the 
vail-dress  was  a  kind  of  mantilla,  thrown  gracefully 
about  the  whole  person,  and  covering  the  head ;  while 
the  Egyptian  resembled  the  vail  of  the  modern  Orientals, 
covering  breast,  neck,  chin  and  face,  and  leaving  only 
the  eyes  free.  The  girdle,  which  was  fastened  lower 
than  by  men,  was  often  of  very.costly  fabric,  and  studded 
with  precious  stones. 

Sandals  consisted  merely  of  soles  strapped  to  the  feet; 
but  ladies  wore  also  costly  slippers,  sometimes  embroid- 
ered or  adorned  with  gems,  and  so  arranged  that  the 
pressure  of  the  foot  emitted  a  delicate  perfume. 

It  is  well  known  that  scents  and  perfumes  were  greatly 
in  vogue,  and  often  most  expensive,  (Matt.  xxvi:7.) 
The  latter  were  prepared  of  oil  and  home  or  foreign 
perfume,  the  dearest  being  kept  in  costly  alabaster 
boxes.  The  trade  of  perfumes  was,  however,  looked 
dovm  upon  not  only  among  the  Jews,  but  even  among 
heathen  nations.  But  in  general  society  anointing  was 
combined  with  washing  as  tending  to  comfort  and  re- 
freshment. The  hair,  the  beard,  the  forehead,  and  the 
face,  even  garlands  worn  at  feasts,  were  anointed.  But 
luxury  went  much  further  than  that.  Some  ladies  used 
cosmetics,  painting  their  cheeks  and  blackening  their 
eyebrows  with  a  mixture  of  antimony,  zinc  and  oil.  The 
hair,  which  was  considered  a  chief  point  of  beauty,  was 
the  object  of  special  care.  Young  people  wore  it  long; 
but  in  men  this  would  have  been  regarded  as  a  token  of 
effeminacy.  The  beard  was  carefully  trimmed,  annointed 
and  perfumed. 


Old  Time  Streets. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  men  began  to 
think  that  pestilences  were  not  visitations  of  Provi- 
dence, but  the  result  of  uncleanliness  and  filth.  Conse- 
quent upon  that  belief,  the  ill-smelling  streets  of  Paris 
were  paved.  At  once  dysenteries  and  spotted  fever  di- 
minished ;  a  sanitary  condition  approaching  that  of  the 
Moorish  cities  of  Spain,  which  had  been  paved  for  cen- 
turies, was  attained.  In  that  now  beautiful  metropolia 
it  was  forbidden  to  keep  swine,  an  ordinance  resented 
by  the  monks  of  the  Abbey  of  St,  Anthony,  who  de- 
manded that  the  pigs  of  that  saint  should  go  where  they 
chose  ;  the  government  was  obliged  to  compromise  the 
matter  by  requiring  that  bells  should  be  fastened  to  the 
animal's  necks.  King  Philip,  the  son  of  Louis  the  Fat, 
had  been  kiUed  by  his  horse  stumbling  over  a  sow.  Pro- 
hibitions were  published  against  throwing  slops  out  of 
the  windows.  Paving  was  followed  by  attempts  at  the 
construction  of  drains  and  sewers.  Then  followed  the 
lighting  of  the  public  thoroughfares.  At  first,  houses 
facing  the  streets  were  compelled  to  have  candles  or 
lamps  in  their  windows  ;  then  the  system  of  having 
public  lamps  was  tried,  but  this  was  not  brought  to 
perfection  until  the  present  century,  when  lighting  by 
gas  was  invented.  Contemporaneously  with  public 
lamps  were  improved  organizations  for  night-watchmen 
and  police,  and  thus  travelling  by  night  lost  its  last 
remaining  terrors.   

•  It  is  stated  that  of  the  250,000,000  tons  of  coal  annu- 
ally  dug  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  Great  Britain 
produces  one-half,  Germany  and  the  United  States  on& 
sixth  each. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


223 


VARIOUS  METHODS 

OP 

TEERAPIN  AND  TURTLE  HUNTING. 

In  the  broad  but  clear  waters  of  the  Niagara  River, 
several  miles  above  the  Falls,  there  are  two  or  three 
large  bays,  formed  by  the  winding  course  of  this  noble 
stream,  where  the  current  becomes  comparatively  slow, 
so  that  the  terrapins  (sometimes  erroneously  called  mud- 
turtles)  seem  to  meet  with  little  or  no  difficulty  in  stem- 


sun  while  they  take  a  nap  ;  for  they  are  very  fond  of 
basking  in  the  sun  on  the  margins,  and  on  stumps 
and  stones,  whence  they  can  readily  plunge  into  the 
water  if  distu  ^bed 

"  What  would  you  say. 

If  I  should  tell, 
Of  a  fellow  small, 

In  a  house  of  shell  ? 
Would  you  believe  It, 

If  I  should  declare. 
He  carries  his  house 

With  him  everywhere  ? 


SHOOTING  TORTOISE  ON  THE  NIAGARA  RIVER, 


ming  it ;  for  if  the  sportsman  will  take  the  trouble 
of  concealing  himself  on  the  adjacent  bank,  where 
he  may  occasionally  meet  with  screening  bushes  or 
underwood  ;  or  be  anchored  off  in  the  stream,  at 
some  distance,  in  a  small  canoe,  that  looks  more  like 
a  floating  log  of  timber  than  like  a  navigable  craft, 
he  will  have  opportunities  of  seeing  these  creatures 
rowing  themselves  from  one  part  of  the  bay  to 
another,  for  the  purpose  of  finding  some  suitable 
stone,  or  stump,  or  prostrate  tree,  upon  which  to 
crawl,  for  the  purpose  of  sunning  themselves  in  the 


He  travels  about 

Where  his  mind  Is  led, 
And  never  needs 

To  go  home  to  bed. 
Wherever  he  stops 

He  fares  very  well, 
For  he  always  keeps 

His  own  hotel. 
His  living  is  cheap, 

For  he  pays  no  rent. 
Therefore  he  ought 
To  be  very  content. " 

The  terrapin  is.e^Jensively  used  as  food.  The 


224 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


son  for  hunting  them  begins  on  the  first  of  October, 
and  continues  until  the  first  or  middle  of  March. 
They  are  frequently  brought  to  market  before  and 
after  this  period ;  but  by  good  judges  are  then 
considered  unfit  for  the  table.  There  are  several 
varieties  of  the  fresh  water  species  of  their  family, 
emydoidcB.  They  have  a  depressed  head,  and  the  neck 
can  be  wholly  retracted  within  the  shell ;  eyes  large,  and 
the  beak  somewhat  like  a  bird  of  prey  ;  they  are  good 
swimmers,  and  out  of  the  water  move  with  more  quick- 
ness than  the  land  tortoises ;  their  food  consists  of  small 
reptiles,  fish,  and  other  aquatic  animals,  though  in  cap- 
tivity they  eat  vegetables  readily. 

The  three  common  varieties  of  salt  water  terrapin 
known  to  our  dealers  are  the  true  diamond-backs,"  the 
"little  bulls  "and  the  "red  fenders."  The  diamond- 
backs  are  considered  marketable  when  they  become 
about  six  inches  long,  and  they  are  rarely  found  more 
than  eight  inches  in  length.  They  are  generally  about 
six  inches  long  when  three  years  old.  This  season,  ter- 
rapin of  this  size  bring  fifteen  dollars  per  dozen.  A  large 
size,  eight  inches  long,  are  considered  very  choice,  and 
easily  coromand  twenty  dollars  per  dozen.  When  less 
than  six  Inches  long  their  marketable  price  decreases 
very  materially,  and  they  bring  only  from  eight  to  ten 
dollars  per  dozen.  They  are  sometimes  caught  by  fish- 
ermen in  their  nets.  But  this  does  not  often  occur  at 
this  season  of  the  year,  as  terraptu  become  torpid  on  the 
approach  of  cold  weather,  and  burrow  in  the  mud  at  the 
bottom  of  the  small  streams  along  Chesapeake  Bay. 
When  the  season  for  hunting  them  arrives,  the  hunters— 
who  are  generally  colored  men — go  up  these  shallow 
streams  in  boats,  when  the  tide  is  out,  in  search  of  their 
game.  They  do  not  shoot  the  game,  as  do  the  hunters 
on  the  Niagara  Kiver ;  but  one  man  sits  in  the  stem  of 
the  boat  and  paddles  slowly  along;  another  takes  his 
station  in  the  bow,  armed  with  an  iron-pointed  pole, 
with  which  he  probes  the  mud.  These  men  become  so 
expert  that  as  soon  as  the  back  of  a  terrapin  is  struck  in 
the  mud  they  know  the  fact  by  the  peculiar  sound,  and, 
dropping  the  pole,  they  take  a  pair  of  short  oyster-tongs, 
with  which  the  animal  is  quickly  dug  out  of  the  mud  and 
lifted  into  the  boat.  These  men  make  very  good  wages 
during  the  early  part  of  the  season,  as  two  men  will 
sometimes  capture  twenty  terrapin  a  day.  A  prominent 
dealer  estimates  that  from  eight  hundred  to  twelve  hun- 
dred persons  are  engaged  in  terrapin  hunting  during  the 
early  part  of  the  season.  The  hunters  receive  about 
sixty  per  cent,  less  than  the  market  value  of  the  terra- 
pin, which  pass  through  three  or  four  hands  before  they 
reach  the  large  cities,  where  they  are  sold  to  consumers. 
During  the  season  about  three  hundred  thousand  terrapin 
are  brought  to  Baltimore,  and  are  shipped  to  New  York, 
Boston,  Philadelphia,  Pittsburg,  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  Cin- 
cinnati and  other  points.  These  will  average  in  value  at 
least  one  dollar  ;  so  that  the  trade  must  aggregate  more 
than  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year  at  the  lowest 
calculation. 

The  American  species  of  tortoise  inhabits  the  whole 
continent  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  as  far  north 
as  the  great  lakes  and  the  upper  St.  Lawrence  ;  the  for- 
eign species  are  found  in  the  warm  regions  of  southeast- 
em  Asia,  and  Africa.  The  oldest  geological  deposit  in 
which  any  of  this  family  has  been  discovered,  is  the  green 
sand  of  New  Jersey.  They  vary  greatly  in  size,  from 
a  few  inches  to  twelve  or  more  feet  in  circumference. 

Living  quite  contentedly  in  the  world-renowned 
Zoological  Gardens  of  London,  are  two  large  land 
tortoises,  male  and  female.  The  two  individuals 
difEer  from  each  other  considerably,  not  only  in  size, 
but  in  the  form  of  the  shell.  The  male  weighs 
nearly  nine  hundred  pounds  ;  but  the  female  is  much 
smaller  ;  her  shell  is  smooth  and  evenly  colored, 
while  that  of  the  male  is  rough,  and  varies  in  color. 
They  feed  on  vegetables  of  all  kinds,  of  which  they 
consume  daily  a  large  quantity  ;'  they  seem  to  prefer 
cabbage  and  vegetable  marrow,  but  eat  grass  freely. 
A  constant  supply  of  water  to  drink  is  essential ; 
without  it  they  would  perish  in  a  short  time;  They 
are  fond  of  basking  in  the  sunshine,  but  dislike  a 
long  exposure  to  its  direct  rays  at  midday.  Their 
waSc  is  slow  and  clumsy,  but  is  not  impeded  by  the 
weififht  of  as  many  people  as  can  possibly  find  room , 


on  the  back  of  their  shell.  These  tortoises  never  bite, 
and  the  male  is  so  tame  as  to  take  food  out  of  the 
hand.  He  is  fond  of  being  stroked  and  rubbed  about 
the  head  and  neck,  which  he  protrudes  out  of  the 
shell  to  their  full  length.  He  shows  great  affection 
for  the  female,  and  this  was  especially  apparent 
when  he  was  released  from  two  months'  confinement 
in  his  cage ;  he  seemed  stiff,  without  any  inclina- 
tion to  move,  until  the  female  was  placed  be- 
fore him,  when  he  at  once  stretched  out  his 
head  and  followed  her  about  in  their  enclo- 
sure. Some  time  before  sunset  they  go  to  rest,  one  with 
the  fore  part  of  the  shell  resting  against  that  of  the 
other.  The  male  has  a  loud  voice,  compared  by  the 
keeper  to  the  roaring  of  a  bull. 

Lyman  in  his  "  Recollections  of  Agassiz,"  which  indi- 
cates with  what  enthusiasm  Agassiz  entered  into  the 
study  and  investigation  of  Natural  History,  says : — "  My 
acquaintance  with  Agassiz  began  in  the  Autumn  of  1848, 
and  during  the  next  two  years  he  was  frequently  at  my- 
bouse  in  Waltham,  and  made  collections  with  me  in  the 
country  around  the  village.  One  day,  as  we  were  walk- 
ing together  in  a  field,  we  came  upon  a  fragment  of  bone, 
left  apparently  by  some  dog  from  a  neighboring  house. 
I  was  passing  by  it  without  attention,  but  Agassiz  picked 
it  up,  and  saw  two  spiders  clinging  to  its  under  side. 
*  There  !'  said  he,  as  he  transferred  the  spiders  to  a  bot- 
tle of  alcoholj  *  that  shows  us  that  no  object  is  so  trivial 
as  not  to  repay  you  for  looking  at  it.  Who  would  have  thought 
to  get  two  genera  of  spiders  from  an  old  piece  of  mutton 
bone  ?' 

"We  returned  one  day,  from  our  ramble,  with  several  frogs 
and  snakes  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief  with  a  couple  of  spotted 
turtles.  Mrs.  Hill  asked  him  if  he  thought  the  frogs  liked 
their  company.  'Nol'  he  said,  'he  was  afraid  they  did  not  find  it 
very  agreeable.'  He  took  the  turtles  out,  and  transferred  them 
to  a  waterpail,  and  set  them  in  the  kitchen.  Our  servant  girl- 
newly  arrived  from  the  north  of  Ireland,  and  who  had  been 
iPreatly  delighted,  a  few  days  before,  to  hear  Agassiz  describe, 
|in  a  public  lecture,  the  Irish  moUusks  which  she  had  herself 
^gathered  in  her  childhood — ^looked  at  these  novel  monsters 
iwith  an  'admiration  not  unmingled  with  awe.'  While  we 
were  at  dinner  she  came  in,  with  breathless  horror,  and  whis- 
'pered  to  Mrs.  Hill  that  one  of  those  black  things  wf  J  creeping 
into  the  fire.  Agassiz  overheard,  excused  himself  and  ran  to 
save  his  tortoise.  I  followed  just  in  time  to  see  him  push 
aside  the  reflector  from  before  the  range,  and  dive  in  after  the 
reptile,  which  was  not  injured.  He  said  he  understood  the 
girl's  terror;  he  had  never  seen  a  living  tortoise  himself  until 
his  arrival  in  America." 

"Those  were  especially  the  days  of  turtles,  when,  in  1850, 
the  second  volume  of  'Contributions  to  the  Natural  History  of 
the  United  States '  was  in  preparation.  From  the  f om-  cor- 
ners of  the  earth  these  animals  were  there  gathered  together, 
and  the  iterated  names— Emys,  Testudo,  and  Chelonia — drove 
all  the  rest  of  Latin  nomenclature  out  of  our  heads.  They 
were  everywhere,  some  preserved  in  jars,  and  some  dried  on 
the  shelves;  then  the  living  ones  in  all  directions.  A  large 
Galapagos  tortoise  dwelt  in  the  front  entry:  many  little  terra- 
pins hid  under  the  stair,  and  soft-shell  turtles  inhabited  tubs. 
The  Professor's  own  house  was  not  free  from  them,  and  his 
little  garden  was,  at  times,  quite  swarmed.  The  excitement 
culminated  when  there  arrived,  one  day,  a  strong  box  vsdth 
bars,  suitable  for  a  wild  beast,  and  containing  two  huge  Mis- 
sissippi snappers,  perhaps  the  most  ferocious,  and,  for  their 
size,  the  strongest  of  reptiles.  The  Professor  traced  the  fero- 
city back  at  once  and  showed  that  the  very  embryo  of  the 
snapper,  before  it  is  ready  for  hatching,  would  fiercely  bite  a 
bit  of  stick." 

When  this  species  seize  their  food,  or  defend  themselves, 
they  dart  out  their  head  and  long  neck  with  the  rapidity  of  an 
arrow.  They  bite  sharply  with  their  trenchant  beak,  and  do- 
not  let  go  till  tae  piece  they  have  seized  is  taken  out ;  the 
fishermen,  therefore,  cut  oflf  their  heads  generally  as  soon  as 
they  are  caught. 

This  is  the  way  catching  turtles  is  described You  spy  him 
from  afar  off  floating  on  the  undulating  surface  of  the  water. 
Slowly,  cautiously,  your  boatman  rows  the  skiff  to  Ae  turtle ; 
the  least  clumsy  splash  of  an  oar  would  disturb  his  siesta.  At 
last  you  get  behind  him,  and  inch  by  inch  you  approach  him. 
Then  you  stoop  well  over  the  bow,  and  turn  vour  turtle. 
Ahem!  Turn  him!  It  seems  easy  enough  to  say '*  turn  him," 
but  how  do  you  do  it  ?  You  bend  down,  leaning  far  over  the 
bow  of  the  boat,  make  both  hands  meet  under  his  belly  in  the 
water,  and  you  lift  Mr.  Turtle  clean  out  of  the  sea  and  tumble 
him  backwards  into  your  boat.  It  is  surprising  how  light  a 
turtle  is  in  the  water  and  what  a  dead  weight  he  is  when  out 
of  his  element.  No  matter  if  he  does  struggle  a  little  and  da«h 
his  flippers  at  you,  the  only  thing  really  to  be  afraid  of  is  his 
beak,  and  the  barnacles  which  almost  always  grow  on  his  sides 
and  cut  like  knives  into  the  arms  and  wrists  when  you  hold  a 
two  hundred  pound  turtle  in  your  embrace, 

A  curious  method  of  capturing  sea  turtles  when  asleep  in  the 
water  is  practiced  in  some  parts  of  the  East,  by  means  of  the 


I  HE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


225 


suck  Qg  fisb,  or  remora,  a  well-known  lisli,  about  a  foot  long, 
naving  a  sucker  on  the  top  of  the  head,  by  which  it  attaches 
itself  to  bodies  in  the  water.  A  number  of  these  fish  are  kept 
alive  in  cages  in  the  water,  and  when  a  sleeping  turtle  is  seeu 
at  a  distance,  a  string  of  suitable  length  is  tied  about  the  nar- 
row part  of  the  tail  of  one  of  the  fish,  which  is  pointed  in  the 
direction  of  the  floating  animal.  The  fish  instinctively  makes 
for  the  turtle  and  attaches  itself,  and  the  string  being  then 
carefully  drawn  in,  both  animals  are  hauled  within  reach  and 
secured. 

A  South  American  traveler  tells  how  the  Conibos  capture 
turtles,  which  are  an  important  article  of  diet  with  them.  In 
the  night  the  turtles  come  out  of  the  river  in  large  numbers  to 
lay  their  eggs, 

"Ponderous,  clumsy  creatures,  rolled  uji 
From  the  water?" 

The  Conibos,  squatting,  or  kneeling  under  their  leaty  sheds, 
and  keeping  profound  silence,  await  the  moment  for  action. 
The  turtles,  who  separate  themselves  in  detachments  on  leav- 
ing the  water,  dig  rapidly  with  their  fore  feet  a  trench  often 
two  hundred  yards  long,  and  always  four  feet  broad  and  two 
deep.  They  apply  themselves  to  the  work  with  such  zeal  that 
the  sand  flies  about  them  and  envelopes  them  as  a  fog.  As 
soon  as  they  are  satisfied  that  their  trench  is  large  enough  they 
deposit  in  it  their  soft-shelled  eggs  to  the  number  of  from 
forty  to  seventy,  and  with  their  hind  feet  quickly  fill  up  the 
trench.  In  this  contest  of  paddling  feet  more  than  one  turtle, 
tumbled  over  by  his  companions,  rolls  into  the  trench  and  is 
buried  alive.  Half  an  hour  is  enough  for  the  accomplishment 
of  this  task.  The  turtles  then  make  a  disorderly  rush  for  the 
river.  Now  the  moment  has  arrived  for  which  the  Conibos 
have  anxiously  waited.  At  a  given  signal  the  whole  band  sud- 
denly rise  from  their  lurking-places  and  dash  off  in  pursuit  of 
the  amphibia,  not  to  cut  off  their  retreat— for  they  would 
themselves  be  trampled  under  foot  by  the  resistless  squadrons 
— but  to  rush  upon  their  flanks,  seize  them  by  their  tails,  and 
throw  them  over  on  their  backs.  Before  the  turtles  have  dis- 
appeared, a  thousand  prisoners  often  remain  in  the  hands  of 
the  assailants. 


Oil  Cloth. 

The  custom  of  covering  floors,  halls,  and  passages  is 
very  general.  Where  warmth  and  comfort  are  desired, 
carpets  are  used.  Where  something  more  durable  and 
less  costly  is  demanded,  a  covering  of  oil  or  floor  cloth 
has  been  invented.  This  cloth  or  canvas  is  a  very  strong 
fabric,  made  of  flax  and  hemp,  painted  on  both  sides, 
the  under  side  being  plain,  the  upper  side  ornamented 
with  patterns  or  designs  of  two  or  more  colors.  The 
cloth  used  for  this  purpose  should  be  without  seam,  so 
that  when  pieces  of  great  width  are  required,  two  men 
are  employed  at  the  loom,  one  on  each  side,  for  throw- 
ing the  shuttle  back  and  forth.  This  kind  of  cloth 
being  woven  for  this  purpose  alone,  its  manufacture 
forms  a  distinct  branch  of  business.  Pieces  are  made 
from  eighteen  to  twenty-four  feet  wide,  and  the  length 
often  exceeds  one  hundred  yards. 

When  the  canvas  is  received  at  the  manufactory,  the 
bales,  containing  one  hundred  or  more  yards,  and 
weighing  nearly  six  hundred  pounds,  are  opened  and 
cut  in  pieces  of  sixty  or  one  hundred  feet,  as  may  be 
required.  These  pieces  are  then  taken  to  the  "frame 
room,"  which  consists  of  a  number  of  strong  wooden 
frames,  standing  upright,  a  few  feet  from  each  other. 
The  space  between  the  frames  is  occupied  by  a  scaffold 
of  four  tiers,  which  may  be  reached  by  means  of  a 
Jadder  at  one  end  of  each  frame.  The  edges  and  ends 
of  the  canvas  are  fastened  to  the  frame,  and  by  means 
of  screws  the  beams  of  the  frame  are  moved  so  as  to 
tighten  and  stretch  it  to  its  utmost  tension.  In  this 
position  every  part  of  the  cloth  can  be  reached  from 
the  several  platforms.  The  first  operation,  preparatory 
to  painting,  is  covering  the  back  of  the  canvas  with  a 
weak  solution  of  size,  applied  with  a  bnish ;  and, 
while  yet  damp,  the  canvas  is  thoroughly  rubbed  with 
pumice-stone.  By  this  means  the  irregularities  of  the 
surface  are  removed,  and  the  size  penetrates  the  inter- 
stices of  the  cloth,  so  preventing  the  paint,  which  is 
afterward  applied,  from  penetrating  too  far,  which 
would  render  the  oil  cloth  hard  and  brittle.  This 
riming  and  scouring  are  carried  on  from  the  :^pp 
ownward. 

When  the  surface  is  dry,  a  coat  of  paint,  made  of 
linseed  oil  and  some  cheap  coloring  matter,  is  applied. 
This  paint  is  very  thick  and  is  thrown  on  to  the  canvas 
in  dabs  with  a  short  brush ;  it  is  then  spread  with  a  long 
and  very  elastic  steel  trowel.  The  paint  is  thus  thor- 
oughly worked  into  the  web  of  the  cloth,  filling  up  aU 
inequalities,  and  rendering  the  surface  smooth  and  level. 
The  "trowel-color,"  as  it  is  called,  is  allowed  to  dry  ten 


flays  or  longer,  according  to  the  weather,  after  which  a 
second  coat  is  smoothly  laid  on  with  the  trowel,  which 
completes  the  work  for  the  under  side  of  the  canvas. 
After  the  first  coat  of  paint  is  applied  to  the  under  side, 
the  same  process  is  commenced  on  the  face  side  of  the 
cloth  ;  the  size  is  applied,  then  rubbed  in  with  pumice- 
stone  ;  the  first  trowel  color  is  then  on,  which,  when  dry, 
is  also  rubbed  down  with  pumice-stone  ;  two  more  coats 
are  applied  with  a  trowel,  with  a  pumice-stone  rubbing 
after  each.  Finally,  a  fourth  coating  of  paint  is  applied 
with  the  brush,  which  is  the  ground  color  for  the  designs 
which  are  to  be  printed  on  it.  The  floor  cloth  is  thus 
completed,  the  various  occupations  occupying  from  two 
to  three  months,  when  it  is  ready  to  be  removed  from 
the  frames  and  transferred  to  the  printing  rooms. 

The  printing  of  the  cloth  is  done  on  a  flat  table,  over 
which  it  is  drawn  as  fast  as  the  designs  are  impressed. 
This  is  done  with  wooden  blocks,  not  unlike  those  used 
in  the  old  method  of  calico  printing.  As  the  patterns 
generally  consist  of  several  colors,  there  are  as  many 
blocks  and  as  many  separate  printings  as  there  are  colors 
in  the  designs. 

In  preparing  a  set  of  blocks  for  printing  oil  cloths,  an 
accurate  colored  sketch  of  the  design  is  first  made  on 
stout  paper.  A  blank  sheet  of  paper  is  then  placed 
under  this,  and  by  means  of  a  sharp  point,  all  that  por- 
tion of  the  device  including  one  color  is  marked  on  the 
under  sheet  in  a  series  of  dots,  or  holes.  This  being  re- 
moved, another  blank  sheet  is  placed  under  the  pattern, 
and  all  the  figures  of  another  color  are  pricked  out  in  a 
similar  manner.  Thus  the  pattern  is  dissected  on  as 
many  sheets  of  paper  as  there  are  colors  to  be  printed. 
'One  of  the  pricked  sheets  is  then  fixed  on  the  surface  of 
a  block,  and  a  little  powdered  charcoal  is  then  dusted 
over  it  from  a  muslin  bag,  so  as  to  penetrate  the  hole. 
The  dotted  line  thus  made  on  the  block  serves  to  guide 
the  pencil  of  the  engraver  when  the  paper  is  removed, 
and  enables  him  to  di'aw  the  portion  of  the  pattern  re- 
quired for  that  block.  The  same  plan  is  pursued  with 
I  other  blocks,  which  are  then  ready  for  the  engraver, 
who  cuts  away  the  wood,  and  leaves  the  pattern  in  relief. 

The  blocks  used  for  printing  are  generally  about 
eighteen  inches  square,  the  engraved  portion  being 
made  of  some  close-grained  wood,  such  as  the  pear  tree, 
and  fastened  to  blocks  of  pine.  These  engraved  blocks, 
in  large  establishments,  constitute  a  very  valuable  por- 
tion of  the  stock.  Before  the  designs  are  impressed  on 
the  cloth,  it  is  made  slightly  rough  by  means  of  a  steel 
scraper  and  a  scrubbing  brush,  which  prepare  it  to  re- 
ceive the  colors  more  readily.  Near  the  printing  table 
is  placed  a  number  of  flat  cushions,  on  which  the  color- 
ing matter  is  first  placed  with  a  brush.  The  printer 
presses  the  block  on  the  cushion,  which  is  charged  with 
the  color,  and  then  applies  it  to  the  cloth,  holding  it 
firmly,  at  the  same  time  striking  it  several  blows  with 
the  handle  of  a  heavy  hammer.  A  second  printer 
charges  his  block  with  a  different  color,  and  applies  it 
in  the  same  manner.  He  is  followed  by  a  third,  and  as 
many  others  as  may  be  required  to  form  the  most  vari- 
ously-colored pattern.  As  fast  as  the  cloth  is  printed  it 
passes  through  an  opening  in  the  floor  to  the  drying 
room,  where  it  becomes  hai'd  and  ready  for  use.  Narrow 
pieces,  for  halls  and  stairs,  are  first  cut  the  required 
width,  and  printed  in  the  same  manner,  except  that  a 
space  is  left  on  each  side  for  a  border,  which,  requiring 
smaller  blocks,  is  put  on  afterward.  Sometimes  drying 
oils  are  used  to  hasten  the  completion  of  the  work; 
but  this  makes  the  cloth  brittle,  and  of  inferior  quality. 

There  are  various  large  manufactories  of  oil  cloths  in 
the  United  States,  and  the  value  of  their  production  is 
about  two  millions  and  a  half  dollars  yearly.  A  still 
cheaper  floor  covering  is  made  of  stout,  strong  paper, 
painted  in  colors,  but  has  not  yet  attained  an  extent 
which  enables  it  to  be  called  a  "great  industry." 

Wild  Oats. — Of  many  a  young  man  to-day  whose  life 
is  irregular,  if  not  flagrantly  criminal,  fond  friends  are 
saying  :  "  Oh,  he  is  only  sowing  his  wild  oats."  Indeed, 
but  not  in  the  sense  intended,  not  in  the  sense  of  bury- 
ing them,  but  sowing  them  as  the  terrible  seed  of  a  more 
terrible  harvest.  It  is  false,  parents,  that  such  a  youth 
has  rich  promise  in  it.  It  is  false,  young  man,  that  you 
can  transgress  great  moral  laws  and  form  vicious  habits, 
and  on  arriving  at  manhood  cast  them  off  as  easily  as 
you  can  change  your  dress.  The  law  is  that  you  will 
reap  in  manhood  what  you  sow  in  youth  ;  that  and  na* 
something  else. 


226 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


The  Dead  City  of  Is. 

The  story  of  Is  may  be  found  in  one  form  or  another 
in  almost  every  book  on  Brittany,  all  having  substan- 
tially the  same  accounts,  resting  principally  upon  the 
popular  traditions. 

Built  in  the  vast  basin  which  to-day  forms  the  bay  of 
Douenenez,  and  separated  from  the  sea  by  a  dike,  was 
the  city  of  Is.  In  the  dike  were  sluices,  which  from  time 
to  time  were  opened  sufficiently  to  admit  enough  water 
for  the  cleaning  of  the  drains  and  otherwise  purifying 
the  city.  Bang  Gradlon,  a  well  beloved  monarch,  ruled 
here,  and  once  a  month  presided  in  person  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  sluices.  The  principal  one  was  opened  by  a 
silver  key,  which  the  king  always  wore  fastened  about 
his  neck. 

It  was  a  splendid  court  that  King  Gradlon  presided 
over,  and  the  magnificence  of  his  capital  was  the  wonder 
of  the  country.  The  royal  palace  was  a  place  such  as 
we  dream  of.  In  it  marble,  cedar  and  gold  replaced  the 
oak,  granite  a»d  iron  ordinarily  used  in  building. 

The  honors  of  the  king's  court  were  done  by  his 
daughter  Dahut,  or  Ahes,  a  princess  shamefuUy  known 
as  the  Honoria  of  Brittany.  Like  that  other  notoriously 
wicked  woman — 

She  had  for  a  crown  the  vices,  and  for  pages  the  seven  deadly 
sins. 

This  woman  was  accused  of  the  most  heinous  crimes. 
It  was  her  habit  each  night  to  entice  young  men  whom 
she  fancied  to  a  chosen  and  secluded  retreat,  where, 
when  they  ceased  to  amuse  her,  they  were  dispatched  by 
a  masked  menial,  and  their  corpses  borne  away  to  the 
mountains.  One  is  shown  near  Huelgoat,  a  gulf,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  rushed  the  mountain  stream,  with  sad, 
strange  murmurings,  and  through  which  the  winds  are 
ever  sighing— noises  which  the  old  wives  interpret  as 
cries  from  the  souls  of  Dahut's  lovers. 

Complaints  were  made  to  Gradlon  time  and  again,  and 
he  always  promised  to  mete  out  speedy  punishment  to 
his  daughter,  but  paternal  indulgence  was  stronger  in  his 
heart  than  royal  duty,  and  so  Dahut  went  on  in  her 
wicked  ways.  His  leniency  was  repaid  by  the  basest  in- 
gratitude. His  wicked  child  formed  a  plot  against  him, 
by  which  she  meant  to  secure  for  herself  the  royal 
power.  The  silver  key  was  the  symbol  of  the  king's  au- 
thority, and  Dahut  soon  possessed  herseK  of  it— stealing 
it  from  her  father's  neck  while  the  man  slept. 

The  king,  when  he  found  that  the  key  was  gone,  was 
in  the  greatest  consternation,  and,  under  the  ominous 
cloud  of  coming  misfortune,  retired  to  his  palace,  that 
the  people,  who  regarded  the  key  with  superstitious 
reverence,  might  not  know  of  his  loss.  At  night  he  was 
awakened  from  a  troubled  slumber  by  the  appearance  of 
St.  Guenole  before  him,  who  said : 

"  Rise  up,  O  King,  and  hasten  to  leave  the  city  with 
your  faithful  servant,  for  Dahut  has  opened  the  sluices 
by  means  of  the  silver  key,  and  the  unbridled  sea  is  in 
the  city." 

It  was  true.  Dahut,  going  to  meet  one  of  her  lovers, 
who  was  also  a  conspirator  with  her  against  the  old  king, 
had  by  mistake  opened  the  gate  of  the  sea  instead  of 
the  gate  of  the  city.  The  first  thought  of  the  king,  on 
hearing  this  dreadful  intelligence,  was  the  preservation 
of  his  daughter.  He  sought  her  out,  took  her  behind 
him  on  his  fleetest  horse,  and  fled  away  from  the  en- 
croaching wall  of  sea  as  fast  as  spur  could  drive.  The 
sea  followed  him  with  fearful  rapidity,  but  Dahut's 
cries  of  fright  were  louder  in  his  ears  than  the  noise  of 
the  waves  ;  still  not  so  loud  as  a  supernatural  voice  beside 
him,  which  said : 

Gradlon,  if  you  would  not  perish  yourself,  rid  your- 
self of  the  demon  that  rides  behind  you." 

Dahut  also  heard  the  voice,  and  became  almost  frantic 
with  terror;  she  clung  convulsively  to  her  father,  but  he, 
recognizing  in  the  voice  a  warning  from  heaven,  shook 
her  off  into  the  wave  that  followed  him.  Then  the  king 
rode  on  safely  to  Quimper,  and  fixed  there  his  court, 
making  that  city  the  capital  of  ancient  Cornouailles. 

Thus  ends  the  story  of  Dahut  and  of  the  city  of  Is. 
The  spirit  of  the  wicked  princess  is  supposed  to  inhabit 
still  the  city  that  she  sacrificed. 

There  may  or  there  may  not  be  truth  in  the  story ; 
there  certainly  is  poetry  and  tragedy  in  it,  and  this  much 
certainly  admits  of  no  question — there  is  a  drowned 
city,  there  was  a  king  Gradlon^  and  there  may  have  been 
<i  Dahut. 


Queensland. 

Queensland,  a  colony  of  Great  Britain,  and  celebrated, 
like  Australia,  for  her  gold  fields,  has  an  area  ten  times 
as  large  as  England  and  Wales,  and  is  gaining  in  im- 
portance. 

Among  other  productions  found  there  is  the  bottle 
tree,  which  is  thus  described  :  "  It  is  exactly  the  shape 
of  a  hock-bottle,  and  is  from  forty  to  fifty  feet  high,  with 
no  branches  from  the  smooth  stem,  but  crooked  boughs 
and  a  crown  of  small  foliage  above.  The  natives  tap 
this  tree  for  the  water  that  gushes  out.  The  wood  is 
soft  and  useless." 

One  drawback  to  Queensland  is  the  hot  weather.  A 
traveller  says : 

"  The  thermometer  shows  100  degrees  for  days  to- 
gether in  the  coolest  part  of  the  house,  and  then  the  in- 
convenience is  great.  Everything  then  that  you  tonch 
seems  to  bum  you,  and  placing  your  hat  upon  your  head 
suggests  a  fiery  band  around  the  brow.  Your  butter 
turns  to  thin  oil ;  water  has  a  parboiling  temperature  ; 
and  you  can  only  pout  and  gasp,  and  long  for  the  sun  to 
go  down.  In  Queensland  one  does  not  often  experience 
the  'hot  dust  winds,'  known  in  Victoria,  Southern 
Australia,  and  in  New  South  Wales  ;  yet,  in  such  weath- 
er as  I  am  telling  about,  if  you  go  out  to  walk  under 
your  umbrella,  you  will  feel  the  air  throb  and  glow  like 
the  breath  of  a  furnace. 

"Go  on  to  the  verandah  and  look  upon  the  dry 
and  parched  landscape,  and  everything  in  nature  seems 
paralyzed  and  dead.  Tour  home  stands  bare  and  shad- 
owless—the  vertical  sun  casts  no  outline  of  the  trees  nor 
shrubs. 

"  Over  the  brown  earth  the  hawk  soars  with  languid 
wing,  and,  underneath,  skimming  the  field,  the  hillocks, 
and  stones,  is  the  sluggish  reflection  of  himself. 

"  The  sun  settles  at  last,  in  a  seeming  mist  of  fire, 
without  a  cloud  for  background  to  his  glory.  Darkness 
comes  rapidly,  shutting  out  the  twilight,  and  fierce  in- 
sects, thirsting  for  blood,  flock  to  attack  you ;  but, 
drawing  your  musquito  curtains,  you  rest  and  dream 
pleasant  dreams.'  "  

Hyenas. 

The  first  hyena  ever  trained,  or  whose  supposed  fierce 
nature  was  ever  overcome  so  as  to  submit  to  being  handled 
by  man,  was  one  which  was  experimented  on  in  1854  by 
Charles  White,  in  New  York.  He  was  five  or  six  years 
old,  full  grown,  and  as  full  of  vice  as  all  of  his  grave- 
robbing  fraternity  are  reported  to  be.  The  first  time  the 
daring  trainer  ventured  into  the  cage,  Mr.  Hyena  came 
at  him,  mouth  wide  open,  tusks  protruding,  screaming 
like  a  wild  horse. 

It  was  evidently  to  be  a  sharp  fight  between  the  man 
and  the  brute.  Mr.  White,  with  a  huge  club  in  his  hands, 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  amiable  hyena.  As  soon  as 
the  animal  got  near  enough,  Mr,  White  prostrated  him 
with  his  club.  This  was  repeated  again  and  again,  till 
at  length  he  needed  no  more  club,  and  from  that  time 
was  as  docile  as  any  trained  animal,  and  needed  no  more 
and  no  severer  correction  than  does  a  young  lion  or 
leopard. 

One  large  show  in  England  had  several  hyenas,  trained 
to  do  tricks;  tney  were  performed  by  a  stalwart  negro, 
who,  among  other  feats,  fastened  an  iron  belt  around  his 
waist,  upon  which  were  a  number  of  hooks,  arranged 
like  those  we  see  in  the  butcher  shops. 

On  these  steel  hooks  were  stuck  pieces  of  ra,w  meat, 
which  the  animals  were  permitted  to  take  ofE  with  their 
teeth  when  they  had  done  their  tricks. 

Their  performances  were  similar  to  those  of  other  ani- 
mals, consisting  of  various  leaps  over  the  keeper's  back, 
over  banners,  together  with  taking  part  in  sundry  pos- 
turings  and  groupings,  of  which  the  man  is  always  the 
central  figure. 

The  first,  and  I  believe  the  only,  rhmoceros  ever  train- 
ed, was  broken  in  by  a  Yankee  circus  proprietor,  He 
taught  the  unwieldy  bnite  to  run  around  the  ring  back- 
ward and  forward,  being  always  controlled  by  a  long 
ring-rein,  fastened  to  an  iron  ring  in  his  nose. 

This  was  all  the  sulky  beast  could  be  compelled  to  do; 
he  would  learn  no  trick,  and  was  always  dangerous. 
The  nose  is  the  most  vulnerable  part.  A  sharp  blow  on 
the  nose  with  a  whip  will  give  a  lion  or  a  tiger  exquisite 
pain,  when  a  hit  with  a  sledge-hammer  between  the  two 
^  eves  he  would  not  mind  at  alL 


THE  GROIVING  JVORLD. 


22^ 


Machinery. 

It  may  well  be  said  that  we  are  now  living  in  an  age  of 
machinery.  The  amount  of  work  that  is  being  performed  by 
machinery  is  wonderful  to  think  about.  It  is  revolutionizing 
the  world,  so  to  speak.  Fully  half  the  trades  that  were  in 
all  their  glory  when  the  writer  of  this  article  was  a  boy,  giving 
employment  to  large  numbers  of  people,  have  become  either 
obsolete  or  the  next  thing  to  it. 

In  those  good  old  times  of  half  a  century  ago  we  molded 
our  bricks  by  hand,  made  our  nails  by  hand,  made  our  ropes 
by  hand,  our  cloth  (most  of  it),  our  hats,  our  boots  and  shoes, 
and,  in  fact,  almost  everything  else  that  we  had  occasion  to 
use,  but  now  the  machines  are  doing  it  all,  each  one  with  its 
giant  strength  and  iron  sinews  turning  out,  in  many  instances, 
more  than  the  work  of  a  hundred  men,  and  doing  it  to  a  degree 
of  perfection  that  is  amazing  to  contemplate. 

True,  many  of  the  old  trades  are  still  represented,  but  it  is 
little  more  than  in  name.  The  cooper  who  fifty  years  ago 
went  through  with  so  many  processes  to  produce  a  barrel,  now 
buys  the  staves,  heads  and  hoops  already  made  by  machinery, 
and  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  drive  them  together.  The  black- 
smith buys  the  nails  and  shoes  all  ready  for  the  foot  of  the 
horse.  The  shoemaker,  in  many  instances,  sets  up  shop  as  a 
cobbler,  but  buys  ready-made  the  boots  and  shoes  that  he 
offers  for  sale.  The  carpenter  has  little  else  to  do  than  to  put 
his  materials  together.  Thousands  of  houses  made  by  ma- 
chinery are  sent  hundreds  of  miles  by  rail  and  set  up  all  ready 
to  be  occupied  in  a  few  hours  after  reaching  their  de&tination. 
The  gentleman  hatter— what  old  person  does  not  remember 
the  gentleman  hatter  ?— well,  the  gentleman  hatter  has  entirely 
disappeared.  The  gentleman  tailor  has  dropped  his  needle 
and  gone  to  driving  a  machine.  But  why  enumerate,  for  very 
few  indeed  have  escaped  the  general  turning  over  of  things 
mechanical. 

Even  the  farmer  has  the  machines  close  after  him.  They 
are  cutting  his  grass  and  grain  to  the  ruin  of  the  rare  old 
""harvest  times;"  they  are  doing  his  threshing,  they  are  drop- 
ping and  covering  his  corn,  and  his  wheat  and  his  cotton; 
they  are  raking  and  pitching  his  hay ;  they  are  turning  up  and 
pulverizing  his  soil ;  they  are  planting,  digging  and  assorting 
his  potatoes ;  they  are  shearing  his  sheep,  and  so  on  to  endless 
extent. 

No  one  can  say  that  great  good  to  the  country  at  large  has 
not  come  of  an  employment  of  labor-saving  machinery.  It 
may  have  at  times  put  the  old  tradesmen  to  some  incon- 
venience, but  that,  of  course,  could  not  be  helped.  In  many 
instances  their  own  conduct,  as  manifested  in  combinations 
anu  strikes,  hurried  on  the  present  condition  of  affairs.  Capi- 
talists knew  that  machines  never  organized  strikes,  and  so 
they  gave  them  all  the  encouragement  that  money  could  sug- 
gest, thus  pushing  them  on  to  perfection. 

Even  at  this  day  some  people  hesitate  to  introduce  labor- 
saving  machinery,  especially  on  the  farm.  They  ought  not  to 
hesitate.  The  system  is  now  permanently  established  beyond 
the  possibility  of  any  other  condition  of  affairs,  and  hence  the 
person  who  hesitates  to  profit  by  it  is  simply  standing  in  his 
own  light.  He  must  go  with  the  current,  and  the  faster  he  can 
go  the  better.  Let  us,  therefore,  employ  all  the  labor-saving 
machinery  that  we  can  find  use  for  and  can  make  profitable. 


True  Nobility. 

True  nobility  never  fails  to  do  it„  duty.  The  faithful  dis- 
charge of  duty  is  what  creates  it.  False  nobility  never  does 
its  duty;  this  is  what  creates  it.  True  nobility  rests  upon 
labor ;  false  nobility  is  based  upon  idleness.  One  is  substance 
tbe  other  shadow  ;  one  is  useful,  the  other  detrimental.  It  is 
the  star,  ever  modestly  twinkling  in  the  night,  that  is  remem- 
bered when  we  ponder  upon  the  beauties  of  the  heavens;  it  is 
the  meteor,  which  flashes  indescribable  beauty  for  an  instant, 
and  then  goes  out,  that  we  soon  forget.  There  is  so  much 
which  mental  and  physical  effort  is  capable  of  achieving  and 
of  leaving  as  an  imperishable  monument  to  human  greatness 
and  nobility,  that  a  tinselled  drone  in  this  busy  life,  instead  of 
being  the  ornament  he  thinks  himself,  appears  like  a  dead  tree 
in  the  midst  of  the  green  forest— like  a  weed  in  the  flower 
bed.  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  cannot  build  himself  a 
monument  that  wUl  last  when  the  column  Vendome  has 
crumbled  and  the  glitter  of  titled  aiistocracy  has  faded.  Go 


forth  upon  the  plains,  where  the  music  of  civilization  haa 
never  charmed,  and  kindle  the  fire  upon  the  rude  hearthstone 
and  fill  the  air  with  incense  of  home  ;  climb  the  rugged  moun- 
tain's side,  and  crown  its  frowning  sterility  with  the  perfumes 
and  graces  of  the  valley  ;  mount  to  its  snowy  peak,  and  mel- 
2ow  its  perpetual  Winter  into  unending  Summer  by  the 
warmth  of  civilization  and  Christianity;  unbury  the  rubies 
which  God  has  hidden  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth  and  planted 
in  the  rock ;  compel  the  ocean  to  yield  up  the  pearls  which  for 
centuries  it  has  held  among  its  mysteries,  and  cause  them  to 
glow  with  their  long  hoarded  beauty ;  study  the  varied  mag- 
nificence of  nature  in  the  gem  studded  skies,  the  hUl,  and  the 
dell,  and  the  cavern,  and  whatever  you  learn  of  creation  and 
the  Creator  emblazon  before  the  world ;  tune  your  heart- 
throbs and  your  thoughts  to  accord  with  the  songs  of  the 
meadow  stream  and  the  trilling  notes  of  the  mountain 
spring,  with  the  sweet  sighing  of  the  zephyr  and  the  melodies 
of  the  lark,  that  your  presence  in  the  world  may  be  like  a  soft 
sunbeam  streaming  from  the  great  heart  ot  God,  and  laden 
with  the  richness  of  His  benignity  and  glory.  Then,  when 
ripe  with  years,  you  shall  have  gone  to  sleep  among  the  roses 
of  the  churchyard,  though  no  marble  monument  shall  mark 
the  spot,  and  heartlessness  forbid  a  tear  to  drop  upon  your  tomb, 
the  angels  will  gild  upon  the  humble  head-stone,  in  letters  of 
burning  love,  '"'  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  a  noble  man." 

The  Future  of  my  Boys. 

A  great  writer  has  said  that  "  a  child  should  be  treated  as  a 
live  tree,  and  helped  to  grow,  not  as  dry  dead  timber,  which 
is  to  be  carved  into  this  or  that  shape,  and  to  have  certain 
mouldings  grooved  upon  it."  This  is  true  enough,  but  the 
difficulty  for  parents  is  to  find  out  what  is  the  Jcind  of  tree.  It 
is  said  that  when  Dr.  "Watts  was  a  child  he  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  verse-making.  His  father,  a  stern  and  rather  strait- 
laced  schoolmaster,  was  very  much  annoyed  at  this,  and  did  all 
m  his  power  to  keep  the  boy  from  indulging  his  taste.  Ac- 
cording to  a  well-known  story,  on  one  occasion  he  threatened 
to  flog  him  severely  the  next  time  he  found  him  making 
rhymes,  upon  which  little  Isaac  fell  upon  his  knees  exclaiming— 

"  Oh,  father !  do  some  pity  take. 
And  I  will  no  more  verses  make." 

Vet  the  son  followed  his  bent,  and  has  come  to  be  regarded 
how  as  one  of  the  first  of  English  hymn-writers. 

Numberless  instances  might  be  given  of  the  same  sort  of 
Thing— fathers  and  mothers  failing  utterly  to  discover  their 
children's  peculiar  bent. 

Kepler,  the  astronomer,  was  brought  up  as  a  waiter  in  & 
German  public-house ;  Shakespeare  is  supposed  lo  have  been 
a  wool-comber,  or  a  scrivener's  clerk ;  Ben  Jonson  was  a 
mason,  and  worked  at  the  building  of  Lincoln's  Inn;  Lord 
Clive,  one  of  the  greatest  warriors  and  statesmen  that  Eng- 
hind  can  boast,  was  a  clerk;  Inigo  Jones,  the  architect,  was  a 
carpenter ;  Turner,  the  greatest  of  English  landscape  painters, 
was  a  barber;  Hugh  Miller,  the  geologist,  was  a  bricklayer; 
Andrew  Johnson,  the  late  President  of  the  United  States,  was 
a  tailor;  Captain  Cook,  the  celebrated  navigator,  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  haberdasher;  Bewick,  the  father  of  wood- 
engraving,  was  a  coal-miner ;  Sir  William  Herschel,  the  as- 
tronomer, was  educated  especially  for  a  musician ;  Michael 
Faraday,  the  philosopher,  was  apprenticed  to  a  bookbinder; 
Jeremy  Taylor,  the  poetical  divine,  was  a  barber,  as  was  also 
Eichard  Arkwright,  the  inventor  of  the  spinning-jenny;  and 
Cowper,  the  poet,  was  brought  up  to  the  law,  but  hated  the 
profession  with  a  perfect  hatred,  and  never,  when  he  could 
help  it,  opened  a  book  that  bore  upon  it. 

In  the  reading  of  these  records,  one  cannot  but  -vvonder  how 
much  richer  the  world  would  have  been  if  these  men  had  found 
their  vocation  earlier.  Of  course  each  one  in  the  cases  cited  pos- 
sessed more  or  less  of  that  genius  which  is  inborn  and  cannot  be 
created ;  but  who  shall  say  how  much  greater  their  influence 
would  have  been,  had  their  start  in  life  been  in  a  more  con- 
genial sphere?  The  lesson  for  us  should  be  to  study  the  in 
clinations  and  tastes  of  our  children,  so  that  if  we  cannot 
make  them  men  of  genius,  we  can  at  any  rate  put  them  in  a 
position  where  their  talents  will  be  best  fostered  and  de- 
veloped. But  for  this  we  shall  require  both  sympathy  and  in- 
sight—sympathy to  encourage  the  exhibition  of  the  power?' 
and  insight  to  "discern  the  signs,"  and  form  an  idea  of  thei' 
signification, 


228 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THANKSGIVING. 

BT  SARAH  DOUDNBY. 

I  bless  thee,  gracious  Father,  meekly  kneeling 

Before  Thee,  while  the  daylight  softly  dies, 
In  this  calm  hour  mine  inmost  soul  revealing 
To  Thy  most  holy  eyes. 

1  bless  Thee  for  the  long  day's  labor  ended. 

And  for  the  strength  that  made  my  burdens  light; 
I  praise  Thee  for  the  tender  hands  extended 
Over  my  home  to-night. 

I  Diess  Thee  for  the  love  that  chastened  kindly 

My  wilful  spirit  in  the  days  of  old. 
When  I,  Thy  wayward  child,  was  choosing  blindly 
The  dross  before  the  gold  I 

1  bless  Thee  for  the  voice  of  consolation 

That  speaks,  in  gentlest  tones,  of  pardoned  sin. 
And  bids  me  strive,  through  sorrow  and  temptation, 
My  golden  crown  to  win. 

Oh,  for  His  sake  whose  love  all  love  excelleth. 

Extend  Thy  care  through  all  my  nights  and  days; 
And  from  the  place  wherein  Thine  honor  dwelleth, 
Hear  and  receive  my  praise. 


Railway  Speed.  * 

It  is  stated  that  the  highest  railway  speeds  in  the 
world  are  attained  in  England,  and  that  the  highest  of 
all  is  reached  on  the  Great  Western  railroad,  the  speed 
on  the  latter  being  given  roundly  as  fifty  miles  an  hour. 
Instances  are  given,  however,  of  sixty-five  and  seventy 
miles  an  hour,  and  engineers  think  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  lay  permanent  way  so  well,  and  to  maintain  it  in 
Buch  excellent  order,  that  trains  might  travel  on  it  with 
perfect  safety  at  one  hundrei^  miles  an  hour,  indeed, 
miles  upon  miles  of  such  track  are  now  to  be  found  on 
most  the  great  main  lines,  but  nowhere  can  one  hundred 
consecutive  miles  of  permanent  way  in  perfection  be 
found ;  and,  as  a  chain  is  no  stronger  than  its  weakest 
link,  so  a  few  hundred  yards  of  bad  track  would  spoil, 
for  the  purpose  of  traveling  at  one  hundred  miles  an 
hour,  a  whole  line.  The  really  important  question  is, 
what  shall  the  engine  be  like,  and  is  it  possible  to  con- 
struct an  engine  at  all,  which,  with  a  moderately  heavy 
train,  will  attain  and  maintain  a  velocity  of  one  hundred 
miles  an  hour,  on  a  line  with  no  grade  heavier  than  say 
one  in  three  hundred?  After  a  thorough  examination 
of  the  question  in  all  its  bearings,  figures  prove  that  it 
is  absolutely  impossible  to  obtain  a  speed  of  one  hun- 
dred miles  an  hour  on  railways  if  the  resistance  is  any- 
thing like  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  per  ton. 


Tent-Mates. 

We  asked  a  friend  one  day,  who  served  as  a  surgeon  in  the 
army,  how  it  happened  that  so  many  young  men  came  back 
from  the  war  worthless  and  dissipated,  while  others,  of  whom 
we  would  naturally  expect  but  little  good,  returned  very  much 
improved.  He  replied,  that  it  all  depended  on  the  "tent- 
mates.'"  If  a  steady  young  man  was  quartered  with  a  company 
of  swearing,  card-playmg  comrades,  ten  to  one  he  would  fall 
into  their  ways.  On  the  contrary,  good  prayer-meeting  men 
exerted  an  influence  for  good  on  those  who  were  associated 
with  them. 

It  is  true  the  world  over  that  the  young,  particularly,  grow 
like  the  company  they  keep.  If  you  know  the  society  which  a 
young  man  seeks  voluntarily  when  the  duties  of  the  day  are 
done,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  forecast  his  future. 

A  young  man  was  warmly  recommended  to  a  situation  in  an 
establishment  in  the  city,  with  every  pi-obability  of  being 
I  accepted,  and  of  rapidly  rising  in  preferment.  While  he  was 
waiting,  in  confident  expectation,  for  a  letter  that  should  sum- 
mon him  to  his  responsible  post,  a  member  of  the  firm  sent  down 
a  man  to  the  town  where  the  young  man  lived  to  see  how  his 
leisure  time  was  passed.  They  found  that  in  the  evening  he 
usually  sauntered  down  to  the  billiard  room,  and  that  on  Sun- 
day he  generally  rode  out  with  a  few  other  young  men  for 
pleasure.  That  young  men  wondered  greatly,  as  the  months 
went  by,  why  he  did  not  hear  from  that  firm. 

It  was  the  principle  with  another  man,  who  had  a  great 
number  of  clerks  in  his  employ,  that  when  he  saw  a  youth 
riding  out  on  Sunday  he  dismissed  him  on  Monday.  Another 
thought  it  quite  as  bad  a  sign  to  see  a  lad  puflang  away  at  a 
cigar  in  the  streets.  "Straws  show  which  way  the  wind 
blows,"  and  these  "  signs  "  are  more  than  straws. 


Beaux  of  Former  Times. 

We  much  question  whether  the  celebrated  Beau  Brum* 
mel,  and  even  the  equally  celebrated  Romeo  Coates,  are 
not  absolutely  mere  Quakers  in  their  dress,  compared 
with  some  of  the  distinguished  dressers  of  the  former 
days.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  wore  a  white  satin  pinked 
vest,  close  sleeved  to  the  wrist ;  over  the  body  a  brown 
doublet,  finely  flowered  and  embroidered  with  pearl.  In 
the  feather  of  his  hat  a  large  xuby,  and  a  pearl-drop  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sprig,  in  place  of  a  button ;  his  trunk 
of  breeches,  with  his  stockings  and  ribbon  garters, 
fringed  at  the  end,  all  white  ;  and  buff  shoes  with  white 
ribbon.  On  great  court  days  his  shoes  were  so  gorge- 
ously covered  with  precious  stones  as  to  have  exceeded 
tie  value  of  £6,600,  and  he  had  a  suit  of  armor  of  solid 
silver,  with  sword  and  belt  blazing  with  diamonds,  rubies 
and  pearls. 

King  James'  favorite,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  could 
aGord  to  have  his  diamonds  tacked  so  loosely  on,  that 
when  he  chose  to  shake  off  a  few  on  the  ground,  he  ob- 
tained all  the  fame  he  desired  from  the  pickers-up,  for 
our  duke  never  condescended  to  accept  what  he  himself 
had  dropped.  His  cloaks  were  trimmed  with  great  dia- 
mond buttons,  and  he  wore  diamond  hat  bands,  cock- 
ades and  ear  rings,  yoked  with  great  ropes  and  knots  of 
pearl.  He  had  twenty-seven  suits  of  clothes  made,  the 
richest  that  embroidery,  lace,  silk,  velvet,  gold  and  gems 
could  contribute,  one  of  which  was  a  white  uncut  velvety 
iset  all  over,  both  suit  and  cloak,  with  diamonds  valued 
at  fourscore  thousand  pounds  iDesides  a  great  feather 
stuck  all  over  with  diamonds,  as  were  his  sword,  girdle, 
hat  and  spurs.  When  the  difference  in  the  value  or 
money  is  considered,  the  sums  thus  ridiculously  squan- 
dered in  dress  must  have  been  prodigious. 


Strange  Sinking  of  Land. 

A  little  village  in  the  neighborhood  of  Draguignan, 
France,  has  lately  been  the  scene  of  a  remarkable  sub- 
sidence, which  has  attracted  the  curious  from  all  di- 
rections. An  elliptical  tract  of  ground,  containing  over 
I  ten  thousand  square  feet,  sank  gradually  one  day,  ac- 
'  companied  by  loud  noises,  until  it  left  an  orifice  of 
over  one  hundred  feeet  in  depth,  with  water  at  the 
bottom.  Numerous  trees  and  vines  disappeared  com- 
pletely in  the  depth  of  the  new  lake.  A  similar  de 
pression  on  a  smaller  scale  occurred  in  the  same  vicinity 
a  century  ago,  and  both  the  phenomena  are  attributed 
to  the  action  of  subterranean  streams. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  229 


^AT  WE  EAT,  DRINK  AND  WEAR; 

Where  it  Comes  From. 

A  CHAPTER  FROM  BOTANICAL  NATURE. 

Hie  seeker  after  truth  and  knowledge  never  tires  in 
perusing  the  great  book  of  Nature.  The  meadows,  the 
orchards  and  the  forests,  loaded  with  myriad  forms  of 
vegetation,  filling  the  balmy  atmosphere  with  the  sweet 
perfume  of  budding  leaves  and  expanding  blossoms, 
call8«us  forth  to  fields  of  pleasing  study.  Hundreds  of 
different  plants  grow,  bud  and  blossom  yearly  in  every 
locality.  To  the  inquiring  mind  every  one  is  a  little 
study  in  itself.  "We  cannot  analyze  it,  and  behold  its 
dilferent  parts  with  their  uses  and  importance,  without 
being  filled  with  admiration  by  the  wondrous  harmony 
and  beauteous  workings  of  the  creative  power  of  God. 
"In  wisdom  He  hath  created  them  all,"  and  "none  are 
made  in  vain." 

Every  species  of  vegetation  is  peculiarly  adapted  to 
some  particular  clime  and  locality,  and  there  it  grows 
without  cultivation,  spontaneous  and  wild.  There  it 
originated,  and  from  thence  it  has  spread  by  means  of 
various  agencies  to  different  countries,  until  the  earth 
teems  with  a  multitude  of  different  forms  in  every  sec- 
tion. Here  are  the  fountains  of  life  for  man  and  beast ; 
and  here,  in  the  fields  and  along  the  highways,  is 
Nature's  great  laboratory,  where  specifics  and  remedies 
may  be  found  for  the  cure  of  every  disease  that  ever 
afficted  beings  of  flesh  and  blood.  Did  man  only  know 
the  virtues  and  healing  properties  of  roots  and  herbs, 
and  the  little  plants  that  he  vulgarly  denominates  weeds, 
growing  in  the  old  pastures  and  meadows,  and  along 
the  margins  of  brooks  and  streams,  where  he  has  fought 
long  and  hard  to  exterminate  them,  botanical  and  medi- 
cal science  would  undoubtedly  undergo  a  mighty  revo- 
lution; doctor's  bills  would  be  diminished,  and  he 
would  often  behold  a  treasure  in  what  he  had  formerly 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  most  hated  pests  of  the  farm. 

Perhaps  many  of  our  young  readers  do  not  realize  to 
■what  an  extent  civilized  humanity  are  dependent  on  the 
four  quarters  of  the  globe  for  the  origin  and  prepara- 
tion of  what  they  eat  and  drink.  America,  however,  is 
at  this  hour  more  prolific  in  food  productions  than  any 
other  country  in  the  world. 

Previous  to  the  discovery  of  America  the  potatoe  was 
not  known.  Now  it  forms  one  of  the  chief  articles  of 
food  for  all  classes  of  the  human  race,  almost  as  far  as 
knowledge  and  civilization  extends.  It  is  found  grow- 
mg  wild  in  some  parts  of  Mexico  and  South  America, 
particularly  Chili,  Peru  and  Uruguay.  In  its  wild,  un- 
cultivated state  it  is  small ;  scarcely  exceeding  in  size 
the  well-known  American  ground  nut,  and  generally 
bitter  and  unpalatable  to  the  taste.  A  species  of  sweet 
potatoe,  tasting  somewhat  like  a  boiled  chestnut,  is  said 
to  grow  wild  in  some  of  the  valleys  of  New  Mexico, 
which  is  dug  and  eaten  in  considerable  quantities  by 
the  Navajoe  Indians.  The  first  account  that  we  have  of 
this  useful  vegetable  was  given  to  the  world  in  1553. 
As  soon  as  its  value  as  a  food  was  discovered  it  spread 
rapidly,  and  a  thorough  cultivation  produced  astonish- 
ing results,  both  in  quality  and  quantity.  In  1870,  the 
United  States  alone  produced  114,775,000  bushels,  valued 
at  over  $82,000,000. 

Unquestionably  the  principal  food  of  man  is  derived 
from  wheat.  It  is  said  to  have  originated  in  Siberia  and 
Tartary.  Large  quantities  have  been  raised  in  Europe 
and  the  countries  of  the  East  almost  from  time  imme- 
morial. It  is  often  spoken  of  in  those  regions  as  corn. 
The  Western  States  of  the  American  Union  now  com- 
pose the  great  wheat  producing  region  of  the  world,  and 
all  nations  look  upon  its  immense  grain  elevators  as  so 
many  stupendous  reservoirs  of  bread.  The  annual  sur- 
plus which  is  exported  to  different  coun'.ries  to  feed  the 
multitude  amounts  to  many  millions  of  bushels.  Winter 
wheat,  which  is  the  best  and  most  extensively  raised, 
should  be  sown  on  burnt  fallow  or  rich  ground  the  last 
week  in  August  or  the  first  week  in  September,  and  it 
would  be  well  to  soak  the  seed  and  roll  in  lime.  The 
amber  wheat  is  probably  more  extensively  used  than 
any  other,  though  the  white  wheat  is  most  generally 
thought  to  be  superior,  and  brings  a  little  more  in  the 
market.  In  1870,  there  was  raised  in  the  United  States 
235.884,700  bushels,  of  which  Illinois  alone  raised  over 
27,000,000- 


IRye  is  thought  to  have  originated  in  the  same 
countries,  and  grows  well  in  nearly  all  ttie  regions 
where  wheat  is  grown.  It  does  not  appear  to  exhaust 
the  soil  by  excessive  cropping  as  wheat  does,  and  the 
straw  is  a  valuable  auxiliary  to  the  hay  and  fodder  crop. 
When  ground  with  oats  and  com  it  forms  an  excellent 
feed  for  cattle  and  horses.  It  should  be  sown  about  the 
same  time  as  wheat,  though  good  crops  are  often  raised 
where  it  is  put  in  the  ground  much  later,  and  on  inferior 
soil.  Like  wheat  it  is  apt  to  be  winter-killed,  or  de- 
stroyed by  the  frost,  unless  the  ground  be  covered  with 
snow.  Its  legal  weight  is  fifty-six  pounds ;  wheat,  sixty, 
Indian  corn,  or  maize,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  is  indi- 
genous only  in  America,  The  early  discoverers  loimd  it 
in  use  among  the  Indians.  Some  of  the  golden  grains 
were  taken  to  Europe  and  planted ;  but  it  has  never  suc- 
ceeded well  outside  of  its  native  country.  It  grows  best 
on  a  dry,  warm  soil,  and  if  planted  in  proper  season, 
that  is  about  the  20th  of  May,  hoed  or  cultivated  twice, 
and  kept  free  from  weeds,  it  will  yield  a  hundred  bushels 
of  ears  to  the  acre.  The  stalks  make  an  excellent  fodder 
for  cattle,  and  it  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  most  valuable 
crops  raised  in  our  country.  The  lawful  weight  is  fifty- 
six  pounds  per  bushel. 

The  oat  is  found  growing  wild  in  Abyssinia  in  Africa, 
where  no  doubt  it  originated,  and  from  whence  it  has 
spread  through  cultivation  to  nearly  all  parts  of  the 
world.  Farmers  have  been  imposed  upon  by  designing 
advertisers  and  unreliable  parties  lauding  and  recom- 
mending some  new  kind,  imtil  they  begin  to  feel  a  dis- 
trust in  most  any  new  sort  that  is  offered.  The  Norway 
oat  which  sold  for  such  enormous  prices  for  seed  a  few 
years  since,  opened  their  eyes.  No  doubt  many  got  rich 
Dy  the  enterprise,  but  the  grain  was  hard,  tough  and 
worthless.  Probably  the  best  and  most  profitable  kinds 
to  raise  are  the  old-fashioned  white  oat,  the  black  oat, 
the  barley  oat,  and  the  probesters.  Fifty  bushels  to  the 
acre  is  a  good  yield.  They  should  be  sown  three  bushels 
to  the  acre  the  last  week  in  April  or  the  first  week  in 
May,  if  the  ground  is  dry,  and  they  will  scarcely  ever  be 
struck  with  the  blight,  or  rust.  The  legal  weight  varies 
in  the  different  States,  generally  from  thirty  to  thirty-two 
pounds  per  bushel. 

Rice  is  a  native  of  Ethopia,  in  Africa.  It  forms  one  of 
the  most  extensive  food  products  of  China,  and  is  raised 
abundantly  in  many  countries  on  both  continents.  No- 
where is  it  produced  in  better  quality  than  in  the  swamps 
and  marshes  of  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas,  where  it  can 
be  overflowed  if  desired,  for  rice  is  an  aquatic  plant. 

The  sugar  cane  is  found  growing  wild  in  China  ;  and 
sugar  was  manufactured  from  it  there  long  before  it  was 
ever  thought  of  in  the  Western  World.  Cuttings  are 
planted  in  rows  at  the  commencement  of  the  season, 
which  are  cultivated  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  Indian 
corn,  which  it  resembles  considerably,  though  it  is  often 
much  larger,  and  when  it  has  attained  its  growth  it  is 
cut  and  carried  to  the  mill,  where  the  juice  is  pressed 
out  and  manufactured  into  sugar.  The  next  year  a  new 
shoot  arises  from  the  old  stump,  after  which  it  becomes 
necessary  to  commence  anew  and  plant  out  cuttings 
again,  as  the  quality  would  speedily  become  inferior. 
The  most  of  our  molasses  and  sugars  come  from  the 
West  Indies  and  the  Southern  States ;  the  difference  in 
the  color  and  quality  is  generally  caused  by  the  difference 
in  refining.  The  brown  sugars  are  commonly  the  sweetest. 

The  cotton  plant  was  first  known  in  the  East  Indies, 
and  its  product  manufactured  into  a  light,  durable  cloth 
several  centuries  before  the  commencement  of  the  Chris- 
tian era.  The  Southern  States  are  one  of  the  most 
cotton  producing  regions  in  the  world.  A  field  of  cotton 
at  the  time  of  the  bursting  of  the  downy  bolls  or  seed 
pods,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  in  the  domain 
of  Nature.  An  ocean  of  snowy  bolls  and  long,  soft, 
feathery  bunches  overspread  the  whole  inclosure.  It 
has  long  been  the  most  valuable  crop  of  the  Southern 
States,  and  New  Orleans  and  Mobile  have  been  reckoned 
among  the  greatest  cotton  markets  in  Christendom. 
The  celebrated  cotton  gin  used  on  the  Southern  planta- 
tations,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  inventions  of  the 
present  age. 

India-rubber,  used  so  extensively  in  the  manufacture 
of  belting,  boots,  shoes,  etc.,  is  prepared  from  the  gum 
of  a  tree  found  growing  in  the  forests  of  South  and  Cen- 
tral America.  The  trees  generally  grow  to  the  height  of 
fifty  or  sixty  feet,  with  rough  barked  branches  at  the 
fop.    The  p-um,  or  sap,  is  obtained  from  incisions  made 


230 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


tlirougli  the  bark  of  the  trunk.  The  raw  material  Is 
often  known  as  caoutochouc. 

Cinnamon  is  the  bark  of  a  species  of  laurel,  which 
grows  abundantly  in  the  East  Indian  Peninsula  and  the 
Island  of  Ceylon,  There  thousands  of  persons  are  con- 
stantly employed  in  its  cultivation  and  preparation,  and 
hundreds  of  tons  are  annually  shipped  to  all  quarters  of 
the  world.  It  grows  to  the  height  of  twenty  or  thirtj^ 
feet,  and  when  it  blossoms,  which  is  usually  in  the' 
month  of  January,  it  presents  a  magnificent  appearance. 
Beautiful  white  flowers,  resembling  those  of  the  lilac  in 
size  and  appearance,  hang  from  long  straight  stems  in 
pendant  clusters,  and  the  air  is  loaded  with  sweet  per- 
fume. When  the  plant  is  three  or  four  years  old  numer- 
ous suckers  spring  up,  and  when  these  become  from  a 
half  to  three-quarters  of  an  inch  in  diameter  they  are 
cut,  scraped  and  peeled,  and  form  the  best  cinnamon  in 
the  market. 

Allspice  is  the  dried  unripe  berry  of  a  species  of  myrtle 
tree,  found  growing  in  great  abundance  in  Jamaica,  and 
also  in  many  parts  of  both  the  East  and  West  Indies. 
The  tree  often  attains  the  height  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
feet ;  and  about  the  month  of  July,  when  its  profusion 
of  small  white  flowers  bedeck  its  oval  top  of  shining 
green,  sending  forth  their  rich  aroma  of  commingled 
spices,  it  forms  a  pleasing  sight.  In  the  early  part  of 
September  the  berries  are  gathered  and  prepared  for 
market.   It  commences  bearing  when  three  years  old. 

The  nutmeg  tree  is  a  native  of  the  East  Indies.  The 
tree  grows  straight  and  handsome,  with  a  smooth  brown 
bark.  The  leaves  are  of  a  deep  green,  and  though  some- 
what larger,  resemble  in  shape  and  appearance  those  of 
the  laurel.  The  fruit  or  seed  is  inclosed  by  a  soft  fleshy 
covering  of  a  bright  crimson  color,  and  this,  when 
stripped  off,  dried  and  prepared  for  market,  is  known  as 
mace. 

Cloves  are  obtained  from  a  tree  found  growing  exten- 
sively in  the  East  India  islands.  It  grows  to  the  height 
of  eighteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  generally  consists  of 
several  branches  which  put  forth  near  the  ground.  The 
bark  is  thin  and  smooth,  and  the  dark  evergreen  foliage 
resembles  that  of  the  laurel.  The  ends  of  the  branches 
are  crowned  with  clusters  of  flowers  with  bluish  petals 
veined  with  white.  These  dried  flower  buds  are  the 
cloves  we  find  in  the  market. 

Pepper,  of  which  there  are  various  varieties,  is  found 

growing  in  the  East  Indies  and  South  America.  The 
est  black  pepper  is  the  seeds  of  the  pepper  tree  of 
Java.  Cayenne  pepper  grows  abundantly  in  many  parts 
of  the  tropical  regions,  and  is  known  to  botanists  as  the 
Capsicum  Annuum.  In  South  America  there  are  places 
where  acres  of  the  Cayenne  pepper  plant  grow  wild  and 
uncultivated. 

Ginger  is  the  ground  root  of  a  vegetable  production  of 
South-Eastem  Asia,  though  it  is  now  quite  extensively 
cultivated  in  the  West  Indies.  The  tea  plant  is  a  native 
only  of  China  and  Japan.  It  is  a  smallish  shrub,  only  a 
few  feet  in  height,  the  cultivation  of  which  forms  the  chief 
part  of  the  agricultural  labor  of  the  Chinese.  Coffee  is 
said  to  have  originated  in  Arabia,  though  it  is  now  culti. 
vated  extensively  in  various  countries.  The  West  Indies 
yearly  furnish  an  immense  amount.  The  Mocha  coffee, 
brought  from  Arabia,  is  the  best  in  the  market. 

The  apple  is  thought  to  have  sprang  from  the  crab 
tree  found  wild  in  various  countries,  and  improved  by 
grafting  and  cultivation.  The  pear  is  a  native  of  Europe, 
where  it  was  found  by  the  ancient  Greeks  over  2,000 
years  ago.  The  peach  grows  wild  in  Persia,  though  in 
most  places  the  trees  are  dwarfed  and  stunted,  and  the 
fruit,  small,  bitter  and  and  inferior.  The  cherry  is  a 
native  of  South-Eastem  Europe  and  Western  Asia,  and 
the  quince  the  same.  Cucumbers  and  beans  were  first 
brought  from  the  East  Indies  ;  horse  radish  from  China; 
lettuce  and  cabbage  from  Holland ;  and  tobacco  from 
the  West  Indies. 

Of  medicinal  plants  there  is  a  legion,  and  hundreds 
may  be  found  growing  wild  in  every  locality.  Senna  is 
a  native  of  Egypt  and  Northern  Africa;  Peruvian  bark 
comes  from  South  America;  burdock  originally  came 
from  Europe ;  archangel  from  France,  liquorice  from 
Southern  Europe,  juniper  from  Europe,  catnip  and  poke 
from  America,  peppermint  and  yellow  dock  from  Europe, 
rhubarb  from  Tartary  and  China,  pink  from  the  Southern 
States,  etc.  Many  of  the  most  valuable  herbs  and  plants 
of  the  Old  World  have  now  become  naturalized  to  ♦his 


country  and  grow  plentifully  among  us.  The  judicious 
study  of  some  good  herbal  or  botany  for  an  hour  or  two 
each  day,  would  soon  make  us  acquainted  with  the  most 
of  them.  A  new  world  of  order  and  beauty  would  be 
opened  to  our  mental  vision  and  understanding.  We 
could  walk  forth  viewing  the  beauties  of  creation  under- 
standingly,  and  with  unalloyed  pleasure  and  profit. 


Writing  in  Ceylon. 

The  most  majestic  and  wonderful  of  the  palm  tribe  is 
the  talpot  or  talipot,  the  stem  of  which  sometimes  attains 
the  height  of  one  hundred,  feet,  and  each  of  its  enor- 
mous fan-like  leaves,  when  laid  upon  the  ground,  will 
form  a  semi-circle  sixteen  feet  in  diameter  and  cover  an 
area  of  nearly^  two  hundred  superficial  feet.  The  tree 
flowers  but  once,  and  then  dies,  and  the  natives  firmly 
believe  that  the  bursting  of  the  sheath,  which  contains 
a  magazine  of  seeds,  is  accompanied  by  a  loud  explo- 
sion. The  beautiful  dark-green,  fan-like  leaves,  are  con- 
verted by  the  Cingalese  to  many  purposes  of  utility.  Of 
them  they  form  coverings  for  their  houses  and  portable 
tents  of  a  rude  but  effective  character,  and  on  occasions 
of  ceremony  each  chief  and  head  man  is  attended  by  a 
follower  who  holds  above  his  head  an  elaborately  orna- 
mented fan  formed  from  a  single  leaf  of  the  talipot. 
They  also  form  excellent  umbrellas,  remaining  dry  and 
light,  and  imbibing  no  rain.  But  the  most  interest- 
ing use  to  which  they  are  applied  is  as  substitutes  for 
paper,  both  for  books  and  ordinary  purposes. 

to.  the  preparation  of  the  olas,  which  is  the  term  ap- 
plied to  them  when  so  employed,  the  leaves  are  taken 
when  still  tender,  and,  after  separating  the  central  ribs^ 
they  are  cut  into  strips  and  boiled  in  spring  water.  They 
are  dried  first  in  the  shade  and  afterwards  in  the  sun, 
then  made  into  rolls  and  kept  in  store  or  sent  to  the  mar- 
ket for  sale. 

Before,  however,  they  are  fit  for  writing  on,  they  are 
subjected  to  a  second  process,  called  maderna.  A 
smooth  log  of  arech-palm  is  tied  horizontally  betweei? 
two  trees  ;  each  ola  is  then  dampened,  and  a  weight  be- 
ing attached  to  one  end  of  it,  it  is  drawn  backward  and 
forward  by  the  other  until  the  surface  becomes  per- 
fectly smooth  and  polished  ;  and  during  the  process,  as 
the  moisture  dries  up,  it  is  necessary  to  renew  it  till 
the  effect  is  complete.  The  smoothing  of  a  single  ola 
will  occupy  from  fifteen  to  twenty  minutes. 

The  finest  specimens  in  Ceylon  are  to  be  obtained  at 
the  Pansalar  or  Buddhist  Mountains.  They  are  known 
as  puskola,  and  are  prepared  by  the  Samenerh  priests 
(noviciates)  and  the  students,  under  the  superintendence 
of  the  priests. 

The  raw  leaves,  when  dried  without  any  preparation^ 
are  called  kavakolo,  and,  like  the  leaves  of  the  palmyra, 
are  used  only  for  ordinary  purposes  by  the  Cingalese ; 
but  in  the  Tamil  districts,  where  palmyras  are  abundant 
and  talipot  palms  are  not,  the  leaves  of  the  former  are 
used  for  books  as  well  as  for  letters. 

The  Cingalese  write  upon  the  talipot  leaves  with  an 
iron  style,  held  upright,  and  to  make  the  letters  appear^ 
rub  over  the  writing  charcoal  mixed  with  a  fragrant  oil, 
which  also  preserves  the  pages  from  insects. 

The  Execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

The  morning  being  cold,  the  sheriff  wished  him  to  warm 
himself  at  the  fire.  "No,  good  Mr.  Sheriff,"  he  said,  "letue 
dispatch,  for  within  this  quarter  of  an  hour  my  ague  will  come 
upon  me,  and  if  I  he  not  dead  before  that,  mine  enemies  will 
say  I  quake  for  fear."  After  having  prayed,  he  rose  up,  say- 
ing, "  Now  X  am  going  to  God  1 "  He  felt  the  edge  of  the  axe, 
observing  to  the  sheriff,  "  'Tis  a  sharp  medicine,  but  a  sound 
cure  for  all  diseases."  He  then  laid  his  head  upon  the  block, 
and  was  told  to  place  himself  so  that  his  face  should  look  to 
the  east;  he  answered  "  It  mattered  little  how  the  head  lay, 
provided  the  heart  was  right."  The  executioner  hesitated  to 
strike,  when  Raleigh  cried  out,  "  What  dost  thou  fear  ?  strike, 
man  1 "  His  head  was  severed  in  two  blows.  Bom  1552,  died 
1618. 

"Even  such  is  time,  that  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 
And  pays  us  out  with  age  and  dust; 
Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave. 
When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways. 
Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  dajB.—Sir  W.  Baleighr 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Habits  of  Authors. 

There  is  nothing  of  moi*e  iuiercet  to  the  brain  workers  gen- 
i'rally,  than  the  way  in  which  others  of  their  fraternity  have 
clone  their  work.  The  food  they  ate,  the  rooms  in  which  they 
kvrite,  their  general  stUTOundings,  have  all  an  interest  which 
iiardly  attaches  to  any  other  pursuit.  Many  young  aspirants 
for  literary  favor  have  fancied  that  to  imitate  their  habits  would 
in  some  way  inspire  them  with  a  like  genius.  The  idea  is  a 
foolish  one,  for  what  is  suited  to  one  man's  constitution  and 
peculiarities,  may  have  quite  the  contrary  effect  on  another. 
Here,  as  every  where  else,  good  common  sense  is  a  very  valu- 
able guide.  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  in  trying  to  imi- 
tate the  eccentricities  of  some  great  man. 

There  is  one  point  on  which  most  of  the  brain  workers  agree. 
They  usually  like  to  begin  their  work  in  the  morning.  As  Dr. 
Alexander  used  to  say,  he  "liked  to  break  the  neck  of  the 
day's  work  as  early  as  possible." 

It  is  said  that  Alexander  Dumas  has  a  dish  of  soup  set  out 
for  himself  over  night.  Then  he  rises  at  what  hour  he  pleases, 
heats  and  sups  his  soup,  and  then  addresses  himself  to  his 
work  until  noon.  He  is  thus  independent  of  servants  and 
breakfast  bells,  and  no  doubt  does  up  a  wonderful  amount  of 
scribbling,  such  as  it  is,  before  twelve. 

Buffon  used  to  breakfast  early  on  a  crust  of  bread  and  two 
glasses  of  wine,  when  he,  too,  was  ready  for  a  day's  study. 
He  made  amends  at  dinner  time  for  his  slim  morning  meaL 
No  doubt  a  simple  morning  meal  is  best  to  secure  the  highest 
ability  of  the  working  powers,  but  generally  a  nourishing, 
appetizing  breakfast  will  enable  us  to  get  the  most  work  out 
of  our  brains  of  which  they  are  capable.  It  is  almost  indis- 
pensable that  we  should  stop  precisely  at  the  limit  our  appetite 
craves,  or,  if  a  little  short  of  it,  perhaps  it  is  still  better,  so  we 
are  not  absolutely  hungry.  But  any  excess  is  apt  to  stupify 
the  powers  and  make  the  intellect  dull  and  dreamy.  The  ana- 
conda style  of  feeding  is  best  suited  to  those  who  work  only 
their  muscles.  Some  great  writer  sits  down  every  morning  to 
a  big  bowl  of  oatmeal  porridge  and  milk,  and  goes  on  the 
strength  of  that  meal  until  dinner  time.  It  is  almost  needless 
to  add  that  he  is  a  Scotchman.  It  is  grand  fare  for  any  one 
who  likes  it,  but  it  is  hardly  worth  while  for  a  person  to  follow 
his  example  when  the  food  does  not  relish. 

Some  of  our  keenest  writers  feel  that  they  can  do  nothing 
without  a  cup  or  two  of  rich  coffee  before  they  begin.  Others, 
especially  in  England,  sip  their  breakfast  tea  in  great  comfort, 
as  the  best  preparatory  for  the  day's  work.  There  are  excep- 
tions, however.  Horace  Walpole  says  that  he  wrote  "The 
Castle  of  Otranto'"  in  eight  nights,  as  his  hours  of  writing 
were  usually  from  ten  till  two  at  night,  when  he  would  not  be 
di&turbed  by  any  visitants.  "While  writing  he  kept  the  coffee- 
pot handy,  and  occasionally  regaled  himself  with  a  hot  cup. 

This  was  much  better  than  Tom  Paine's  style.  When 
pressed  by  his  printer  for  copy,  he  shut  himself  up  with  his 
decanter  of 'brandy  and  glass.  The  first  glass  only  set  him  a 
thinking.  The  second  he  used  to  brighten  his  intellect,  and 
the  third  set  him  in  full  running  order.  He  wrote  rapidly  and 
with  precision,  the  thoughts  coming  faster  than  he  could  jot 
them  down.  Much  that  he  has  written  bears  marks  of  such 
inspiration. 

Poor  John  Mitford  was  another  "who  tarried  long  at  the 
wine."  Possessed  of  brilliant  powers,  he  burned  them  all  out 
with  this  unhallowed  fire.  He  wrote  a  nautical  novel,  quite 
popular  in  its  day,  while  houseless  and  homeless.  His  pub- 
lishers gave  him  a  shilling  a  day  while  he  wrote  it.  Two 
pennies'  worth  of  bread  and  cheese  and  an  onion  were  his 
food.  The  rest  went  for  gin.  At  night  he  slept  in  a  bed  of 
grass  and  nettles.  Thus  he  passed  forty-three  days,  doing  his 
own  washing  in  a  pond  when  he  considered  it  necessary. 

The  World. 

What  is  the  world,  even  to  those  who  love  it,  who  are  intox- 
icated with  the  pleasures,  and  who  cannot  live  without  it? 
The  world  is  a  perpetual  servitude,  where  no  one  lives  for  him- 
self alone,  and  where,  if  Ave  strive  to  be  happj',  we  must  kiss 
its  fetters  and  live  its  bondage.  The  world  is  a  daily  revolu- 
tion of  events,  which  create  in  succession,  in  the  minds  of  its 
partisans,  the  most  violent  passions,  bitter  hatred,  odious  per- 
plexities, devouring  jealousy,  and  grievous  chagrins. 

The  world  I  it  is  a  place  of  malediction,  where  pleasures 
themselves  carry  with  them  their  troubles  and  alllir^^i^ns.  in 


the  world  there  Is  nothing  lasting— nor  fortune  the  most  af- 
fluent—nor friendship  the  most  sincere — nor  character  the  most 
exalted— nor  favors  the  most  enviable. 

Men  pass  their  lives  in  agitation,  projects,  and  schemes;  al- 
ways ready  to  deceive,  or  trying  to  avoid  deception;  always 
eager  and  ready  to  profit  by  the  retirement,  disgrace,  or  death 
of  their  competitors  ;  always  occupied  with  their  fears  or  their 
hopes  ;  always  discontented  with  the  present  and  anxious 
about  the  future,  never  tranquil,  doing  everything  for  repose, 
removing  still  further  from  its  vanity,  ambition,  vengeance, 
luxury  and  avarice;  these  are  the  virtues  which  the  v/orld 
knows  and  esteems. 

•  In  the  world,  integrity  passes  for  simplicity;  duplicity  and 
dissimulation  are  meritorious.  The  most  vile  interest  arms 
brother  against  brother,  friend  against  friend,  and  breaks  all 
the  ties  of  blood  and  friendship ;  and  it  is  the  base  motive 
which  produces  our  hatred  or  attachments.  The  wants  and 
misfortunes  of  a  neighbor  find  only  indifference  and  insensi- 
bility, while  we  can  neglect  him  without  loss,  or  cannot  be 
recompensed  for  our  assistance. 

If  we  could  look  into  two  different  parts  of  the  world— if  we 
could  enter  into  the  secret  detail  of  anxieties  and  inquietudes 
— if  we  could  pierce  the  outward  appearance  which  offers  to 
our  eyes  only  joy,  pleasure,  pomp  and  magnificence,  how 
different  should  we  find  it  from  what  it  appears  1  We  should 
see  it  destitute  of  happiness— the  father  at  variance  with  his 
child ;  the  husband  with  his  wife ,  ^iUd  the  antipathies,  the 
jealousies,  the  murmurs,  and  the  external  dissensions  of  his 
family. 

We  should  see  friendship  broken  by  suspicions,  by  caprices', 
union  the  most  endearing  dissolved  by  inconsistency  ;  relations 
the  mo.st  tender  destroyed  by  hatred  and  perfidy  ;  fortunes  the 
most  affluent  producing  more  vexation  than  happiness  ;  ])laccfl 
ihe  most  honorable  not  giving  satisfaction,  but  creating  desire 
for  higher  advancement,  each  one  complaining  of  his  lot,  and 
the  most  elevated  not  the  most  happy. 

Tears. 

Spurgeon  calls  them  the  diamonds  of  heaven.  They  have  a 
Btrange  and  yet  blessed  mission.  We  know  not  all  the  pur« 
poses  of  God  in  the  ordeal  of  sorrow  to  which  we  are  liable. 
We  learn  some  things  of  nature.  Sunshine  and  calm  are  not 
the  continued  conditions  of  growth  and  beauty.  Cloud  and 
storm  are  a  part  of  the  plan.  This  life  is  a  discipline.  Tears 
have  much  to  do  with  moral  and  spiritual  growth  and  beauty. 
We  now  look  only  on  the  dark  side  of  sorrow.  It  has  a  bright 
side.  Joy  is  not  all  measured  by  smiles.  Gayety  is  not  true 
pleasure.  If  there  were  no  minor  tones  in  music,  it  would 
fail  of  its  highest  ofllce.  The  heart  is  a  wonderful  realm.  It 
does  not  all  lie  like  a  garden  in  the  sunlight.  It  has  profound 
depths  like  the  dark  caverns  of  earth.  There  are  deep  springs 
there.  The  murmur  of  those  fountains  is  all  the  more 
musical  for  the  solitude  and  the  darkness.  Tears  even  have  a 
mission  of  gladness.   They  are  the  language  of  affection. 

The  weepers  of  earth  are  beautiful  messengers  of  blessed 
and  holy  things.  Tears  withdraw  us  from  the  realm  of  the 
sensual  and  vain  to  the  emotions  of  the  pure  and  the  heavenly. 
The  prophets  were  weepers.  Jesus  wept.  O,  the  wealth  of 
his  tears  1  He  wept  to  make  us  glad.  He  went  forth  weeping 
that  He  might  return  bringing  His  sheaves  with  Him.  What 
trophies  those  tears  will  bring.  What  everlasting  songs  shall 
come  of  His  grief. 

Tears  of  childhood,  how  beautiful.  What  would  a  tearless 
childhood  be  here !  Tears  of  innocence  I  How  we  clasp  little 
grief-torn  hearts  to  our  own  I  The  tears  of  a  mother,  how 
remembered  in  after  days.  How  many  have  been  shed  over  tis 
when  we  have  never  seen  them  flow.  Manly  tears.  We  have 
seen  strong  men  weep— weep  for  sin,  weep  with  regret.  Let 
them  flow :  heaven  loves  them ;  they  water  the  moral  desert  of 
this  waste  world. 

The  weeping  time  will  end.  Out  of  this  land  of  tears  the 
mourners  will  go.  But  the  victory  will  remain.  The  joy  of 
the  morning  will  abide.  Tears  have  no  atoning  merit,  yet 
they  are  blessed.  Treasured  in  memory  they  shall  live.  Be- 
cause of  them  our  love  has  been  deeper,  our  cup  of  joy  has 
been  sweeter.  Joyful  tears !  In  heaven,  no  doubt,  their 
memory  will  shine  more  beautiful  than  all  earthly  bliss.  Be 
ours  only  tears  of  pity,  or  penitence,  of  love,  not  of  remorse 
aud  despair. 


232 


THE  GROWING  1V0RLD. 


Manufacture  of  Soda. 

One  of  the  most  important  branches  of  chemical  in- 
dustry is  the  manufacture  of  soda — sodium  carbonate. 
Large  quantities  of  this  chemical  are  used  by  glass, 
soap,  and  cloth  manufacturers,  and  in  the  household, 
for  baking  and  washing  purposes. 

The  sources  from  which  it  was  formerly  procured 
were  the  products  of  the  combustion  of  sea-shore 
plants.  It  is  now  generally  made  from  common  salt,  by 
the  following  processes : 

A  mixture  of  salt  and  sulphuric  acid  is  first  heated  in 
large  covered  cast-iron  pans,  until  chlorhydric  acid  is 
disengaged.  This  acid,  being  a  valuable  chemical,  is 
absorbed  by  being  passed  through  vertical  stone  towers, 
filled  with  lumps  of  coke,  over  which  a  small  stream  of 
water  is  kept  trickling.  The  pasty  mass  is  then  pushed 
into  an  adjoining  fire-brick  chamber,  which  is  strongly 
heated  by  flues  connected  with  a  furnace.  From  this 
furnace  it  emerges  in  the  form  of  a  white  salt,  which  is 
known  as  sodium  sulphate.  From  it  "  Glauber's  Salts  " 
are  made  by  dissolving  in  water,  which  crystalizes  it. 

The  sodium  sulphate  is  mixed  with  chalk  and  coal, 
and  heated  in  a  furnace  somewhat  similar  to  that  used 
by  iron  puddlers. 

In  case  some  of  my  readers  have  never  seen  a  pud- 
dler's  furnace,  I  will  explain  that  it  is  constructed  in 
such  a  manner  that  the  article  to  be  heated  does  not 
come  in  immediate  contact  with  the  heating  agents,  the 
flame  being  reflected,  by  means  of  a  curved  roof,  on  the 
substance  to  be  heated. 

It  emerges  from  this  furnace  in  a  black  powder, 
which  is  washed  with  warm  water.  The  solution  of 
water  and  black  powder  is  then  evaporated  in  pans  in 
the  furnace  above  described,  which  renders  it  white.  In 
this  state  it  is  called  soda  mh.  To  obtain  the  crystals  of 
soda,  soda  ash  is  dissolved  in  hot  water  and  allowed  to 
cool  in  large  pans  for  five  or  six  days,  by  which  time  the 
crystals  of  soda  (sodium  carbonate)  will  have  formed. 

The  baking  powder  known  as  bi-carbonate  of  soda  is 
made  by  exposing  large  crystals  of  soda  to  an  atmos- 
phere of  carbonic  acid  gas,  which  converts  the  crystals 
into  a  powder  much  used  for  raising  bread  and  cakes. 

Life  in  Portuguese  Country  Towns. 

There  is  nothing  that  would  strike  a  traveler  fresh 
from  England,  Germany,  or  France  more  than  the  great 
rarity  of  real  country  houses  in  Portugal.  It  is  entirely 
against  the  genius  of  the  people  to  live  a  country  life. 
The  Portuguese  is  too  sociable  to  endure  to  be  sur- 
rounded only  by  woods  and  fields  and  mountains.  He 
has  many  of  our  northern  tastes  ;  he  likes  field  sports  in 
moderation  ;  he  rides,  in  his  own  style,  better  than  any 
nation  in  Europe  except  ourselves  ;  he  has  a  sincere  de- 
light in  country  life  and  country  scenery,  but  he  cannot 
long  support  the  utter  solitude  of  the  country.  A  Por- 
tuguese nobleman,  if  he  be  rich  enough,  lives  in  Lisbon 
or  Oporto,  and  if  he  has  a  country-house  will  visit  it  for 
a  month  or  two  in  the  Autumn  ;  even  then  he  will  often 
rather  endure  the  misery  of  a  sea-side  lodging  among  a 
crowd  than  go  inland.  The  larger  of  the  country  towns 
have  streets  full  of  gentlemen's  houses  ;  and  here  vege- 
tate, from  year  to  year,  families  who  are  just  rich  enough 
to  live  upon  their  incomes  without  working.  To  live, 
indeed,  as  the  Portuguese  do  in  such  towns,  need  cost 
but  little.  A  large  house,  with  a  plot  of  cabbages — a 
kaleyard^ — behind  it,  with  white  washed  walls,  fioors  un- 
carpeted,  a  dozen  wooden  chairs,  one  or  two  deal  tables, 
no  fire-place,  not  even  a  stove,  either  in  sitting-room  or 
bed-room ;  no  curtains  to  the  windows,  no  covers  to  the 
tables  ;  no  pictures  on  the  walls  ;  no  mirrors  ;  no  tables 
pleasantly  strewn  with  books,  magazines,  newspapers 
and  ladies'  work ;  no  such  thing  visible  as  a  pot  of  cut 
flowers  ;  no  rare  china,  no  clocks,  no  bronzes — ^none  of 
the  hundred  trifles  and  curiosities  with  which,  in  our 
houses,  we  show  our  taste,  or  our  want  of  it,  but  which 
either  way  give  such  a  charm  and  individual  character 
to  our  American  homes.  All  these  negatives  describe  the 
utterly  dreary  habitations  of  the  middle-class  Portu- 
guese. For  occupations  the  women  do  needle-work, 
gossip,  go  to  mass  daily  and  look  out  of  window  by  the 
hour.  Except  the  one  short  walk  to  church  at  8  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  a  Portuguese  lady  hardly  ever  appears 
in  the  streets.  As  for  the  men,  they  lounge  about  among 
the  shops,  they  smoke  innumerable  {)aper  cigarettes, 


they  take  a  "siesta"  in  the  heat  of  the  day.   If  there  is 
sunshine,  they  stand  in  groups  at  the  street  corner,  with 
umbrellas  over  their  heads ;  in  winter  they  wear  a  shawl 
over  their  shoulders,  folded  and  put  on  three-corner- 
wise,  as  a  French  or  English  woman's  shawl — for  this  is 
a  fashion  in  Portugal,  and  the  Spaniards  laugh  a  good 
deal  at  their  neighbors  on  the  score  of  their  being  a  na- 
tion who  invert  the  due  order  of  things,  and  whose 
women  wear  cloaks  and  the  men  shawls.  In  these  towns 
there  is  never  any  news,  and  if  two  men  are  seen  in 
eager  discussion  of  some  matter  of  apparently  immense 
Importance,  and  if  one  happens  to  pass  near  enough  to 
overhear  the  subject  of  conversation,  be  sure  that  one 
of  them  is  plunged  in  despair  or  lauding  with  enthusi- 
asm at  a  fall  or  rise  of  a  half-penny  in  the  price  of  a 
pound  of  tobacco.    An  American  gentleman  of  my 
acquaintance  told  me  that  he  never  passed  two  Portu- 
guese in  conversation  without  hearing  one  of  two  words 
spoken,  "testao^^  or  "rapariga,^^  finance  or  love.  There 
are  not  even  fashions  for  them  to  think  about ;  young 
men  and  old  men  dress  alike,  but  the  younger  ones  wear 
exceedingly  tight  boots,  and  "when  they  take  their 
walks  abroad"  it  is  obvious  that  they  do  so  in  consider- 
able discomfort.    The  young  men,  however,  have  one 
occupation  more  important  even  than  wearing  tight 
boots,  and  which  almost,  in  fact,  goes  with  it— that  of 
making  the  very  mildest  form  of  love  known  among 
men.  The  process,  indeed,  is  carried  on  in  so  Platonic 
a  manner,  and  with  so  much  proper  feeling,  that  I  doubt 
if  even  the  strictest  English  governess  would  find  any- 
thing in  it  to  object  to.  The  young  gentlemen  pay  their 
addresses  by  simply  standing  in  front  of  the  house  oc- 
cupied by  the  object  of  their  affections,  while  the  young 
person  in  question  looks  down  approvingly  from  an 
upper  window,  and  there  the  matter  ends.    They  are 
not  within  speaking  distance,  and  have  to  contend  theni- 
selves  with  expressive  glances  and  dumb  show  ;  for  it 
would  be  thought  highly  unbecoming  for  the  young  lady 
to  allow  a  billet  doux  to  flutter  down  into  the  street,  while 
the  laws  of  gravitation  stand  in  the  way  of  the  upward 
flight  of  such  a  document— unweighted,  at  least,  with 
a  stone,  and  this,  of  course,  might  risk  giving  the  young 
lady  a  black  eye  or  breaking  her  father's  window  panes. 
So  the  lovers  there  remain,  often  for  hours,  feeling  no 
doubt  very  happy,  but  looking  unutterably  foolish. 
These  silent  courtships  sometimes  continue  for  very  lon§p 
periods  before  the  lover  can  ask  the  fatal  question  or  the 
lady  return  the  final  answer. 

Fogs. 

Any  one  who  has  lived  in  the  vicinity  of  a  river  or  lake,  has 
doubtless  noticed  on  a  summer  morning  a  dense  fog  rising 
from  its  surface,  marking  distinctly  its  position.  I  used  to 
look  from  my  window  and  see  the  line  of  fog  marking  the 
course  of  a  noble  river  for  many  miles.  So  from  Mount 
Washington  on  an  August  morning,  the  tourist  may  trace  out 
the  Connecticut  river  by  the  fog,  and  also  mark  the  position 
of  a  multitude  of  lakes  and  ponds,  while  the  rest  of  the  country 
is  clear. 

This  fog  is  formed  by  the  vapor  of  the  water  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  cooler  night-air,  which  quickly  condenses  it  into 
fog.   When  the  sun  rises  these  grey  mists 

"  Fold  up  their  tents  like  the  Arabs, 
And  silently  steal  away." 

English  fogs  are  familiar  to  all  readers  and  travelers,  and 
where  they  are  added  on  to  the  smoke  of  bituminous  coal, 
they  make  a  city  for  the  time  akin  to  the  land  of  Egypt  during 
the  prevalence  of  the  ninth  plague.  Sometimes  in  the  City  of 
London,  in  the  winter  season,  the  gas  is  lighted  at  noon-day. 
and  even  then  business  almost  comes  to  a  stand-still.  People 
jostle  against  one  another  in  the  street.  Thousands  of  chil- 
dren lose  their  way,  and  even  business  men  get  lost  and  be- 
wildered in  the  darkness,  not  half  a  block  from  their  own 
dwellings.  This  fog  results  from  the  warm,  moist  air  of  the 
sea  rising  up  and  spreading  itself  over  the  cold  land,  which 
speedily  condenses  it. 

The  dry  fog  of  the  delightful  Indian  Summer  days  comes 
from  a  stagnation  of  the  air,  which  doos  not  clear  away  the 
smoke  and  dust  which  gather  in  it.  The  atmosphere,  com- 
monly so  transparent,  becomes  Jike  an  unwashed  window 
pane.  A  good,  drenching  rain,  we  all  know.^  quicklv  clears  up 
the  bafzineas. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Traditions  Regarding  the  Difference  in 
Color. 

Inquisitiveness  is  a  trait  which  characterizes,  in  a 

f reater  or  less  degree,  every  nation  and  every  person, 
f  a  phenomenon  differing  from  ordinary  occurrences  is 
observed,  it  becomes  desirable  to  know  the  reason  or 
cause  of  this  difference,  and,  by  the  explanations  given, 
we  may  distinguish  the  learned  from  the  ignorant.  The 
educated  man  will  deduce  a  theory  to  explain  any  phe- 
nomenon from  scientific  facte.  Failing  in  this,  he  will 
class  it  as  something  which  cannot  be  explained.  He 
does  not  believe  in  miracles,  except  such  as  result  from 
a  combination  of  natural  laws. 

The  uncivilized  and  uneducated  man,  on  the  contrary, 
refers  everything  which  he  cannot  understand  directly 
to  a  divine  origiin.  They  reject  theory  and  deduce  from 
their  superstitions  a  reason  which  satisfies  them.  A 
good  example  of  this  is  seen  in  the  traditions  of  some 
savage  tribes  of  people  regarding  the  difference  in  color 
of  the  various  nations. 

Along  the  western  coast  of  Africa  the  natives  believe 
that  originally  God,  or,  as  they  call  Him,  Tankumpon, 
created  two  men,  both  black  and  of  equal  intelligence 
and  physical  ability.  To  these  He  gave  a  choice  be- 
tween gold  and  a  book,  which  they  regarded  as  the 
symbol"  of  intelligence.  One  chose  the  book  and  was 
immediately  transferred  to  a  cold,  northern  country, 
where,  under  the  influence  of  the  climate,  his  com- 
plexion gradually  became  whitened.  The  other,  who 
chose  the  gold,  remained  in  the  same  country  and  re- 
tained his  black  color.  They  also  say  that  he  lived  long 
enough  to  discover  the  superioritj  of  education  over 
wealth. 

They  say  that  when  the  Great  Spirit  made  the  world 
he  created  also  three  men,  but  of  what  color  is  not 
known.  He  then  conducted  them  to  a  small  iake  near 
by,  into  which  he  ordered  them  to  plunge.  One  of 
them  obeyed  instantly,  plunged  in  and  came  out  white. 
The  second  hesitated  an  instant,  and  the  water,  before 
clear,  had  become  slightly  soiled  when  he  entered  it,  in 
consequence  of  which  his  skin  was  dyed  to  its  present 
hue  The  third  hesitated  a  still  longer  period,  and  the 
water,  more  disturbed  than  ever,  dyed  his  skin  black. 

The  Great  Spirit  now  brought  three  packages  before 
them.  On  account  of  his  misfortune  in  having  been  the 
last  to  enter  the  lake,  he  gave  the  black  man  the  first 
choice.  He  selected  the  largest  and  heaviest  package. 
The  red  man  chose  the  next  in  size,  leaving  the  lighter 
for  the  white  man.  The  Great  Spirit  then  placed  the 
white  man  in  one  country,  the  black  man  in  another, 
and  the  red  man  in  America,  to  each  of  whom  he  gave 
the  exclusive  right  of  living  in  his  own  country. 

Upon  examining  their  respective  packages  the  black 
man  found  hoes,  shovels,  spades  and  other  agricultural 
implements.  The  red  man  found  bows,  arrows,  knives 
and  fish-spears.  In  the  white  man's  package  were  pens, 
paper,  ink  and  books. 

By  this  it  was  inferred  that  it  was  the  wish  of  the 
Great  Spirit  that  the  black  man  should  till  the  soil,  that 
the  white  man  should  study  and  be  wise,  and  that  the 
red  man  should  fish,  hunt  and  make  war. 

There  is  no  study  which  is  more  interesting;  than  the 
study  of  the  traditions  and  superstitions  of  imcivilized 
races  of  people.  In  the  present  case  there  is  no  resem- 
blance between  the  two  traditions,  though  it  often  hap- 
pens that  they  are  nearly  identical. 


An  Ancient  Document. 

A  coiTcspondent  who  has  been  in  Nablous,  the  mod- 
em name  for  Samaria,  Palestine,  says  that  a  venerable 
joui-nal  is  carefully  preserved  there,  in  which  appears 
the  foUo-vving  entry  in  the  handwriting  of  a  Samaritan 
high  priest  named  Shabbott :  "  In  the  year  from  Adam, 
4,281,  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  my  pontificate,  Jesus, 
the  son  of  Marj',  was  crucified  at  Jerusalem."  It  is 
said  that  the  old  journals  of  the  priests  of  the  Samari- 
Itan  synagogue  are  still  in  existence,  dating  back  to 
fifty  or  sixty  years  before  Christ  was  bom.  There  is 
nothing  improbable  about  the  story.  The  priests  of  the 
Jews,  like  the  monks  of  the  middle  ages,  were  the  re- 
corders of  passing  events,  and  the  crucifixion  of  Jeeus 
was  a  notable  event,  not  only  throughout  Judea,  but  the 
whole  Roman  Empire. 


A  Trained  Dog. 

By  careful  training,  wonderful  intelligence  may  be  de- 
I  Veloped  in  dogs,  as  the  foUowuig  anecdote  will  prove  : 

A  fashionably  dressed  English  gentleman  was  one 
day  crossing  one  of  the  bridges  over  the  Seine,  at  Paris, 
when  he  felt  something  knock  against  his  legs,  and 
looking  down,  he  found  that  a  small  poodle  dog  had 
rubbed  against  him,  and  covered  his  boots  with  mud. 
He  was,  of  course,  much  annoyed,  and  execrated  the 
little  brute  pretty  freely  ;  but  when  he  got  to  the  other 
side  of  the  bridge,  he  had  the  boots  cleaned  at  a  stand 
fur  the  purpose,  and  thought  no  more  about  the  matter. 
Some  days  after  this  occurrence,  however,  he  had  occa- 
sion again  to  cross  the  bridge,  and  the  same  little  inci- 
dent occurred.  Thinking  this  somewhat  odd,  he  re- 
solved to  watch  where  the  little  dog  went  to  ;  and  lean- 
ing against  the  side  of  the  bridge,  he  followed  with  hig 
eye  the  movements  of  his  dirty  little  friend.  He  saw 
him  mb  against  the  feet  of  one  gentleman  after  another, 
repeatedly  rushing  down  to  the  bank  of  the  river  to  roll 
himself  in  the  mud,  when  he  returned  to  the  bridge,  to 
transfer  it  to  the  boots  of  the  passers-by,  as  before. 
Having  watched  his  movements  for  some  time,  the  gen- 
tleman noticed  that  on  one  occasion,  instead  of  running 
down  to  the  river,  he  went  off  to  the  proprietor  of  the 
stand  for  cleaning  boots,  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge, 
who  received  him  very  cordially.  The  truth  then  for 
the  first  time  dawned  on  him,  that  the  little  animal  be- 
longed to  the  man  who  cleaned  the  boots,  and  was 
trained  by  him  to  perform  these  mischievous  deeds  for 
the  purpose  of  bringing  in  custom.  So  amused  was  the 
gentleman  by  the  little  creature's  intelligence,  that  he 
quite  forgave  him  for  former  injuries. 

The  Cyclamen. 

This  bulb  is  one  of  the  most  charming  additions  to 
every  collection  of  plants,  and  no  window  garden  should 
be  without  one  or  more  varieties  of  it,  for  a  few  pots 
wiU  make  a  constant  supply  of  flowers  from  January  un- 
til April  or  May. 

The  foliage  is  of  a  deep  myrtle  green,  often  prettily 
variegated  with  a  lighter  shade,  and  the  flowers  flutter 
like  white  or  pink-winged  and  red-billed  birds  above 
their  dark  leaves.  They  are  very  abundant,  and  large 
bulbs  have  been  known  to  produce  over  one  hundred 
flowers  each. 

There  are  no  other  bulbous  plants  known  which  re- 
quire so  little  care  and  give  so  large  retums,  and  yearly 
they  grow  in  favor  with  the  flower-loving  public. 

There  are  several  varieties  and  species  of  the  cycla- 
men, and  their  flowers  vary  in  color  from  the  purest 
white  to  a  rosy  pink  and  purple.  Some  of  the  speci- 
mens are  Autumn-flowering,  but  the  greater  part  of 
them  flower  in  the  Winter  and  Spring. 

The  bulbs  can  be  purchased  either  in  a  dry  state  or 
well  started,  and  should  be  potted  in  a  good  compost  of 
loam  and  weU-rotted  cow  manure,  with  a  little  sand 
added  to  keep  it  friable.  They  require  a  warm  room 
and  even  temperature,  and  a  good  supply  of  water  when 
coming  into  flower.  After  the  blossoms  are  past,  and 
the  leaves  begin  to  tum  yellow,  give  less  water  and  let 
the  bulbs  have  a  season  of  rest.  The  pots  can  be 
plunged  into  a  shady  bed  in  the  garden  after  the  frost  is 
past,  and  left  without  care  until  the  season  to  house  win- 
dow plants  is  at  hand.  Then  re-pot  them  in  the  above 
named  compost,  and  water  a  little  until  they  commence 
to  throw  out  leaves  ;  then  give  more  water  daily. 

Small  pots  are  best  for  small  bulbs.  A  six-inch  pot  Is 
large  enough  for  the  largest  sized  plant. 


A  Boiling  Lake. 

The  discovery  of  a  boiling  lake  in  the  Island  of  Do- 
minica has  excited  much  scientific  interest,  and  investi- 
gations of  the  phenomenon  are  to  be  made  by  geologists. 
It  appears  that  a  company  exploring  the  steep  and  forest 
covered  mountains  behind  the  toA\Ti  of  Rosseau  came 
upon  this  boiling  lake,  about  25,000  feet  above  the  s.  a 
level,  and  tv/o  miles  in  circumference.    On  the  wind 
clearing  away  for  a  moment  the  clouds  of  sulphurous 
steam  with  which  the  lake  was  covered,  a  mound  of 
water  was  seen  ten  feet  higher  than  the  general  level  of 
I  the  surface,  caused  by  ebulitiou.    The  margin  of  the 
I  lake  consists  of  beds  of  sulphur,  and  its  overflowing 
'  -ound  exit  by  a  waterfall  of  great  height. 


234 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Bathing  in  Famous  Waters. 

i'HE  VAIiE  OF  GLLGAL — K   LAKE    IN    WHICH    ONE  CAN 
NEITHER  SINK  NOR  SWIM. 

The  Jordan  is  about  the  color  of  a  new  slate — a  slate 
with  the  greenish-grey  cloud  still  covering  the  surface. 
Its  waters  are  opaque,  thickened  with  clay,  but  deli- 
cious in  temperature,  and  very  refreshing  to  a  pilgrim's 
palate.  Is  it  a  wonder  that  the  river  rushes  like  a  mill 
race  ?  From  its  source  to  its  mouth,  136  miles  in  a  bee 
liue,  it  descends  3,000  feet.  Its  very  name,  "  Yarden,"  in 
Hebrew  signifies  descent.  It  twists  and  turns  until  it  has 
trebled  the  natural  course  from  fountain  to  sea.  It  rises 
in  its  might  and  covers  the  plains,  and  drives  back  the 
flocks  and  herds  that  feed  along  its  banks.  You  cannot 
bridge  it ;  often  you  cannot  ford  it. 

We  got  out  of  our  clothes,  and  with  the  fresh  air  of 
the  momiQgblowing  upon  us  we  passed  into  the  cleans- 
ing flood.  There  was  life  in  every  drop  of  it.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  about  it ;  as  a  tonic  the  Jordan  is  un- 
rivalled. While  we  waded  cautiously  near  the  shore, 
sitting  down  in  the  clay  bottom  to  get  as  much  of  the 
water  with  as  little  of  the  current  as  possible,  we  were 
startled  by  a  crashing  of  underbrush  and  a  thunder  of 
feet.  Out  of  the  bush  emerged  the  Russian  pilgrims  in 
the  wildest  excitement.  Each  strove  to  be  the  first  to 
plunge  into  the  stream.  Many  of  them  were  already 
half  naked,  and  they  speedily  stripped,  put  on  a  long, 
white  garment — a  kind  of  shroud  in  which  it  is  their 
wish  to  be  buried — and  having  immersed  themselves  in 
the  Jordan,  they  took  off  the  shroud,  rolled  it  carefully 
up,  and  having  placed  it  in  their  luggage,  returned  quite 
naked  to  pass  a  half  hour  in  the  river. 

Off  for  the  Dead  Sea  I  A  rapid  run  in  the  fresh  morn- 
ing air,  over  the  parched  plains.  Much  of  the  way  we 
foUowed  the  Jordan  bank,  and  were  sheltered  somewhat 
by  the  foliage  that  fringes  it.  All  this  time,  though  we 
could  have  leaped  into  the  stream  with  a  hop,  skip  and 
a  jump,  we  caught  only  occasional  glimpses  of  the  river 
as  it  rushed  like  a  mill  race  between  its  steep  clay 
walls,  buried  out  of  sight  by  its  luxurious  groves  of 
willow.  Until  we  were  actually  upon  the  shore  of  the 
sea,  ploughing  through  pebbles  and  soft  sand,  we 
strained  our  eyes  in  vain  toward  the  valley  of  death, 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  bitter  waters.  Our  trail 
wound  through  a  dense  growth  of  cane,  oleanders,  cac- 
tus and  tamarisk.  We  trotted  over  the  baked  soil  in 
Indian  file,  thinking  of  the  wild  boars,  wolves,  jackals, 
and  leopards  that  prowl  in  the  vale  of  Gilgal — the  vale 
that  was  of  old  compared  to  "the  Garden  of  the  Lord." 
We  saw  nothing,  not  even  a  vulture,  though  no  pano- 
rama of  the  Dead  Sea  is  complete  without  a  shadow  of 
his  wings  darkening  the  canvas. 

Out  of  the  splendid  distance,  over  the  Salt  Sea,  the 
Sea  of  Asphalt,  the  Lake  of  Lot, — call  it  by  what  name 
you  will,  for  it  bears  all  these — over  the  Eastern  Sea  of 
the  old  prophets,  stole  the  withering  breath  of  a  furnace. 
Our  horses  sweltered  in  the  heat.  There  was  no  possible 
shelter  near  the  shore,  for  our  camp  trappings  had 
already  gone  up  into  the  wilderness.  A  dip  into  the 
gummy  and  elastic  water  was  all  we  asked  now,  and  in 
ten  minutes  we  stood  upon  the  sand  half  blinded  with 
the  heat  and  glare  that  nearly  overcame  us  before  we 
were  safely  out  of  it.  The  sea  near  the  plain  of  the 
Jordan  is  shallow.  Looking  toward  the  south,  the  eye 
is  lost  in  the  profound  mists  that  envelope  it.  Six  and 
forty  miles  of  sky  blue  crystal,  thirteen  hundred  feet  in 
depth,  the  topmost  wave  of  which  is  thirteen  hundred 
feet  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean.  Neither  fish, 
Ghells  nor  coral  are  found  here.  There  are  fish  bones  on 
the  shore,  the  wrecks  of  the  Jordan.  The  bitter  oil — it 
is  hardly  worthy  of  the  name  of  water— strangles  every- 
thino:  to  death,  and  then  spits  it  out  into  the  sun.  Six 
million  tons  of  sweet  water  fall  into  the  Dead  Sea  daily ; 
six  million  tons  rise  out  of  it,  spiritualized,  and  float 
over  it. 

When  we  passed  into  the  water  we  felt  the  weight  of 
it  before  we  had  got  knee  deep.  Soon  we  grew  buoyant, 
and  kept  our  balance  with  some  difllculty.  It  was  like 
trying  to  swim  on  corks  that  won't  keep  their  places. 
A  few  steps  further  and  over  we  went,  heels  up,  and,  to 
our  surprise,  heads  up,  likewise.  The  bath  was  cer- 
tainly most  refreshing,  and  the  novelty  of  it  not  unlike  a 
good-natured  practical  joke.  When  least  suspicious, 
over  we  went  on  all-fours^  bobbing  like  Wadders.  and 


finding  it  extremely  difficult  to  make  much  headway 
through  the  almost  solid  waters.  The  Dead  Sea  does 
for  a  change  of  medicine  ;  it  is  as  bitter  as  gall ;  but  I 
would  as  soon  think  of  swimming  in  a  strong  solution  of 
feather  beds.  When  we  had  once  more  got  into  our 
clothes  and  struck  out  for  the  wilderness,  our  skin 
burnt  like  fire,  and  we  shed  flakes  of  salt  in  such  profu- 
sion you  might  have  easily  mistaken  us  for  members  of 
the  Lot  family 

What  the  Sea  Tells  Us. 

We  must,  then,  regard  the  salts  of  the  sea  as  in  the  main 
dissolved  from  the  solid  crust  during  that  remote  period  when 
the  seas  were  young.  The  sea  thus  indicates  to  us  the  nature 
of  those  vast  chemical  processes  through  which  the  earth  had 
to  pass  in  the  earlier  stages  of  its  history.  If  the  present  crust 
of  the  earth  did  not  afford,  as  it  does,  the  clearest  evidence  of  a 
time  when  the  earth's  whole  frame  glowed  with  intense  heat; 
if  we  could  not,  as  we  can,  derive  from  the  movements  of  the 
celestial  bodies,  as  well  as  from  the  telescopic  appearance  of 
some  among  them,  the  most  certain  assurance  that  all  the 
planets,  nay,  the  whole  of  the  solar  system  itself,  was  once  in. 
the  state  of  glowing  vapor;  the  ocean  brine— the  mighty 
residuum,  left  after  the  earth  had  passed  through  its  baptism 
of  liquid  fire,  would  leave  us  in  little  doubt  respecting  the 
main  features  at  least  of  the  earth's  past  history.  The  seas 
could  never  have  attained  their  present  condition  had  not  the 
earth  which  they  encompassed  when  they  were  young,  been 
then  an  orb  of  fire.  Every  wave  that  pours  in  upon  the  shore 
speaks  to  us  of  so  remote  a  past  that  all  ordinary  time-measures 
fail  us  in  the  attempt  to  indicate  the  length  of  the  vast  inter- 
vals separating  us  from  it.  The  saltness  of  the  ocean  is  na 
minor  feature  or  mere  detail  of  our  globe's  economy,  hut  has  a 
significance  truly  cosmical  in  its  importance.  Tremendous 
indeed  must  have  been  the  activity  of  these  primeval  pro- 
cesses, fierce  the  heat  of  these  primeval  fires  under  whose  ac- 
tion sixty  thousand  millions  of  millions  of  tons  of  salt  were 
extracted  from  the  earth's  substance  and  added  to  its  en- 
velope. 


An  Enduring  Monument. 

The  seaport  town  of  Jaffa  was  a  gay  and  worldly  place  some 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  there  were  many  fashionable 
frivolous  women  who  spent  their  days  in  dressing  and  feasting, 
delighting  in  a  butterfly  popularity  among  their  "  set."  They 
were  wholly  engrossed  by  their  ''wimples  and  mantles  and 
changeable  suits  of  apparel,  their  rings  and  their  chains,  and 
bracelets  and  muflaers,"  very  much  like  women  of  like  tastes, 
at  the  present  day,  But  ages  ago  their  very  names  were  for- 
gotten. But  there  lived  a  humble  neighbor  of  theirs  whose 
name  and  works  have  been  handed  down  perpetually  to  the 
world  ever  since,  and  shall  be  till  the  end  of  time.  She  built 
for  herself  a  monument  more  lasting  than  the  pyramids,  though 
doubtless  those  who  knew  her  unpretending  work  regarded  her 
as  the  least  likely  of  any  woman  in  Jaffa  to  ever  become  a  ce- 
lebrity. It  was  only  the  labor  of  love  for  God's  poor;  a  making 
of  homely  coats  and  garments  for  their  comfort.  Yet  the 
Master  took  note  of  every  act,  and  declared  that  "  whereso- 
ever this  gospel  shall  be  preached  in  the  whole  world,  there 
also  shall  this,  that  this  woman  hath  done,  be  told  for  a  memo- 
rial of  her." 

Dorcas'  "  good  works  and  alms  deeds  "  have  been  a  standing 
lesson  in  charity  to  the  Christian  world  ever  since  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles  were  penned.  It  is  such  simple  deeds  of  love 
that  are  recorded  on  the  page  of  that  great  history  above,  far 
before  the  grandest  military  victory.  If  we  seek  for  enduring 
remembrance,  we  shall  never  find  a  surer  means  than  in  follow- 
ing the  example  of  this  humble  woman.  If  we  desire  above 
"the  honor  that  cometh  from  men,"  the  favor  also  of  our 
Heavenly  Father,  we  can  learn  from  her  history  how  to  win  it. 

A  mouse  is  able  to  shift  for  itself  when  about  a  fort- 
□ight  old  ;  and  by  the  time  it  is  six  weeks  old  frequently 
becomes  a  parent.  Mice  have  generally  between  six 
and  ten  young  ones  at  a  litter,  sometimes  as  many  as 
twelve  and  even  more,  hence  their  fecundity  is  such 
that,  not  allowing  for  any  mortality,  a  celebrated 
naturalist  declares  that  the  offspring  of  a  single  family 
of  mice  might  number  several  millions  in  twelve  months 
time. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  235 


DIVING  BENEATH  THE  SEA, 


Mr.  W.  Wood,  of  Heme  Bay,  followed  the  busi- 
ness of  a  diver  for  upwards  of  twenty -two  years  and 


are  situated  the  Copeland  Islands.  It  so  happened 
that  a  Whitstable  man  was  a  coastguardsman  in  this 
district.  He  heard  a  legend  that  a  ship  laden  with 
a  heavy  cargo  of  silver  had  been  wrecked  off  the 
Copeland  Islands  some  half  a  century  ago.  He,  there- 
fore, communicated  with  some  of  his  friends  at 


SEEKING  LOST  TKEASURE. 


then  retired  from  active  service.  His  stories  of  what 
he  experienced  down  deep  in  the  ocean  depths  are 
very  interesting.  He  made  his  first  start  in  life  by 
an  extraordinary,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  a  very  lucky 
piece  of  diving.  If  the  reader  will  look  at  the  map 
of  Ireland,  he  will  see  that  outside  Belfast  Lough, 
and  a  little  to  the  south-west,  opposite  to  Danaghadee,  \ 


Whitstable,  who  were    divers.     Accordingly  Mr, 
Wood  and  four  others  put  their  diving-dresses  on 
board  a  vessel,  and  sailed  from  Whitstable  to  Dchi 
aghadee. 

The  story  they  heard  when  they  got  to  their  desti- 
nation was,  that  the  wrecked  vessel  was  in  the  slav-c 
\  trade,  and  that  she  had  on  board  a  large  numbH  I- 


236 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


slaves  when  she  struck  on  the  rocks,  and  also  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money  in  the  form  of  silver  dollars. 
Nothing  would  have  been  known  of  the  wreck  hav- 
ing taken  place,  had  not  somebody  discovered  human 
legs  projecting  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  It 
appears  that  the  people  on  board  the  ship  had  tried 
to  escape,  having  first  filled  their  shirtsleeves  with 
dollars  ;  but  in  getting  up  the  rocks  many  of  them 
had  fallen  back  and  met  with  an  untimely  end,  as 
the  weight  of  the  dollars  had  kept  their  heads  under 
water.  No  one  had  ever  disturbed  the  wreck  since 
the  vessel  went  down,  so  Mr.  Wood  and  his  friends 
set  to  work  to  find  out  wliere  she  was. 

They  put  on  their  diving-dresses,  and  for  two  or 
three  days  walked  about  to  and  fro  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  in  about  forty  feet  of  water,  searching  for 
the  treasure.  This  they  did  by  clearing  away  the 
weeds  and  turning  over  the  stones  with  crowbars,  and 
feeling  for  the  dollars  with  their  hands,  as  the  water 
was  too  thick  to  see.  The  wood  part  of  the  wreck 
itself  had  entirely  perished  through  the  action  of 
the  sea  water.  At  last,  deeply  imbedded  in  the  sand, 
a  few  dollars  were  found,  which  gave  them  encour- 
agement to  continue  seeking  the  sunken  treasure. 
Success  crowned  their  labors,  and  upwards  of  $25,000 
were  recovered.  They  took  down  sieves  and  wooden 
corn  shovels,  and  riddled  the  dollars  out  of  the  sand 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Mr.  Wood  always  carried  one  of  the  dollars  abcHit 
with  him.  The  following  is  the  inscription  : — On  one 
side,  "  Carolus  iiij.  Dei  Gratia.  1797.  Hispan  et 
Ind  Rex  MSR.  FM."  The  "  Divers'  Arms."  near 
the  clock  tower  at  Herne  Bay,  of  which  Mr.  Wood 
is  proprietor,  owes  its  existence  to  the  discovery  of 
these  dollars. 

When  hunting  among  the  wreck  Mr.  Wood  had 
some  curious  under-water  adventures.  One  of  the 
divers  complained  that  he  was  annoyed  by  a  lobster, 
and  couldn't  work.  Mr.  Wood  learned  the  where- 
abouts of  the  creature  and  went  down  after  him.  He 
soon  discovered  Mr.  Lobster  sitting  under  a  rock, 
looking  as  savage  as  a  lobster  can  look.  His  feelers 
were  pointed  well  forward,  and  he  held  out  his  two 
great  claws  wide  open  in  a  threatening  attitude. 
Wood,  knowing  the  habits  of  lobsters,  offered  this 
fellow  his  crowbar,  which  he  immediately  nipped 
with  his  claws.  Then  watching  his  opportunity,  he 
passed  his  signal-line  over  the  lobster's  tail,  made  it 
fast,  and  signalled  to  the  men  above  to  "  haul  away." 
This  they  did,  and  away  went  Mr.  Lobster  flying  up 
through  the  air  above,  with  hi*  claws  still  expanded, 
and  as  scared  as  a  lobster  could  be. 

A  great  conger-eel  also  paid  the  divers  a  visit.  He 
was  an  immense  fellow,  and  kept  swimming  round 
Wood,  but  would  not  come  near  him.  Wood  was 
afraid  of  his  hand  being  bitten,  as  a  conger's  bite  is 
very  bad.  He  once  knew  a  diver  whose  finger  was 
seized  by  one,  which  took  all  the  flesh  clean  off  his 
finger.  A  conger  is  a  very  dangerous  animal  to  a 
man  when  diving  in  the  water.  However,  this  one 
kept  swimming  round  about  Wood,  so  he  took  his 
clasp  knife  out  and  tried  to  stab  him,  but  the  conger 
would  not  come  near  enough  to  be  "knifed."  It  was 
a  long  while  before  the  conger  would  go  away,  and 
even  after  he  had  gone  away  Wood  could  not  go  on 
working  because  he  was  not  sure  that  the  brute  was 
really  gone  for  good,  and  he  might  have  come  out  of 
some  corner  at  any  minute  and  nipped  his  finger. 

He  was  once  employed  in  fixing  some  heavy  stones 
in  the  harbor  at  Dover  ;  while  waiting  for  the  stones 
feo  come  down  from  the  ship  above,  he  sat  down  on  a 
rock,  and  being  quite  quiet,  a  shoal  of  whiting-pout 
came  up  to  examine  the  strange  visitor  to  their  suba- 
queous residence;  they  played  all  about  him,  and  kept 
on  biting  at  the  thick  glass  which  formed  the  eyes  of 
his  diving  helmet  ;  so  the  next  time  Wood  went 


'down,  lie  took  with  him  a  fish-hook  fastened  to  the 
end  of  a  short  stick — a  gaff,  in  fact.  The  pouts 
came  around  him  as  usual,  and  he  gaffed  them  one 
after  another  with  his  hook.  He  then  strung  them 
on  a  string,  and  came  up  after  his  day's  work  was 
over  with  a  goodly  fry  of  whiting-pouts  for  his 
supper. 

On  another  occasion  Wood  was  employed  to^  bring 
up  some  pigs  of  lead  from  the  hold  of  a  vessel. 
When  he  was  walking  about  on  the  top  of  the  lead, 
he  found  something  alive  under  his  feet.  It  kicked 
tremendously,  but  he  knelt  down  upon  it  to  keep  it 
steady  ;  he  soon  ascertained  that  it  was  an  enormous 
skate  that  he  was  standing  on,  so  he  served  him  as 
he  di4  the  lobster.  He  watched  his  opportunity  and 
slipped  the  noose  of  his  line  around  the  skate's  tail ; 
he  then  signalled  to  "  haul  away,"  and  up  went 
Master  Skate,  fiapping  his  great  wings  like  a  wounded 
eagle  ;  and  mightily  astonished  were  the  people  in 
the  boat  when  they  found  a  monster  skate  on  the  end 
of  the  line,  and  not  a  pig  of  lead. 

Wood  once  nearly  lost  his  life  when  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  A  Prussian  vessel  had  gone  down  off  the 
Mouse  Buoy  in  the  Thames  estuary.  The  captain 
was  drowned  in  his  cabin,  and  Wood  had  undertaken 
to  get  him  out  if  he  possibly  could.  Arriving  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  he  found  the  vessel  lying 
over  on  her  side,  and  that  she  had  gone  down  with 
all  her  sails  set.  He  tried  to  get  into  the  cabin,  but 
found  the  mainsail  blocking  the  cabin  door.  He  was 
just  about  to  return  when  he  found  his  air-pipe  and 
signal-line  had  suddenly  got  jammed.  Fully  aware  of 
his  very  dangerous  position,  and  without  losing  his 
presence  of  mind,  he  sat  quietly  on  the  edge  of  the  ves- 
sel and  considered.  The  men  above  he  could  find, 
were  signalling  violently  to  him  to  come  up,  but  he 
could  not  answer  as  the  line  was  jammed.  He  took 
out  his  pocket-knife,  and  thought  two  or  three  times 

of  cutting  himself  adrift.  As  a  last  chance  he  determined  to 
adopt  another  course,  and  climbed  up  the  rigging,  among  the 
great  wet  sails  and  loose  ropes,  as  well  as  h°  could,  and  for- 
tunately found  the  place  where  his  air-pipe  was  hitched.  He 
carefully  loosened  it,  gave  the  signal,  and  was  hauled  up  im- 
mediately. 

Mr.  Wood  once  found  a  "  sea  snake  "  drifted  ashore  neai 
his  public-house  at  Heme  Bay.  A  showman  declared  that  it 
was  a  boa-constrictor,  but  a  very  big  one.  The  snake  had 
probably  died  in  some  ship  "  from  foreign  parts"  coming  up  the 
channel,  and  had  been  thrown  overboard. 

He  also  one  day  came  across  a  live  tame  goose  swimming  all 
by  himself  off  the  Pan  Sands,  a  considerable  distance  out  at 
sea  from  Heme  Bay;  he  caught  the  old  goose,  and  he  and  his 
wife  cooked  it  for  uinner.  This  goose  had  also  probably  es- 
caped overboard  from  some  ship. 

At  a  very  low  tide  at  Herne  Bay,  he  discovered  a  fossil 
elephant's  tusk,  nearly  perfect,  sticking  out  of  the  mud.  He 
had  not  time  to  take  it  all  out  before  the  tide  came  up  ;  but 
still  he  got  a  large  piece  of  it.  This  curious  fossil  ivory  is  now 
at  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  England. 

Mr.  Wood  suffered  terribly  for  many  years  with  rheumatism, 
the  result,  no  doubt,  of  spending  so  much  of  his  time  under 
water,  and  we  regret  to  say  that  since  the  above  was  written 
we  have  heard  of  his  death.  Peace  to  the  memory  of  this  brave, 
kind-hearted  old  Whitstable  diver. 

Though  the  natura.  constitution  of  man  entirely  unfits  him  for 
remaining  under  the  water  with  safety  for  more  than  two 
minutes  at  a  time,  the  desire  of  obtaining  valuable  articles 
lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  has  led  him  to  devise  numerous 
expedients  by  which  he  is  enabled  to  lengthen  his  continuance 
at  moderate  depths.  By  long  practice,  such  as  that  of  the 
Indian  pearl  divers  at  Ceylon,  it  is  stated  that  this  is  extended 
to  even  six  minutes*  but  such  accounts  are  not  credited. 
Admiral  Hood,  who  took  pains  to  time  their  diving  by  the 
watch,  found  that  they  were  under  water  in  no  instance  more 
than  a  minute.  The  instance  narrated  by  Dr.  Halley  of  a 
Florida  Indian  diver  at  Bermuda,  who  could  remain  t\yo 
minutes  under  water,  is  regarded  as  an  extreme  case.  In 
Franchere's  "  Narrative  of  a  Voyage  to  the  JN.  W  v^oaso  ot 
America,"  mention  is  made  of  the  feats  of  diving  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islanders.  Two  of  them  were  induced  to  go  down  m 
fourteen  fathoms  of  water  in  search  of  a  couple  of  sheaves  lost 
overboard.  They  wert  down  several  times,  each  time  bringing 
up  shells  as  a  proof  that  they  had  been  to  the  bottom.  "We 
har*  .he  curiosity  to  hold  our  watches  while  they  dove,  and  were 
astonished  to  find  that  they  remained  four  minutes  under 
the  water.  When  they  came  up  the  blood  streamed  from  their 
nostrils  and  ears.   At  last  one  of  them  brought  up  the  sheaves 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


237 


and  received  the  promised  recompense,  which  consisted  of  four 
yards  of  cotton." 

The  lungs  retain  at  each  ordinary  expiration  some  carbonic 
acid  gas  among  their  passages.  By  breatliing  hard  for  a  short 
time  this  is  expelled;  and  if  a  full  inspiration  is  then  taken, 
the  lungs  are  charged  with  a  large  supply  of  oxygen,  and  are 
capable  of  being  sustained  a  longer  time  than  usual  without  ils 
renewal.  The  knowledge  of  this  fact  might  be  of  some  service 
hi  some  other  circumstances  in  which  it  is  important  to  retain 
the  breath  the  longest  possible  time,  as  well  as  in  diving. 
Again,  it  is  stated  that  the  engineer  Brunei,  wishing  to  examine 
a  break  in  the  Thames  tunnel,  was  lowered  with  another  per- 
eon  in  a  diving-bell  to  the  depth  of  thirty  feet,  and  the  break 
not  permitting  the  bell  to  go  deeper,  he  dived  into  the  water, 
holding  a  rope  in  his  hand.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  continu- 
ing under  the  water  fully  two  minutes,  which  is  explained  by 
ihe  air  he  inhaled  being  taken  into  the  lungs  under  the  pressure 
of  a  column  of  water  thirty  feet  high,  and  consequently  con- 
densed into  but  little  more  than  half  its  ordinary  bulk.  The 
lungs  receiving  of  this  air  their  full  capacity,  were  furnished 
with  nearly  double  their  usual  supply  of  oxygen.  The  pressure 
which  thus  lessens  the  bulk  of  air  is  exerted  upon  all  parts  of 
the  body.  It  is  felt  by  the  diver  descending  from  the  surface, 
when  at  the  depth  of  fifteen  square  feet,  as  a  force  of  nine 
hundred  pounds  upon  every  square  foot  of  surface,  and  increas- 
ing about  sixty  pounds  with  every  additional  foot  of  descent. 
The  air  is  with  difficulty  retained  in  the  chest;  the  eyes  be- 
come blood-shot,  and  blood  is  ejected  from  the  mouth.  Neither 
these  difficulties,  nor  the  shortness  of  the  diver's  life,  how- 
ever, nor  the  dangers  from  sharks,  deter  the  natives  of  Ceylon 
from  pursuing  their  avocation  as  pearl  divers,  nor  those  of  the 
Grecian  archipelago  from  gathering  the  sponges  and  coral 
attached  to  the  rocks  at  the  oottom  of  the  sea. 

Thou  hast  been  where  the  rocks  of  coral  grow, 
Thou  hast  fought  with  eddying  waves— 

Thy  cheek  is  pale,  and  thy  heart  beats  low. 
Thou  searcher  of  ocean's  caves! 

Thou  hast  looked  on  the  gleaming  wealth  of  old, 
And  wrecks  where  the  brave  have  striven; 

The  deep  is  a  strong  and  fearful  hold, 
But  thou  its  bar  have  riven. 

A  wild  and  weary  life  is  thine — 

A  wasting  task  and  lone. 
Though  treasure-grots  for  thee  may  shine, 

To  all  besides  unknown! 

A  weary  life !  but  a  swift  decay 

Soon,  soon  shall  set  thee  free; 
Thou'Tt  passing  fast  from  thy  toils  away, 

Thou  wrestler  with  the  sea! 

In  thy  dim  eye,  on  thy  hollow  cheek. 

Well  are  the  death  signs  read — 
Go!  for  the  pearl  in  its  cavern  seek. 

Ere  hope  and  power  be  fled  I 

And  bright  in  beauty's  coronal 

That  glistening  gem  shall  be; 
A  star  to  all  in  the  festive  hall— 

But  who  will  think  on  thee? 

None !— as  it  gleams  from  the  queen-like  head, 
Not  one  midst  throngs  will  «ay, 
"A  life  hath  been,  like  a  raindrop,  shed 
For  that  pale,  quivering  ray!" 

The  artificial  expedients  contrived  to  render  a  longer  stay 
under  water  practicable,  consist,  beside  the  diving  bell,  either 
of  a  partial  covering  for  the  body,  made  water-tight,  with  a 
metallic  helmet  entirely  protecting  the  head,  or  of  water-tight 
vessels  of  metal  made  to  enclose  the  whole  body,  and  furnished 
with  flexible  arms  and  with  eye-plates  of  strong  glass.  Their 
capacity  is  sufficient  for  air  to  support  life  for  a  certain  time— 
the  quantity  being  absolutely  necessary  for  this  being  at  least 
200  cubic  inches  per  minute;  several  times  as  much  as  is  al- 
lowed. The  case  is  suspended  by  ropes  from  a  vessel  (see  cut) 
and  is  moved  about  from  above;  the  man  within  giving  signals 
by  a  small  line  held  in  his  hand.  In  deep  water  the  pressure  is 
severely  felt,  so  that  even  a  sort  of  saddle  is  required  upon  the 
back  of  the  man  by  which  he  may  brace  himself  more  effectu- 
ally against  it. 

The  partial  covering  possesses  important  advantages  over 
the  tight  case,  but  is  limited  in  its  use  to  depths  not  exceed- 
ing twelve  or  fifteen  feet. 

In  1856,  Mr.  E.  P.  Harrington,  of  Westfield,  N.  Y.,  recovered 
the  iron  safe  of  the  steamer  Atlantic,  sunk  four  years  previously 
in  Lake  Erie,  in  about  170  feet  of  water.  The  safe  itself  was  at 
the  depth  of  157  feet.  He  made  use  of  a  common  flexible  India- 
rubber  armor,  unprotected  with  metal,  and  supplied  with  air 
from  an  air-pump  above.  He  also  wore  shoes  of  lead,  and  car- 
ried weights  of  lead  amounting  to  248  pounds.  His  first  de- 
scent was  on  June  19th,  and  the  eighteenth  and  last  was  on  the 
22d,  when  he  succeeded  in  attaching  a  line  to  the  safe,  which 
was  in  a  stateroom  on  the  upper  deck,  and  it  was  hauled  up. 
The  time  of  his  remaining  below  increased  from  one  minute 
the  first  descent  to  eleven  minutes  at  the  last. 

The  deck  was  alreadj'  covered  with  a  sediment  a  few  inches 
thick.  Mr.  H.  suffered  from  extreme  chilliness;  his  strength, 
too,  he  thinks  was  diminished  nine-tenths.  The  pressure  some- 
times CHUtu;d  a  violent  rush  of  blood  to  the  head,  causing  the 


appearance  of  bright  flashes  like  electrical  sparks. 

JDuring  the  revolutioiuiry  war  an  ingenious  but  complicated 
macliine,  called  the  American  turtle  or  torpedo,  was  contrived 
by  Mr.  David  Bushnell  of  Conn.,  designed  for  a  sort  of  sub« 
luariiLc  boat,  which  could  be  propelled  along  close  to  the  sur- 
face by  a  man  within.  It  contained  air  sufficient  to  last  half 
ail  hour.  By  admitting  a  little  water  in  a  receptacle  made  for 
the  l)u^po^^e,  it  was  made  to  sink,  and  could  be  kept  at  any  de- 
sired depth.  The  water  being  ejected  by  two  small  brass 
forcing  ])umr)s,  the  machine  rose  to  the  surface.  A  vessel  con- 
taiiiiiig  powder  enough  to  blow  up  a  ship  was  attached  outside, 
wliich  could  be  secured  to  any  object  it  touched.  An  apparatus 
running  by  clock-work  caused  the  powder  to  be  ignited  at  any 
desired  interval  of  time  after  it  was  left  by  the  operator.  This 
machine  occasioned  the  greatest  alarm  among  the  British  ships 
then  in  New  York  harbor. 

The  principle  of  the  diving  bell  is  seen  in  pressing  any  vessel 
hke  a  tumbler  mouth  downward  into  the  water.  The  air 
within  the  vessel  prevents  the  water  from  rising  and  filling  it; 
but  being  highly  elastic  and  compressible,  it  is  made  to  occupy 
'  less  space  as  the  pressure  is  increased  with  the  increasing 
depth  of  the  water.  Such  is  the  simplest  form  of  the  diving 
bell  as  it  was  known  probably  in  the  time  of  Aristotle; 
mention  being  made  that  divers  at  that  period  took  down  with 
them  a  kind  of  kettle  to  enable  them  to  remain  longer  under 
water.  During  the  reign  of  Charles  V.  two  Greeks  at  Toledo, 
in  Spain,  in  the  presence  of  the  monarch  and  his  court,  de- 
scended in  a  large  inverted  kettle  into  the  water  with  a  burn 
ing  light  and  came  up  dry.  But  this  experiment  and  others  in 
the  course  if  the  succeeding  two  hundred  years,  were  imper- 
fect as  there  was  no  provision  for  renewing  the  supply  of  air, 
nor  for  keeping  the  vessel  free  from  the  water  forced  by  the 
pressure  within  it. 

Beckman  furnishe,-  an  interesting  account  of  a  ship  carpenter 
named  Wm.  Phipps,  from  Boston,  Mass.,  who  persuaded  King 
Charles  II.,  in  1683,  to  furnish  him  with  a  ship  and  the  neces- 
sary apparatus  for  explorin:;;  for  u  rich  Spanish  ship  sunk  on 
the  coast  of  Hispaniola.  The  experiment  was  unsuccessful; 
but  on  a  second  f  dal  made  in  16.  ,',  Phipps  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  raise  from  the  depth  of  seven  fathoms  so  much  treasure  that 
he  returned  to  England  wiui  the  value  of  £200,000  sterling, 

About  the  year  2(15,  Dr.  Halley  contrived  a  method  of  fur- 
nishing air  to  the  bell  w'^  le  it  was  at  the  bottom,  thus  render- 
ing it  unnecessary  to  hoiit  it  to  the  surface  for  new  supplies, 
and  one  in  the  bell  could  step  about  upon  the  bottom  in  the 
area  covered  by  X\q  bell.  Dr.  Haller  descended  with  four 
others,  and  remained  one  and  a  half  hours  in  water  over  nine 
fathoms  deep. 

Interesting  experiments  were  also  made  with  a  diving  bell  in 
Portsmouth  harbor,  N.  H.,  in  1805.  The  bell  inside  was  five 
feet  in  diameter  at  the  bottom,  three  feet  at  tho  top,  and  five 
and  a  quarter  feet  high.  Two  men  descended  in  it  at  a  time. 
The  greatest  descent  made  was  about  seventy-two  feet.  In  a 
clear  day  and  with  an  unruffled  sea  they  had  sufficient  light  for 
reading  a  coarse  print  at  the  greatest  depth.  As  they  moved 
the  pebbles  with  their  gaffs  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  fish  in 
abundance  came  to  the  place  like  a  flock  of  chickens,  a::d  were 
as  devoid  of  fear  as  if  it  was  a  region  where  they  had  never 
been  molested  by  beings  from  the  extra-aquatic  world.  From 
the  description  of  the  adventurers,  no  scenery  in  nature  can  be 
more  beautiful  than  that  viewed  by  them  in  a  sunshiny  day  at 
the  bottom  of  the  deep  Piscataqua. 

An  improved  form  of  the  diving  bell  has  been  recently 
brought  into  notice,  to  which  the  name  of  nautilus  is  given, 
and  a  patent  has  been  issued  to  Major  Sears  of  New  York,  who 
has  perfected  its  construction.  Like  the  torpedoes  alluded  to 
above,  it  is  provided  with  chambers  distinct  from  those  occu- 
pied by  the  divers,  but  under  their  control,  so  that  they  may  at 
their  will  be  filled  with  either  air  or  water.  By  this  means  the 
specific  gravity  of  the  machine  is  made  to  vary  so  that  the  bell 
may  rise  to  the  surface  or  sink  to  any  desired  depth.  The  trap 
door  in  the  bottom  being  raised,  communication  is  thus  opened 
with  objects  outside  of  or  below  the  bell.  Guy  ropes  from  the 
surface  pass  through  the  chamber  occupied  by  the  operators, 
being  secured  by  stuffing  boxes  in  the  sides.  By  drawing  upon 
these,  the  bell  is  moved  in  any  direction  by  the  persons  within. 
The  bell  has  been  used  recently  with  success  in  New  York 
harbor. 

The  accompanying  illustration  furnishes  a  very  good  idea  ol 
the  diving  apparatus  now  in  use. 


It  is  remarked  by  some  writer,  that  "excess  of  cere* 
mony  shows  want  of  good  breeding."  This  is  true. 
There  is  nothing  so  troublesome  as  overmuch  politeness. 
A  truly  well-bred  man  makes  every  person  around  him 
feel  at  ease ;  he  does  not  throw  civilities  about  him  with 
ii  shovel,  or  toss  compliments  in  a  bundle,  as  he  would 
hay  with  a  pitchfork.  There  is  no  evil  under  the  sua 
more  intolerable  than  ultra-politeness. 


In  South  America  there  is  a  prolific  honey-bee  whlcl) 
has  not  been  furnished  with  a  sting. 

Charity  is  never  lost ;  it  may  meet  with  ingratitude, 
or  be  of  no  service  to  those  on  whom  it  was  bestowed 
yet  it  ever  does  a  work  of  beauty  and  grace  upon  thi 
heart  of  the  giver. 


238 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD. 


Prison  Life  in  France. 

There  are  twenty-one  central  prisons  in  France  for 
prisoners  with  sentences  of  five  years  and  over.  The  cell 
system  is  adopted  in  prisons  for  the  detention  of  prison- 
ers not  sent  up  for  more  than  a  year  and  a  day,  but  in 
the  central  prisons  as  many  as  100  sleep  in  one  ward, 
certain  of  their  number  being  responsible  for  the  pre- 
servation of  order.  The  dormitories  are  lighted,  and 
there  are  openings  from  the  galleries  through  which  the 
guards  may  inspect  them.  By  day  the  men  work  in 
ateliers,  fifty  or  a  hundred  in  umbrella  ferules,  Chinese 
lanterns,  etc.,  are  manufactured,  and  such  light  work  as 
glossing  paper,  sewing  copy  books  and  making  hair 
ornaments  is  done.  The  work  is  let  to  contractors  by  a 
tariff  fixed  by  the  Local  Chamber  of  Commerce,  to  pre- 
vent any  undue  compstition  with  free  labor.  Half  of  the 
profits  of  the  prisoner's  work  goes  to  the  State ;  he  is 
allowed  to  spend  a  quarter  in  procuring  special  articles 
of  diet,  etc.,  and  the  remaining  quarter  is  paid  him  on 
leaving,  so  that  a  discharged  convict  finds  himself  with 
from  $100  to  $300  cash  capital.  A  large  proportion  of 
the  prisoners  use  this  in  setting  themselves  up  in  trade 
or  in  procuring  passage  to  other  lands.  These  rewards 
of  industrial  labor,  together  with  the  industrial  trainmg 
itself  constitute  together  the  main  and  tolerably  effectual 
counterbalance  of  the  otherwise  grave  evils  of  associa- 
tion. The  element  of  hope  is  always  prominent  in 
French  prisons,  and  it  is  the  sheet  anchor  of  their  ad- 
ministration. A  visitor  to  La  Sante,  at  Paris,  obsei'ved 
in  the  first  cell  he  inspected  a  table  on  which  lay  a  pipe 
of  tobacco,  a  half  bottle  of  wine  and  a  novel 

Jugglers  and  Snake  Charmers  of  Madras. 

In  a  city  so  famous  for  jugglers,  snake  charmers, 
acrobats  and  chevaliers  industrie  generally — ^ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  live  by  their  wits  in  the  most  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  and  who  apparently  make  a  good 
living — no  person  could  remain  long  without  witnessing 
the  feats  of  skill  for  which  these  wandering  Madrasses 
are  celebrated.  Thursday  being  a  comparatively  open 
day,  therefore,  the  morning  was  selected  for  an  al  fresco 
exhibition  of  this  kind.  The  town  lost  the  nomads ; 
Government  house  received  them.  Let  us  look  at  the 
savage  who  appears  to  make  the  dried  skin  of  a  cobra 
alive.  It  is  a  favorite  trick ;  you  may  see  it  done  twenty 
times  a  day  in  the  streets  of  Madras.  You  may  examine 
the  apparatus  closely  every  time  and  watch  the  opera- 
tion as  carefully  as  you  please,  yet  you  cannot  detect 
the  modus  operandi.  The  performer  hands  you  a  little 
flat  wicker  basket  some  eight  inches  in  diameter  and 
asks  you  to  inspect  it,  while  he  folds  the  cobra  skin, 
which  you  have  previously  well  examined,  into  a  square, 
leaving  only  the  tail  unfolded.  As  soon  as  you  have 
given  the  basket  back  the  juggler  places  it  on  the  ground 
in  full  view,  and  under  the  lid  puts  the  folded  part  of 
the  serpent's  skin,  the  tail  being  in  your  sight  all  the 
while.  You  may  at  this  stage  lift  the  lid  once  more  to 
see  that  nothing  but  the  serpent  skin  is  in  the  basket, 
after  which  you  must  rest  content.  A  white  cloth  is 
taken  by  the  man  and  placed  over  the  basket,  after  hav- 
ing been  well  shaken  so  that  you  may  be  assured  noth- 
ing is  in  it.  A  pipe  is  produced,  and  with  it  a  horrible 
noise  similar  to  that  always  made  by  snake  charmers, 
and  not  unlike  the  sound  a  cracked  and  badly  made  bag- 
pipe would  emit  is,  made.  No  one  goes  near  the  cloth 
except  the  almost  naked  man,  who  cannot  possibly  hide 
any  live  snake  in  his  sleeves,  for  the  simple  and  suflfi- 
cient  reason  that  he  has  neither  sleeves  nor  jacket,  nor, 
indeed,  any  other  kind  of  clothing  than  a  small  waist 
cloth,  which  would  certainly  be  a  most  inconvenient  hid- 
ing place  for  a  lively  young  cobra.  The  sheet  is  lifted ; 
you  look  at  the  basket  and  see  the  tail  of  a  living  snake 
being  gi-adually  drawn  into  it,  and,  on  the  lid  being 
opened,  a  most  distinctly  energetic  s:jake  is  discovered. 
No  sooner  is  it  stirred  than  it  rises  on  its  tail,  spreads 
out  its  hood  and  strikes  with  its  fangs  and  tongue  at  the 
charmer. 

No  one  would  care  to  examine  that  basket  now,  with 
a  cobra  four  feet  long  making  vicious  snaps  at  the  jug- 
gler. The  charmer  takes  good  care  that  the  snake  comes 
near  you,  for  with  a  dexterous  movement  he  seizes  the 
reptile  by  the  head,  and,  holding  it  in  one  hand,  comes 
to  you  with  the  basket  in  the  other,  while  you  put  a 
vapee  into  the  receptacle  if  only  to  induce  him  to  go 


away.  The  snake  gone,  a  stout,  strong  girl  comes  for- 
ward, makes  a  deep  obeisance,  and  then  stepping  back, 
throws  a  man  weighing  fully  eleven  stone  over  her  shoul- 
ders. Nor  does  she  stop  here,  for  she  seizes  her  victim 
once  more,  places  him  crosswise  on  her  back,  and  then 
tosses  him  into  the  air  as  though  he  were  made  of  feath- 
ers, and  not  a  broad-shouldered  human  being.  Turning 
backward  on  her  feet  she  picks  up  straws  with  her  eye- 
lids, throws  somersaults  and  lifts  weights  which  would 
astonish  the  ordinary  London  acrobat.  While  she  is 
thus  performing,  jugglers  are  changing  pebbles  into 
birds,  birds  into  eggs  and  eggs  into  plants  ;  men  thread 
heedles  with  their  tongues,  join  innumerable  pieces  of 
cotton  into  one  long  cord,  keep  half  a  score  of  sharp 
knives  in  the  air  at  once,  throw  cannon  balls  with  their 
toes,  and  spin  tops  on  the  end  of  twigs.  Pandemonium 
reigns.  The  clatter  is  unbearable,  and  one  is  compelled 
to  dismiss  the  tribe  of  vagrants  without  any  further 
delay. 

An  Arabian  Thief. 

An  Arab  introduced  himself,  creeping  on  all  foure 
like  a  quadruped,  into  the  tent  in  which  one  of  the  beys 
was  reposing,  and  carried  off  his  clothes  and  arms,  with 
which  he  attired  himself.  Quitting  the  tent  very  early 
in  the  morning,  and  assuming  the  manner  and  haughty 
carriage  of  the  chief,  whom  he  left  asleep,  he  so  im- 
posed upon  the  attendants  by  his  appearance  that  they 
led  forth  their  master's  horse,  which  the  Arab  mounted 
and  rode  off  without  creating  suspicion.  An  hour  after- 
wards the  servants  were  surprised  at  hearing  the  voice 
of  the  bey  proceeding  from  the  tent,  calling  for  as- 
sistance. The  latter  was  still  more  astonished  than  his 
servants ;  the  boldness  and  adroitness  of  the  thief  ap- 
peared to  him  totally  incomprehensible.  After  several 
weeks  spent  in  fruitless  endeavors  to  discover  the  de- 
linquent, the  bey  announced  a  free  pardon  to  whomsoever 
would  acknowledge  in  what  manner  his  arms  had  been 
removed  from  under  the  pillow  on  which  he  slept.  Some 
days  afterwards  the  identical  Arab  presented  himself 
before  the  bey,  and,  reminding  him  of  his  proclamation, 
motioned  him  to  recline  on  his  couch  and  remain  silent, 
while  he  should  explain  the  mode  by  which  he  effected 
the  robbery.  The  Arab  forthwith  dressed  and  armed 
himself  as  before,  left  the  tent,  and  again  deceived  the 
iomestics,  who  brought  out  for  his  use  a  valuable  and 
-avorite  horse,  and,  moreover,  a  magnificient  pipe,  sup- 
posing all  the  time  they  were  waiting  on  their  master. 
During  the  whole  of  this  scene,  the  bey,  who  saw  what 
was  passing  was  convulsed  with  laughter  ;  but  his  mer- 
riment was  soon  checked  when  his  prototype  fairly  made 
off,  at  full  gallop,  with  his  weapons  and  baggagCc 


Josephine's  Sanctuary. 

At  Malmaison,  Josephine  consecrated  one  room  to  the 
memories  of  happy  days  passed  there  by  Napoleon  be- 
fore his  divorce  from  her.  It  was  a  room  then  used  by 
him  as  a  study  whenever  the  cares  of  war  and  politics 
permitted  him  to  seek  a  temporary  rest  in  her  society  in 
that  charming  retreat ;  and  when  she  was  left  there 
alone  to  mourn  their  separation,  she  would  allow  nobody 
to  occupy  the  room  but  herself.  In  it  lay  the  pen  last 
used  there  by  the  Emperor,  which  the  ink  had  long  since 
corroded  ;  on  a  table  lay  the  map  he  had  last  studied  ; 
over  there,  the  line  of  march  tracked  out  which  had 
long  since  taught  Europe  to  feel  the  power  of  his  tac- 
tics ;  on  the  wall  hung  a  glass  case  in  which  some  of  his 
hair  was  arranged  in  ornamental  or  symbolic  form.  It 
was  so  long  since  that  hair  had  grown  on  his  head,  that 
the  sight  of  it  must  have  carried  back  Josephine's  mem- 
ory to  the  time  when  she,  the  widowed  Vicomtesse  de 
Beauhamais,  determined  on  marrying  its  owner,  the 
young  soldier  of  fortune,  with  nothing  but  *'his  love 
and  his  sword  and  his  cloak  to  offer  her."  Such  a  sanc- 
tuary indeed  was  this  chamber  at  Malmaison  to  the  ex- 
Empress,  that  she  would  not  allow  any  hand  but  her 
own  to  dust  or  move  the  objects  in  it  which  had  been 
consecrated,  as  she  deemed,  by  the  touch  of  the  hus- 
band who  had  sacrificed  her  to  his  ambition,  and  in  so 
doing  had  lost  his  guiding  star,  the  guardian  angel,  of 
his  life. 


Queen  Victoria  has  received  from  the  Empress  of 
Brazil  a  present  of  a  drees  woven  of  the  webs  of  the 
large  South  American  spider. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


239 


Curious  Facts  in  Animal  Life. 

Fishes  have  no  eyelids,  and  necessarily  sleep  with 
their  eyes  open.  They  swallow  their  food  whole,  having 
no  dental  machinery  furnished  them.  Frogs,  toads  and 
serpents  never  take  food  but  that  which  they  are  satisfied 
is  alive.  When  a  bee,  wasp  or  hornet  stings,  it  is  near- 
ly always  at  the  expense  of  its  life.  Serpents  are  so 
tenacious  of  life  that  they  will  live  for  six  months  or 
longer  without  food.  Seals  can  be  trained  to  perform 
many  tricks.  It  is  believed  that  crocodiles  live  to  be 
hundreds  of  years  old.  The  Egyptians  embalm  them. 
In  South  America  there  is  a  prolific  honey-bee  which  has 
not  been  furnished  with  a  sting.  The  head  of  the  rat- 
tlesnake has  been  known  to  inflict  a  fatal  wound  after 
being  severed  from  the  body. 

Our  Enemies  and  our  Allies. 

Insects  sting  us  either  with  a  kind  of  proboscis  to  suck 
our  blood,  or  by  a  similar  structure  in  the  hinder  part  of 
the  body,  in  order  to  make  a  place  in  which  to  deposit 
their  eggs,  or  simply  strike  with  this  natural  weapon  as 
an  arm  of  defense,  or,  what  is  still  worse,  of  wanton 
offense. 

The  mosquito  and  its  numerous  family  take  the  first 
rank.  Virgil  has  sung  of  him,  so  has  Bryant.  He  is 
found  amid  the  snows  of  the  Arctic  regions  and  the 
dense  vegetations  of  tropical  swamps.  The  temperate 
zones  are  less  affected  than  the  extremes,  unless  in  parts 
where  marshy  flats  or  shallow  lakes  abound.  The 
United  States  is  favored  with  them  from  Jersey  to  the 
Lower  Mississippi,  and  an  early  missionary  traveler  on 
that  river  gives  an  amusing  and  pathetic  description  of 
his  sufferings  from  these  tiny  enemies,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  last  century. 

An  Eastern  traveler,  after  alluding  to  Moore's  beauti- 
ful description  of  the  Lake  of  Cashmere  and  its  plane- 
tree  isle  reflected  clear,  remarks  that  evidently  Moore 
had  never  been  there,  or  the  swarm  of  mosquitoes 
would  have  taken  all  the  poetry  out  of  his  nature  and 
made  him  describe  it  in  terms  as  indignant  as  those  he 
gives  are  laudatory.  The  sting  of  these  tiny  enemies  is 
composed  of  five  long  darts,  protected  by  a  kind  of 
sheath  split  open.  Two  of  the  darts  are  finely  laced  ; 
one  has  fine  silky  hair,  two  others  are  like  lancets.  The 
five  darts  form  a  hollow  tube  through  which  it  sucks  up 
the  blood.  It  has  no  poison  sack,  and  whatever  it  de- 
posits that  causes  pain  is  a  matter  of  doubt.  Some 
think  that  it  is  a  saliva  which  makes  the  blood  more 
fluid.  Painful  and  annoying  as  it  is,  compelling  us  to 
close  our  windows  with  nets,  and  surround  our  beds 
with  similar  defenses,  it  cannot  be  said  to  attack  una- 
wares. Its  shrill  music  announces  its  presence,  though 
some  may  say  that  its  hum  is  as  annoying  as  its  sting. 

The  changes  of  this  class  are  curious.  The  eggs  are 
laid  in  a  kind  of  little  ark,  glued  together  so  that  they 
float  on  the  surface  of  the  water  in  some  pool.  The 
young  insect  lives  in  the  water,  swimming  with  great 
celerity,  with  a  wriggling  motion,  generally  head  down, 
antennae  supplying  the  place  of  legs,  and  serving  to 
convey  food  to  the  mouth.  They  then  pass  to  the  chry- 
salis state,  and  float  shut  up  in  a  kind  of  sack  till  fully 
developed,  when  they  rise  to  the  surface,  and  the  sack 
becomes  a  tiny  boat  from  which  it  carefully  disengages 
itself  to  take  wing. 

The  Diptera  include  other  enemies.  Their  two  mem- 
branous and  transparent  darts,  never  horny  or  opaque 
like  the  coleopatra,  are  covered  with  a  scaly  down. 

The  gad-fly  that  torments  horses  and  cattle,  and  the 
debabe,  a  similar  insect  that  molests  camels,  belong  to 
this  class.  The  Arabs  think  that  the  debabe,  by  living 
on  serpents,  acquire  their  venom  and  so  infuse  it  into  the 
unfortunate  camels.  When  assailed  by  its  winged  ene- 
mies, a  dromedary  suffers  great  pain ;  it  rolls,  falls 
down,  utters  furious  cries,  rolls  on  the  ground  in  all 
directions,  and  loses  all  self  control.  It  will  plunge  into 
water,  roll  on  thorns  or  stones— anything  to  rid  itself  of 
the  pest. 

A  French  general  says :  "  Crossing  a  river  near 
Tiaret,  our  dromedaries  were  for  the  first  time  attacked 
by  the  debabe.  Each  animal  had  its  belly  covered  with 
thousands  of  these  flies,  of  which  it  sought  in  vain  to 
free  itself  by  leaping,  by  beating  with  its  feet,  by  rolling 
on  the  ground.  Fortunately,  about  four  o'clock  they 
disappeared  and  allowed  our  dromedaries  to  take  the 
rest  and  food  they  needed  sorely." 


The  sting  of  the  debabe,  when  numerous,  cause  the 
camel  to  lose  flesh  and  waste  away  under  its  pain  and 
Inflammation  Sometimes  whole  herds  become  mad- 
dened and  dash  into  rivers  to  drown. 

The  Arabs  avoid  traveling  by  mid-day,  and  at  night 
surround  their  camels  by  a  circle  of  moist  straw,  which 
they  set  on  fire,  and  by  che  smoke  drive  off"  the  obnoxi- 
ous insects.  The  gad-fly  has  other  varieties  :  the  most 
deadly  being  the  terrible  testse  of  tropical  Africa,  the 
Bting  of  which  Idlls  oxen,  horses  and  dogs,  but  is  said  to 
be  harmless  to  man,  the  goat,  and  sucking  calves.  But 
the  creature  is  too  little  known  to  trust  implicitly  to 
these  statements. 


The  Light-House. 

Probably  no  invention  of  the  past  century  has  done 
more  to  lessen  the  dangers  of  navigation  than  the  inven- 
tion, or  rather  the  perfection,  of  the  light-house  system 
of  signals.  Those  who  have  had  the  opportunity  of  vis- 
iting the  Centennial  Exposition  during  the  past  summer 
have  observed  the  excellent  exhibit  of  the  light-houses 
in  the  Government  building,  and  have  a  better  idea 
of  the  manner  in  which  light  is  thrown  to  such  a  dis- 
tance than  we  could  possibly  give  in  a  short  article  like 
this, 

A  little  more  than  one  hundred  years  ago,  the  only 
light  signals  known  were  huge  bonfires  built  upon  the 
coast.  These,  of  course,  were  expensive  and  inefficient, 
and  many  eminent  men  had  long  been  endeavoring  to 
invent  a  cheaper  and  better  substitute;  but  without  suc- 
cess. It  is  almost  within  the  memory  of  some  of  the 
oldest  persons  now  living  that  the  present  system  was 
discovered  ;  and  that,  too,  by  accident. 

A  gentleman  in  Liverpool  laid  a  wager  that  he  could 
read  the  small  print  of  a  common  newspaper  by  the  light 
of  a  farthing  candle,  thirty  feet  distant.  The  wager  was 
accepted,  and  the  gentleman  placed  a  concave  mirror, 
the  focus  of  which  was  thirty  feet  distant,  back  of  the 
candle,  and  the  result  was  a  perfect  success. 

Among  the  spectators,  was  one,  a  clock  master  in 
Liverpool,  who  was  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind  ;  and  the 
idea  at  once  flashed  upon  his  mind  that,  if  the  light  of  a 
small  caudle  could  be  thrown  such  a  distance,  the  light 
of  a  large  lamp  might,  in  the  same  manner,  be  thrown 
several  miles. 

The  experiment  was  tried,  and  proved  to  be  an  admir- 
able success  ;  and  wise  men  were  not  slow  to  perfect  a 
system  of  signals,  which  has,  by  more  than  half,  lessen* 
ed  the  perils  of  the  sea-faring  man.  By  means  of  a 
prism  it  was  found  that  the  rays  of  light  could  be  reflect- 
ed in  parallel  beams  to  a  distance  of  twenty-six  miles. 
The  curvature  of  the  earth  prevents  it  being  seen  at  a 
greater  distance. 

There  are  now  over  fourteen  hundred  light-houses  oq 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  and  about  the  same 
number  on  the  Eastern  and  Southern  coast  of  the  United 
States. 


Strange  Revelation  by  the  Microscope. 

There  is  a  story  that  an  eminent  microscopist  had  a 
bit  of  substance  submitted  to  him  to  decide  what  it  was. 
To  an  unaided  eye  it  might  be  a  morsel  of  skin  which  a 
baggage-smasher  had  knocked  off  the  comer  of  a 
smoothly-worn  hair  trunk.  The  savant  appealed  to  his 
microscope.  Entirely  ignorant  of  this  tiny  bit  of  matter 
except  as  he  had  taken  counsel  with  his  instrument,  the 
wise  man  declared  that  it  was  the  skin  of  a  human  being, 
and  that,  judging  by  the  fine  hair  on  it,  it  was  from  the 
so-called  naked  portion  of  the  body,  and  further,  that  it 
once  belonged  to  a  fair-complexion  ed  person.  The 
strange  facts  now  made  knoAvn  to  the  man  of  science 
were  these :  That,  a  thousand  years  before,  a  Danish 
marauder  had  robbed  an  English  church.  In  the  spirit 
of  the  old-fashioned  piety  the  robber  was  flayed,  (let 
hope  that  he  was  killed  first)  and  the  skin  was  nailed  to 
the  church  door.  Except  "s  tradition  or  archaeological 
lore  had  it,  the  affair  had  oeen  forgotten  for  hundreds 
of  years.  Time,  the  gi'eat  erodent,  had  long  ago  re- 
moved the  offensive  thing.  Still,  however,  the  church 
door  held  to  its  marks  of  the  great  shame,  for  the 
broad-headed  nails  remained.  Somebody  extracted 
one,  and  underneath  its  flat  head  was  this  atomic  rem- 
nant of  that  ancient  Scandinavian  malefactor's  pelt — that 
fair-Rkintied  robber  from  the  North. 


THE  GROPVJnq  WORLD. 


TO  A  ROBIN. 

Ey  M.  H.  P.  DONNE. 

Eobin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day, 

And  I  love  to  hear  you, 
Sitting  on  yon  icy  spray. 

With  no  playmate  near  you. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day, 

Though  the  frost  is  bitter; 
In  their  scarlet  mantle  gay 

Holly-berries  glitter. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day — 

Snowdrops  will  be  peeping 
Through  the  hard  ground,  where  they  lay 

All  the  winter  sleeping. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day. 
Though  the  snow  falls  thickly, 

And  the  sky  is  dull  and  grey, 
Making  night  come  quickly. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day. 

Glad  for  what  is  coming- 
April  showers  and  pleasant  May 

Bees  and  their  sweet  humming. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day — 
Winter's  cold  and  dreary, 

But  the  Spring  is  on  its  way- 
Sing  and  do  not  weary. 

Robin,  sing,  I'm  glad  to-day, 

Glad  to  have  you  near  me, 
Sitting  on  yon  icy  spray, 

As  you  sing  you  cheer  me. 


The  Power  of  Music.  ^ 

The  King  of  Spain  was  once  given  up  to  the  most  distress, 
ing  form  of  madness.  He  sunk  into  the  deepest  melancholy, 
shut  himself  up  in  the  seclusion  of  a  darkened  chamber,  and 
nothing  could  arouse  him  to  the  slightest  interest  in  the  affairs 
of  life. 

As  a  last  resort,  the  physicians  ordered  the  famous  singer 
Farlneli,  to  sing  in  an  outer  room  adjoining  the  apartment 
of  the  royal  patient.  At  first  the  melody  appeared  to  have  no 
effect,  but  after  a  time  the  king's  attention  seemed  slightly 
awakened,  tears  started  to  his  eyes,  and  he  commanded  the 
door  of  his  chamber  to  be  opened.  Softer,  sweeter  fell  the 
strains,  more  soothing  the  melody,  until,  like  another  David, 
Farineli  had  exorcised  the  evil  spirit,  and  Saul  was  himself 


again.  The  "  medicine  "  of  song  has  more  than  once  been  cm  - 
ployed  in  soothing  distracted  brains,  with  the  most  satiafac- 
tory  results. 

A  lady  in  New  Hampshire,  who  had  been  from  early  life  af- 
flicted with  that  terrible  nervous  disorder,  St.  Vitus'  Dance, 
was  able,  by  careful  attention  to  diet  aud  by  avoiding  all  ex- 
citement, to  lengthen  the  intervals  between  the  paroxysms  tO' 
many  months.  When  they  did  come  on,  nothing  was  found 
so  quieting  as  gentle,  soothing  music.  Music  of  an  opposite 
character  had  exactly  the  opposite  result. 

There  was  an  old  general  who  served  under  the  great  Duke- 
of  Marlborough,  who  was  by  nature  so  timid  that  he  dreaded 
and  trembled  before  an  engagement.  But  when  the  drum© 
and  bugles  sounded,  the  old  soldier  roused  himself  like  a 
war  horse,  and  needed  both  bit  and  rein  to  restrain  him. 

A  party  of  Cossacks  once  entered  a  church  in  Dresden,  at- 
tracted by  the  sound  of  the  organ.  They  listened  with  most 
profound  admiration  and  deep  delight  to  the  song  service,  but 
when  it  ceased,  and  the  minister  began  his  sermon,  they  soon 
exhibited  signs  of  impatience.  At  length  one  of  these  rough 
soldiers  stol«  softly  up  the  aisle  and  pulpit  steps,  unseen  by 
the  minister,  and  gave  him  quite  a  start  by  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and,  by  vigorous  signs,  inviting  him  to  sit  down  and 
give  the  organ  a  chance  again,  so  that  his  delight  and  that  of 
his  companions  might  not  be  longer  interrupted.  Long  ser- 
mons would  not  suit  that  class  of  hearers. 


The  Silver  Bells. 

In  Eastern  poetry  they  tell  of  a  wondrous  tree,  on  which 
grew  golden  apples  and  silver  bells ;  and  every  time  the  breeae 
went  by  and  tossed  the  fragrant  branches,  a  shower  of  these 
golden  apples  fell,  and  the  living  bells  chimed  and  tinkled 
forth  their  airy  ravishment.  On  the  gospel  tree  there  grow 
melodious  blossoms ;  sweeter  bells  than  those  which  mingle 
with  the  pomegranates  on  Aaron's  vest ;  holy  feelings,  heaven- 
taught  joys;  and  when  the  wind  bloweth  where  he  listeth- 
the  south  wind  waking,  when  the  Holy  Spirit  breathes  upons 
that  soul,  there  is  the  shaking  down  of  mellow  fruits,  and  the 
flow  of  healthy  odors  all  around,  and  the  gush  of  sweetest 
music,  where  gentle  tones  and  joyful  echoings  are  wafted 
through  the  recesses  of  the  soul.  Not  easily  explained  tO' 
others,  and  too  ethereal  to  define,  these  joys  are,  on  that  ac- 
count, but  the  more  delightful.  The  sweet  sense  of  forgive- 
ness ;  the  conscious  exercise  of  all  the  devout  affections,  and 
the  grateful  and  adoring  emotions  Godward ;  the  lull  of  sinful 
passions,  itself  ecstatic  music ;  an  exulting  sense  of  the  well- 
ordered  covenant ;  the  gladness  of  surety,  righteousness,  and 
the  kind  spirit  of  adoption,  encouraging  to  say  "Abba, 
Father;"  all  the  delightful  feelings  which  the  Spirit  of  Gk>d 
increases  or  creates,  and  which  are  summed  up  m  that  com- 
prehensive phrase,  "Joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

Db.  JAUES  HAMIIiTOK. 


Boy  Nature. 

I  have  thought  that  the  boy  is  the  only  true  lover  of  Nature, 
and  that  we  who  make  such  a  dead  set  at  studying  and  ad- 
miring her  come  very  wide  of  the  mark.  "  The  nonchalence- 
of  a  boy  who  is  sure  of  his  dinner,"  says  our  Emerson'  "is- 
the  healthy  attitude  of  humanity."  The  boy  is  a  part  of 
Nature ;  he  is  as  indifferent,  as  careless,  as  vagrant  as  she.  He 
browses,  he  digs,  he  hunts,  he  climbs,  he  halloes,  he  feeds  on 
roots,  and  greens,  and  mast.  He  uses  things  roughly  and. 
without  sentiment.  The  coolness  with  which  boys  will  drown 
dogs  or  cats,  or  hang  them  to  trees,  or  murder  young  birds,  or 
torture  frogs  or  squirrels,  is  like  Nature's  own  mercilessness. 

Certain  it  is  that  we  often  get  some  of  the  best  touches  of 
nature  from  children.  Childhood  is  a  world  by  itself,  and  we 
listen  to  children  when  they  franldy  speak  out  of  it  with  a 
strange  interest.  There  is  such  a  freedom  from  responsibility 
and  from  worldly  wisdom.  There  is  no  sentiment  in  children^ 
because  there  is  no  ruin;  nothing  has  gone  to  decay  about 
them  yet— not  a  leaf  or  twig.  Until  he  is  well  into  teens  and 
sometimes  later,  a  boy  is  like  a  bean-pod  before  the  fruit  is 
developed— indefinite,  succulent,  rich  in  possibilities  whicli 
are  only  vaguely  outlined.  He  is  a  pericarp,  merely.  How 
rudimental  are  all  his  ideas.  I  know  a  boy  who  began  his- 
school  composition  on  swallows  by  saying  there  were  two 
kinds  of  swallows — chimney  swallows  and  swallows. 

Girls  come  to  themselves  sooner;  are  indeed  from  the  first 
more  definite  and  "  translatable." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  241 


Teaching  School  in  Old  Times. 

** Barring  out  the  schoolmaster"  is  an  exploit  of 
pioneer  times  that  has  been  gradually  going  out  of  date, 
nntil  now  it  is  rarely  heard  of  except  in  remote  back- 
woods districts,  where  "ye  ancient  customs"  are  still 
in  vogue  to  some  extent.  Lest  some  of  my  young  read- 
ers may  not  understand  what  this  exploit  is,  I  will  briefly 
explain. 

Years  ago,  in  all  the  Western  States,  it  was  customary 
in  rural  school  districts  for  the  "  big  boys"  of  the  school 
to  bar  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  school  house,  on 
Christmas  or  New  Years,  and  refuse  admittance  to  the 
teacher  unless  he  would  "  treat  "—that  is,  furnish  apples 
and  cider  for  the  whole  school.  The  victory  generally 
lay  with  the  party  that  first  obtained  possession  of  the 
school-house  on  the  morning  of  the  day  in  question. 
Sometimes  the  teacher  was  ahead,  but  more  frequently 
it  was  the  "  big  boys."  I  have  known  them  to  sleep  in 
the  school-house  all  night  so  as  to  be  in  possession  in 
the  morning. 

Many  teachers  regarded  it  as  a  matter  of  honor,  with 
them,  not  to  be  barred  out,  and  many  serious  contests 
have  resulted  in  the  effort  to  obtain  the  victory.  Some- 
times when  the  boys  were  found  in  possession  in  the 
morning,  the  teacher  would  "smoke  them  out"— that 
is,  he  would  ascend  to  the  roof  and  throw  brimstone 
down  the  chimney  and  then  lay  a  board  over  the  top  of 
the  flue ;  the  same  thing  would  be  resorted  to  by  the 
boys  to  expel  the  teacher. 

Frequently  the  teacher,  regarding  discretion  better 
than  valor,  would  capitulate  at  once,  sign  the  article  of 
treaty  which  was  always  prepared  beforehand,  and 
would  be  handed  out  through  the  window.  As  soon  as 
it  was  signed,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the 
smaller  children — who  always  looked  on  from  the  out- 
side with  the  keenest  delight — were  admitted,  school 
called  to  order,  a  committee  appointed  to  go  and  get 
the  cider  and  apples,  and  the  day  was  spent  in  "  having 
fun,"  as  it  was  popularly  termed. 

In  those  days  teachers  were  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
common  enemy — a  necessary  evil— and  the  best  teacher 
was  the  one  who  had  the  most  muscle  and  courage.  K 
he  could,  by  brute  force  or  superior  will,  control  the 
"big  boys,"  he  was  a  "lion,"  and  was  universally  re- 
spected. On  the  other  hand,  let  his  abilities  as  a  teacher 
be  ever  so  good,  they  counted  nothing  if  he  failed  to 
subdue  the  rebellious  spirit  found  in  nearly  every  dis- 
trict, and  which  always  stood  ready  to  measure  strength 
With  each  new  master. 

In  some  cases  every  artifice  would  be  practiced  to 
annoy  the  teacher,  and  if  possible  drive  him  out  of  the 
district ;  and  where  the  opposing  forces  were  nearly 
equal  in  skill  and  artifice,  the  contest  would  be  carried 
on  during  the  entire  winter  term.  I  want  to  relate  a 
story  of  one  of  these  contests. 

District  No.  2  had  an  enviable  reputation  for  its  prow- 
ess, for  miles  around.  It  was  the  boast  of  the  big  boys 
of  the  school  that  no  teacher  had  ever  stayed  his  term 
out,  yet,  and  as  long  as  the  present  race  attended  school, 
it  was  the  determination  to  maintain  the  reputation 
achieved.  The  leader  of  these  rebels  was  Dick  Johnson, 
a  great  brute  of  a  boy  eighteen  years  old,  son  of  John- 
son, the  landlord  of  the  only  tavern  in  the  village.  Dick 
never  studied— never  went  to  school  for  that  purpose — 
and  at  eighteen  could  scarcely  write  his  own  name 
legibly.  He  could  fight,  however,  especially  a  weaker 
party,  and  all  the  reputation  he  had  was  obtained  in  this 
Way.  Like  all  boasters,  he  was  a  coward  at  heart,  and 
was  careful  not  to  match  himself  alone  with  an  equal  or 
Buperior. 

Dick  had  three  or  four  boon  companions  in  the  dis- 
trict %  boys  of  his  own  age,  his  equals  in  manners  but 
not  m  cunning,  and  the  latter  quietly  gave  him  the  lead- 
ership. 

On  the  first  Monday  of  November,  1846,  Henry  Mar- 
vin commenced  his  school  in  District  No.  2.  He  was  a 
oung  man  of  strong,  wiry  muscle,  and  had  a  keen 
lack  eye,  and  a  firm  expression  of  countenance  that  re- 
vealed the  energy  and  determination  within.  He  had 
been  "  hired  "  by  the  directors  because  of  his  reputation 
for  controlling  the  turbulent  elements  of  his  schools. 
Dick  and  his  companions  had '  been  told  before  school 
bes^an  that  "they  would  find  their  match  this  time," 
and  they  had  vowed  that  they  would  "run  him  out  as 
they  had  done  all  the  others." 


Dick  and  his  fellows  were  on  hand  on  this  first  Mon- 
day, and  all  had  taken  their  seats  together  as  usual. 
The  forenoon  passed  without  incident,  the  bearing  and 
appearance  of  Marvin  being  suificient  to  make  the  boys 
reflect  before  commencinj^  hostilities.  By  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  however,  the  monotony  of  good  behavior 
was  getting  irksome.  No  "  first  day  "  had  ever  passed 
yet  without  a  trial  of  skill,  and  the  boys  felt  that  they 
must  make  the  attempt.  They  began  to  whisper  and 
talk.  The  teacher  intuitively  understood  the  situation, 
but  went  on  with  his  duties  as  usual.  The  noise  and 
confusion  in  Dick's  seat  grew  louder  and  louder.  Still 
the  teacher  paid  no  attention — he  was  waiting  his  time. 
He  had  fully  measured  the  boys'  capacity,  aad  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  any  appeal  to  their  better  nature 
would  be  thrown  away.  Bnite  force  and  superior  tac- 
tics must  be  applied. 

The  apparent  indifference  of  the  teacher  gave  the 
boys  confidence,  and  from  words  they  proceeded  to  ac- 
tions. Reaching  over  the  seat  to  the  pail  of  water, 
Dick  dipped  a  gourd  full,  and,  standing  up  on  his  seat, 
threw  it  with  all  his  force  over  the  teacher  and  a  class  of 
little  girls  that  were  reading.  Something  of  this  kind 
was  what  Marvin  was  waiting  for.  A  shout  of  laughter 
from  the  school  was  followed  by  a  lull  of  expectation. 
"  What  would  the  teacher  do  ? " 

They  were  not  left  long  in  suspense.  Walking  to  the 
door  he  opened  it,  and  then  facing  Dick,  he  said  : 

"  Leave  this  room  immediately  ! " 

"  No  you  don't,"  retorted  the  champion.  "  If  anybody 
leaves  it's  you,"  and  his  companions  backed  him  up 
with  a  "That's  so." 

There  was  a  large  stove  in  the  room,  and  at  this  time 
fras  full  of  wood  about  half  burnt.  The  sticks  were 
no  long  for  the  stove,  and  the  ends  stickinpf  out 
were  not  afire.  Marvin  stepped  quickly  to  the  stove, 
and  seizing  a  brand,  threw  it  with  all  his  force  among 
the  rebels.  Never  were  boys  more  astonished.  Before 
they  could  move  a  second  brand  followed  the  first.  Coals 
of  fire  flew  in  every  direction,  the  dry  benches  were  be- 
ginning to  blaze,  and  smoke  half  flUed  the  room.  Not 
only  did  the  four  boys  "leave  the  room,"  but  in  a  panic 
all  the  school  followed.  Marvin  put  out  the  fire,  swepii 
out  the  dirt,  coals  and  litter,  put  things  to  rights,  and 
called  the  scholars  in  again.  All  came  in  again  but  the 
ones  who  caused  the  trouble.  They  were  all  more  or 
less  burned,  Dick  pretty  badly,  a  live  coal  having  struck 
him  square  in  the  cheek,  producing  a  large  blister.  Their 
clothes  were  burned  in  spots,  too,  and  they  all  went 
home  to  doctor  and  repair. 

Thus  ended  the  first  day  of  school.  Though  gained 
by  questionable  means,  it  was  a  victory  for  the  teacher. 
But  the  contest  did  not  end  here.  The  parents  of  the 
four  l)oys,  enraged  at  the  action  of  the  teacher,  vowed 
vengeance,  and  declared  that  their  sons  "  should  yet 
put  the  teacher  out  and  give  him  the  biggest  lickin'  he 
ever  got." 


E^upert's  Land. 

Between  the  Esquimaux  in  the  northern  part  of  Brit- 
ish America,  and  the  Cree  Indians  in  the  southeni  part, 
there  is  a  large  tribe  called  the  Lonchoux,  which  are 
thus  spoken  of  by  a  traveler  : 

Each  family  has  a  deer-skin  tent  or  lodge.  In  summer, 
when  the  family  is  generally  traveling  in  search  of 
game,  the  tent  is  seldom  put  up.  The  winter  encamp- 
ment is  usually  made  in  a  grove  of  firs.  Skins  are 
stretched  over  willow  poles,  and  the  tents  are  like  the 
Esquimaux  snow  huts  in  shape.  Snow  is  banked  high 
up  on  the  outside,  and  the  door-hole  is  arranged  to 
close  with  a  double  fold  of  skin  that  gives  them  the 
warmth  without  the  beauty  of  the  snow-house. 

Missionaries  describe  them  as  an  active  race  and  intel- 
ligent, with  sparkling  eyes  and  good  complexion.  They 
show  the  greatest  aptitude  to  receive  the  teachings  of 
the  Gospel,  which  encourages  those  earnest  souls  who 
believe  that  to  all  nations  of  the  earth  the  glad  tidinge 
shall  be  borne. 

The  missionaries  have  to  endure  hardships — eating 
strange  food  without  bread  for  weeks ;  their  habitations 
must  be  similar  to  dog-kennels  at  home  ;  but  to  those 
who  can  hope  all  things,  and  believe  all  things  which 
they  find  in  the  Good  Book,  the  "  well-done,  good  and 
faithful  servant "  will  be  sufficient  reward  for  them. 


242 


777^  GROWING  WORLD. 


Combat  Between  Two  Polar  Bears. 

A  German  paper  recently  contained  an  account  of 
a  combat  which  took  place  in  the  Zoological  Garden  of 
Cologne,  between  two  polar  bears,  which,  that  journal 
remarks,  "  a  Roman  Emperor  would  assuredly  have 
paid  a  million  sestertii  to  witness."  These  two  bears 
had  been  brought  from  Spitzbergen  five  years  ago, 
and  had  been  placed  in  a  large  pit,  with  a  tank  in  the 
centre.  Until  within  the  last  few  days  they  had  re- 
mained upon  excellent  terms  with  each  other,  but  last 
week  a  quarrel  occurred  between  them,  the  result  of 
which  was  that  the  female  bear  took  refuge  upon  the 
summit  of  a  large  rock  in  one  corner  of  the  pit.  The 
male  did  upt  attempt  to  follow  her,  and  she  remained 
there  three  days,  when,  pressed  by  hunger,  she  de- 
scended again.  As  soon  as  the  male  bear  saw  her  he 
immediately  rushed  at  her  and  attacked  her  with  his 
fore-paws.  The  keepers  attempted  to  separate  them, 
and  belabored  the  male  with  heavy  iron  bars,  but  the 
bones  in  the  head  of  the  polar  bear  are  so  much  harder 
than  those  of  the  ordinary  bear  that  these  blows  took 
no  effect.  The  male  bear  continued  to  wreak  his  ven- 
geance upon  his  companion,  and,  after  having  almost 
torn  her  body  into  ribbons,  he  dragged  her  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  tank,  and  held  her  there  until  he  felt  assured 
that  all  sign  of  life  was  extinct.  He  then  brought  her 
body  back  to  the  floor  of  the  pit.  and  dragged  it  around 
the  tank  for  nearly  an  hour.  After  this,  he  withdrew 
into  his  sleeping-den  to  rest  from  his  labors,  and  the 
keepers  at  once  closed  the  iron  bars  upon  him.  Having 
examined  the  body  of  the  dead  bear,  they  found  that  it 
had  received  more  than  a  hundred  wounds  ;  the  neck 
and  head  were  crushed  almost  to  a  jelly,  and  the  flesh 
was  hanging  in  strips  from  the  back  and  sides.  During 
the  whole  combat  neither  of  the  bears  uttered  a  cry  or 
sound  of  any  kind. 


"What  Some  Patents  Have  Done  for  the 
Community  at  Large. 

Perhaps  no  branch  of  industry  can  be  selected  that  has 
a  more  direct  bearing  on  the  interests  of  all  classes  than 
the  making  of  books  and  newspapers.  And  what  has 
been  the  agency  of  patents  in  the  development  of  this 
single  art,  identified  with  the  intellectual,  moral  and 
material  welfare  of  the  entire  community?  Com- 
mencing with  the  paper;  it  was  cheapened  three 
cents  a  pound  by  the  invention  of  Watt  and  Burgess  in 
1854,  which  consisted  in  boiling  wood  pulp  in  caustic 
alkali  under  pressure. 

As  concerns  the  type,  David  Bruce,  Jr.,  by  machines 
patented  in  1843,  reduced  the  cost  fully  twenty-five  per 
cent. ;  he  used  a  pump  to  force  the  moltsn  type-metal 
into  the  moulds  to  secure  a  sharp,  clear  letter,  on  the 
type,  and  for  the  production  of  some  varieties  enabled 
steam  power  to  be  used.  Then  as  to  printing,  the  press 
used  by  Franklin  over  a  century  ago  gave  but  one 
hundred  and  thirty  impressions  an  hour,  but  to  the  year 
1847  successive  patented  improvements  brought  the 
capacity  of  newspaper  printing  up  to  from  twenty-five 
hundred  to  fifty  thousand  impressions  an  hour,  the  for- 
mer of  large,  the  latter  of  small  newspaper  size.  This 
Was  the  famous  Napier  double  cylinder  press,  an  Eng- 
lish invention.  It  was  believed  that  with  this  machine 
the  limit  of  speed  was  reached  ;  that  if  a  newspaper's 
circulation  should  exceed  twenty  thousand  copies  daily, 
all  the  type,  presses,  and  appointments  of  the  printing 
office,  as  well  as  the  force  of  compositors,  pressmen, 
proof-readers,  and  others,  would  have  to  be  doubled. 
And  all  this  time  the  public  were  calling  for  more  news- 
papers, more  books,  more  periodicals,  more  printed 
matter  generally.  It  was  at  this  time  that  R.  M.  Hoe 
produced  his  great  improvements  in  printing  machinery, 
DOW  so  well  known.  In  the  year  1861  one  of  the  New 
^ork  Journals  printed  a  daily  edition  varying  from 
115,000  to  130,000  copies,  and  this  was  printed  in  four 
hours  and  a  half.  To  have  done  the  same  work  on  a 
Napier  press  would  have  required  five  additional  forms 
of  type,  each  at  a  cost  of  on«  thousand  dollars  per  week, 
making  five  thousand  dollars  per  week,  or  $260,000  per 
annum  in  type  alone  in  this  one  newspaper  office,  to  say 
aothiag  of  additionarpresses,  room,  and  workmen,  that 
would  have  been  required  by  the  Napier  presses.  During 
the  fourteen  years  immediately  following,  Hoe  sold  foi-+j 


3f  his  great  presses,  and  the  gain  to  the  public  may  be 
fairly  estimated  from  the  instance  above  given. 

After  the  papers  are  printed  they  must Tbe  folded,  and 
this  was  formerly  done  by  hand.  About  the  year  1859 
Cyrus  Chambers  began  a  series  of  inventions  for  doing 
this  by  machinery,  and  in  1874  he  had  brought  into  use 
seventy-two  of  his  patent  newsfolders "  for  folding 
newspapers.  The  cost  of  running  these  machines  was 
$3  a  day  each,  and  each  accomplished  the  work  of  five 
men.  The  same  work  by  hand  cost  $8.75  per  day,  being 
a  saving  of  $6.75  per  day  for  each  machine,  and  these 
newspaper  folders  alone,  during  the  original  term  of  the 
patent,  effected  an  economy  of  labor  amounting  to  up- 
wards of  one  million  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand 
dollars.  But  this,  like  the  improvements  in  paper 
making,  in  type -founding,  and  in  printing,  extended  far 
beyond  the  production  of  newspapers. 

During  the  same  period  the  paper-folders  for  duo- 
decimo publications  saved  in  labor  more  than  $139,000  ; 
for  quartos  more  than  $64,000 ;  and  for  32  mos.  more 
than  $532,000 — making  from  one  patent  alone,  in  less 
than  fourteen  years,  a  saving  of  human  toil  and 
exertion  amounting  to  more  than  two  million  two 
hundred  and  forty-three  thousand  dollars ;  and  the 
economy  is  to  continue  and  increase  for  all  time,  never 
to  be  diminished,  but  likely  to  be  increased  by  added 
improvements  called  forth  by  the  encouragement  of  the 
patent  laws. 

Turning  to  other  patents  relating  to  articles  of  general 
use,  we  find  universally  the  same  results.  We  can  all 
recollect  the  time  when  feminine  fashion  called  forth 
immense  quantities  of  tempered  steel  wire  for  crino- 
lines. At  the  outset  the  wire  cost  three  dollars  a  pound, 
because  in  tempering  it  was  necessary  to  wind  the  flat 
wire  in  volute  coils  kept  apart  by  interlaced  iron  wires, 
the  coils  being  thus  carefully  heated  in  a  furnace,  and 
then  plunged  into  a  hardening  bath.  In  August  1858, 
Henry  Waterman  patented  a  plan  of  drawing  the  wire 
lengthwise  from  the  fire  through  the  hardening  liquid, 
and  by  this  means  reduced  the  cost  of  hardening  from 
three  dollars  a  pound  to  three  cents.  As  a  result  the 
steel  skirt  instead  of  being  the  fanciful  luxury  of  the 
rich,  was  brought  within  the  reach  of  the  poorest.  But, 
far  from  this,  the  method  has  been  found  available,  with 
this  economy,  in  the  manufacture  of  tempering  wire 
for  the  manifold  purposes  of  manufacturers  and 
engineering. 

The  copper-toed  shoe  is  a  well  known  example  of  the 
economy  brought  about  through  patents.  The  saving  to 
this  country  is  estimated  at  from  six  millions  to  twelve 
millions  annually. 

The  superintendent  of  a  "  Home  for  Little  Wanderers" 
certifies  that  it  reduced  the  cost  of  shoes  forthe  children 
in  the  establishment  from  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  to 
four  hundred. 

Patents  for  improvements  relating  to  shoes  for  horses 
are  equally  instructive.  To  make  horse-shoes  by  hand 
costs  an  average  of  sixteen  cents  each,  without  counting 
the  cost  of  the  iron.  So  far  back  as  1835  Henry  Burden 
began  the  invention  of  horse-shoe  machinery,  and  in 
1857  patented  what  is  claimed  to  be  the  first  really  suc- 
cessful apparatus — although  some  of  his  previously 
patented  devices  were  included  in  it — and  in  1871  horse- 
shoes were  sold,  iron  included,  at  four  and  a  half  cents 
each,  the  shoes  weighing  on  an  average  one  pound  each. 
The  absolute  benefit  to  the  public  cannot  be  calculated, 
but  the  gain  to  the  government  during  the  late  war 
amounted  to  four  millions  of  dollars.  And  the  same 
motives  which  led  Henry  Burden  to  his  long-continued 
and  finally  successful  efforts — the  reward  offered  by  the 
patent  laws — is  urging  other  inventors  to  still  further 
improvements  in  the  same  line  at  the  present  time. 


The  Way  of  It. 

Old  Time  first  covers  our  heads  with  hair; 
Afterward  quietly  mows  them  bare. 
First  cuts  our  teetb,with  a  mighty  fuss ; 
Anon  takes  care  that  our  teeth  "  cut"  ua. 
First  manufactures  us  nimble  legs, 
And  then  converts  them  to  "  stiff  old  pegv* 
Coming  to  earth  with  squalls  and  tears, 
Pleasure  beguiled  a  few  brief  years. 
Harassed  thereafter  by  Care  and  Doubt, 
Fighting  for  much  we  might  do  without. 
Hoping  and  trusting  for  bliss  to  come- 
So.  iii  amazement,  we  reacii  tha  tomb. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD, 


243 


Charles  Sumner. 

Charles  Sumner  was  bom  at  Boston,  Mass.,  on  the  6th 
of  January,  1811.  His  father,  Charles  Pinekney  Sumner, 
was  a  prominent  citizen  of  Boston,  and  for  fourteen 
years  sheriff  of  Suffolk  County.  The  subject  of  this 
brief  biography  was  educated  at  the  Latin  School  of  his 
native  city,  from  which  he  passed  to  Harvard  College, 
where  he  graduated  in  1830.  Upon  leaving  college  he 
entered  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge,  and  was  under 
the  direct  supervision  of  Judge  Story,  and  the  warm  in- 
timacy which  sprang  up  between  the  young  man  and  the 
great  jurist  was  terminated  only  by  the  death  of  the 
latter. 

While  he  was  a  student,  Mr.  Sumner  became  a  con- 
tributor to  the  American  Jurist^  a  quarterly  law  journal 
of  decided  ability,  and  of  extensive  circulation. 

In  1833  he  edited  an  edition  of  Andrew  Dunlap's 
^'Treatise  on  the  Practice  of  the  Courts  of  Admiralty  in 
Civil  Causes  of  Maritime  Jurisdiction."  Mr.  Sumner's 
skill  and  learning,  as  displayed  in  this  work,  won  him 
great  distinction  in  his  profession. 

In  1834,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at  Worcester,  and 
returning  to  Boston  he  entered  upon  the  practice  of  his 
profession.  From  the  first  he  obtained  marked  success. 
Soon  after  his  admittance  to  the  bar,  he  was  made  Re- 
porter o  the  United  States  Circuit  Court,  in  which 
capacity  he  published  three  volumes  of  Judge  Story's 
Decisions.  At  about  the  same  time  he  was  given  the 
editorial  charge  of  the  American  Jurist.  In  this  direc- 
tion he  displayed  fine  talent  and  rare  judgment.  For 
the  next  three  years  he  lectured  satisfactorily  to  the 
students  of  the  Cambridge  Law  School.  Before  his 
death,  Judge  Story  expressed  his  desire  to  have  Charles 
Bumner  succeed  him  in  the  Law  School. 

In  1837  Mr.  Sumner  went  abroad  and  spent  three  years 
in  travel,  studying  the  institutions  and  laws  of  the 
countries  through  which  he  passed.  The  letters  of  in- 
troduction which  he  carried  ensured  him  very  flattering 
receptions  wherever  he  went,  and  his  personal  qualities 
won  him  many  friends.  During  the  year  which  he  re- 
mained in  England,  he  was  a  constant  attendant  upon 
the  debates  in  Parliament,  and  he  made  many  acquaint- 
ances among  distinguished  public  men.  He  attended 
the  courts  at  Westminster  Hall,  and  was  often  invited  to 
sit  with  the  judges  at  the  trials. 

In  France,  Germany  and  Italy  he  received  similar  at- 
tentions from  scientists,  jurists  and  literary  men. 

In  1840  Mr.  Sumner  returned  home  and  resumed  the 
practice  of  his  profession.  In  1843  he  was  again  ap- 
pointed lecturer  at  the  Law  School.  In  1844  he  began 
the  publication  of  "Vesey's  Reports,"  in  twenty  vol- 
umes. The  publication  was  completed  in  1846.  The 
Boston  Law  Reporter,  referring  to  the  able  manner  in 
which  this  task  was  executed,  said  of  him :  "In  what 
may  be  called  the  literature  of  the  law — the  curiosities 
of  legal  learning — he  has  no  rival  among  us." 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1845,  Mr.  Sumner  delivered  an  ad- 
dress in  Boston,  entitled  "The  True  Grandeur  of  Na- 
tions." It  was  a  plea  in  behalf  of  universal  peace. 
-Mr.  Sumner  was  an  eloquent  anti-slavery  advocate. 
Whatever  proposition  was  made  with  the  most  remote 
probability  of  its  aiding  in  the  extension  of  slavery,  he 
opposed  with  all  his  energies. 

Massachusetts  sent  him  to  Congress,  and  while  there 
he  so  energetically  and  persistently  fought  against  the 
extension  of  slavery  that  he  aroused  most  bitter 
enmity  among  the  Southern  members.  It  was  in  May, 
1856,  that  the  brutal  attack  upon  his  life  was  made  by 
Preston  S.  Brooks  of  South  Carolina.  It  was  while 
Mr.  Sumner  was  sitting  at  at  his  desk,  after  the  adjourn- 
ment of  the  Senate,  that  the  assailant  came  up  behind 
him  and  struck  him  over  the  head  with  a  heavy  cane, 
while  another  South  Carolinian,  Laurence  M.  Keith, 
stood  by  with  a  loaded  pistol  to  prevent  any  interference 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Sumner's  friends.  Messrs.  Morgan, 
Murray  and  Chittenden,  recovering  from  their  amaze- 
ment at  the  audacity  of  the  attack,  rashed  in  and  put  an 
end  to  the  shameful  affair.  Mr.  Sumner,  bleeding  and 
Insensible,  was  carried  to  his  lodgings.  The  beating  was 
so  severe  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  his  seat  in  the 
Senate  and  seek  medical  aid  abroad.  Thanks  to  the 
skill  of  Dr.  Brown  Sequard,  then  of  Paris,  but  since  of 
New  York,  aided  by  a  vigorous  constitution,  Mr.  Sumner 
recovered,  and  after  an  absence  of  four  years  was  able 
^nce  more  to  take  his  seat  in  the  Senate ;  but  from  the 


'effects  of  those  Injuries  he  never  fully  recovered.  Brooka 
and  Keith  were  treated  with  such  severe  and  righteous 
censure  that  they  resigned  their  seats  to  save  expulsion. 

In  June,  1860,  Mr.  Sumner  delivered  his  able  address, 
"  The  Barbarism  of  Slavery,"  and  in  '60-'61  he  was  firm 
and  decided  as  to  the  course  which  the  Government 
ought  to  pursue  towards  the  seceding  states.  But  he 
was  cautious  and  not  boisterous  in  his  sentiments,  al- 
ways with  an  eye  single  for  his  country's  future  and 
general  good.  In  1863  he  was  elected  to  a  third  term  in 
the  Senate.  He  advocated  conciliation  in  dealing  with 
the  South  after  the  war.  In  1869  he  was  returned  to  the 
Senate  by  the  Massachusetts  Legislature. 

An  unpleasantness  occurred  in  1870  between  him  and 
President  Grant  concerning  the  annexation  of  St.  Do- 
mingo, and  he  was  removed  from  the  chairmanship  of 
J'oreign  Relations,  a  step  which  many  public  men 
regretted. 

But  the  fatigue  of  public  life,  with  its  broils  and  tur- 
moils wore  upon  his  health,  never  so  good  after  the  at>- 
tack  of  Brooks,  and  his  physician  ordered  quiet  and 
rest;  but  absolute  inactivity  was  out  of  the  question 
with  Sumner's  active,  intellectual  temperament.  Tet  as 
his  health  steadily  failed,  he  made  another  voyage  to 
Europe  in  June,  1872,  in  the  hope  of  being  benefitted  by 
the  change.  At  the  opening  of  Congress  in  December, 
1872,  he  was  again  in  his  seat  in  the  Senate,  and  soon 
after  this  he  earnestly  opposed  the  retaining  on  the 
Army  Register  and  on  the  regimental  colors,  the  names 
of  the  battles  won  by  the  North  ;  and  however  much  our 
Northern  feelings  arose  in  arms  at  this  seeming  sacre- 
ligious  eclipsing  of  our  martyr  heroes,  were  it  not,  in 
reality,  wiser  if  we  wish  to  heal  the  wounds  also  to  strive 
to  obliterate  the  scars  ? 

Although  an  invalid,  he  was  usually  in  his  seat  during 
the  winter  of  '73-'74 ;  but  on  March  10th,  he  was  seized 
by  so  violent  an  illness  that  his  physician  experienced 
the  gravest  alarm  ;  and  his  fears  were  correct,  for  after 
twenty  hours  of  extreme  agony  he  died  on  the  afternoon 
of  March  11th,  1874,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three. 

His  mortal  remains  were  conveyed  to  Boston  and 
buried  in  Mount  Auburn 


The  Fondness  of  the  Romans  for  Purple. 

Romans  of  rank,  if  they  had  one  darling  weakness, 
manifested  it  in  their  passion  for  purple.  It  was  not  merely 
because  the  dye  of  the  Tyrian  shell-fish  contrasted 
well  with  the  prevalent  whiteness  of  classic  garments,  but 
because  the  purple  hue  was  sacred  to  Caesar,  and  a  re- 
flected glory  of  imperial  dignity  clung  about  those  whose 
high  station  gave  them  the  privilege  of  bordering  theii 
gowns  with  a  stripe,  more  or  less  narrow,  of  the  courtly 
color.  Never  did  the  envied  scrap  of  red  ribbon  that 
decorates  a  Frenchman's  button-hole  occasion  such 
proud  delight,  such  angry  heart-burnings,  such  eager 
longings,  as  did  the  concession  to  wear  purple  among 
the  masters  of  the  world. 

Even  the  pearls  of  the  Orient,  brought  by  Alexandria 
keels  to  the  harbor  of  Neapolis  and  Ostia,  hardly 
brought  a  higher  price,  weight  for  weight,  than  the  pre- 
cious pigment  for  which  the  fishermen  were  ever  seek- 
ing among  the  lone  rocks  where  once  stood  the  Venice 
of  Syria.  Alaric's  greedy  demand,  the  ransom  of  be- 
sieged Rome,  coupled  all  the  purple  "  with  gold,  silvei 
and  slaves ;  for  nothing,  as  the  wily  Goth  well  knew, 
sold  better  at  every  mart,  from  Gades  to  the  Persian 
frontier.  Sumptuary  laws  limited  its  use  within  such 
straight  limits  that  had  there  not  been  the  usual  discrep- 
ancy between  theory  and  practice,  a  very  few  netfuls  ol 
the  valuable  mollusk  would  have  supplied  emperors, 
consuls  and  senators  with  the  little  they  required  for 
their  own  adornment. 

But  an  indictment  then,  as  now,  could  not  lie  against 
a  nation,  and  the  knights  and  notables  of  the  provinces 
vied  with  the  aristocracy  of  Old  Rome  and  New  in  stain- 
ing hem  and  fringe,  scarf  and  buskin,  with  the  coveted 
tint.  Tet  the  imperial  purple  was  but  a  dusky  dye, 
often  ignominiously  likened  to  bull's  blood,  and  the 
whole  of  the  colors  employed  by  the  ancients  in  staining 
textile  fabrics  were  inferior  in  brilliancy  and  beauty  to 
those  with  which  we  are  noAv  familiar. 


Have  the  courage  to  cut  the  most  agreeable  acquaintancf 
you  have  when  you  are  convinced  he  lacks  principle ;  a  friend 
should  hear  with  a  friend's  infirmities,  but  not  with  his  vices. 


244 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


G-reeay  Monajchs. 

Frederick  the  Great,  though  he  could  dine  on  a  cup  of 
chocolate  in  war  time,  loved  good  eating  and  drinking, 
and  undoubtedly  hastened  his  death  by  refusing  to  con- 
form in  any  way  to  proper  rules  of  diet.  "  The  king," 
wrote  Mirabeau,  who  was  in  Berlin  at  the  time,  "  eats 
every  day  of  ten  or  twelve  dishes  at  dinner,  each  very 
highly  seasoned,  besides  at  breakfast  and  supper,  bread 
and  butter  covered  with  salted  tongue  and  pepper."  We 
are  at  the  j^ast  scene.  No  wonder.  A  short  time  before 
a  gentleman  dined  with  Frederick,  when  an  eel  pie  was 
brought  to  table,  which  he  declared  was  so  hot  that  it 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  baked  in  hell."  The  king  was 
immoderately  fond  of  these  eel  pies  peppered  to  excess. 
Every  school-boy  will  remember  the  parallel  of  the  Eng- 
lish king  who  died  of  eating  too  many  lampreys.  King 
John,  too,  is  said  to  have  died  of  a  surfeit  of  peaches 
and  new  ale.  The  verdict  of  modem  epicures  will  pro- 
bably be    Served  him  right." 

There  is  a  curious  anecdote  of  Henry  VIII.  bearing  on 
this  subject.  The  king  had  been  out  hunting  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Windsor.  His  eagerness  in  the  pursuit 
of  the  chase  had  carried  him  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of 
his  retinue.  Night  was  falling ;  return  to  the  castle  that 
day  was  impossible,  and  close  at  hand  lay  the  Abbey  of 
Reading.  Thither,  accordingly,  the  king  turned  his 
steps.  His  habit  was  simple,  and  the  good  monks  took 
him  for  one  of  the  royal  foresters,  while  Henry,  for  rea- 
sons of  his  own,  did  not  care  to  undeceive  them.  He 
was  hospitably  entertained,  and  the  lord  abbott  looked 
on  with  an  approving  smile,  at  the  hearty  performance 
of  his  guest.  At  last  he  said,  "  Truly,  I  would  give  his 
grace,  your  master,  the  half  of  my  revenues  for  so  good 
an  appetite."  Three  days  passed ;  the  abbott  was  sud- 
denly arrested  in  the  king's  name,  where  a  diet  of  bread 
and  water  was  assigned  him.  The  end  of  the  story  may 
be  imagined.  Before  a  month  was  over  the  abbott  had 
recovered  an  excellent  appetite  for  beef  and  beer.  But 
the  tale  is  obviously  apocryphal.  Even  a  Tudor  could 
not  have  arrested  a  mitred  abbott  in  this  summary 
fashion.  From  the  pictures  of  Henry  VIII.,  we  may 
safely  infer  that  his  appetite  was  not  bad. 

Descending  to  the  Stuarts  we  find  Henrietta  Maria,  at 
her  first  banquet  in  England,  eating  pheasant  on  a  Fri- 
day, notwithstanding  the  signs  and  open  remonstrances 
of  her  French  confessor.  Poor  girl !  she  was  scarcely 
seventeen,  and  the  sea  passage  had  probably  given  her 
an  appetite.  Hei  inestimable  son.  King  Charles  H.,  of 
glorious  memory,  delighted  in  eggs  and  ambergris,  of 
which  we  may  hope  he  partook  moderately.  His  death 
was  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  occasioned  by  poi- 
son administered  in  this  his  favorite  dish.  William  III. 
both  ate  and  drank  more  than  was  good  for  him.  He 
loved  to  sit  many  hours  at  table  ;  indeed,  dinner  was  his 
chief  recreation.  Nothing  must  interfere  with  his  en- 
joyment ;  the  Princess  Anne  might  look  wistfully  at  that 
dish  of  young  peas,  but  she  looked  in  vain,  for  the  king 
ate  them  all,  and  never  even  offered  her  a  spoonful.  She 
revenged  herself  by  calling  Mm  Caliban." 

Among  other  sovereigns  we  find  tho  great  Napoleon  a 
voracious  eater.  Some  one  has  attributed  the  loss  of  the 
battle  of  Leipsic  to  the  effects  of  a  shoulder  of  mutton 
stuffed  with  onions,  with  which  the  emperor  literally 
gorged  himself  so  as  to  become  incapable  of  vigorous 
and  clear-minded  action.  He  ate  very  fast.  The  state 
banquets  at  the  Tuilleries  lasted  about  thirty-five  min- 
utes. On  the  other  hand  he  was  no  lover  of  wine.  In 
that  melancholy  voyage  to  St.  Helena  he  offended  the 
English  officers  by  rising  from  table  before  drinking  had 
fairly  begim.  "The  general,"  one  of  these  prigs  had 
the  brutality  to  say  in  his  hearing,  "has  evidently  not 
studied  manners  in  the  school  of  Lord  Chesterfield."— 
Their  idea  of  politeness— certainly  not  Lord  Chester- 
field's— was  to  drink  on  till  you  dropped  under  the  table. 

The  founder  of  the  greatness  of  Russia  must  unques- 
tionably be  added  to  the  list  of  great  men  and  great  eat- 
ers. Macauley  tells  us  how,  when  Peter  the  Great  visited 
England,  in  the  year  1698,  the  immense  quantities  of  meat 
which  he  devoured,  the  pints  of  brandy  which  he  swal- 
lowed, and  which,  it  was  said,  he  had  carefully  distilled 
With  his  own  hands,  were  during  some  weeks  popular 
i/Opics  of  conversation.  Great  as  was  Peter,  he  might 
have  found  his  peer  in  the  Roman  Emperor  Maximim. 

(a.  d.  235-238),  who  could  eat  in  one  day  forty  pounds  oiiz-"--^'  ^'^.^^  v.rr.Xri^r^'ir,  fmomfiTitR 
meat  and  drink  six  gaUons  of  wine-uiless  the  historic  ^  New  York  carman  and  broken  to  fragments. 


•ans  lie.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  Ro- 
man emperors  numbered  among  them  many  a  notable 
glutton.  Heliogabalus  loved  to  sup  on  the  tongues  of 
peacocks  and  nightingales  ;  he  fed  his  lions  on  pheasants 
and  parrots.  His  majesty  would  also  give  a  zest  to  the 
pleasures  of  the  table  by  assembling  companies  of  guests 
who  were  all  fat  or  all  lean,  or  all  tall,  or  all  short,  or  all 
bald,  or  all  gouty.  Capital  fun,  too — for  the  emperor. 
The  truth  of  the  story  that  Nero  enriched  his  soups  by 
dissolving  diamonds  in  them  may  safely  be  left  to  chem- 
ists to  decide.  Of  the  first,  the  true  Caesar,  of  him  who 
hac  been  called  the  greatest  character  in  history,  it  may 
be  suflicient  to  quote  the  famous  saying  of  Cato,  "That 
of  all  those  who  had  helped  to  .  .  overthrow  the  re- 
public, Caesar  was  the  only  sober  man."  It  is  not  the 
less  that  he  loved  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  and  was  an 
affable  and  genial  host.  As  a  guest  he  probably  gave 
the  finest  example  of  high  breeding  that  has  ever  been 
known.  The  story  is  familiar  as  told  by  Suetonius.  1  he 
dictator  was  dining  out.  Some  rancid  oil  was  served  with 
the  salad.  Every  one  else  made  wry  faces.  Caesar  ap- 
peared not  to  perceive  the  mistake,  and  asked  for  another 
supply.   

Training  Canaries. 

Canaries  show  a  great  aptitude  for  tricks,  sometimes 
learning  to  do  many  amusing  and  difficult  things,  and 
also  to  sing  tunes  very  well.  They  soon  come  to  know 
their  masters  or  mistresses,  and  will  often  follow  them 
about.  I  "  mind,"  as  a  Scotch  girl  would  say,  a  little 
lassie  who  had  a  pet  bird  so  tame  that  in  pleasant  wea- 
ther she  used  every  day  to  open  the  window  and  let  it 
go  out  of  the  house,  for  it  would  always  return  at  eve- 
ning, tapping  on  the  window-panes  to  be  let  in,  if  the 
sash  happened  to  be  closed.  An  English  gentleman  had 
a  canary  for  several  years  which  never  was  kept  in  a 
cage,  and  in  summer  was  always  flying  out  to  the  "ate 
to  meet  its  master,  perching  on  his  finger,  nestling  iu  his 
bosom,  or  best  of  all,  clinging  in  his  hair,  where  it  was 
completely  happy  ;  at  the  same  time  only  one  other  per- 
son in  the  house  would  it  allow  to  touch  it,  resenting 
any  attempt  at  familiarity  with  the  fiercest  anger.  At 
last,  however,  this  bold  little  fellow  got  bewildered  in  a 
sudden  dense  fog  and  was  lost. 

Canaries  can  live  out  of  doors  in  our  climate  very  well 
in  summer,  and  sometimes  joiu  the  families  of  wild 
birds;  but  their  house-bred  constitutions  can  hardly 
stand' the  cold  of  winter,  and  escaped  birds  probably  all 
perish  before  spring.  They  are  very  affectionate  little 
creatures,  always  prefer  companions,  and  will  make 
friends  even  with  natural  enemies.  A  fancier  in  London 
had  a  cat  which,  with  her  kittens,  would  eat  out  of  the 
canaries'  dish  in  the  bird-room  and  never  think  of  harm- 
ing them,  while  the  birds  seemed  to  enjoy  Tabby's 
society.  ^         .  , 

To  tame  birds  and  to  train  them  to  perform  tricks  are 
two  very  different  things.  Any  one  may  do  the  first  by 
constant,  quiet  kindness,  endless  attention  and  patience. 
Accustom  the  bird  to  your  presence,  and  let  it  under- 
stand that  whatever  you  do  about  it  nothing  is  intended 
for  its  terror  or  harm.  This  learned,  teaching  it  to  perch 
on  your  finger,  or  come  to  your  whistle  or  call,  is  only  a 
matter  of  time  and  gentle  patience.  Some  odd  tricks 
may  be  taught  them  if  they  are  'cute,  for  different  birds 
differ  very  greatly  in  their  ability  to  learn,  as  well  as 
their  natural  talents  and  dispositions— but  the  astonish- 
ing exploits  of  some  troupes  of  "performing  birds" 
which  are  exhibiting  about  the  country  are  all  taught  to 
them  by  a  terribly  cruel  course  of  lessons,  and  you  ought 
hot  to  make  your  pet  emulate  these  performances. 

The  Germans  often  teach  young  birds  tunes  and  the 
songs  of  other  birds  ;  but  the  operation  is  a  slow  and 
tedious  one,  and  the  results  not  very  satisfactory.  It 
seems  to  me  that  our  highest  wish  should  be  to  perfect 
all  that  is  natural  to  a  canary,  and  not  try  to  make  him 
something  else  than  he  is,  or  was  intended  to  be. 

Some  twenty  years  ago,  there  was  a  large  collection 
of  Egyptian  curiosities  to  be  seen  on  Broadway,  New- 
York.  They  were  collected  by  Mr.  Abbott  after  twenty 
years  of  careful  study  and  research.  One  of  the  finest 
specimens  which  had  resisted  the  tooth  of  time  for  three 
thousand  years,  had  escaped  the  perils  of  Egyptian  and 
ocean  travel,  only  to  be  dumped  on  the  sidewalk  by  8 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


245 


Self  Improvement. 

I  noticed  a  paragraph  in  a  local  paper  lately,  stating 
that  a  young  man  had  qualified  himself  to  pass  a  nautical 
examination  as  master  by  employing  his  spare  hours  at 
sea  in  study,  which  ought  to  suggest  to  young  men  gen- 
erally, and  especially  to  young  men  of  the  working 
class,  the  possibility  of  acquiring  a  great  amount  of  use- 
ful knowledge  by  judicious  employment  of  their  leisure 
hours,  and  that  without  depriving  themselves  of  any 
healthful  recreation.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  many 
of  the  great  men  who  have  distinguished  themselves 
during  the  present  century,  more  particularly  in  connec- 
tion with  important  discoveries  and  inventions,  have 
been  working  men  who  have  risen  by  their  own  efforts; 
who  have  added  to  their  stock  of  useful  knowledge, 
improved  and  trained  their  minds  by  employing  their 
leisure  hours  in  reading  and  study,  often  under  very  un- 
favorable and  discouraging  circumstances.  It  is  aston- 
ishing how  much  practical  knowledge  a  man  will  ac- 
quire by  judicious  and  systematic  disposal  of  his  leisure 
hours,  and  that  without  encroaching  upon  time  to  be 
devoted  to  healthful  recreation.  One  hour  an  evening 
spent  in  reading  or  study  on  some  given  practical  sub- 
ject, will  suffice  to  lay  up  in  the  storehouse  of  memory 
in  the  course  of  a  year  a  great  variety  of  important  and 
useful  facts  that  will  be  found  valuable  in  after  life.  In 
order  to  prove  this  young  men  have  simply  to  make 
themselves  acquainted  with  the  early  history  of  such 
men  as  Stephenson,  Hackworth  and  others.  The  lesson 
of  their  lives  and  of  the  lives  of  others  whose  names  we 
need  not  specify,  is  :  first,  diligent  improvement  of  their 
leisure  hours  and  minutes  ;  second,  devotion  to  a  favor- 
ite subject  or  study  ;  third,  having  a  definite  and  prac- 
tical aim ;  fourth,  adoption  of  a  systematic  course  of 
reading  and  study ;  fifth,  desire  and  determination  to 
succeed. 

Such  men,  being  sustained  in  health  of  body  and 
mind,  could  not  fail  to  succeed.  What  was  possible  in 
their  case  in  the  nineteenth  century  is  more  possible  in 
the  case  of  young  men  of  the  present  day,  if  they  go  to 
work  with  the  same  thoughtful,  careful  determination, 
and  avail  themselves  of  the  superior  advantages  pre- 
sented by  the  literary  and  educational  institutions  and 
sources  of  knowledge  which  abound  almost  everywhere 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent.  The  fact  is,  there  is  no  ex- 
cuse for  working  men  of  any  class  being  always  ''hewers 
of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,"  being  simply  machines 
in  the  hands  of  employers.  Making  use  of  the  intel- 
ligence God  has  given  them,  availing  themselves  of  the 
facilities  at  their  disposal  for  acquiring  knowledge,  and 
putting  knowledge  so  acquired  into  practical  use,  they 
can  improve  their  own  present  position ;  for  intelligent 
employers  appreciate  intelligent  workmen,  and  they  can 
fit  themselves  for  occupyi-jg  positions  of  honor  and  use- 
fulness in  society.  The  lesson  taught  by  the  lives  of 
men  whose  lives  are  connected  with  the  discoveries  and 
Inventions  of  genius,  ought  to  stimulate  young  men  of 
the  present  day  to  emulate  their  examples,  to  follow  in 
their  footsteps  so  far  as  they  did  right,  and  to  be  ani- 
mated by  a  laudable  ambition  to  excel  in  the  sphere  of 
duty  and  labor  which  they  are  called  upon  to  fill. 

 T.  w.  D. 

Manufacture  of  Marbles. 

In  Germany  marble  making  is  a  manufacture  of  some 
Importance.  The  refuse  of  agate  quarries  and  mills  are 
used  for  those  small  stone  balls  which  possess  such  a 
fascmation  for  boys.  The  stone  is  broken  into  small 
cubes  by  blows  of  a  light  hammer.  These  small  blocks 
of  stone  are  thrown  by  the  shovelful  into  the  hopper  of 
a  small  mill  formed  of  a  bed-stone,  having  its  surface 
grooved  with  concentric  furrows.  Above  this  is  the 
''runner,"  which  is  of  some  hard  wood,  having  a  level 
face  on  its  lower  surface.  The  upper  block  is  made  to 
revolve  rapidly,  water  being  delivered  upon  the  grooves 
of  the  bed-stone,  where  the  marbles  are  being  rounded. 
It  takes  about  fifteen  minutes  to  finish  a  half  bushel  of 
completed  marbles.  One  mill  turns  out  about  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  per  week. 


Cultivate  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  other  people  if 
you  would  not  have  your  own  injured.  Those  who  complain 
most  of  ill-usage  are  those  who  abuse  themselves  and  others 
the  oftenest. 


The  Humming  Bird. 

The  appearance  of  the  humming  bird  is  entirely  unlike 
that  of  any  other  creature.  We  are  admiring  some 
brilliant  and  beautiful  flower,  when  suddenly  appears 
before  us  a  small,  dark  object,  suspended,  as  it  were, 
between  four  short  black  threads,  meeting  each  other  in 
a  cross.  For  an  instant  it  shows  in  front  of  the  flower ; 
again  another  instant,  and,  emitting  a  momentary  flash  of 
emerald  and  sapphire  light,  it  is  vanishing,  lessening  in 
the  distance  ae  it  shoots  away  to  a  speck  that  the  eye 
cannot  take  note  of.  Indeed,  the  little  atom  of  life 
comes  and  goes  with  the  rapidity  of  a  gnat  or  a  dragon 
fly.  Audubon  tells  us  that  the  small  size  of  the  ruby 
humming  bird  renders  it  impossible  to  follow  its  flight 
with  the  eye  for  more  than  fifty  yards.  A  person  standmg 
in  the  garden  will  hear  the  humming  of  their  wings,  and 
see  the  little  birds  themselves  within  a  few  feet  of  him 
at  one  moment ;  the  next,  they  will  be  out  of  sight  and 
hearing.  Gould  tells  us  that  the  tiny  creature  lives  in 
the  air,  like  a  gnat  or  a  butterfly.  It  often  mounts  up 
the  towering  trees,  and  then  shoots  off  like  a  little 
meteor  at  a  right  angle.  At  other  times  it  will  gently 
buzz  among  the  flowers  upon  the  ground.  The  next 
moment  it  is  hovering  over  a  diminutive  weed,  and  then 
it  is  seen  at  a  distance  of  forty  yards,  whither  it  has 
vanished  with  the  quickness  of  thought.  Professor 
Wallace  has  devoted  a  considerable  period  to  the  minute 
study  of  the  habits  of  the  humming-bird,  and  has  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  a  tropical  swift,  or  swallow, 
modified  in  a  long  course  of  many  generations  from  its 
original  ancestor,  but  retaining  its  characteristics  of  an 
essentially  insect  feeder.  It  is  true  that  down  to  the 
time  of  Buffon  it  was  believed  that  the  humming-bird 
lived  solely  on  the  nectar  of  flowers,  but  since  then  it 
has  been  ascertained  beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt  that 
it  feeds  largely,  and  in  some  cases  wholly,  on  insects. 
The  birds  have  been  seen  in  the  winter  picking  dead 
flies  out  of  the  webs  of  spiders.  Bullock,  in  Mexico,  and 
Waterton,  in  New  Guinea,  saw  them  catch  small  butter- 
flies, and  found  their  stomachs  filled  with  insects. 
Those  who  have  watched  their  habits  have  observed 
them  sitting  like  fly-catchers  on  a  twig — darting  off,  and 
returning.  Mr.  Gross,  one  of  our  most  accomplished 
naturalists,  tells  us  that  all  the  humming-birds  have, 
more  or  less,  a  habit  when  in  flight  of  pausing  and 
quickly  turning  in  the  air.  "  That  the  object  of  these 
quick  turns,"  he  adds,  "is  the  capture  of  insects  I  am 
sure,  having  watched  one  thus  engaged  pretty  close  to 
me.  I  observed  it  carefully,  and  distinctly  saw  the 
minute  flies  which  it  pursued  and  caught,  and  heard  re 
peated  the  snapping  of  its  beak.  My  presence  scarcely 
disturbed  it,  if  at  all."  Moreover,  it  seems  that  however 
long  may  be  the  bill  of  the  adult  humming-bird,  the 
young  bird  has  a  little,  short,  broad,  triangular  bill,  like 
a  swift.  It  is  evident,  in  short,  that  the  swift  is,  to  use 
Mr.  Wallace's  words,  a  pure  aerial  insect  hunter,  and 
that  its  short,  broad  bill  and  wide  gape  are  essential  to 
its  mode  of  life.  The  humming  birds  on  the  other  hand 
are  floral  insect  hunters.  They  seek  their  prey  among 
the  gorgeous  masses  of  creepers  that  hang  from  bough 
to  bough  in  the  trackless  forests  of  the  tropics.  They 
dart  in  and  out  between  bud  and  leaf,  between  blossom 
and  stalk,  as  the  dragon-fly  flits  among  the  sedge  and 
bulrush.  But  the  fiction  that  they  subsist  on  honey  and 
nectar  alone  must  be  banished,  like  other  pretty  fables, 
to  the  region  of  myth.  The  humming-bird  is  as  ravenous 
a  creature  in  its  way  as  the  robin.  No  doubt  a  robin  in 
winter,  when  the  ground  is  hard  with  frost,  will  not 
despise  bread  crumbs  ;  but  his  real  delight  is  in  a 
caterpillar,  or  a  fat  earth-worm,  or  a  little  plump  slug. 
Similarly,  the  exquisite,  dainty  humming-bird  is  a 
camiverous  being. 


The  Gulf  Stream. 

There  is  a  river  in  the  ocean.  In  severest  droughts  it 
does  not  fail;  in  mightiest  floods  it  does  not  overflow  its 
banks,  and  its  bottom  is  of  cold  water  while  its  own 
current  is  warm.  The  Gulf  of  Mexico  is  its  fountain  •, 
its  mouth  the  Arctic  Seas.  There  is  in  the  world  no 
other  so  majestic  a  flow  of  water  as  this  Gulf  stream. 
Its  tide  is  more  rapid  than  the  Mississippi  or  the  Ama- 
zon, and  its  volume  immensely  greater.  Its  waters,  as 
far  out  as  the  Carolina  coasts,  are  of  an  indigo  blue. 
The  line  of  junction  betwean  this  stream  and  the  sea 
may  be  traced  with  the  eye. 


246 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD, 


The  Sandwich  Islands. 

Hawaii  is  the  largest  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  It  is 
ninety-seven  miles  long  and  seventy-eight  broad,  rising 
gradually  into  three  conical  summits,  tbe  highest  one 
being  eighteen  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
and  affords  a  landmark  which  is  seen  a  great  distance 
off.  It  was  here  that  the  daring  explorer,  Captain  Cook, 
Was  murdered  by  the  natives. 

The  situation  of  this  group  of  islands  in  the  vast 
Pacific,  affoi'ds  an  important  stopping  place  on  the  un- 
stable highway  to  China  and  the  north-west  coaso  of 
America.  This  island  is  abundantly  fertile  in  the  interior, 
yielding  yams,  plantains,  sweet  potatoes,  sugar-canes, 
and  other  productions  natural  to  that  warm  climate  and 
Tich  soil.  The  shores  are  wild  and  broken  with  beetling 
difls  and  black,  volcanic  precipitous  rocks.  The  numer- 
ous habitations  of  the  natives  are  shaded  and  sheltered 
by  clumps  of  cocoa-nut  and  bread-fruit  trees.  Great 
"Varieties  of  gardens  and  groves  sweep  up  the  mountain?' 
Bides,  bounded  in  by  protecting  forests,  beyond  whlcn 
Eaked  and  craggy  rocks  rear  their  snow-tipped  summits. 

The  islanders  are  not  unprepossessing  in  appearance. 
They  are  tall  and  well  made,  of  a  copper-color  com- 
plexion, and  exhibit  great  strength  and  activity.  The 
women  are  sometimes  found  with  regular  and  handsome 
features.  They  are  not  noted  for  elaborateness  of  dress, 
but  the  warmth  of  the  climate,  scanty  manufactures  and 
early  education  excuses  their  meagre  garb.  Their 
dancing  is  performed  with  graceful,  easy  movements, 
keeping  time  to  their  singing. 

Woahoo  is,  perhaps,  the  most  beautiful  island  of  the 
group.  Forty-six  miles  in  length  and  twenty-three 
broad ;  it  has  a  volcanic  ridge  extending  through  the 
center,  with  lofty  peaks  towering  above  the  lower  undu- 
lating hills  and  fertile  plains,  where  the  natives'  huts, 
nestled  amid  groves  of  luxuriant  palms,  make  up  one  of 
the  most  lovely  pictures  of  life  in  the  Tropics. 

We  find  an  interesting  description  of  a  Sandwich 
Islander's  funeral.  When  his  countrymen  had  dug  the 
grave,  they  deposited  their  companion's  body  in  it,  with 
provisions  placed  here  and  there  about  the  corpse  to  sus- 
tain him  on  his  journey  to  the  land  of  spirits  Then 
covering  the  body  with  sand  and  flints,  they  kneeled 
along  the  grave  in  double  rows  facing  the  East,  while  a 
sort  of  officiating  priest  sprinkled  them  with  water,  re- 
citing a  kind  of  prayer  to  which  the  others  made  re- 
sponses. They  then  arose  and  silently  walked  away 
from  the  grave  without  once  looking  back. 

When  first  discovered,  the  historian  says,  the  islanders 
evinced  great  superiority  over  other  savages  of  the 
Pacific  Isles,  and  it  is  generally  believed  that  the  mas- 
sacre of  Captain  Cook  was  not  from  clear  ferocity,  but 
owing  to  sudden  exasperation  and  fear  at  the  unexpected 
seizure  of  their  chief,  whose  life  they  believed  to  be  in 
jeopardy. 


Coral  Brackets. 

Some  fair  housekeepers,  who  are  chafing  under  their 
pecuniary  restraints,  and  look  with  envy  every  time  they 
go  into  Mrs.  L.'s  elegant  parlor,  and  return  home  to 
their  own  scantily-furnished  but  comfortable  little  rooms, 
saying,  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "If  I  only  were  rich,  how 
nicely  I  could  fix  up  our  parlor,"  can,  if  they  put  a  little 
physical  energy,  seasoned  with  good  taste,  into  use, 
make  their  parlor  look  as  inviting  as  Mrs.  L.'s.  Let  me 
suggest  one  out  of  many  other  ways  of  doing  so.  Take 
some  large  wire,  and  form,  by  twisting  it,  a  bracket, 
using  one  of  wood  as  your  guide,  or  else  design  your 
own  pattern ;  get  from  the  grocer's,  if  you  should  not 
happen  to  have  any,  the  broken  stems  of  raisins;  tie 
these  on  the  wire  at  irregular  intervals.  Take  three 
sticks  of  red  sealing-wax,  put  them  in  an  old  tin-cup, 
add  to  them  a  half-pound  of  beeswax  and  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  rosin  ;  set  the  cup  on  the  fire,  and  when  the  in- 
gredients have  melted  and  mixed  well  together,  take  a 
small  paint  brush  and  paint  the  wire  frame,  allowing  it 
to  cool,  then  renewing  the  process  of  painting  until  the 
entire  frame  is  covered  with  a  thick  coating  of  the  mix- 
ture ;  put  it  in  some  cool  place,  and  dry,  until  it  becomes 
perfectly  hard.  Tou  will  not  find  it  a  troublesome  or 
expensive  way  of  adorning  your  room,  and  you  will  have 
the  satisfaction,  which  your  much-envied  and  wealthier 
neighbor  has  not,  of  feeling  that  it  is  the  work  of  your 
own  hands,  which  makes  your  home  attractive 


\       "The  Rainbow  in  the  Bubble." 

Cheerfulness  is  to  the  mind  what  sunshine  is  to  the  earth 
its  rejuvenating  force.  The  cheerful  people  are  always  young,, 
however  gray  their  locks,  dim  their  vision,  or  wrinkled  their 
faces.  Nay,  cheerfulness  will  keep  gray  hair  and  wrinkles  at 
bay  more  effectually  than  any  cosmetic  or  magic  wash.  It  is  a 
talisman  which  attracts  affection  and  regard  to  those  who  wear 
it.  The  cheerful  person  is  everywhere  welcome,  and  nowhere 
out  of  place.  She  lights  up  the  darkest  day,  and  has  the  same 
genial  and  stimulating  effect  as  the  sunbeam;  she  makes  the 
best  of  every  thing — even  misfortune  seen  through  her  spec 
tacles  does  not  look  so  ugly ;  she  anticipates  happiness  ahead, 
and  is  sure  that  trouble  will  get  detained  on  the  way ;  she  sees 
the  silver  lining  on  every  cloud,  and  the  first  rift;  where 
another  murmurs  and  doubts,  she  is  full  of  thanksgiving  and 
hope.  The  small  discomforts  of  life  does  not  fret  her  as  many 
another.  She  is  the  best  traveler  the  world  over — heeds  the 
jolts  on  the  road  only  to  laugh  at  them ;  breakdowns  and  de- 
tentions are  only  so  many  novel  experiences  to  her ;  and  we 
doubt  if  even  a  highwayman  could  rob  her  of  the  habit  of  look- 
ing at  the  bright  side  of  every  thing.  She  does  not  make  faces 
over  a  poor  dinner  or  a  hard  bed,  but  resigns  herself  to  in- 
conveniences so  complacently  that  one  might  be  deceived  into 
thinking  her  accustomed  to  them.  That  she  is  a  most  com- 
panionable personage,  the  comfort  of  her  presence  attests. 
Her  example  is  infectious,  and  we  find  ourselves  groping  our 
way  out  of  the  slough  of  despond  by  the  light  of  her  counten- 
ance. If  "  good  nature  is  stronger  than  tomahawks,"  as  the 
sage  tells  us,  then  cheerfulness  is  its  twin  sister  With  many 
of  us,  perhaps,  cheerfulness  is  no  more  a  virtue  for  which  we 
are  responsible  than  a  quick  ear  for  music  would  be,  than  a 
Grecian  profile,  or  a  fine  head  of  hair.  It  is  bred  in  the  bone 
with  a  few  of  us,  just  as  a  talent  for  carpentry,  for  sculpturing, 
or  versifying  is;  and  as  it  is  reckoned  a  disgrace  to  spell 
badly,  but  no  virtue  to  spell  well,  so  the  talent  for  cheerful- 
ness, being  our  birthright,  is  not  so  much  set  down  to  our 
credit,  but  so  much  substracted  therefrom  if  we  do  not  de- 
velop it  into  a  genius.  But  it  is  none  the  less  a  sweetener 
of  existence,  and  such  a  charming  thing  to  meet  with,  in  man 
or  woman,  that  we  are  apt  to  treat  the  owner  as  if  it  were  a 
plant  of  his  own  selecting  and  sowing,  since  we  do  not  stop  to 
inquire  how  much  is  indigenous  or  how  much  exotic;  for 
though  the  effect  is  the  same  upon  the  spectator,  yet  the  mead 
belongs  to  those  who,  having  no  natural  inclination  toward 
cheerfulness,  have  yet  succeeded  in  grafting  it  upon  the  barren 
stock  of  a  despondent  disposition,  who  have  been  obliged  to 
fight  bravely  for  the  sunshine  they  spend  lavishly.  We  do  not 
question  but  it  is  a  more  certain  recipe  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  disease  than  the  specifics  of  medical  science.  By  ex- 
amination we  should  doubtless  find  that  the  few  who  reach 
the  nineties  are  those  who  cultivate  a  sanguine  temper ;  who 
wear  life  like  a  garland  rather  than  a  yoke ;  who  do  not  wring 
their  hands  when  their  stocks  depreciate,  but  are  certain  they 
will  rise  to-morrow ;  who,  when  the  ship  is  leaking  are  on  the 
outlook  for  a  sail ;  who,  when  their  case  is  desperate,  do  not 
make  it  worse  by  desperation — people  who  can  say, 

"If  life  an  empty  bubble  be. 
How  sad  are  those  who  never  see 
The  rainbow  in  the  bubble  I" 


To  Mould  a  Wax  Yase. 

Melt  one-half  pound  best  cake  wax  in  an  earthen  dish 
placed  on  top  of  a  stove  ;  do  not  allow  the  wax  to  boil ; 
add  a  teaspoonful  of  the  balsam  of  fir  and  one  tube  full 
paint  (silver  white).  When  well  melted  strain  through 
a  thin  cloth  into  a  clean  earthen  dish  ;  keep  the  wax 
melted,  but  not  hot,  until  you  place  your  pi-aster-of-paris 
mold  in  water ;  allow  it  to  stand  a  few  moments,  then 
lift  out  and  shake  off  the  drops.  Into  the  largest  half  of 
the  mold  pour  your  melted  wax  quickly  ;  pour  it  as  full 
as  you  can  without  spilling,  then  place  on  the  other  half 
of  the  mold,  and  hold  the  two  parts  firmly  together 
while  you  turn  the  mold  over  and  over  rapidly  ;  this  ie 
done  so  that  the  wax  may  pass  over  the  entire  inner  sur- 
face of  the  mold  ;  in  about  five  minutes  lay  the  mold  in 
water  and  the  wax  vase  may  be  easily  taken  out ;  the 
edges  may  be  smoothed  by  scraping  with  a  penknife  ; 
now  hold  the  vase  near  the  fire,  and  cut  a  circle  ou*  o* 
the  top.  These  vases  are  beautiful  filled  with  wax  flow- 
.ers,  or  autuujn  leaves  made  in  wax. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


247 


BUTTERFLY  LIFE, 

WITH 

Mode  of  Capture  and  Preservation. 


Will  he  catch  it?  Does  that  thoughtless  little  imp 
know  what  a  creature  of  beauty  he  is  trying  to  catch  ? 


favor  of  the  boy;  nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  up 
went  his  cap  at  the  swallow-tail.  It  was  so  well 
aimed  that  the  insulted  butterfly  indignantly  swept 
over  a  neighboring  hill,  leaving  the  young  hunter  in 
a  rage  at  the  useless  expenditure  of  so  much  toil.  To 
make  his  defeat  more  ignominious,  the  cap  had  stuck 
in  a  thorn  bush,  from  which  the  little  fellow  did  not 


THE  BUTTERFLY  HUNTER. 


Well  done,  bright  fairy  of  the  spring !  that  last 
wave  of  thy  sun-tinted  wings  has  carried  thee  over 
that  blooming  hill  now  far  away  from  the  baffled, 
puffing,  red-cheeked  school-boy.  Such  were  our  re- 
flections as  we  once  watched  *  *  my  noble  American 
boy  "  in  hot  pursuit  of  a  "  swallow-tail  "  {papilo  as- 
terias)  butterfly.    At  first  it  seemed  two  to  one  in 


recover  it  without  sundry  pricks  and  provoking 
scratches.  We  rejoiced  in  the  escape  of  the  insect, 
knowing  well  that  its  hunter  did  not  wish  to  examine 
the  wonders  of  that  tiny  "  thing  of  life,"  but  to 
gratify  his  bump  of  destructiveness.  However,  1 
think  few  will  deny  that  man  enjoys  a  vested  right 
to  make  use  of  any  of  the  inferior  animals  or  insects. 


248 


THE  GROW  TNG  IVORLD. 


even  to  the  taking  of  their  life,  if  the  so  doing  min 
isters  to  his  own  instruction,  well-being,  or  pleasure, 
and  practically  every  one  assumes  the  right  in  one 
way  or  another.  Game  animals  are  shot  down  (and 
they  assuredly  do  feel  pain),  not  as  necessaries  of 
life,  buf>  confessedly,  as  luxuries.  Fish  are  hooked, 
crabs,  lobsters,  shrimps,  perish  by  thousands — vic- 
tims to  our  fancies.  Unscrupulously  we  destroy 
every  insect  whose  presence  displeases  us,  harmless 
as  they  may  be  to  our  own  persons.  The  aphides 
on  our  flowers,  the  moths  in  our  furs,  the  "  beetles" 
in  our  kitchens,  all  die  by  thousands  at  our  plea- 
sure. Then,  if  all  this  be  right,  I  think  we  may  justify 
the  appropriation  of  a  little  butterfly  life  to  ourselves  ; 
and  the  mental  feast  that  their  after-death  beauty  affords 
us  at  least  furnish  an  equal  excuse  for  their  sacrifice 
with  any  that  can  be  urged  in  favor  of  any  animal 
slaughter,  just  to  tickle  the  palate  or  minister  to  our 
grosser  appetites!  To  this  queiy  there  can  be,  we 
think,  but  one  fair  answer,  so  we  may  face  the  question 
that  has  been  asked  by  a  correspondenlt ;  How  to  kill 
a  butterfly?"  The  fly-catcher  will  require  a  net^  pocket 
Itoxes,  and  a  few  entomological  pins. 

For  a  description  of  the  net  used  the  reader  is  referred 
to  that  in  the  hand  of  the  rather  comical  looking  party 
in  the  accompanying  illustration.  This  old  gentleman 
is  evidently  an  experienced  hunter.  See  how  cautiously 
he  approaches  the  wary  insect.  Repeated  failures  have 
taught  him  that  it  is  almost  useless  to  attempt  to  catch 
the  gay  creature  when  on  the  wing.  He  therefore  waits 
for  it  to  settle  on  some  flower,  and  while  it  sips  the 
honeyed  sweets,  he,  with  a  quick  motion,  captures  the 
coveted  prize  in  his  net ;  which  may  be  made  at  home 
if  desired,  with  a  bit  of  strong  wire,  a  piece  of  gauze, 
and  a  stick  about  four  foot  long. 

Pasteboard  boxes  will  answer ;  but  a  layer  of  cork  in 
the  bottom,  about  one-eighth  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  will 
greatly  improve  them  for  the  purpose  designed. 

The  quickest  mode  of  dispatch  is  by  2.quick  nip  between 
the  finger  and  thimib  applied  just  under  Vie  wingfi^  causing 
instantaneous  death  ;  and  this  can  be  done  through  the 
net,  when  the  enclosed  butterfly  shuts  his  wings,  as  he 
usually  does  when  the  gauze  wraps  round  him.  Now 
take  on  e  of  your  thin  pins  and  pass  it  through  the  thorax  of 
the  butterfly,  while  open  or  shut,  and  fasten  the  pin  to 
the  cork  Immg  of  your  box  ;  spread  the  wings  and  pin 
them  m  place  also.  Many  prefer  to  use  chloroform, 
whose  pain  quelling  properties  are  so  well  known  as  re- 
gards the  human  constitution.  This  potent  agent  is  ap- 
plied to  the  head  of  the  insect  with  a  small  camel's  hair 
brush  and  proves  effectual  almost  instantly.  As  soon 
as  possible  after  reaching  home  the  butterflies  should 
be  "set."  Take  out  all  the  pins,  excepting  that 
through  the  middle  of  the  thorax — remove  this  pin 
whereon  is  the  butterfly  and  place  it  in  your  cabinet, 
or  where  it  will  be  safe  from  injury.  A  great  point 
in  "setting"  is  to  take  care  that  all  the  wings  are 
symmetrically  arranged.  Let  the  antennce  also  be 
carefully  preserved,  as  on  their  integrity  much  of  the 
specimen's  value  depends.  In  a  few  seasons  a  fine 
assortment  of  these  most  beautiful  of  all  insects  may 
be  secured  to  be  a  source  of  amusement  to  all  who 
have  an  opportunity  to  see  them. 

W.  S.  Coleman  says  that  :  "In  the  time  of  the 
great  Roy,  in  such  mean  repute  was  the  science  of 
entomology  held,  mainly,  I  believe,  on  account  of  the 
small  size  of  its  objects,  that  an  action  at  law  w^as 
brought  to  set  aside  the  will  of  an  estimable  woman, 
Lady  Glanville,  on  the  ground  of  insanity — the  only 
symptom  of  which  that  they  could  bring  forward  was 
her  fondness  for  collecting  insects. 

"But  this  was  some  two  centuries  ago,  and  mat- 
ters have  greatly  mended  for  the  entomologist  since 
then.  Now  he  may  collect  butterflies,  or  other  flies, 
as  he  pleases,  without  bringing  down  a  commission 
*  de  lunatico '  on  his  head  ;  but  still  the  goodness  of 
his  heart  is  sometimes  called  in  question,  and  he  has 
to  encounter  the  equally  obnoxious  charge  of  cruelty 
to  the  objects  of  his  admiration — that,  too,  from  in- 
telligent and  worthy  friends,  whose  good  opinion  he 
would  most  unwillingly  forfeit. 


"  So  I  will  briefly  try  to  act  as  apologist  for  the 
•brotherhood  of  the  net,'  myself  included. 

In  the  first  place,  I  will  state  roundly  my  sincere  be- 
lief that  insects  cannot  feel  pain.  This  is  no  special  plead- 
ing, or  'making  the  wish  the  father  of  the  thought,' 
but  a  conviction  founded  on  an  ample  mass  of  evidence, 
on  my  own  observations  and  experiments,  and  strength- 
ened by  analogical  reasoning. 

"Insects,  when  mutilated  in  a  way  that  would  cause 
excessive  pain  and  speedy  death  to  vertebrate  animals, 
afterwards  perform  all  the  functions  of  life — eating, 
drinking,  etc.,  with  the  same  evident  gicato  and  power  of 
enjoyment  as  before.  Plenty  of  striking  instances  of 
this  are  on  record ;  and,  as  an  example,  1  have  seen  a 
wasp  that  had  been  snipped  in  two,  afterwards  regale 
himseK  with  avidity  upon  some  red  syrup,  which,  as  he 
imbibed,  gathered  into  a  large  ruby  bead  just  behind  the 
wings  (where  the  stomach  should  have  been) ;  but  really 
the  creature's  pleasure  seemed  to  be  only  augmented  by 
the  change  in  his  anatomy,  because  he  could  drink  ten 
times  his  ordinary  fill  of  sweets,  without,  of  course,  get- 
ting any  the  fuller.  I  could  almost  fancy  a  scientific 
epicure  envying  the  insect  his  ever  fresh  appetite  and 
gastronomic  qualities. 

"This  killing  business  is  the  one  shadow  on  the  other- 
wise sunshiny  picture  of  collecting  butterflies,  which  we 
would  gladly  leave  out  were  it  possible  to  preserve  a 
butterfly's  beauty  alive ;  but  this  cannot  be  done,  and 
yet  we  have  made  up  our  minds  to  possess  that  beauty — 
to  collect  butterflies  ;  in  short,  there  is  but  one  way  for 
it,  and  so  a  butterfly's  pleasure  must  be  shortened  for  a 
few  hours,  or  may  be  days,  to  add  to  our  pleasure  and 
instruction,  perhaps  for  years  after." 

The  term  "butterfly"  seems  to  be  unsuitable  for  an 
insect  which  has  a  taste  far  too  refined  for  butter.  The 
name  was,  it  is  thought,  given  to  the  insect  by  our  Saxon 
ancestors,  because  it  appeared  in  the  butter-making  sea- 
son. Be  it  so  ;  many  a  finer  name  has  had  a  lower  origin. 

Each  butterfly  may  be  said  to  have  four  epochs  in  its 
life— the  egg  state,  the  caterpillar,  the  chrysalis,  and  the 

fly. 

The  eggs  of  the  butterflies,  in  common  with  those  of 
insects  in  general,  are  capable  of  resisting  not  only 
vicissitudes  but  extremes  of  temperature  that  would 
surely  be  destructive  of  life  in  most  other  forms.  The 
severest  cold  of  an  American  winter  will  not  kill  the  ten- 
der butterfly  eggs,  whose  small  internal  spark  of  vitality 
is  enough  to  keep  them  from  freezing.  For  example, 
they  have  been  placed  in  an  artificial  freezing  mixture, 
which  brought  down  the  thermometer  to  22*^  below  zero 
—a  deadly  chill— and  yet  they  survived  with  apparent 
impunity  and  afterwards  lived  to  hatch  duly. 

We  have  used  the  term  chrysalis  ;  what  does  it  mean  ? 
Of  course  all  our  readers  know  that  it  is  the  case  or  cradle 
in  which  the  caterpillar  takes  the  butterfly  form. 

"  Only  a  bit  of  dust, 

Astir  in  the  heavy  mold; 
And  yet  poor  things, 

As  low  as  I, 
Do  put  on  wings 
And  one  day  fly, 
I'm  told, 
Changing  their  earth-born  rust 
To  dainty  gold." 

The  word  is  derived  from  a  Greek  term,  signifying 
golden,  and  was  originally  applied  to  the  most  richly- 
tinted  envelopes  of  this  insect.  Sometimes  the  name 
aurelia  (aurum,  gold)  is  used  to  denote  these  bright 
forms.  Chrysalis  is  properly  applied  to  the  butterflies 
only  ;  the  word  pupa  (a  little  thing)  being  the  more  cor- 
rect designation  for  the  third  state  of  other  insects. 

Linnseus  saw  some  resemblance  between  the  creature 
thus  tightly  packed  up  in  its  foldings  and  babies  ban- 
daged up  in  close  mummy-like  wrappers.  He  therefore 
employed  the  term  p?/pa  to  represent  this  stage  of  insect 
life.  Let  the  reader  by  all  means  look  for  some  chrysa- 
lides, and  carefully  examine  them.  He  wiU  sometimes 
see  through  the  fine  covering  the  body,  legs  and  wings 
of  the  insect,  most  marvellously  packed  up  in  its  case. 
Let  him  take  the  first  opportunity  then  of  witnessing 
the  operation  of  a  butterfly  "coming  out"  into  the 
world.  How  is  it  effected?  The  cradle  cracks,  the 
wrappers  are  torn  and  the  fly  extricates  itself,  standing 
like  a  thing  most  forlorn.  No  mother  is  near  to  intro- 
duce the  stranger  ;  not  a  single  friend  to  give  help — the 
^oung  butterfly  is  indeed  received  coldly  by  the  world. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


249 


Her  very  wings  are  puny  things,  and  her  limbs  look  as  if 
rheumatic.  But  she  has  a  cheerful  heart,  soon  gets 
over  the  first  amazement,  and  one  of  her  earliest  opera- 
tions is  to  attend  to  her  beauty.  Suppose  the  wings 
should  not  open  nicely  ;  what  if  there  should  be  a  crease 
in  that  important  part  of  her  wardrobe  1  her  life  would 
be  wretched  then  ;  the  gentlemen  would  not  look  at  her, 
and  no  female  of  her  race  would  condescend  to  sip 
from  the  same  flower.  So  she  takes  great  pains  with 
her  toilet,  and  in  about  an  hour  all  is  generally  right— 
the  gorgeous  wings  become  fully  expanded  by  the  sunV 
heat,  and  the  beauty  sails  exulting  in  the  full  luxury  oV 
life. 

"Behold,  ye  pilgrims  of  this  earth,  behold! 

See  all,  but  man,  with  unearned  pleasure  gay; 
See  her  bright  robes  the  butterfly  unfold, 
Broke  from  her  wintry  tomb  in  time  of  May. 

What  youthful  bride  can  equal  her  array? 
Who  can  with  her  for  easy  pleasure  vie? 

From  mead  to  mead  with  gentle  win^  to  stray, 
From  flower  to  flower  on  balmy  gales  to  fly, 
Is  all  she  hath  to  do  beneath  the  radiant  sky." 

Have  our  friends  ever  seen  a  butterfly  in  the  winter? 
The  very  question  may  seem  absurd.  How  can  the  sym- 
bol of  flowery  summer  live  amid  the  snows  of  December  ? 
The  surprise  is  natural ;  but  some  butterflies  do  live 
through  the  season  of  frost  and  tempest;  in  other 
words,  they  hybernate — sleep  comes  on  them  in  some 
sheltered  nook  as  winter  approaches,  and  lasts  with  a 
few  breaks  till  the  return  of  the  spring.  Sometimes  a 
mild  day,  even  in  January,  will  rouse  the  sleepers  and 
they  come  out  for  a  short  airing,  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  schoolboy  or  the  young  lady  out  for  a  walk. 

A  lady  once  tamed  one  of  these  hybemators  which 
lived  in  the  house  of  its  preserver  until  spring.  The 
lady,  who  had  risen  for  the  first  time  from  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness, went  into  an  adjoining  room  where  she  saw  a  gay 
and  beautiful  butterfly  in  the  window.  Astonished  at 
finding  this  creature  of  flowers  and  sunshine  in  so  un- 
congenial a  situation  she  watched  its  movements.  As 
the  sun  came  out,  for  a  bright,  brief  space,  it  fluttered 
joyously  about  the  wmdow,  and  imparted  to  the  sick 
room  an  air  of  cheerfulness  and  hope.  Toward  evening, 
however,  the  tiny  creature  drooped  its  wings  ;  the  lady 
then  placed  it  in  a  glass  tumbler  on  the  mantelpiece. 
During  the  night  a  hard  frost  came  on  and  the  room  was 
in  consequence  very  cold.  In  the  morning  the  butterfly 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  tumbler  apparently  dead.  The 
invalid,  grieved  that  her  gentle  companion  of  the  pre- 
vious day  should  so  perish,  made  some  effort  to  restore 
its  fragile  existence.  She  put  it  on  her  warm  hand,  and 
breathing  upon  it,  perceived  it  give  signs  of  returning 
animation.  She  then  once  more  placed  it  in  its  glass 
house  on  the  rug  before  the  fire.  Soon  the  elegant  little 
insect  spread  out  its  many-colored  wings  and  flew  to  the 
window,  where  the  sun  was  shining  brightly.  By-and 
bye  the  sun  retired,  and  the  window  panes  getting  cold, 
the  creature  sank  down  on  the  carpet  again,  apparently 
lifeless.  The  same  means  were  used  to  restore  anima- 
tion and  with  the  same  success.  This  alternation  of  ac- 
tivity .nd  torpor  went  or  for  many  days,  till  at  last  the 
grateful  little  thing  became  quite  tame,  and  seemed  to 
be  acquainted  with  its  benefactress.  When  she  went  to 
the  window  and  held  out  her  finger,  it  would  of  its  own 
accord  alight  upon  it ;  sometimes  it  would  settle  for  an 
hour  at  a  time  upon  her  hand  or  neck  when  she  was 
reading  or  writing.  Its  food  consisted  of  honey;  a 
drop  of  which  the  lady  would  put  upon  her  hand,  when 
the  butterfly  would  uncurl  its  sucker  and  gradually  sip 
it  up  ;  then  it  usually  sipped  up  a  drop  of  water  in  the 
same  way.  The  feeding  took  place  once  in  three  or  four 
days.  It  lived  in  this  way  all  winter.  As  it  approached 
the  end  of  its  career  its  wings  became  transparent,  its 
spirits  dejected,  and  at  last,  one  morning  in  May,  it  was 
found  quite  dead. 

The  butterflies  are  to  insects  what  the  humming  birds 
are  to  the  feathered  tribes,  the  analogy  holding  good 
not  only  in  their  brilliant  colors  and  manner  of  flight, 
but  also  in  the  nature  of  their  nutriment,  the  honeyed 
juices  of  the  flowers.  The  happy  life  of  the  butterfly, 
flitting  from  flower  to  flower,  from  one  sensual  delight 
to  another,  resembles  that  of  professed  pleasure  seekers, 
the  "  butterflies  of  fashion,"  whose  only  object  is  enjoy- 
ment whose  existence  is  a  blank,  and  whose  lives  add 
nothing  to  the  progress  of  humaT'^^v ;  thay  are  mf^^e 


consumers  of  other  men's  labors;  a  whole  generation 
dies  and  is  deservedly  forgotten. 

From  the  transformations  of  the  butterfly,  natural 
theology  has  drawn  one  of  the  most  simple,  beautiful, 
and  convincing  arguments  for  an  existence  beyond  the 
grave.  We  see  the  airy,  brilliant,  perfect  insect,  derived 
from  the  crawling,  disgusting  and  voracious  caterpillar 
—a  worm  transformed  into  a  sylph— a  change  that  no 
one,  unless  it  had  been  actually  seen,  would  believe  pos- 
sible. Reasoning  from  analogy,  this  emblem  of  the  but- 
terfly has  seemed  typical  of  the  change  of  the  corruptible 
into  the  incorruptible  after  death ;  the  grovelling  human 
desires  are  represented  by  the  creeping  caterpillar ;  in 
the  chrysalis  we  have  presented  to  us  the  darkness  and 
silence  of  the  tomb  ;  and  in  the  butterfly  we  recognize 
a  new-born  existence  of  the  spirit,  freed  from  the  im- 
perfections of  the  earthly  and  finite,  and  rejoicing  in  tlie 
pleasures  of  immortality. 


The  Tree  of  Saturn. 

To  make  this  beautiful  and  easy  experiment,  dissolve 
30  grammes  of  the  sugar  of  lead  in  1,000  grammes  of 
water,  and  place  the  solution  in  a  suitable  vessel — best 
of  a  globular  form,  such  as  those  used  for  goldfish. 
Suspend  from  the  stopper,  or  from  a  cross-thread  below 
the  bladder,  with  which  the  top  may  also  be  closed,  a 
small  piece  of  zinc,  to  which  are  attached  about  half  a 
dozen  brass  wires,  diverging  like  the  branches  of  a  tree. 
After  this  zinc  and  brass  wire  have  been  allowed  to  re- 
main quietly  suspended  in  the  liquid  for  a  short  time, 
the  brass  wires  will  be  found  to  be  covered  with  brilliant 
crystalline  spangles  of  metallic  lead,  which  will  daily 
become  larger  and  more  numerous.  The  old  alchemists 
who  discovered  this  experiment  did  not  understand  it  at 
all,  and  supposed  that  the  brass  of  the  wire  changed  to 
lead  ;  but  the  true  action  is  that  the  metal  in  solution  is 
exchanged  for  zinc  and  brass.  The  acid  of  the  acetate 
of  lead  unites  with  the  brass  and  zinc,  forming  soluble 
salts,  while  the  lead,  which  was  made  soluble  by  the 
acid,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  any  longer  held  in  solu- 
tion, is,  therefore,  deposited  in  a  metallic  condition,  and 
this  so  slowly  and  gradually  that  the  particles  have  time 
to  obey  their  molecular  attractions  and  repulsions,  and 
so  the  crystalline  form  is  obtained.  This  form  is  nothing 
more  than  an  outward  visible  manifestation  of  inward 
invisible  forces  governing  the  atoms  or  molecules  of  the 
crystallizing  substance. 

The  shape  of  the  vessel  and  wires  may  be  various.  The 
forms  of  letters  or  other  figures  may  be  given  to  the 
brass  wire,  and,  in  any  case,  it  ■v\all  soon  be  covered  with 
the  brilliant  spangles  ;  care  must,  however,  be  taken  not 
to  move  the  vessel  carelessly  after  the  crystalizationhas 
commenced,  as  the  crystals  are  very  fragile  and  easily 
detached,  when  all  will  sink  to  the  bottom.  It  is  best  to 
place  the  vessel,  before  any  crystals  are  formed,  at  once 
in  the  position  in  which  it  is  intended  to  remain  for  ex- 
hibition. 

An  Elephant  as  Nurse. 

k  large  elephant  showed,  by  constant  flagellation  ol 
his  body,  that  he  was  much  annoyed  by  his  tiny  perse- 
cutors, the  mosquitoes,  and  just  at  that'time  the  keeper 
brought  a  little  naked  thing,  as  round  as  a  ball,  which 
in  India  I  believe  t!iey  call  a  child,  laid  it  down  before  the 
animal  with  two  words  in  Hindoostanee,  Watch  it  " 
and  then  Avalked  away  into  the  town.  The  elephant  im- 
mediately broke  off  the  larger  part  of  the  bough  so  as 
to  make  a  smaller  and  more  convenient  whisk,  and 
dn-ected  its  whole  attention  to  the  child,  gently  fanning 
ihe  little  lump  of  India-ink,  and  driving  away  every 
mosquito  which  came  near  it ;  this  he  continued  for 
upward  of  two  hours,  regardless  of  himself,  until  the 
keeper  returned.  It  was  a  beautiful  siefht  causing  much 
reflection.  Here  was  a  monster,  whose^weight  exceeded 
that  of  the  infant  by  at  least  ten  thousand  times, 
acknowledging  that  the  image  of  his  maker,  even  in  the 
lowest  degree  of  perfection,  was  divine  ;  silently  proving 
the  truth  of  the  sacred  announcement  that  God  had 
•  given  to  man  dominion  over  the  beast  of  the  field.'' 
And  here,  too,  was  a  brute  animal  setting  an  example  of 
devotion  and  self-denial  that  but  few  Christians,  none 
indeed  but  a  mother,  could  have  practiced. 

The  Chinese  printed  with  wooden  types,  ^  centurv-  be 
tore  Guttenburg's  time.  ^ 


250 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Servants  in  the  Middle  Ages; 

Difficulties  with  servants  are  not  confined  to  this  ^ca 
eration.  The  f ollowins:  is  translated  from  a  chronicle  ol 
life  in  Suabia  as  far  back  as  the  middle  ages.  "  Listen 
says  the  Suabian  matron  to  a  new  domestic  she  is  aboiit 
to  employ,  ''they  say  of  me  the  whole  country  over  that 
1  conduct  myself  badly  with  my  servants,  that  1  am  very 
violent,  and  that  in  the  space  of  five  years  \  have 
changed  twenty  times.  But  they  say  not  one  word  ot 
the  provocation  I  have  received."  She  goes  on  to  enu- 
merate some  of  the  annoyances  she  has  endured.  They 
so  exactly  resemble  the  trials  of  a  modern  housekeeper 
that  we  can  see  at  once,  so  far  as  this  source  of  domestic 
unhappiness  goes,  we  are  no  worse  off  than  our  ances- 
tors. "  The  first  was  dirty.  On  Sundays  and  fete  days 
she  made  herself  as  fine  as  a  peacock,  but  on  work-days 
she  was  never  covered  with  anything  else  than  dirt  and 
rags.  The  second  was  forgetful,  inattentive,  and  dis- 
quited  herself  very  little  with  my  work.  She  never 
thought  of  anything,  and  I  was  obliged  to  repeat  to  her 
every  day  what  she  had  to  do.  She  broke  more  dishes 
and  plates  than  there  are  days  in  the  year.  The  third 
was  the  personification  of  lairiness.  I  thought  that  I 
should  never  live  to  see  the  termination  of  any  work  she 
commenced.  When  she  wiped  a  bottle  the  moss  would 
have  had  time  to  grow  on  the  bottom  of  it.  The  fourth 
was  a  glutton.  The  cream,  the  butter,  and  the  meat 
were  less  safe  near  her  than  in  the  proximity  of  a  cat. 
The  fifth  was  mean  and  careless,  and  never  contented 
with  anything,  and  always  complaining  and  morose. 
The  sixth  left  the  spoons  in  the  dish-water,  whence  they 
were  finally  thrown  to  the  pigs.  She  cooked  me  an  ome- 
let until  it  was  like  charcoal,  and  meanwhile,  such  was 
her  obstinacy  and  ignorance,  that  she  maintained  to  me 
that  it  was  as  yellow  as  gold,  and  could  not  be  eaten  in' 
any  other  condition.  I  am  forced  to  interrupt  myself, 
for  which  I  am  sorry.  During  three  hours  I  should  be) 
able  to  entertain  thee  with  the  characters  of  these  girls." 


An  Aged  Tortoise. 

In  the  hall  of  the  Episcopal  Palace  of  Peterborough 
there  is  preserved  under  a  glass  the  shell  of  a  large 
tortoise,  which  appears  to  have  been  a  double  "  centena- 
rian." Beside  the  shell,  there  lies  the  following  de- 
scription of  this  remarkable  animal :  "  The  Peterborough 
Tortoise."  "It  is  well  ascertained  that  this  tortoise 
must  have  lived  two  hundred  and  twenty  years.  Bishop 
Parsons  had  remembered  it  for  more  than  sixty  years, 
and  had  not  recognized  in  it  any  visible  change.  Bishop 
Marsh  (in  whose  time  it  died)  was  the  seventh  who  had 
worn  the  mitre  during  its  sojourn  here.  Its  shell  was 
perforated  (as  is  seen)  in  order  to  attach  it  to  a  tree,  to 
keep  it  from,  or  rather  to  limit  its  ravages,  among  the 
strawberries  of  whicli  it  was  excessively  fond.  It  ate  all 
kinds  of  fruit  and  sometimes  a  pint  of  gooseberries  at  a 
time,  but  it  made  the  greatest  havoc  among  the  straw- 
berries. It  knew  the  gardeners  well  (of  whom  it  had 
Gcen  many),  and  would  always  keep  near  them  when 
ti:ey  were  gathering  fruit,  etc.  It  could  bear  almost 
any  weight ;  sometimes  as  much  as  eighteen  stone  was 
iaid  upon  its  back.  About  October  it  used  to  bury  itself, 
m  a  particular  spot  of  the  garden,  at  the  depth  of  one  or 
two  feet,  according  to  the  severity  of  the  approaching 
season,  where  it  would  remain  without  food  until  the 
following  April,  when  it  would  again  emerge  frorp  its 
ticling-place. 

''Palace,  Peterborough,  March,  1842. 
The  Bishops  during  whose  time  it  lived  were  : 

•  1.  John  Thomas,  1747-1757. 

•  2.  Richard  Terrick,  1757. 

3.  Robert  Lamb,  1764. 

4.  John  HinchclifLe,  1769. 

5.  Spencer  Madan,  1794. 

6.  John  Parsons,  1813. 

7.  Herbert  Marsh,  1819-1839. 

How  a  Fortune  was  Made. 

In  1823,  Talma,  having  only  appeared  in  tragedy  since 
1796,  consented  to  give  his  support  to  Mile.  Mars  in  one 
of  <;^assimir  Delavigne's  comedies.  The  announcement 
created  a  wonderful  sensation— the  best  actor  and  the 
best  actress  in  France  to  appear  together.  One  moi-^iug 
about  a  week  orevious  to  the  time  of  the  announoou  ap- 


pearance, «<  Me  Mile.  Mars  was  in  her  private  apartment, 
a  manufacturer  yL  Lyons  asked  for  an  audience.  On 
entering,  be  spread  out  before  the  actress  a  shimmering 
fold  of  costly  yeilow  velvet.  "  Will  you  deign  to  accept 
this,  ana  make  my  fortune  ?"  said  the  visitor.  Explan- 
ations i-ollowed,  and  it  was  understood  to  be  purely  a 
business  affair.  The  sagacious  manufacturer  knew  very 
well  that  the  superb  woman  before  him  set  the  fashion 
in  female  dress  before  all  Paris.  Yellow  velvet  was  his 
specialty,  but  nobody  wore  it :  and  yet  he  was  assured 
that  it  would  be  all  the  rage  it  once  seen  upon  the  queen 
of  the  stage  Mile.  Mars  did  not  know.  The  color  was 
very  trying  ;  bne  had  dresses  enough  ;  but  at  length  the 
pleading  of  the  manufacturer  overcame  her  scruples, 
and  in  the  goodness  of  her  heart  took  the  velvet  and 
handed  it  over  to  her  dressmaker,  with  the  instructions 
for  making  it  up.  The  eventful  evening  arrived,  and 
Mile.  Mars  was  arrayed  in  her  robe  of  yellow  velvet.  On 
beholding  ihe  reflection  of  herself  in  her  dressing-room 
mirror  her  beart  gave  way.  "  It  is  too  ridiculous  1"  she 
cried,  almost  shedding  tears  of  vexation.  "I  look  like 
an  awfully  exaggerated  canary  bird.  Really,  I  can  not 
appear.  Tell  the  manager  he  must  postpone  the  play, 
or,  at  least,  wait  for  me.^'  Talma  heard  the  words,  and 
hurried  from  his  dressing-room.  "Is  that  all  ?"  he  said, 
when  he  had  surveyed  the  queen  and  heard  her  story. 
"Upon  my  word,  you  never  looked  better  in  your  life. 
The  effect  is  superb.  I  am  charmed  with  it."  And  the 
play  went  on.  In  less  than  two  weeks  thereafter  the 
saloons  of  Paris  were  literally  golden  with  yellow  velvet. 
A  lady  could  not  be  in  the  fashion  in  anything  else. 
Years  after  the  wealthiest  manufacturer  of  Lyons  gave 
a  grand  fete  in  honor  of  Mile.  Mars,  entertaining  her 
sumptuously.  The  festival  was  held  in  a  spacious  and 
superb  country  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Saone,  and 
the  fortune  upon  which  the  estate  had  been  reared  had 
grc'TO  m>  from  yellow  velvet. 

How  Pins  are  Made. 

The  piA  machine  is  one  of  the  nearest  approaches  that- 
machines  have  made  to  the  dexterity  of  the  human  hand. 
A  small  machine,  about  the  size  of  a  lady's  sewing^ 
machine,  only  stronger,  stands  before  you.  On  the  back 
side  a  light  belt  descends  from  a  long  shaft  at  the  ceiling' 
that  drives  all  the  machines,  ranging  in  rows  on  the 
floor.  On  the  left  side  of  our  machine  on  a  peg  hangs  a 
small  reel  of  wire,  that  has  been  straightened  by  run- 
ning through  a  compound  system  of  small  rollers. 

This  wire  descends  and  the  end  of  it  enters  the 
machine.  This  is  the  food  consumed  by  this  snappish, 
voracious  little  dwarf.  It  pulls  it  in  and  bites  it  off  by 
inches  incessantly,  one  hundred  and  forty  bites  a 
minute.  Just  as  he  seizes  each  bite  a  saucy  little  ham- 
mer, with  a  concave  face,  hits  the  end  of  the  wire  three 
taps  and  "upsets"  it  to  a  head,  while  he  grips  it  in  a 
counter-sunk  hole  between  his  teeth.  With  an  outward 
turn  of  his  tongue  he  then  lays  the  pin.  sideways  in  a 
little  groove  across  the  rim  of  a  small  wheel  that  slowly 
revolves  just  under  his  nose.  By  the  external  pressure 
of  a  stationary  hoop  these  pins  roll  into  their  places,  as 
they  are  carried  under  two  series  of  small  files,  three  in 
each. 

These  files  grow  smaller  toward  the  end  of  the  series. 
They  lie  at  a  slight  inclination  on  the  points  of  the 
pins,  and  a  series  of  cams,  levers  and  springs  are  made 
to  play  "like  lightning."  Thus  the  pins  are  pointed 
and  d/opped  in  a  little  shower  into  a  box.  Twenty- 
eight  pounds  of  pins  is  a  day's  work  for  one  of  these 
terking  little  automatons.  Forty  machines  make  five 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds  daily.  Two  very  intelligent 
machines  reject  every  crooked  pin,  even  a  slight  irregu- 
larity of  form  being  detected. 

Another  automaton  assorts  half  a  dozen  lengths  in 
as  many  different  boxes,  all  at  once,  and  unerringly, 
when  a  careless  operation  has  mixed  the  boxes  from 
various  machines.  Lastly,  a  perfect  genius  of  a  machine 
hangs  the  pins  by  the  heads  in  an  inclined  platform, 
through  as  many  "slots"  as  there  are  pins  on  the 
papers.  Under  them  runs  the  strip  of  paper.  A  hand- 
like  part  of  the  machine  catches  one  form  of  each  of 
the  slots  as  it  falls,  and  by  one  movement  sticks  them 
through  two  corrugated  ridges  in  the  paper,  from  which 
they  are  to  be  picked  by  the  taper  fingers  in  boudoirs, 
and  all  sorts  of  hnniar>  fingers,  in  all  sorts  of  human, 
circumstances 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  251 


Pulpit  Anecdotes. 

Dr.  Guthrie,  the  celebrated  Scotch  minister,  has  left 
behind  him  a  pleasant  autobiography.  It  was  written 
in  the  decline  of  his  life,  and  yet  has  the  freshness  of 
puperabundant  animal  spirits.  He  tells  two  capital 
stories,  which  illustrate  ecclesiastical  life  in  Scotland 
and  the  quiet  humor  of  Scotchmen.  One  is  of  Dr. 
Erskine,  a  great  preacher  in  his  day : 

<'Dr.  Erskine  was  remarkable  for  his  simplicity  of 
manner  and  ^ijentle  temper.  He  returned  so  often  from 
the  pulpit  minus  his  pocket-handkerchie'f,  and  could  tell 
so  little  how  or  where  it  was  lost,  that  Mrs.  Erskine  at 
last  began  to  suspect  that  the  handkerchiefs  were  stolen 
as  he  ascended  the  pulpit  stairs  by  some  of  the  old 
wives  who  lined  it.  So,  both  to  balk  and  detect  the 
culprit,  she  sewed  a  corner  of  a  handkerchief  to  one  of 
the  pockets  of  his  coat-tails.  Half  way  up  the  stairs  the 
good  doctor  felt  a  tug,  whereupon  he  turned  round  to 
the  old  woman  who  had  the  guilty  hand  to  say,  with 
great  calmness  and  simplicity:  'No  the  day,  honest 
woman,  no  the  day  ;  Mrs.  Erskine  has  sewed  it  in.'  " 

Another  is  of  Dr.  Guthrie's  experience  in  examining  a 
witness  in  a  church  trial,  who  did  not  wish  to  tell  all  he 
knew.  The  case  was  that  of  a  minister  charged  with 
drunkenness. 

Besides  other  proofs  of  drunkenness,  having  drawn 
this  out  of  a  witness,  that  the  minister,  on  one  occasion, 
as  he  lolled  over  the  side  of  the  pulpit— being,  in  fact, 
unable  to  stand  upright— said  that  he  loved  his  people 
so  much  that  he  would  carry  them  all  to  heaven  on  his 
back.  I  asked  him,  "  Now,  John,  when  you  heard  him 
say  so,  what  impression  did  so  strange  a  speech  make  on 
you  ?" 

Others,  to  the  same  question,  as  unwilling  witnesses 
as  John,  had  already  said  that  though  they  would  not 
say  he  was  drunk  at  the  time,  they  certainly  thought  so. 

But  John  showed  himself  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"Weel,"  he  replied,  "Maister  Guthrie,  I'll  just  tell 
ffyou  what  I  thought.  There  was  a  great  fat  wife,  you 
Wee,  sitting  in  the  seat  before  me,  and,  thinks  I,  my  lad, 
fif  you  set  off  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  with  that  wife 
.on  your  back,  my  certie,  you'll  no  be  back  for  the  rest 
O'  us  in  a  hurry  ?" 


Remarkable  Longevity. 

Tradition  says  that  Alexander  the  Great  took  from 
Poms,  an  Indian  king,  a  monster  elephant.  These 
Fnimals  were  then,  as  now,  held  in  the  highest  esteem  in 
that  country.  That  particular  elephant  fought  so 
bravely  for  his  master  that  the  admiration  of  the  con- 
queror was  excited  in  his  favor.  He  ordered  him  to  be 
set  free,  and  allowed  to  range  at  pleasure — first  naming 
him  Ajax,  and  placing  a  medal  securely  to  his  neck, 
bearing  this  inscription  s  "Alexander,  son  of  Jupiter, 
dedicated  Ajax  to  the  sun."  Three  hundred  and  fifty  - 
four  years  after,  the  old  fellow  was  rediscovered,  and 
probably  in  good  condition,  as  nothing  was  recorded  to 
the  contrary.  Therefore  it  is  probable  that  elephants 
may  live  several  centuries  before  the  machinery  of  life 
gives  out.  Cuvier,  the  great  French  naturalist,  saw  no 
reason  why  whales  should  not  reach  a  thousand  years. 
An  eagle  died  at  Vienna,  that  was  known  to  be  one 
hundred  and  four  years  old.  Ravens  have  been  active 
at  one  hundred  years.  A  skeleton  of  a  swan  is  in 
possession  of  an  English  gentleman,  that  died  when  two 
hundred  and  ninety  years  of  age.  Tortoises  have  been 
repeatedly  found  with  dates  cut  into  their  shells  by 
ancient  hunters,  showing  they  were  over  one  hundred, 
and  yet  were  crawling  on  vigorously  with  new  markings 
'jito  a  second  century. 

Elephants  at  Sea. 

rheiiOistinginto  tne  air,  and  lowering  elepharts  into 
hold  cf  a  ship,  is  not  only  an  unusual  sight  to  n^ost  men, 
but  also  a  strange  experience  to  most  elephants.  They 
were  lashed  with  strong  ropes,  slung  as  far  as  practicable 
in  slings,  hoisted  up  with  cranes  with  threefold  tackles, 
and  lowered  into  the  steamer's  hold  like  bales  of  cotton. 
When  in  the  hold  they  are  placed  in  pens  built  of  strong 
teak  timber  baulks,  bolted  to  the  ship's  side  to  prevent 
them  from  breaking  loose.  The  fear  the  animals  suffered 
was  the  only  pain  they  underwent ;  and  by  watching  the 
eyes  of  the  poor  beasts  their  terror  was  manifest.  Tears 
trickled  down  their  mild  couutenances,  and  they  roared 


with  dread,  more  especially  when  being  lowered  Into 
^,he  hold,  the  bottom  of  which  was  sanded  for  them  to 
3tandupon.  We  are  told  that  one  timid  xemale  ele- 
[)hant  actually  fainted,  and  was  broup-ht  to  with  a  fan 
and  many  gallons  of  water.  At  sea  1'  ippears  that  the 
iniraals  get  into  a  curious  habit  of  occasionally^ 
evidently  with  a  preconcerted  signal — setting  to  work 
rucking  the  ship  from  side  to  side,  by  giving  themselves, 
simultaneously,  a  swinging  motion  as  they  stood 
athwart  the  ship,  the  vessel  rolling  heavily  as  if  in  a  c?ea- 
way.  This  they  would  do  for  a  spell  of  an  hour  or  more, 
and  then  desist  for  several  hours  until  the  strange  freak 
came  to  them  again.  When  they  reached  port,  they 
were  hoisted  out  of  the  hold  and  swam  on  shore,  thirty- 
five  being  thus  safely  landed  without  any  accident  what- 
ever. When  they  were  released  from  the  slings  it  was 
a  supreme  moment  for  the  mahout  who  was  always  on 
the  elephant's  neck  from  the  time  of  its  touching  the 
water  tCj'etting  go.  As  the  word  was  given  to  let  go, 
each  Oi  the  elephants,  either  from  the  lightness  of  his 
heart  at  being  freed  from  his  floating  prison,  or  from  his 
own  weight,  we  are  not  sure  which — lightness  of  heart, 
like  lightness  of  head,  cause  elephants  and  men  to  play 
pranks — plunged  dpwn  deep  into  the  water,  the  mahout 
on  his  neck.  The  anxiety  on  the  face  of  the  mahout, 
just  a  second  before  the  plunge,  was  a  study  ;  so,  too, 
was  it  when  elephant  and  man  rose  to  the  surface  again, 
the  former  blowing  water  from  his  trunk  and  the  latter 
from  his  nose. 


A  South  American  Plant  Whose  Leaves 
Cure  Fatigue. 

The  plant  from  which  the  cuca  leaves  are  obtained 
thrives  best  in  the  elevated  forests  of  the  Andes.  In 
time  it  is  covered  with  delicate  white  flowers,  which  are 
succeeded  by  red  berries.  The  leaves  can  be  stripped 
from  the  plant  three  times  a  year,  and  are  at  once  thor- 
oughly dried.  When  the  packages  of  cuca  are  opened 
they  emit  a  powerful  tealike  odor.  Mr.  Christison  has 
tried  the  effects  of  the  leaves  upon  himself.  He  has 
taken  long  and  fatiguing  walks,  living  at  the  same  time 
after  his  usual  manner  :  then  he  has  repeated  the  walks 
for  even  greater  distances,  and,  when  overcome  with 
fatigue,  at  some  resting  place  he  has  chewed  thoroughly 
and  swallowed  eighty  grains  of  cuca.  No  real  effects 
were  observed  until  he  went  out  of  doors  and  resumed 
his  rapid  walking;  then  all  sense  of  weariness  disap- 
peared, and  he  could  walk  not  only  with  ease,  but  elas- 
ticity. At  the  end  of  the  walk  the  pulse  was  ninety,  and 
in  two  hours  fell  to  seventy-two.  At  dinner  time  there 
was  neither  feeling  of  hunger  nor  thirst  after  abstaining 
from  food  for  nine  hours,  but  upon  dinner  appearing 
ample  justice  was  done  to  the  meal.  No  unpleasant 
effects  were  felt  the  next  day.  Mr.  Dowdeswell,  in  an 
article  in  the  Lancet  for  April  29,  1876,  hss  the  same  idea 
as  to  the  great  and  wonderful  power  of  endurance  gained 
by  its  use. 


The  Grief  of  a  nhinocerous. 

Even  a  rhinocerous  is  capable  of  grief,  according  to  a 
Paris  correspondent,  who  tells  the  following  anecdote  of 
the  rhinocerous  which  recently  died  in  that  city.  The 
animal  had  been  in  the  collection  at  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes  for  twenty-two  years,  but  was  of  an  unsociable 
and  irascible  temper,  and  not  even  his  keepers  ventured 
to  take  any  liberties  with  him.  One  day,  however  the 
little  lap-dog  of  the  wife  of  the  director,  given  her  by 
Queen  Amelie,  got  into  his  house  by  squeezing  in  be- 
tween the  bars  of  the  Iron  work.  Instead  of  killing  the 
intruder,  as  expected,  the  rhinocerous  allowed  the  little 
creature  to  play  with  him,  scampering  over  his  back, 
biting  his  neck,  and  playing  off  all  manner  of  sportive 
tricks.  The  two  becanae  great  friends;  the  "wee 
doggie"  passing  several  hours  each  day  with  his  un- 
demonstrative acquaintance,  who  put  up  patiently  with 
all  its  teasings.  One  day  the  rhinocerous  inadvertently 
set  his  foot  on  his  little  pet  killing  it  instantly.  The 
poor  brute's  grief  at  the  catastrophe  was  pitiable  ;  foi 
two  days  he  did  not  eat  a  particle  of  food. 

Some  insucts  are  endowed  with  an  appetite  so  keen, 
and  a  digestion  so  rapid,  that  they  eat  incessantly 
throughout  their  whole  lives.  They  begin  as  soon  afi 
they  are  born,  and  go  steadily  on  until  they  die. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


WHAT  MY  LOVER  SAID. 

By  the  merest  chance  in  the  twilight  glooMi. 

In  the  orchard  path  he  met  me — 

In  the  tall,  wet  grass,  with  its  faint  perfume— 

And  I  tried  to  pass,  but  he  maAe  no  iQcm; 

Oh,  I  cried,  but  he  would  not  lei  me: 

So  I  stood  and  blushed  till  the  grass  grew  red, 

With  my  face  bent  down  above  it. 

While  he  took  my  hand,  as  he  whisp'ring  said— - 

(How  the  clover  lifted  each  pink,  sweet  "head, 

To  listen  to  all  that  my  lover  said: 

Oh  I  the  clover  in  bloom— I  love  it!) 

In  the  high,  wet  ^rass  went  the  path  to  hide. 

And  the  low,  wet  leaves  hung  over; 

But  I  could  not  pass  upon  either  side, 

For  I  found  myself,  when  I  vainly  tried, 

In  the  arms  of  my  steadfast  lover. 

And  he  held  me  there,  and  he  raised  my  head. 

While  he  closed  the  path  before  me; 

And  he  looked  down  into  my  eyes  and  said— 

<How  the  leaves  bent  down  from  the  boughs  o'erhead. 

Oh,  the  leaves  hanging  lowly  o'er  mel) 

Had  he  moved  aside  a  little  way, 

I  could  surely  then  have  passed  him. 

And  would  not  have  heard  what  he  had  to  say, 

Could  I  only  aside  have  cast  him. 

It  was  almost  dark,  and  the  moments  sped. 

And  the  searching  night-wind  found  us; 

But  he  drew  me  nearer  and  softly  said— 

(How  the  pure,  sweet  wind  grew  still  instead. 

To  listen  to  all  that  my  lover  said: 

Oh,  the  whispering  wind  around  usl) 

I  am  sure  he  knew  when  he  held  me  fast, 

That  I  must  be  all  unwilling; 

For  I  tried  to  go,  and  would  have  passed, 

As  the  n-ght  was  coming  with  its  dew  at  last. 

And  the  sky  with  stars  was  filling; 

But  he  clasped  me  close  when  I  would  have  fled. 

And  made  me  hear  his  story. 

And  his  soul  came  out  from  his  lips  and  said- 

(How  the  stars  crept  out  where  the  white  moon  led. 

To  listen  to  all  that  my  lover  said: 

Oh,  the  moon  and  stars  in  glory  I) 

I  know  that  the  grass  and  the  leaves  will  not  tell, 
And  I'm  sure  that  the  wind— precious  rover- 
Will  carry  his  secret  so  safely  and  well 
That  no  being  shall  ever  discover 
One  word  of  the  many  that  rapidly  fell 
From  the  eager  lips  of  my  lover- 
Shall  never  reveal  what  a  fairy-like  spell 
They  wove  round  about  us  that  night  in  the  dell. 
In  the  path  through  the  dew-laden  clover; 
Not  echo  the  whispers  that  made  my  heart  swe.^ 
As  they  fell  from  the  lips  of  my 


Reclaiming  the  "Wastes. 

There  was  once  in  the  vicinity  of  London  a  place  called  "  The 
Five  Fields,"  which  formed  a  most  unhealthy  clayey  swamp. 
The  spot  was  the  dread  of  all  night  travellers,  and  a  most  un- 
popular region  with  all  classes.  But  at  length  inventive  genius 
t  was  brought  to  bear  on  the  unwholesome  spot.  A  gentleman 
examined  the  fields  and  found  below  the  clay  a  fine  substratum 
of  gravel.  The  clay  was  removed  and  burned  into  bricks,  and 
some  of  the  finest  residences  of  London  now  stand  on  the  site 
of  that  old  clay  swamp,  built  out  of  materials  found  on  the 
spot.  It  was  a  fine  illustration  of  the  means  adapted  to  the 
end. 

We  may  find  a  suggestive  hint  here  to  influence  us  in  our 
labors  in  the  moral  world.  There  are  moral  swamps  in  every 
town,  be  it  large  or  small,  which  need  just  such  thought  and 
pains-taking  to  reclaim  them.  There  is  a  substratum  of  valu- 
able materials  in  many  a  young  person,  who  is  shunned  for 
his  defects  as  if  he  were  a  moral  plague  spot.  It  is  a  noble 
mission  to  take  such  a  one  by  the  hand  and  lead  him  onward 
and  upward  to  a  better  life.  The  man  who  took  John  B. 
Gough  by  the  arm  in  his  early,  degraded  days,  and  led  him  into 
the  warm  circle  of  his  own  pure  fireside,  and  by  degrees  res- 
cued him  from  the  thralldom  of  drink,  has  never  regretted  his 
work.  If  he  had  never  reclaimed  another  wanderer,  he  might 
well  feel  that  he  had  still  accomplished  a  great  life-work.  We 
should  all  be  up  and  doing  in  a  world  so  full  of  those  who  need 
our  aid.  It  is  most  saddening,  at  the  best,  to  look  about 
us  and 

"See  how  the  wrecks  go  down. 
With  Heaven  full  in  view, 

With  warnings  everywhere, 

To  guide  the  voyager  through. 

Oh,  how  the  wrecks  go  down. 
Or  wander  tempest-tost, 

Their  light  and  anchor  gone- 
Forever  lost ! " 


Cast  Down,  but  not  Destroyed. 

Did  you  ever  reflect  that  Washington  lost  far  more  battles 
than  he  gained,  and  yet  if  he  was  not  a  successful  man,  where 
will  you  find  one  ?  Think  of  this  when,  after  your  best  efi'orts 
you  find  yourself  defeated,  and  are  ready  to  give  way  to 
despondency.  Almost  all  successful  men  have  been  made  so 
by  battling  with  difliculties  that  seemed  overwhelming — "cast 
I  down,  but  not  destroyed  "  has  still  been  their  motto.  The 
struggle  has  developed  nerve,  and  muscle,  and  brain  power, 
that  in  the  end  won  a  glorious  success.  The  words  of  Burns> 
are  in  point— 

"Though  losses  and  crosses 
Be  lessons  right  severe. 
There's  wit  there,  you'll  get  there, 
You'll  find  no  other  where." 

When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  do  you  recall  a  single  great 
enterprize  that  ever  succeeded  from  the  very  start.  Look  at 
the  tug  and  toil  for  years  to  which  Mr.  Goodyear  was  subjected 
before  he  completed  his  improvements  in  the  process  of  manu- 
facturing india-rubber.  He  was  the  laughing  stock  of  his 
associates,  and  few  could  be  found  who  had  faith  in  his  trans- 
actions.  Said  one  who  was  describing  him  to  a  friend  : 

"If  you  meet  a  man  with  an  india-rubber  hat,  an  india- 
rubber  coat  and  pants,  an  india-rubber  pocket-book,  without  a 
cent  in  it,  that  is  Charles  Goodyear."  His  name,  to-day, 
stamped  on  an  article  gives  it  a  very  ready  sale,  and  he  will 
always  be  one  whom  the  nation  delighteth  to  honor.  Our  poor 
soldiers  who  wrapped  themselves  in  his  blankets  in  the  wintry 
storms,  will  always  remember  him  with  gratitude.  Without 
such  protection  thousands  more  would  have  perished  in  camp 
than  fell  by  the  enemy's  bullets.  It  was  well  for  the  world 
that  he  did  not  sufi'er  himself  to  be  turned  aside  or  cast  down 
by  repeated  failures  and  diflaculties. 


Important  Trifles. 

When  pins  first  appeared,  they  were  thought  of  so 
much  importance  that  a  Parliamentary  law  was  made  to 
regulate  their  shape.    All  pins  were  prohibited  from 
being  sold  unless  they  *'be  double  headed,  and  the 
heads  soldered  fast  to  the  shank  of  the  pinne,  well 
smoothed,  the  shank  well  shaven,  the  point  well  and 
round  filed,  canted,  and  sharpened."    This  long  process 
1  was  abandoned  soon  after,  as  their  use  became  universal, 
land  superseded  the  employment  of  laces,  ribbons  and 
]tag^ 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


An  Energetic  Girl. 

The  story  of  Isa  Randolph  is  worth  telling,  if  only  to 
3how  girls  what  one  quick-witted,  energetic  woman  can 
io  to  retrieve  her  fallen  fortunes.  She  was  daintily 
reared  and  bred,  and,  when  left  an  orphan  penniless, 
hardly  knew  how  to  obtain  a  livelihood.  None  of  her  ac- 
complishments were  useful  in  bread  winning,  and  the  life 
of  a  seamstress  was  too  much  like  drudgery  to  meet  with 
ber  approval.  One  day  she  found  a  cheap  boarding- 
place,  sold  a  diamond  ring,  put  an  advertisement  in  the 
paper,  then  sat  down  to  await  results  or  starve.  Within 
a  week  a  million  people  read  this  advertisement ; 
"Mademoiselle  Isolena,  purchaser  of  dress  goods, 
gloves,  hosiery  and  millinery.  Persons  at  a  distance  de- 
siring to  purchase  dry  goods,  etc.,  in  New  York,  may 
address  Mademoiselle  Isolena.  Every  kind  of  under- 
wear and  small  wares  bought,  goods  and  colors  matched, 
and  the  best  selections  made  at  the  lowest  prices.  Terms 
five  per  cent.  All  orders  must  have  the  money  enclosed. 
Goods  sent  by  express  or  mail  at  purchaser's  expense." 
Three  days  Mademoiselle  Isolena  waited  in  heart-sick 
impatience,  and  then  there  came  three  letters.  One  con- 
tained a  dollar,  another  six,  another  ten,  and  each  had  a 
small  order.  Total  profits,  eighty-five  cents— -the  first 
money  she  ever  earned  in  her  life.  She  put  on  a  pretty 
hood  and  a  bright  smile,  and  went  out  to  do  the  shopping. 
She  certainly  had  a  genius  for  the  business,  and  made 
excellent  bargains.  That  night  our  little  woman  slept 
well ;  she  had  earned  enough  money  to  support  herself 
for  a  day — not  so  bad  for  a  beginning.  The  following 
day  she  received  seven  more  letters,  enclosing  forty  dol- 
lars in  all.  These  orders  employed  her  nearly  all  day, 
and  at  night  she  sent  a  letter  with  each,  detailing  the 
business  transaction.  The  next  day  there  came  but  one 
letter,  and  she  was  a  trifle  discouraged.  Then  came  the 
Sabbath,  and  on  Monday  there  were  twenty  letters.  The 
following  day  brought  more  letters,  and  a  loud  complaint 
from  her  landlady  concerning  the  trouble  of  bringing  up 
60  large  a  mail.  Isolena  at  once  turned  all  her  available 
assets  into  money,  and  made  one  more  bold  push  for  her 
life.  After  much  search  she  found  a  small  back  room 
on  the  third  story  of  a  store  on  a  crowded  business  street, 
within  easy  reach  of  the  best  stores,  and  furnished  it 
plainly.  The  room  was  chamber,  parlor,  kitchen,  office, 
all  in  one.  She  advertised  again,  and  went  into  her  busi- 
ness with  reckless  energy.  Day  by  day  that  business  in- 
creased. It  kept  her  in  the  stores  nearly  all  the  time. 
By-and-by  she  engaged  a  female  book-keeper.  Business 
steadily  increased  as  the  weeks  went  by,  and  presently 
Mademoiselle  Isolena  removed  to  more  convenient  quar- 
ters, and  advertised  again.  One  year  from  the  day  on 
which  she  made  her  first  purchase  on  commission  found 
her  at  the  head  of  a  flourishing  business,  supporting  her- 
self hands.omely,  and  with  money  in  the  bank.  Energy 
and  industry  had  made  her  what  all  girls  can  become  if 
they  but  try  hard  enough — a  snccessful  woman. 

Fishing  for  Pearls. 

Few  persons  have  any  idea  of  the  amount  of  labor,  or 
of  the  perils  and  hardships  necessary  to  obtain  a  pearl. 
It  is  generally  supposed,  that  the  life  of  a  pearl  diver 
must  be  one  of  ease  and  luxury,  but  such  is  not  the  case. 
On  the  contrary,  there  is  scarcely  any  occupation  more 
diflScult,  or  fraught  with  more  danger,  than  that  of 
diving  for  pearls.    Neither  is  it  a  very  lucrative  business. 

The  largest  pearl  fishery  in  the  world  is  on  the  coast 
of  Ceylon.  There  are  also  extensive  fisheries  on  the 
coast  of  China  and  Japan.  Every  little  while  we  read  a 
sensational  report  of  extensive  operations  being  carried 
on  in  this  country,  but  they  may  generally  be  set  down 
as  false,  for  our  American  oyster  is  a  poor  manufactory 
of  pearls.  We  have,  indeed,  a  few  genuine  American 
pearls,  but  they  are  produced  by  a  species  of  muscle  or 
fresh-water  clam,  and  not  by  the  oyster,  and  to  find  a 
Valuable  pearl  in  one  of  them  is  a  very  rare  occurrence. 

A  busy  scene  is  presented  on  the  coast  of  Ceylon  dur- 
big  the  fishing  season,  which  is  in  the  month  of  March. 
The  government  protects  them  during  all  other  seasons, 
and  a  heavy  fine  is  imposed  upon  any  one  who  removes 
an  oyster  from  its  bed,  except' during  the  allotted  time. 
The  fisheries  are  all  owned  by  the  government,  and  are 
generally  hired  by  merchants,  they  stipulating  to  give 
all  the  mother-of-pearl,  and  a  certain  share  of  all  pearls 
obtained.   The  government  thus  makes  a  very  profitable 


speculation,  for  all  the  pearls  that  are  found  do  not 
equal  in  value  one-half  of  the  mother-of-pearl. 

Large  numbers  of  native  divers  are  employed  to  "go 
down after  the  oysters.  The  most  common  depth  to 
which  they  descend  is  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet ;  some- 
times they  dive  as  deep  as  sixty  feet,  but  at  such  depth 
the  pressure  of  the  water  above  is  so  great,  that  they 
generally  come  up  bleeding  at  the  nose  and  ears.  The 
length  of  time  that  they  remain  under  water  is  about 
forty  seconds.  They  often  use  a  weight  to  aid  them  in 
their  descent.  When  once  on  the  bottom,  the  weight  is 
placed  on  the  diver's  back,  and  he  falls  to  work  filling  a 
bag,  which  is  suspended  from  his  neck.  He  also  carries 
a  long  sharp  knife,  with  which  to  defend  himself  from 
sharks.  Great  pains  are  taken  to  kill  and  frighten  them 
from  the  coast,  but,  notwithstanding  all  precautions, 
many  natives  are  annually  devoured  by  them. 

The  business  is  mainly  one  of  luck  and  chance,  for 
comparatively  few  of  the  oysters  contain  a  pearl.  In- 
deed, cases  have  been  reported  where  a  gang  of  divers 
have  been  employed  a  whole  season  without  finding  a 
single  pearl  of  marketable  value.  Thus,  it  will  be  seen 
that  the  government  has  altogether  the  best  end  of  the 
bargain 

There  are  many  worthless  imitations  of  pearls,  and 
some  of  them  are  such  exact  representations,  as  to  de- 
ceive any  but  the  most  experienced  jeweler.  They  are 
made  by  blowing  a  hollow  globe  of  glass  of  the  right 
size,  as  thin  as  possible,  then  covering  the  inside  with  a 
varnish  made  of  fish  scales,  filling  with  glass  and  sealing. 
The  glass  covering  gives  it  the  hardness  and  smooth- 
ness ;  the  varnish  gives  it  the  lustre,  and  the  wax  the 
required  weight  of  a  genuine  pearl.  The  cheat  can 
easily  be  discovered  by  the  aid  of  any  strong  acid,  but 
this  test  is  seldom  used  as  itf  always  injures  the  pearl  if 
it  be  genuine.  In  case  it  is  employed,  a  little  ammonia, 
or  a  strong  solution  of  soda  and  water,  should  be  at 
hand,  to  destroy  the  effects  of  the  acid  as  soon  as  any 
chemical  action  takes  place. 

The  Chinese  have  a  way  of  manufacturing  pearls  so 
perfect,  that  not  even  the  most  experienced  jeweler  or 
chemist  can  detect  the  difference  without  breaking  it. 
They  place  a  small  round  pebble  inside  the  shell  of  a 
living  oyster,  and,  as  the  oyster  is  unable  to  remove  it, 
he  covers  it  with  the  substance  of  which  pearls  are  com- 
posed, which  is  nothing  but  carbonate  of  lime,  and  in  a 
short  time  it  becomes  almost  a  genuine  pearl.  It  is  not 
from  a  lack  of  ingenuity  that  the  Americans  have  not 
adopted  this  plan,  but  because  our  oysters  do  not  pro- 
duce pearls.   

A  Curious  Royal  Wager. 

The  following  anecdote  illustrates  the  truth  of  the 
proverb  anent  the  slips  between  the  cup  and  the  lips : — 
A  few  years  before  his  death,  the  Emperor  Nicholas  "of 
Russia  sent  a  looking-glass  of  rare  size  and  beauty,  with 
an  embassy,  to  the  Empress  of  China.  The  looking- 
glass  had  to  be  carried  all  the  way  from  St.  Petersburg 
to  Pekin  by  human  hands.  Despite  the  immense  dis- 
tance which  had  to  be  performed  in  this  manner,  the 
looking-glass  safely  reached  China ;  but,  in  the  mean- 
time, difficulties  had  broken  out  between  Russia  and 
China.  The  Son  of  Heaven  neither  admitted  the  em- 
bassy, nor  did  he  accept  the  present.  A  courier  was 
despatched  to  St.  Petersburg,  who  asked  the  Emperor 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  looking-glass.  The  Em- 
peror replied  that  it  should  be  carried  back  by  the  sai* 
route,  and  in  the  same  manner.  When  he  gave  this 
order  the  Grand  Duke  Michael  happened  to  be  present, 
aiid  offered  to  lay  a  wager  with  the  Emperor  to  the  effect 
that  the  looking-glass  would  be  broken  on  the  way  back 
to  St.  Petersburg.  The  Emperor  accepted  the  wager, 
and  the  bearer  of  the  looking-glass  received  stringent 
orders  to  be  as  careful  as  possible.  If  they  should 
break  It  on  the  road,  they  would  be  severely  punished  : 
but  if  they  should  bring  it  back  safely,  they  would  re- 
ceive a  handsome  reward.  They  carried  it  back  with  the 
most  incredible  care,  forty  men  bearing  it  by  turns,  and 
safely  reached  St.  Isaac's  Palace  in  St.  Petersburg  with 
it— where  the  Emperor  stood,  with  his  brothers,  at  the 
window  of  the  palace,  and  laughed  at  having  won  the 
bet.  But  on  the  staircase  of  the  palace  one  of  the  car- 
riers slipped  his  foot  and  fell  down,  dragging  several  of 
his  companions  after  him,  and  the  precious  looking-glass 
was  broken  into  a  thousand  pieces.  The  Grand  l)uke, 
therefore,  won  his  bet. 


254 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Coal  and  its  Products.  | 

That  coal  should  be  entitlefl  to  a  description  as  a 
chemical  product,  may  seem  a  little  doubtful  to  some 
persons.  Nevertheless,  science  has  demonstrated  the 
fact  that  it  is  a  product  of  vegetable  origin,  and,  like 
vegetable  matter  in  general,  it  is  chiefly  composed  of 
hydrogen  and  carbon,  with  a  small  percentage  of  nitro- 
gen, oxygen,  and  inorganic  matter.  The  theory  gener- 
ally adduced  as  to  its  origin  is,  that  vegetable  plants 
were  first,  by  a  process  of  slow  decay,  converted  into 
peat  or  turf ;  that  subsequently  the  land  subsided,  and 
was  covered  with  layers  of  earth,  etc. 

The  pressure  of  the  strata  of  earth,  and  the  influence 
of  terrestial  heat,  added  to  the  absence  of  air,  gradually 
changed  the  turf  into  the  form  we  now  recognise  as  and 
use  to  such  a  large  extent — coal. 

Next  to  its  use  as  a  heating  power,  the  principal  em- 
ployment of  coal  is  in  the  manufacture  of  gas,  which  is 
carried  on  to  an  enormous  extent  in  almost  every  city  in 
the  United  States.  From  the  latter  operation,  is  derived 
many  useful  substances,  which  are  not  only  used  in  the 
laboratory,  but  also  find  employment  in  other  places  and 
manufactures. 

Gas  is  obtained  from  coal  by  distilling  the  latter  in  re- 
torts, in  a  manner  which  will  be  fully  described  in  an- 
other article.  The  principal  products  of  this  destructive 
distillation  are  olefiant  gas,  ammonia,  carbonic  acid, 
tarry  matter,  bisulphide  of  carbon,  carburretted  hydro- 
gen, etc. 

Oi  these,  ammonia,  bisulphide  of  carbon,  and  carbonic 
acid,  have  already  been  described  in  these  columns.  Of 
the  others,  tarry  matter  is  the  most  important.  As  ob- 
tained from  the  distillation  of  either  coal  or  wood,  it  is 
of  a  very  complex  nature,  containing  among  other  sub- 
stances, coal-tar,  naphtha,  benzol^  used  in  making  aniline 
colors  ;  also,  in  small  proportion,  aniline,  pitch,  now  so 
extensively  used  as  a  roofing  material,  carbolic  acid,  etc. 
Indeed,  the  list  of  chemical  matters  derived  from  the 
process,  of  distilling  tarry  matter,  might  be  almost  in- 
definitely extended. 

The  first  substance  given  off  from  the  distillation  of 
tarry  matter  is  coal-tar  naphtha.  From  it  the  diluted 
products  of  other  matters  are  separated,  the  naphtha 
remaining  at  ordinary  temperatures,  as  a  solid  insoluble 
in  water.  It  is,  however,  soluble  in  spirits  of  wine,  and 
this  property  is  availed  of  in  crystallizing  it.  From  the 
crystallizing  process  there  result  white  crystals  which 
are  very  greasy  to  the  touch. 

Naphtha  is  a  little  difficult  to  inflame,  but  when  lighted, 
burns  with  a  smoky  flame,  and  is  chiefly  used  in  naphtha 
spirit  lamps. 


Ifor  many  years  struggled  with  the  most  distressing  pov- 
erty. 

Sir  Richard  Arkwright,  the  inventor  of  the  machinery 
for  cotton  spinning,  was  a  county  barber,  or  dealer  in 
hair. 

Miss  Benges,  the  authoress  of  the  "Life  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scotts,' '  and  other  productions  of  merit,  was 
so  poor  in  early  life,  that,  for  the  sake  of  reading,  she 
Tssed  to  peruse  the  pages  of  books  in  the  booksellers' 
windows,  and  returned  day  after  day,  to  see  if  another 
page  had  been  turned  over. 

Sir  Edmund  Saunders,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Kings 
Bench,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  was  an  errand  boy. 
Linneaus  was  apprenticed  to  a  shoemaker. 

The  famous  Ben.  Johnson,  worked  some  years  as  a 
bricklayer.  Kepler  spent  his  life  in  poverty.  Pope  Ad- 
rian VI,  could  not,  in  early  life,  afford  candles  ;  he  often 
read  by  the  light  of  the  street  lamps.  Claud. ,  of  Lorraine, 
was  the  apprentice  of  a  pastry  cook.  Buchanan,  the 
Scottish  historian,  was  bom  of  poor  parents,  and  under- 
went many  difficulties.  William  Hutton,  the  hisLorian, 
was  the  son  of  a  wool  comber.  Bunyan,  the  author  of 
the  Pilgrims'  Progress,  was  the  son  of  a  tinker,  and  him- 
self followed  the  profession. 

It  is  well  known  that  Bums  was  a  peasant,  and  fol- 
lowed the  plough. 

Captain  Cook,  the  ancient  navigator,  was  at  first  a 
cabin  boy.  Daniel  Defoe,  the  author  of  "Robinson 
Crusoe,"  was  the  son  of  a  butcher,  and  had  to  struggle 
with  many  misfortunes.  James  Ferguson,  the  Astron- 
omer and  Philosopher,  was  the  son  of  a  poor  barber,  and 
was  a  shepherd.  George  Fox,  the  founder  of  the  Soci- 
ety of  Friends,  or  Quakers,  was  the  son  of  a  weaver. 
Gifford,  the  distinguished  editor  of  the  Quarterly 
Review,  was  at  one  time  so  poor  that  he  could  not  buy 
paper,  and  would  work  algebraical  questions  with  a 
blunted  awl  on  fragments  of  leather. 


Men  of  G-eniTis. 


BY  J.  J.  WORTENDTKE. 


Upon  examining  an  old  Biographical  Dictionary  recent- 
ly, containing  five  thousand  distinguished  characters,  of 
all  ages  and  nations,  I  found  the  greatest  proportion 
were  Frenchmen,  next  English,  Scotch,  and  Germans, 
and  next  Italians,  Dutch,  and  others.  The  reason  for 
there  being  a  greater  number  of  Frenchmen  is,  that  in 
France  genius  is  more  patronized,  no  matter  in  what  cir- 
cumstance!* it  is  found  ;  while  in  England  few  persons  of 
talent,  if  they  are  not  rich,  or  well-dressed,  have  any 
chance  of  being  known. 

One-half  of  these  five  thousand  were  descended  from 
poor  parents,  and  raised  themselves  from  the  depths  of 
poverty  by  their  own  exertions. 

Some  trades  seem  to  have  produced  more  men  of 
genius  than  others. 

Many  shoemakers  have  risen  to  distinction  in  literary 
pursuits.  A  number  have  commenced  life  as  tailors, 
many  as  weavers,  and  others  as  gardeners  and  stone 
masons. 

The  following  are  among  those  who  have  struggled 
with  poverty,  but  have  succeeded  in  benefitting  the 
'i7orld : 

^sop,  Terence,  and  Epicetus,  men  distinguished  in 
aneient  times,  were  slaves  at  their  first  outset  in  life. 
Pythagoras,  a  Greek  philosopher,  was  a  common  porter 
at  first.  Cleanthus,  another  philosopher,  supported  him- 
self by  carrying  burdens  and  drawing  water. 

Prof.  Heyne,  of  Gottingen,  one  of  the  first  classical 
scholars  of  his  age,  was  the  son  of  a  poor  weaver,  and 


The  Prairie  Chicken. 

BY  M.  ERVIN. 

Upon  the  beautiful  prairies  of  the  West  is  found  a 
species  of  grouse  which  is  popularly  called  the  prairie 
chicken.  They  have  a  beautiful  mottled  plumage  of 
white  and  gray  ;  the  feathers  of  many  of  them  are  finely 
marked.  The  birds  are  nearly  the  size  of  ordinary  do- 
mestic chickens,  and  where  settlements  are  not  so  popu- 
lous, are  very  numerous. 

In  the  early  spring  they  gather  together — indeed  during 
all  the  winter  they  congregate  in  large  flocks — upon  the 
highest,  dryest  ridges  of  land  in  the  open  prairies,  and 
hold  mass  meetings.  They  are  very  noisy.  The  males 
spread  their  fan-like  tails,  lower  their  wings,  erect  and 
draw  back  their  heads,  and  puff  out  their  large  and 
handsome  wattles,  and  stmt  backward  and  forward  in 
such  self-satisfied  complacency  as  would  put  a  turkey- 
gobbler  to  shame,  meanwhile  uttering  a  series  of  sounds 
like  the  beating  of  a  heavy  bass  drum.  He  usually 
utters  about  three  distinct  sounds  consecutively,  com- 
mencing with  a  deep,  rumbling,  but  clearly  marked  tone, 
and  increasing  in  volume  and  force  with  each  successive 
one  until  the  last,  which  is  prolonged  and  very  strongly 
accented.  They  may  be  heard  at  great  distances,  and 
make  the  air  vocal  with  their  impressive  boom,  doom, 
BOOM  !  in  the  early  spring  mornings,  and  the  late  after- 
noons and  evenings. 

Meanwhile  the  hen  chickens,  like  dutiful  wives  of  the 
harem  as  they  are — for  Sir  Pompous  is  oriental  in  his 
social  habits— bustle  modestly  about,  uttering  a  shrill, 
quick  ca-ca-ca,  in  an  affirmative  tone,  as  if  they  fully  be- 
lieved and  indorsed  all  the  good  things  the  head  of  the 
harem  had  been  saying  about  himself  and  more  too. 

A  little  later  in  the  season  they  separate  until  after  the 
nesting  season,  and  the  young  broods  are  able  to  fly  and 
care  for  themselves,  when  they  again  collect  in  large 
flocks,  or  coveys.  They  are  a  valuable  bird,  as  they  de- 
stroy immense  numbers  of  insects  and  prevent  their 
ravages. 

They  are  much  prized  by  many  as  an  article  of  food, 
and  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  pass  laws  prohibiting 
their  destraction  during  the  nesting  season,  and  until  the 
young  are  fully  grown. 


The  birth-place  of  cholera,  according  to  a  writer  iu 
the  London  Times,  was  Hindoostan. 


THE  GROWING  PVORLD, 


255 


THE  SKIN. 

BY  SIR  ALFRED  POWER. 

There's  a  skin  without  and  a  skin  within, 

A  covering  skin  and  a  lining  skin  ; 

But  the  skin  within  is  the  ^kin  without, 

Doubled  inwards,  and  carried  completely  throughout,. 

The  palate,  the  nostrils,  the  windpipe,  and  throat 
Are  all  of  them  liued  with  this  inner  coat. 
Which  through  every  part  is  made  to  extend— 
Lungs,  liver,  and  bowels,  from  end  to  end. 

The  outside  skin  is  a  marvelous  plan 
Por  exuding  the  dregs  of  the  flesh  of  man  ; 
While  the  inner  extracts  from  the  food  and  the  air 
What  is  needed  the  waste  in  his  flesh  to  repair. 

While  it  goes  well  with  the  outside  skin, 
You  may  feel  pretty  sure  all's  right  within  : 
For  if  anything  puts  the  inner  skin  out 
Of  order,  it  troubles  the  skin  without. 

The  doctor,  you  know,  examines  your  tongue 
To  see  if  your  stomach  or  bowels  are  wrong  ; 
If  he  feels  that  your  hand  is  hot  and  dry, 
He  is  able  to  tell  you  the  reason  why. 

Too  much  brandy,  whiskey,  or  gin 
Is  apt  to  disorder  the  skin  within  ; 
While,  if  dirty  or  dry,  the  skin  without 
Kefuses  to  let  the  sweat  come  out. 

Good  people  all !  have  a  care  of  your  skin, 
Both  that  without  and  that  within ; 
To  the  first  you'll  give  plenty  of  water  and  soap, 
To  the  last  little  else  beside  water,  we'll  hope. 

But  always  be  very  particular  where 
You  get  your  water,  your  food,  and  your  air  ; 
For  if  these  be  tainted,  or  rendered  impure, 
It  will  have  its  effect  on  your  blood — be  sure  ! 

The  food  which  will  ever  for  you  be  the  best 
Is  that  you  like  most,  and  can  soonest  digest ; 
All  unripe  fruit  and  decaying  flesh 
Beware  of,  and  fish  that  is  not  very  fresh. 

Your  water,  transparent  and  pure  as  you  think  it, 
Had  better  be  filter'd  and  boiled  ere  you  drink  it, 
Unless  you  know  surely  that  nothing  unsound 
Can  have  got  to  it  over  or  under  the  ground. 

But  of  all  things  the  most  I  would  have  you  beware 
Of  breathing  the  poison  of  once  breathed  air  ; 
When  in  bed,  whether  out  or  at  home  you  may  be. 
Always  open  your  windows,  and  let  it  go  free. 

With  clothing  and  exercise  keep  yourself  warm. 
And  change  your  clothes  quickly  if  drench'd  in  a  stormy 
For  a  cold  caught  by  chilling  the  outside  skin 
Flies  at  once  to  the  delicate  lining  within. 

AH  you  who  thus  kmclly  take  care  of  your  skin, 
And  attend  to  its  \,'ants  without  and  within, 
Need  never  of  cholera  reel  any  fears, 
■  And  your  skin  may  las  you  a  hundred  years . 


Curiosities  of  Lunacy. 

There  are  cases  w^here  blows  on  the  head  have  bene- 
fitted the  brain,  and  produced  extraordinary  changes 
for  the  better.  Mabilon  was  almost  an  idiot  till,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-six,  he  fell  down  a  stone  staircase,  frac- 
tured his  skull,  and  was  trepanned.  From  that  moment 
he  became  a  genius.  Doctor  Prichard  mentions  a  case 
of  three  brothers  who  were  all  nearly  idiots.  One  of 
them  was  injured  on  the  head,  and  from  that  time  he 
brightened  up,  and  is  now  a  successful  barrister.  Wal- 
lenstein,  too,  they  say,  was  a  mere  fool  till  he  fell  out 
of  a  window,  and  awoke  with  enlarged  capabilities.  A 
patient  in  an  asylum  was  the  the  victim  of  many  delu- 
sions. He  was  paying  off  the  national  debt,  going  into 
partnership  with  Baron  Rothschild,  and  forming  a  lodge 
of  female  Freemasons.  One  day  an  epUeptic  patient, 
irritated  at  being  perpetually  asked  to  buy  imaginary 
shares,  gave  him  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  bridge  of 
the  nose.  From  that  time  he  improved  rapidly,  and  he 
acknowledged  that  the  blow  had  a  sobering  effect,  and 
had  quite  knocked  the  nonsense  out  of  him.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  this  was  the  secret  of  that  cruel  old  I 


remedy  for  madness,  the  circulating  swing,  mentioned 
favorably  by  physicians  of  the  last  century.  This  horri- 
ble swing  was  a  small  box  fixed  upon  a  pivot,  and 
worked  by  a  windlass.  The  inflexible"  maniac,  or 
the  maniac  expecting  a  paroxysm,  was  firmly  strapped 
in  a  sitting  or  recumbent  posture.  The  box  was  then 
whirled  round  at  the  average  velocity  of  a  hundred 
revolutions  a  minute,  and  its  beneficial  effect  was  sup- 
posed to  be  heightened  by  reversing  the  motion  every 
six  or  eight  minutes,  and  by  stopping  it  occasionally 
with  a  sudden  jerk.  The  results  of  this  swing  (which 
occasionally  brought  on  concussion  of  the  brain)  were 
profound  and  protracted  sleep,  intense  perspiration, 
mental  exhaustion,  and  a  not  unnatural  horror  of  any 
recurrence  to  the  same  remedy,  which  left  a  moral  im- 
pression that  acted  as  a  permanent  re^raint.  That  the 
results  were  often  beneficial  we  have  indisputable 
evidence. 


Dull  Great  Men. 

Descartes,  the  famous  mathematician  and  philoso- 
pher— La  Fontaine,  celebrated  for  his  witty  fables — and 
Buffon  the  naturalist,  were  all  singularly  deficient  in 
the  powers  of  conversation.  Marmontel,  the  novelist, 
was  so  dull  in  society  that  his  friend  said  of  him,  after 
an  interview,  "  I  must  go  and  read  his  tales,  in  recom- 
pense to  myself  for  the  weariness  of  hearing  him.  As  to 
Corneille,  the  great  dramatist  of  France,  he  was  com- 
pletely lost  in  society — so  absent  and  embarrassed  that 
he  wrote  of  himself  a  witty  couplet,  importing  that  he 
was  never  intelligible  but  through  the  mouth  of  another. 
Wit  on  paper  seems  to  be  something  widly  different  from 
that  play  of  words  in  conversation  which,  while  it  spark- 
les, dies  ;  for  Charles  II.,  the  wittiest  of  monarchs,  was 
so  charmed  with  the  humor  of  "Hudibras,"  that  he 
caused  himself  to  be  introduced  in  the  character  of  a 
private  gentleman  to  Butler,  its  author.  The  witty  king 
found  the  author  a  very  dull  companion,  and  was  of  the 
opinion,  with  many  others,  that  so  stupid  a  fellow  could 
never  have  written  so  clever  a  book.  Addison,  whose 
classic  elegance  has  long  been  considered  the  model  of 
style,  was  shy  and  absent  in  society,  preserving,  even  be- 
fore a  single  stranger,  formal  and  dignified  silence.  In 
conversation  Dante  was  taciturn  and  satirical.  Gray  and 
Alfieri  seldom  talked  or  smiled.  Rousseau  was  reniark- 
bly  tame  in  conversation,  Avithout  a  word  of  fancy  or 
eloquence  in  his  speech.  Milton  was  unsocial  and  sar- 
castic when  much  pressed  by  strangers. 

A  Book  of  White  Paper. 

If  a  person  would  take  the  pains  to  note  down  in  a  single 
day  all  the  good  suggestions,  every  stray  hint,  every  practical 
idea  that  comes  up  before  the  mind,  it  would  make  out  quite 
a  surprising  list.  If  he  had  the  facility  of  turning  it  into  a 
permanent  shape  it  might  prove  greatly  to  his  advantage,  and 
a  source  of  much  profit  to  others  also.  Suppose  some  wide 
awake  young  person  tries  the  experiment  for  a  week.  Provide 
a  fair,  convenient  blank  book,  not  too  fine,  and  write  out 
the  ideas  in  a  plain,  clear  hand  as  they  occur  to  him. 

A  learned  scholar  when  asked  by  a  young  man  what  books 
he  should  procure  the  better  to  advance  himself  in  his  profes- 
sion, replied:  "A  book  of  white  paper!"  And  it  is  a  most 
useful  one  to  any  person. 

Dr.  Eush,  when  asked  how  he  could,  with  his  large  practice^ 
find  time  to  write  so  much  that  was  valuable  on  the  subject  of 
medicine,  took  a  blank  book  from  his  pocket  and  replied  that 
he  usually  filled  one  such  book  a  week  with  facts  gathered  at 
the  bedsides  of  his  patients. 

A  gentleman  who  stands  at  the  fore-front  among  American 
writers  in  the  department  of  Belles-Lettrcs,  and  is  also  a  pro- 
fessor in  one  of  our  oldest  colleges,  was  noted  when  a  boy  in 
college  for  this  habit  of  noting  down  valuable  ideas  as  they 
were  gathered  up  in  the  course  of  his  reading  and  observation. 
He  had  quires  of  foolscap  thus  written  over  and  laid  aside  for 
future  use.  That  was  years  ago,  but  very  likely  he  is  drawing 
from  those  stores  yet,  though  he  has  never  ceased  to  and  to 
them. 

It  is  surprising  how  everything  can  be  laid  under  tribute 
when  once  this  habit  is  formed  of  gathering  information.  The 
most  unlikely  sources  can  give  us  somelimce  the  very  choicest 
i  gains.   Once  fix  the  habit,  and  you  will  find  it  very  easy  and 
I  very  delightful. 


256 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Gossiping. 

BY  ROSA  V.  RALSTON. 

The  motives  for  gossiping  are  as  various  as  the  natures 
uf  those  in  whom  this  motive  exists.  First,  there  is  a 
party  who  feel  constrained,  from  their  malice  toward  a 
second  party,  to  fish  up  every  bit  of  information  detri- 
mental to  that  party,  and,  mixing  with  the  delicious 
pabulum  a  titbit  of  scandal,  convey  it  to  a  third  party, 
by  way  of  a  warning  against  the  development  of  any 
further  degree  of  intimacy  between  the  two.  Then  this 
second  party,  loth  to  keep  pent  up  in  their  bosoms  any 
thing  the  world  should  and  ought  to  know,  roll  that  im- 
portant communication  off  their  tongues  as  volubly  as  a 
fresh  oyster  glides  down  the  throat  of  a  hungry  man. 
And  when  once  the  mills  of  the  god  of  Ill-fame  are  set 
in  motion,  there  is  no  stopping  of  them  until  the  poor, 
unfortunate  victim  is  ground  to  powder. 

Then  there  is  another  kind  of  talking,  promoted  by  the 
desire  for  popularity — notoriety,  I  should  say.  Although 
it  may  not  be  productive  of  as  much  harm  as  that  above 
mentioned,  it  is  equally  as  heinous  and  contemptible.  It 
is  both  "double-faced"  and  "double-mouthed,"  but 
proclaims  the  deeds  of  all  with  the  same  pernicious 
tongue.  This  species  of  tattler  never  discovers  but  one 
face— the  white  one  "with  smiles  of  love  adorned"— to 
the  party  present,  so  that  a  person  of  little  experience 
in  the  world  can  rarely  detect  the  duplicity  contained 
therein. 

Everybody  are  more  or  less  interested  in  the  doings  of 
their  neighbors ;  and  he  or  she  who  will  keep  them 
posted  is  always  a  welcome  visitor  at  their  houses.  This 
mformant,  happy  in  the  thought  that  she  is  doing  a  deal 
of  good,  keeps  the  shuttle  of  every  day  talk  flying  from 
fireside  to  fireside,  mixing  with  the  woof  and  warp  of  her 
narrative  a  little  exaggeration,  and  constructing  the 
quality  to  suit  each  party.  Every  one  desires  to  be  heard, 
and  if  he  can't  be  heard  in  one  way,  he  will  in  another. 
And  as  few  people  have  the  moral  courage  or  inclination 
to  close  their  ears  to  a  tattler,  this  plan  is  frequently 
adopted  to  obtain  an  audience. 

There  is,  also,  a  species  of  gossiping  peculiar  to  the 
Emilia-like  natures,  which  is  productive  of  much  harm. 
Weak-minded,  unsuspecting,  and  naturally  communi- 
cative, they  do  not  hesitate  to  talk  in  a  loose  manner  of 
their  dearest  friends,  and  are  much  alarmed  in  the  end 
to  see  what  mischief  their  words,  spoken  with  no  ill- 
tntention,  have  created. 

Virgil  gives  a  beautiful  description  of  Fame,  which 
Illustrates  the  progress  of  ill-report  or  scandal  from  its 
incipiency.  But  I  suppose  tattlers  have  existed  ever 
since  the  world  was  created,  else  Solomon  would  not 
have  written,  "Where  there  is  no  tale-bearer,  strife 
ceaseth."  The  best  way  is  for  sensible  people  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  them.  Still,  by  that  means,  you  will 
not  escape  them.  If  you  put  on  a  sober  countenance, 
and  keep  your  tongue  mostly  within  your  mouth,  you 
are  libeled  an  "odd  sort  of  person,"  and  Rumor  has  her 
emissaries  at  work  to  detect  the  cause  of  this  singularity. 
Then  the  current  opinion,  at  first  whispered  around,  is 
taken  up  by  a  bevy  of  tale-bearers,  more  loathsome  than 
the  Harpies  celebrated  by  the  Mantuan  bard,  and  magni- 
fied and  altered  to  suit  the  public,  till  it  is  at  last  decided 
that  you  have  either  been  crossed  in  love,  or  are  labor- 
ing under  the  pressure  of  some  heavy  financial  losses, 
and,  hence,  are  in  a  fit  state  of  mind  for  the  insane 
asylum. 

So  the  world  will  be  the  world  as  long  as  it  lasts.  But 
who  would  have  it  changed  to  anything  else  ?  Oh,  no 
one,  of  course. 

The  Art  of  Talking. 

Madame  de  Stael,  we  believe  it  was,  who  said  that  in  France 
alone  was  the  art  of  conversation  understood.  French  women 
specially  are  brilliant  talkers.  The  English  are  good  listeners, 
often,  but  heavy  talkers.  The  Germans  approach  the  French 
in  the  versatility  of  their  conversation,  but  not  in  the  magnet- 
Ism,  their  faces  giving  all  too  little  help  to  their  tongues. 
Americans  are  free  and  lively  talkers  without  having  much  of 
the  real  art  of  conversation.  They  are  voluble  rather  than 
thoughtful,  persistent  rather  than  sympathetic,  bent  on  having 
a  hearing,  rather  than,  as  Bacon  would  say,  "leading  the  dance" 
of  conversation.  The  art  of  which  we  are  writing  is  some- 
thing far  other  than  talking;  it  implies  a  mutual  bond  of 
interest  between  people,  and  a  mutual  willingness  to  receive 


as  well  as  impart.  So  the  man  who  Insists  on  talking  at  you  Xtr. 
voted  a  bore.  The  American  definition  of  a  bore  betrays  the 
jreat  American  weakness  in  this  regard  :— "  A  bore  is  one  who 
insists  on  talking  to  you  about  hiaaself,  when  you  want  to  be 
talking  to  him  about  yourself."  The  very  word  conversation 
defines  its  meaning ;  it  is  an  interchange.  Dr.  Johnson,  who 
was  an  immense  talker,  knew  little  of  the  art  of  conversing. 
Yet  he  is  the  man  who  remarked  of  an  evening  gathering  that 
there  was  much  talk  but  no  conversation,  by  which  he  pro- 
bably meant  that  he  was  defrauded  of  the  privilege  of  doing  the 
talking  by  the  persistent  and  general  interchanges.  Coleridge, 
likewise,  was  a  brilliant  and  unparalleled  talker  in  the  higher 
meaning  of  the  word,  but  good  for  nothing  in  a  conversation, 
which  implies  the  double  duty  of  communicating  and  listen- 
ing. Indeed,  conversation  might  be  defined  as  the  art  of  intel- 
lectual magnetism,  with  a  positive  pole  of  address,  and  a 
negative  pole  of  sympathetic  attention.  Only  they  possess 
the  art  who  can  keep  a  balance  between  them,  and  be  equally 
good  at  talking  and  listening.  Our  parlors  are  full  of  wall- 
flowers blooming  in  painful  quiet,  but  with  nothing  to  con- 
tribute to  the  fund  of  conversation.  And  we  have  many  vapid 
and  ceaseless  social  lecturers  who  imagine  their  success  in  the 
art  of  conversation  is  in  proportion,  as  by  keeping  their  own 
tongues  a-going  they  stop  all  the  others  ;  but  peeple  who  can 
"give  the  occasion"  to  others  and  then  draw  out  with  their 
ears  what  they  have  started  with  their  words— people  too  un- 
selfish to  be  wholly  silent,  and  too  modest  to  monopolize— for 
the  lack  of  these  our  circles  are  either  stupidly  silent,  or  mono- 
tonously bored  by  the  irrepressible  sound  of  one  voice. 

Conversation  suggests  discourse  about  things  rather  than 
people.  Here  is  another  bane  of  social  interchanges.  They 
are  too  often  on  the  lower  level  of  that  talk  which  finds  its 
subject  matter  in  persons.  That  is  gossip.  People  who  do 
not  read  or  think  must  largely  make  people  and  neighborhood 
events  the  staple  of  their  talk ;  but  the  bad  habit  obtains  even 
among  those  who  by  culture  have  been  fitted  to  make  better 
use  of  their  tongues.  Gossip  does  not  always  indicate  ignon 
ance.  It  is  to  be  feared  it  has  become  a  fashion  into  whict 
intelligent  people  are  drawn.  But  this  kind  of  talk  is  neither 
edifying  nor  wise.  If  there  were  no  worse  results,  it  narrows 
the  mind  to  shut  up  its  view  to  neighborhood  details.  There 
is  no  excuse  for  it  now.  The  world's  gates  all  stand  open. 
The  papers  bring  all  lands,  all  governments,  all  rising  Ideas 
to  oar  very  doors.  Books  lead  us  into  the  liberty  of  the 
world,  and  the  best  of  its  doing  and  thinking.  How  much 
grander  in  your  Q\QxAng  vis-a-vis  to  discuss  popular  education 
in  Europe,  than  the  toilet  of  your  latest  caller,  or  bonmot 
of  your  waggish  friend.  And  to  do  this  will  require  no  learn- 
ing. Only  a  little  recollection  of  what  you  read  when  lingering 
over  your  coffee. 

There  is  one  vice  of  our  conversation  against  which  we 
should  be  on  our  guard  even  more  than  against  our  empty  and 
harmless  gossip.  It  is  a  growing  fondness  for  smartness. 
Tartness,  repartee  and  satire  are  very  good  for  an  occasional 
seasoning ;  but  like  horse-radish  and  mustard  they  make  a  very 
poor  dinner.  They  leave  a  bad  taste  in  the  mout-i.  As  Bacon 
says:— "Certainly,  he  that  hath  a  satirical  vein,  as  he  maketh 
others  afraid  of  his  wit,  so  he  had  need  be  afraid  of  others' 
memory,"  And  for  this  excess  of  biting  condiments  the  per- 
sonal character  of  our  talk  gives  the  occasion. 

Unfinished  Works. 

Nothing  teaches  more  impressively  man's  frailty  than  hiB 
unfinished  undertakings.  Lying  in  the  quarry  near  the  Syrian 
city  of  Baalbec  is  the  largest  worked  stone  in  the  world,  a 
gigantic  block  nearly  seventy  feet  in  length,  almost  detached 
and  ready  for  transportation  to  its  niche  in  the  titanic  platform 
of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  It  seems  as  though  the  workmen 
had  just  momentarily  left  their  labor,  and  we  fancy  that  we 
must  soon  see  them  returning.  But  forty  centuries  or  more 
ago  some  providential  emergency  called  them  from  their  work; 
and  there  lies  the  huge  block,  and  yonder  is  the  cyclopean 
wall  with  its  vacant  niche,  one  of  the  most  striking  and  im- 
pressive of  the  unfinished  labors  of  the  world.  And  so  the 
colossal  Kutub  Minar,  though  a  finished  column  in  itself,  is 
but  a  fragmentary  memorial  of  a  gigantic  unfinished  plan; 
and  as  such  it  will  doubtless  stand  to  teach  many  generations 
yet  to  come  that,  though  man  may  propose,  heavei?  will  dis 
nose. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


257 


'Wonderful  Waters. 

DUOKS  LOADED  DOWN  WITH  CRYSTALS — A  NEW  PUZZLE 
FOR  SCIENTISTS. 

We  have  more  than  once  heard  of  the  wonderful 
«v^aters  of  Deep  Spring  Valley  Lake.  Lieutenant  Wither- 
spoon,  Company  D,  Twelfth  United  States  Infantry,  in 
command  of  the  relief  party  for  Capt.  Joe's  Indians, 
passed  several  weeks,  in  1877,  in  the  valley,  and  bears 
vdtness  to  the  truth  of  the  remarkable  phenomena.  The 
iucks,  which  visit  the  lake  in  great  numbers,  become, 
at  certain  times,  so  loaded  down  with  crystallizations  of 
borax,  salt,  or  some  similar  substance,  that  they  are 
utterly  unable  to  fly,  and  while  in  this  condition  become 
an  easy  prey  to  the  Indians,  who  wade  into  the  water  and 
pick  them  up  in  their  hands.  In  fact,  this  substance 
often  collects  upon  the  birds'  bills  in  such  weight  as  to 
actually  drag  their  heads  under  water  and  drown  them. 
As  asserted  by  Mr.  Beasely  and  family,  who  have  lived 
near  the  lake  for  years,  a  duck  is  often  loaded  with 
several  pounds'  weight  of  this  substance — not  less  than 
ten  pounds  in  some  instances.  During  the  first  stages 
ch3  crystals  are  quite  evenly  disposed  over  all  the  birds' 
feathers  above  water,  sticking  them  together  as  firmly 
as  if  glued.  Then  the  crystals  accumulate  in  bunches  or 
strings,  forming  drags  or  rafts,  with  which  the  bird  can 
swim  but  slowly,  if  at  al] ;  and  if  on  the  bill  or  head, 
soon  causes  death  by  drowning. 

The  crystallization  always  takes  place  in  the  night- 
time, and  entirely  disappears  after  a  few  hours 'exposure 
to  the  morning  sun,  or  in  the  fresh  water  springs  on  the 
border  of  the  lake.  The  condition  necessary  to  produce 
the  crystals  in  this  manner  is  no  less  remarkable.  It 
occurs  during  the  spring  months  only,  and  only  on  clear 
nights  with  a  north  wind  ;  never  on  cloudy  nights,  or 
^yith  the  wind  from  any  other  quarter  than  the  north. 
The  lake,  which  is  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  in  length, 
and  perhaps  a  mile  in  width,  is  not  over  three  feet  in 
depth  at  the  deepest.  Strong  winds,  no  matter  from 
what  direction,  agitate  its  waters  to  the  bottom,  giving 
them  a  milky  or  yellowish  cast.  If  this  effect  was  pro- 
duced by  the  dessicating  north  winds  exclusively,  it 
might  afford  some  clue  to  the  cause  of  the  excessive 
crystallization  at  such  times,  but  it  is  not  \  other  winds 
stir  the  gases  from  the  bottom  quite  as  much,  or  more, 
than  that. 

During  the  lieutenant's  stay  in  the  valley  the  wind 
one  night  was  from  the  north,  but  the  sky  was  overcast. 
As  foretold  by  Capt.  Joe,  no  ducks  were  caught  the 
next  morning.  On  the  following  night  the  wind  was 
from  the  same  point,  but  there  were  no  clouds.  On  such 
occasions  the  Indians  spent  the  entire  night  in  singing 
and  in  their  peculiar  incantations,  in  full  faith  that  they 
truly  insure  an  abundant  harvest  of  ducks  in  the  early 
morning.  Their  faith  was  fully  realized  on  this  occa- 
sion, for,  before  the  sun's  rays  had  touched  the  acrid 
waters.  Captain  Joe  and  his  band  had  caught  scores  of 
the  hapless  birds. 

There  is  one  part  of  their  incantations  in  which  there 
Is  obvious  virtue :  A  detail,  each  with  a  torch  or  fire- 
brand, is  stationed  in  or  near  the  fresh  water  springs  on 
the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  while  singing,  dancing,  and 
doing  other  necessary  things  to  propitiate  the  Great 
Medicine,  at  the  same  time  keep  the  ducks  away  from 
the  fresh  water,  where  otherwise  they  would  be  safe 
from  these  rafts  or  crystals. 

The  principal  supply  of  the  lake  is  from  two  immense 
and  bottomless  pools  of  artesian  waters  located  quite 
close  to  its  edge.  The  valley  itself  is  entirely  surrounded 
by  high  mountains,  its  soil  and  general  characteristics 
bemg  nothing  unusual  to  the  country.  But  the  Indians 
say  no  other  lake  within  their  knowledge  ever  affects 
ducks  as  does  this,  notwithstanding  there  are  many 
others  whose  waters  are  even  more  impregnated  with 
Bait,  borax,  etc.,  in  solution,  than  this  appears  to  be. 

Why  Western  Europe  is  Warmer  than 
the  United  States. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

It  is  a  fact,  not  generally  known,  but  none  the  less 
true,  that  the  climate  of  Western  Europe  is  much  more 
temperate  than  that  of  corresponding  latitudes  in  this 
country.  If  we  examine  a  map  of  the  world,  we  shall 
find  that  Great  Britain  lies  between  the  fiftieth  and 


Bixtieth  parallels  of  north  latitude,  or  about  the  same 
distance  from  the  equator  as  Labrador.  This  country 
we  know,  is  a  cold,  barren,  unproductive  region,  and, 
judging  by  analogy,  we  might  safely  infer  that  England 
was  the  same.  But  such  is  far  from  being  the  case. 
England  is  a  very  fruitful  country,  and  the  temperature 
is  about  the  same  as  that  of  Boston,  which  is  ten  degrees 
further  south. 

Again  consulting  the  map,  we  find  that  Iceland  is  in 
the  sixty-fifth  parallel  of  north  latitude.  Following  that 
parallel,  we  find  that  it  touches  the  most  northerly  por- 
tion of  North  America.  Hence,  we  might  reasonably 
expect  to  find  a  similarity  in  the  climates.  Iceland 
enjoys  a  climate  as  mild  as  that  of  New  Brunswick, 
which  is  twenty  degrees  nearer  the  equator. 

The  principal  reason  of  this  difference  is  on  account  of 
various  currents  in  the  Atlantic  ocean.  If  we  examine 
a  map  of  marine  currents,  we  shall  find  that  a  largt 
stream  or  river  of  warm  water  fiows  from  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico.  This  is  called  the  Gulf  Stream.  Tracing  this 
stream  from  its  origin,  we  find  that  after  reaching  the 
latitude  of  New  York,  it  takes  almost  a  direct  course  for 
Spain.  Reaching  that  ^>ountry,  it  again  takes  a  northerly 
direction,  sweeping  along  the  whole  western  coast  of 
Europe  until  it  reaches  Iceland,  where  it  divides,  a  small 
branch  going  to  the  west  of  the  island,  while  the  main 
body  of  the  stream  follows  the  same  direction,  until  the 
most  northerly  point  of  Europe  is  gained.  Here  tha 
obliging  Gulf  Stream  turns  abruptly  to  the  east,  and 
follows  the  northern  coast  of  Europe  until  it  loses  itself 
in  the  cold  waters  of  the  Arctic  ocean. 

A  closer  examination  of  the  map  shows  us  that  itie 
6ot  owing  to  the  Gulf  Stream  alone,  that  Europe  pos 
tesses  so  much  finer  a  climate.  We  find  that  there  is  a 
"j^eam  of  equal  size  of  cold  water  coming  from  tb 
Arctic  ocean,  and  bearing  with  it  numbers  of  icebergs, 
?rhich  tend  to  keep  the  temperature  of  the  stream  nearly 
down  to  the  freezing  point.  This  stream  is  called  the 
return  current,  and  it  washes  the  whole  Atlantic  coast 
from  Greenland  to  New  Tork. 

There  are  currents  of  warm  or  cold  water  in  nearly  aU 
parts  of  the  ocean ;  they  perform  an  essential  work  ir 
preventing  it  from  becoming  a  stagnant  pool  on  a  large 
scale.  Wnere  there  are  no  currents,  sea-weed  is  gener- 
ally found  in  large  quantities.  Often  it  is  so  thick  and 
strong,  that  a  vessel  can  with  difficulty  sail  through  it. 
Such  is  the  celebrated  Sargossa  sea  in  the  Atlantic  ocean. 

The  cause  of  these  currents  is  not  very  well  under- 
stood, but  it  is  supposed  in  a  great  degree,  to  result  from 
the  excessive  evaporation  which  is  constantly  going  on 
in  the  Tropics.  A  partial  vacuum  is  formed,  into  which 
the  cold  water  from  the  Poles  rushes  with  so  great  a 
momentum,  as  to  displace  a  large  body  of  warm  water 
which  must  necessarily  flow  back  towards  the  Poles. 
The  direction  of  both  currents  is  also  known  to  be  much 
modified  by  the  shape  of  the  coast  along  which  they  flow. 

There  are  many  facts  which  seem  to  show  that  this  is 
not  the  correct  explanation  of  the  phenomenon  ;  but  it 
is  the  most  reasonable  one  that  has  been  offered,  and 
antil  a  better  is  found,  must  be  accepted. 

The  Leaf  of  Life. 

There's  a  certain  curious  member  of  the  plant  family 
very  common  in  Jamaica,  we  are  told,  called  the  life- 
plant,  or  leaf  of  life,  because  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
kill  the  leaves.  You  may  cut  one  off,  and  hang  it  up  by 
the  thread,  where  any  ordinary  leaf  would  be  discour- 
aged and  dry  up.  It  will  send  out  long  white  thread-like 
roots,  and  set  about  growing  new  leaves.  You  may  cut 
off  half  a  leaf,  and  throw  it  into  a  tight  box  where  it  can 
get  neither  light  nor  moisture  (necessaries  of  life  to 
other  plants),  the  spirited  little  leaf  puts  out  its  delicate 
roots  all  the  same.  Even  pressed,  and  packed  away  in  a 
botanist's  herbarium— the  very  dryest  and  dullest  place 
you  ever  did  see— it  will  keep  up  its  work,  throw  out  its 
roots  and  new  leaves,  and  actually  grow  out  of  its  cov- 
ers. It  is  said  that  botanists  who  want  to  dry  this  per- 
cinacious  vegetable  are  obliged  to  kill  it  with  a  hot  iron 
or  with  boiling  water. 


Canary  birds  to  the  amount  of  10,000  were  exported  to 
iVmerica  from  Hildesheim  from  the  autumn  of  1876  to 
to  February,  1877.  Fifty-seven  thousand  were  also  ex. 
ported  from  Alfeld  to  this  country. 


Valor  is  abased  by  too  much  loftiness.— Sir  P.  Sidney, 


258  THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


"Yacob." 

Tacob  was  the  name  of  an  Arab  boy  in  the  Oriental 
city  of  Cairo.  He  was  poor,  and,  like  most  of  the  poor 
boys  of  that  city,  his  chief  ambition  was  to  own  a  don- 
key and  hire  him  out  to  the  travelers  to  go  to  the  pyra- 
mids and  other  places  of  interest  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Cairo.  As  it  was,  he  was  only  the  driver  of  another 
man's  donkey;  that  is,  when  the  animal  was  mounted  by 
the  traveler,  he  ran  behind,  poking  the  quadruped  with 
a  sharp  stick  to  keep  him  in  a  brisk  trot. 

One  day,  while  Yacob  was  standing  in  front  of  Shep- 
herd's Hotel  in  Cairo,  wishing  he  had  a  donkey  of  his 
own,  an  English  traveler  on  the  veranda  beckoned  to 
him  and  asked  him  why  he  looked  so  wistful,  and  Yacob 
answered  that  he  was  unhappy  because  he  had  no  don- 
key. 

And  when  the  Englishman  heard  his  story,  he  called 
his  servant  and  told  him  to  bring  up  Mafish,  which  was 
an  old,  sleepy  donkey.    Then  he  said  to  Yacob  : 

"  Would  you  be  happy  if  you  owned  that  donkey,  my 
lad  ?" 

"Oh,  master,  I  would  be  happy  with  any  donkey!" 
said  Yacob. 

"Then,"  said  the  Englishman,  "he  is  yours — I  make 
him  a  present  to  you." 

When  he  said  this,  the  other  travelers  gathered  around, 
with  smiles  on  their  faces,  for  it  appeared  that  the  Eng- 
lishman was  a  man  much  given  to  making  fun.  He  told 
Yacob  to  get  on  the  donkey  and  ride  him  up  and  down 
in  front  of  the  hotel  a  few  times,  to  show  his  gait.  Ya- 
cob got  astride  of  him,  and  found  that  he  was  stiff  in 
the  legs  and  moved  slowly,  notwithstanding  the  sharp 
pokes  he  gave  him  with  his  stick. 

"I  shall  give  the  donkey  a  name  that  will  draw  cus- 
tom for  you,"  said  the  Englishman  as  the  lad  rode  up  to 
ihe  veranda. 

Yacob  was  much  pleased  that  his  benefactor  should 
give  the  donkey  a  name,  for  he  had  seen  some  of  his 
companions  who  hired  their  donkeys  more  easily  than 
others,  on  account  of  fortunate  names  given  them  by 
travelers. 

"I  shall  be  much  glad  to  call  him  what  my  master 
pleases,"  said  Yacob. 

"Then  his  name  shall  be  Lightning,"  said  the  English- 
man, and  the  other  travelers  laughed. 

Yacob  did  not  know  what  Lightning  meant,  and  he 
continued  to  call  his  donkey  by  that  name  after  the 
Englishman  went  away.  He  did  not  have  much  difficulty 
in  hiring  his  donkey  ;  but  when  the  travelers  started  on 
their  journey,  they  told  Yacob  he  was  a  humbug,  and 
that  he  had  imposed  on  them  with  his  animal.  So  that 
they  only  kept  Lightning  for  a  few  minutes,  and  the  same 
people  never  hired  him  twice. 

One  day,  as  he  led  his  donkey  toward  the  hotel  ver- 
anda, after  being  called  a  little  humbug  by  an  angry 
traveler,  who  refused  to  pay  him  for  hire  for  half  an 
hour,  he  was  spoken  to  by  a  fat  man  in  a  long  black 
coat,  who  told  him  he  ought  to  call  his  donkey  Slow- 
coach. 

After  that  Yacob  called  him  Slow-coach,  not  knowing 
any  more  about  the  name  than  he  did  about  Lightning. 
But  this  change  of  name,  instead  of  mending  matters, 
made  them  worse.  In  short,  no  one  would  hire  his  don- 
key any  more  on  any  condition,  and  Yacob  and  Slow- 
coach were  a  rueful  pair,  as  they  stood  idly  before  the 
hotel. 

One  day,  as  he  stood  thus,  the  Prince  of  Wales  came 
out  from  the  veranda  (the  Prince  was  then  on  his  way  to 
the  East  Indies),  mounted  Slow-coach  and  rode  him  two 
or  three  yards,  and  then  got  off  and  took  another  donkey. 
Thereupon  Yacob  bemoaned  his  bad  luck  in  hearing  of 
an  American  sitting  in  a  tilted  chair  on  the  veranda. 

"Yacob,"  said  the  American,  "your  donkey  shall  be 
hired  as  much  as  any  other,  but  hereafter  his  name 
must  be  the  Prince  of  Wales" 

The  American  had  a  certificate  drawn  up  and  sworn 
to  before  the  American  Consul  at  Cairo,  to  show  that 
the  Prince  of  Wales  had,  without  any  doubt,  mounted 
Yacob's  donkey ;  and  when  the  lad  wanted  to  hire  the 
animal  to  any  man,  woman  or  child  from  England,  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  show  this  certificate,  and  they 
straightway  engaged  him,  notwithstanding  his  moping 
gait  and  stiff  legs.  They  engaged  him  for  whole  days, 
fondled  him,  and  begged  Yacob  not  to  poke  him  up  too 
sharp  from  behind.   They  fed  him  with  whatever  he 


would  eat,  and  the  only  drawback  to  the  donkey»6  pleaa- 
int  life  was  that  his  tail  was  plucked  a  good  deal  for 
oaementoes. 

Yacob  said,  and  says  still,  that  the  luckiest  day  of  his 
life  was  when  he  was  spoken  to  by  the  American  gentle- 
man in  a  tilted  chair 


Platinum. 

BY  JAS.  p.  DUTPT. 

Platinum  is  a  very  heavy  grayish-white  metal,  which 
is  generally  found  in  the  form  of  small  grains,  alloyed 
with  gold  and  other  metals.  To  obtain  the  metal  in  all 
its  purity,  the  native  metal  is,  after  the  earth  and  sand 
adhering  to  it  have  been  washed  away,  dissolved  in  aqua 
regia,  and  precipitated  as  a  yellow  powder  by  means  of 
chloride  of  potassium.  This  is  heated  with  carbonate  of 
potash,  and  the  mixture  again  dissolved  by  means  of 
aqua  regia,  which  is  the  only  chemical  combination  that 
can  be  utilized  for  this  purpose  with  advantage.  A  solu- 
tion of  sal  ammoniac  is  then  added,  and  the  whole 
heated  to  redness,  when  a  loosely  coherent  mass  of 
platinum,  called  platinum  sponge,  is  afforded. 

The  latter  is  placed  in  iron  moulds  of  ingots  and 
tightly  rammed  therein  ;  the  moulds  and  their  contents 
being  then  heated  in  a  wind  furnace.  Here  the  mixture 
gradually  forms  into  a  solid  mass,  which,  when  cool,  is 
hammered  and  drawn  out  into  wire,  or  rolled  into  foil. 

Platinum  possesses  some  very  valuable  properties,  to 
some  of  which  it  owes  much  of  its  use.  If  a  piece  of 
platinum  sponge  be  held  at  the  point  of  a  fine  gas  jet, 
and  the  gas  turned  on,  it  will  act  precisely  as  though  a 
light  was  held  to  the  jet. 

In  ordinary  furnaces  it  is  infusible  ;  the  only  means  of 
melting  it  being  lime  crucibles,  to  which  blowpipe  flames 
are  attached.  It  does  not  rust  or  oxidize  at  ordinary 
temperatures,  and  withstands  the  attacks  of  all  the 
common  acids  when  used  singly.  It  may,  however,  be 
dissolved  in  a  mixture  of  nitric  and  hydrochloric  acids. 
Being  as  soft  as  copper,  and  possessing  very  tenacious 
and  malleable  properties,  it  may  be  drawn  into  wire 
finer  than  that  drawn  from  any  other  metal. 

The  principal  uses  of  platina  are  confined  to  the  chem- 
ist's laboratory,  where,  on  account  of  its  infusibility  and 
inertness  as  a  chemical  agent,  it  is  greatly  made  use  of. 
It  is,  however,  used  in  Russia  as  coin,  and  is  occasion- 
ally fashioned  into  snuff  boxes,  etc.  In  the  laboratory 
it  is  used  in  the  distillation  of  sulphuric  acid — large 
stills  of  it  being  employed  in  concentrating  the  acid. 
By  the  chemist  it  is  also  much  used  for  tubes,  dishes  for 
evaporating  chemicals,  crucibles,  etc. 

Powdered  metallic  platinum  is  sometimes  called 
platinum  black,  and  is  very  finely  divided.  It  possesses 
the  property  of  absorbing  oxygen  gas,  and  imparting  it 
to  other  substances.  This  may  be  illustrated  by  drop- 
ping a  little  spirits  of  wine  or  ether  upon  some  platinum 
black  after  the  latter  has  been  exposed  for  a  half  hour 
to  the  air.  The  spirits  will  become  oxidized,  and  the  act 
of  oxidation  will  cause  the  platinum  to  become  red  hot. 


Indian  Tradition. 

Among  the  Seminole  Indians  there  is  a  singular  tradi- 
tion regarding  the  white  man's  origin  and  superiority. 
They  say  that  when  the  Great  Spirit  made  the  earth,  he 
also  made  three  men,  all  of  whom  were  of  a  very  fair 
complexion  ;  and  that  after  making  them,  he  led  them 
to  the  margin  of  a  small  lake  and  bade  them  leap  therein. 
One  immediately  obeyed,  and  came  out  of  the  water 
purer  than  before  he  bathed  ;  the  second  did  not  leap  in 
until  the  water  had  become  slightly  muddy,  and  when 
he  bathed,  he  came  up  copper  colored  ;  the  third  did 
not  leap  in  until  the  water  became  black  with  mud,  and 
came  out  with  its  own  color.  Then  the  Great  Spirit  laid 
before  them  three  packages  of  bark,  and  bade  them 
choose  ;  and  out  of  pity  for  his  misfortune  in  color,  he 
gave  the  black  man  his  first  choice.  He  took  hold  of 
each  of  the  packages  and  having  felt  them,  chose  the 
heaviest;  the  copper-colored  one  then  chose  the  second 
heaviest,  leaving  the  white  man  the  lightest.  When  the 
packages  were  opened,  the  first  was  found  to  contain 
spades,  hoes,  and  all  the  implements  of  labor  ;  the  sec- 
ond enwrapped  hunting,  fishing  and  warlike  apparatus ; 
the  third  gave  the  white  man  pens,  ink  and  paper — the 
engines  of  the  mind — the  mutual,  mental  improvement 
— the  social  link  of  humanity — the  foundation  of  the 
white  man's  superiority. 


SYDNEY  ARCHDALE  AND  CONSTANCE  DELAMERE. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  ROMANCE 

OF 


AN  HISTORICAL  STORY. 

BY  FRANCIS  BROWNE. 
CHAPTER  I. — THE  STOLEN  TRYST. 

It  has  gone  and  come  a  hundred  times  since  the 
period  of  our  story — ^that  beautiful,  but  fading,  season  of 
soft,  still  air  and  mellowed  sunshine — the  Sabbath  of 
the  Western  year — which  comes  when  the  fervid  heat  is 
over  and  the  harvest  work  is  done,  and  is  known 
now,  as  it  was  then,  throughout  the  Northern  States 
of  the  American  Union,  as  the  Indian  summer,  be- 
cause, according  to  the  red  man's  faith,  it  prevailed 
fcrever  in  the  happy  hunting  ground  to  which  his 
dead  were  gone.  Its  dreamy  quiet  rested  on  the 
hills  and  and  valleys  of  the  land,  on  the  great  rivers 
and  the  grand  old  woods,  whose  wealth  of  foliage 
had  turned  from  green  to  gold;  but  quiet  there  was 
none  in  the  hearts  of  the  men,  for  the  days  of  dis- 
cord and  division  that  were  to  end  in  a  nation's  birth, 
the  hot  dispute  between  England  and  her  American 
colonies  that  was  to  be  cooled  only  in  blood,  had  be- 
gun. From  the  Atlantic  ports  to  the  backwood  set- 
tlements, from  the  Falls  of  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
flats  of  the  Mississippi,  town  and  country,  pulpit 
and  press,  were  occupied  with  the  same  subjects — 
the  rights  of  the  colonies,  and  the  inroads  made 
upon  them  by  England's  King  and  Parliament.  They 
were  discussed  in  public  meetings  and  social  gather- 
ings, in  places  of  business,  in  farm-fields,  and  at 
family  firesides,  but  not  without  the  contention  and 
confusion  which  attend  every  great  movement  among 
mankind. 

While  the  great  majority  of  the  American  people 
were  agreed  on  maintaining  their  liberties  at  all 
hazards,  there  was  an  ultra- royalist  minority  no  less 
devoted  to  the  prerogatives  of  the  Crown  and  the 
authority  of  Parliament.  Hence  the  party  names 
of  "Whig  and  Tory,  and  the  party  strife  which  had  so 
long  accompanied  them  in  the  old  country,  came  into 
full  operation  on  the  shores  of  the  new  world:  but  there 
the  names  took  a  more  practical  significance,  and  the 
strife  a  more  determined  character,  from  the  nature  of 
the  questions  at  issue,  and  their  direct  bearing  not  only 
on  the  public  spirit,  but  the  domestic  interests  of  the 
land.  On  these  accounts  the  controversy  cut  deep  into 
private  life;  it  estranged  old  neighbors,  it  divided  friends 
and  kinsmen,  and  crossed  alike  the  prudently-laid  plans 
of  age,  and  the  fair,  fond  dreams  of  youth. 

Was  it  owing  to  some  such  dream  that  in  an  afternoon 
of  that  sweet  Indian  summer,  on  a  thickly-wooded  slope 
where  the  range  of  the  Holyoke  Mountains  overlook  the 
windings  of  the  beautiful  Connecticut  River,  a  young 
girl  eat  on  the  moss-grown  root  of  an  old  tree,  and  a 
young  man  stood  leaning  against  its  trunk  by  her  side  ? 

That  young  man  had  not  completed  his  twenty-first 
year,  but  a  finer  specimen  of  early  manhood  was  not  to 
be  found  in  the  New  England  States.  Tall  and  well 
proportioned,  though  somewhat  spare,  his  frame  prom- 
ised the  union  of  activity  and  strength;  his  face,  one  of 
the  handsomest  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  type,  had  taken  a 
tinge  of  brown,  from  exposure  to  sun  and  wind,  which 
made  him  look  beyond  his  years,  and  accorded  well  with 
Its  habitual  expression  of  energy  and  intelligence,  so 
characteristic  of  his  New  England  kin.  A  country-bom 
man,  his  manner  and  bearing  had  iu  them  the  freedom 
of  the  forest  land,  and  the  independence  of  a  race  able 
and  willing  to  make  their  own  way  in  the  world,  but  they 
bad  also  the  graceful  dignity  and  polished  ease  which 
good  taste  and  good  breeding  alone  can  impart.  Hia 
costume  would  have  been  thought  considerably  out  of 
rule  among  the  bewigged,  bepowdered,  and  berufiSed 
men  of  the  period  in  London  and  Paris.  Besides  his 
own  dark  brown  hair,  worn  in  -^ihort  tangled  curls  of  na- 


ture's dressing,  It  consisted  of  a  suit  of  coarse  grey 
cloth,  such  as  women  spun  and  men  wove  in  coimtry 
cottage  and  farm-house,  stockings,  tken  a  largely  dis- 
played portion  of  man's  attire,  knitted  of  linen  thread 
beside  New  England  hearths,  and  shoes  of  home-tanned 
leather  without  a  buckle  or  rosette.  For  he  belon'^ed  to 
the  Homespun  Association— a  society  whose  me  mbers 
were  pledged  to  wear  nothing  that  paid  duty  to  toe  tax- 
ing government  of  England,  and  therefore  had  to  eschew 
all  imported  goods. 

So  apparently  did  the  girl  by  whose  side  he  stood  be 
Qeath  the  branching  boughs;  her  kersey  dress  and  straw 
hat,  with  linen  ribbons,  told  as  much,  but  their  rustic 
Simplicity  only  served  to  set  off  her  surpassing  beauty. 
In  the  last  of  her  teens,  and  about  the  middle  height  of 
women,  her  figure  would  have  seemed  too  slender  but 
I  for  the  rounded  elegance  of  its  symmetry;  a  poet  would 


have  said  that  the  rose  and  lily  strove  for  dominion  in 
her  face,  a  sculptor  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  classic 
mould  of  her  features,  and  many  a  modem  belle  might 
have  envied  the  rich  abundance  of  her  chestnut  hair. 
These  were  charms  which  time  could  steal  and  care  de- 
stroy, but  her  fair  face  spoke  of  that  over  which  they 
had  no  power — a  mind  at  once  noble  and  tender,  gentle 
and  steadfast,  a  woman  on  whose  faith  and  constancy 
one  might  rely  under  ar  circumstances,  but  whose  love 
only  a  brave,  good  man  could  win. 

"  You  must  give  me  a  better  answer  than  that,  Con- 
stance," said  the  young  man  at  her  side;  I  have  played 
the  game  of  fish  for  nothing  long  enough  for  any  man 
in  his  senses;  maybe  I  am  not  quite  in  mine  where  you 
are  concerned;  but  here  have  I  been  thinking  of  no- 
body but  you  this  many  a  year,  for  I  have  loved  you 
as  long  as  I  can  remember,  ay,  since  we  were  chil- 
dren playing  in  the  meadows  and  going  to  »t,hsol  to- 
gether; and  the  boys  used  to  laugh  at  me  for  follow- 
ing wherever  you  went.  We  are  both  old  enough 
now  to  know  our  own  minds,  yet  there  is  no  engage- 
ment between  us,  no  promise — at  least  on  your  side; 
you  could  let  me  slip  to-morrow  and  marry  some- 
body else  with  perfect  propriety,  as  the  old  maids 
say.  Maybe  that  is  what  you  mean  to  do  after  all, 
but  somehow  I  don't  think  it — no  I  don't,  Constance, 
dear,"  he  continued,  catching  the  reproachful  loo'i, 
she  cast  up  into  his  face.  ' '  But  I  can't  drift  loost 
about  you  any  longer;  let  me  have  somethinj 
to  hope  for  and  hold  by,  now  that  things  are  so  un 
certain  around  us.  Say  you  will  be  my  own,  this 
year,  next  year,  any  time  you  please  to  fix,  only  let 
it  be  a  settled  thing,  and  I  will  wait  as  patiently  and 
faithfully  as  ever  Jacob  did  for  his  Rachel.  I  wish 
Mr.  Delamere  would  be  good  enough  to  take  old  La- 
ban's  way,  as  there  happens  to  be  no  Leah  in  the 
case." 

He  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  mossy  root,  and 
took  her  small  white  hand  between  his  two;  it 
nestled  confidingly  there,  but  her  head  drooped 
low,  and  her  eyes  were  cast  on  the  ground,  as  she  said: 
"I  can  make  no  engagement  without  my  father's  con- 
sent, and  that  he  will  never  give  while  you  hold  what  he 
calls  your  rebellious  principles.  Indeed,  if  he  knew  the 
half  what  people  say  about  you,  he  would  never  consent 
to  see  or  speak  to  you.    Sydney,  is  it  all  tme  ?  " 

"  Is  what  trae,  my  own  Constance  f  " 

*'  That  you  are  captain  of  the  Minute  Men  ;  that  you 
drill  companies  of  students  secretly  every  night;  and 
that  there  is  a  warrant  out  against  you  for  assaulting 
Government  ofiicers  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty." 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  trae  enough,  my  girl;  the  young  men  of 
our  university  and  neighborhood  who  have  pledged 
themselves  to  be  ready  at  a  minute's  waming  to  rise  in 
arms  in  detence  of  their  country's  rights  and  liberties, 
have  done  me  the  honor  to  elect  me  their  captain, 
though  they  might  have  found  worthier  and  abler  meu;  and  aa 
I  have  picked  up  some  knowledge  of  the  military  exercise 
from  my  own  goodfather,  I  teach  it  to  my  fellow-students  who 
have  not  had  the  same  opportunities.  As  to  the  warrant,  it 
was  that  made  me  ask  you  to  meet  me  here,  for  I  don't  care  to 
be  seen  at  home,  lest  it  might  compromise  my  father,  and  I 
meant  to  tell  you  all  about  it;  but  my  foolish  heart's  business 
rose  to  my  lips  when  I  caught  the  first  sight  of  you  coming 
through  the  trees.  Well  then,  I  was  going  home  to  my  lodg- 
ings from  the  last  of  our  college  classes  one  evening  last  weeE. 


262 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


and  c&anced  to  pass  a  bouse  on  the  outskirts  of  CamTirldge,  oc- ' 
cupied  by  a  widow  and  her  two  daughters— old  girls  they  are 
now,  and  not  over  well  provided  for,  but  the  husband  and 
father  was  colonel  of  the  Massachusetts  volunteers,  and  did 

food  service  in  the  old  war,  as  well  as  your  father  and  mine, 
noticed  that  something  was  vvrong  about  the  place,  and  soon 
found  01 1  that  a  party  or  revenue  men  had  forced  an  entrance, 
because  a  spy  of  theirs  told  them  that  the  poor  souls  had 
bought  some  Irish  linen  from  a  pedlar  whose  goods  never 
passed  the  Custom  House;  and  there  they  were  searching  and 
frightening  the  unprotected  women  almost  out  of  their  wits. 
Of  course  they  had  the  tyrant's  law  on  their  side;  but  1  could 
not  see  the  widow  and  daughters  of  a  brave  officer  who  had 
defended  our  frontiers  against  the  French  and  Indians  before 
I  was  born  insulted  by  British  underlings;  so  I  just  started  off, 
got  together  a  company  of  my  Minute  Men,  turned  the  search- 
ing party  right  out  of  the  house,  and  chased  them  home  to 
their  quarters,  with  some  smart  promises  of  what  they  might 
expect  if  we  ever  caught  them  disturbiHg  an  honest  man's 
house  again.  It  was  after  dark,  you  see,  and  between  that  and 
their  tei-rors  the  rascals  could  swear  to  none  of  the  company 
but  myself;  so  the  rest  have  fortunately  escaped,  and  a  warrant 
has  been  issued  against  me  as  the  ringleader.  I  hear  they 
mean  to  make  an  example  of  me;  but  never  mind,  Constance, 
It  will  soon  blow  over,  for  things  must  come  to  better  or  worse. 
In  the  meantime,  I  am  keeping  out  of  sight  with  old  Vander- 
slock,  the  Dutch  lumber-man,  you  know,"  and  he  pointed  far 
up  the  wooded  hill.  "  No  fear  of  British  spies  venturing  so 
high  as  his  domain;  and  between  my  boy,  Caesar,  and  your 
page,  Philip,  we  can  exchange  met,.  3s  and  see  each  other  at 
times,  that  is,  if  the  fair  Constance  does  not  think  the  less  of 
her  own  true  man  for  loving  justice  and  liberty  almost  as  well 
as  he  loves  herself." 

''You  know  me  better  than  that,  Sydney.  I  think  more  of 
you  now  than  I  ever  did.  If  they  Issued  a  hundred  warrants 
against  you,  it  was  a  brave,  good  action  to  protect  the  widow's 
home." 

There  was  a  look  of  loving  pride  in  her  flushed  cheek  and 
kindling  eye— pride  of  him  and  his  doings— that  charmed  the 
young  man  out  of  his  sobriety. 

"  Spoken  like  a  New  England  girl,  my  Constance !  "  he 
cried,  throwing  his  arm  round  her,  and  drawing  her  close  to  his 
manly  breast—"  Spoken  like  a  New  England  girl  1  I  wish  the 
action  had  been  ten  times  better  and  braver,  since  you  praise 
it.  Tbere  is  nothing  like  praise  from  the  woman  one  loves ; 
I  will  do  something  worthy  of  it  yet." 

"Ay,  Sydney,  but  listen  tome." 

"I  am  content  to  listen  to  you  all  my  life,  Constance,  as  men 
must  to  their  wives,  they  say." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that ;  but  tell  me  is  not  your  father  right 
in  saying  that  you  young  men  go  too  far  in  opposition  to  the 
British  Government,  and  give  the  enemies  of  our  country  an 
opportunity  to  misrepresent  and  blacken  the  good  cause  in 
England  ?'*^ 

"  Constance,  he  is  not  right.  I  say  it  with  all  reverence  to 
my  father,  for  which  no  son  has  better  reason,  he  and  the  rest 
of  the  moderate  party  think  that  by  calmly  and  prudently 
sfetting  forth  the  grievances  of  the  land,  our  Briti  sh  rulers  will 
be  induced  to  do  us  justice ;  but  they  are  deceived.  The  foxes 
of  the  old  country  are  too  crafty  for  them.  Craft  and  tyranny 
alw£(.ys  go  together.  They  mean  to  play  fast  and  loose  with 
us,  and  gain  time,  till  they  get  the  arms  out  of  our  hands  and 
garrisons  into  all  our  towns  and  strong  places,  and  then  gov- 
ern us  like  so  many  slaves.  We,  the  descendants  of  men  who 
for  freedom's  sake  came  out  from  kin  and  country,  and  braved 
the  perils  of  wave  and  wilderness  that  they  might  leave  a  heri- 
tage of  liberty  and  religion  to  their  children ;  we,  that  have  in 
our  veins  the  best  blood  of  Saxon  and  Norman— yes,  Con- 
stance, it  was  the  best  men  of  either  race  that  sought  these 
western  shores,  and  left  the  residue,  fit  only  to  be  governed  by 
the  licentious,  mean,  and  tyrannical  Stuarts,  and  the  stultified 
House  of  Hanover." 

How  much  farther  the  young  student  would  have  gone  in 
this  high-pitched  strain  of  his  age  and  party,  it  were  hard  to 
say;  but  Constance  laid  her  small  fingers  on  his  lips  with, 
"Stopl  stop!  Sydney  dear;  you  don't  know  who  may  be 
•walking  in  these  woods.  It  is, a  mercy  that  my  father  never 
climbs  so  high.  At  any  rate,  he  is  engaged  to-day  with  a  parcel 
of  books  he  gets  every  season  from  England,  so  I  hope  he 
won't  miss  me.  What  he  would  say  if  he  knew  I  was  here,  or 
heard  you  just  now,  it  frightens  me  to  think  of .  He  would 
call  it  treason  at  the  very  least." 

"  Maybe  he  would,  Constance ;  but  it  is  treason  against  our- 
selves, our  country,  and  the  memory  of  our  forefathers,  to  live 
under  the  laws  those  old  bunglers  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic  have  made  for  us — laws  that  dwarf  our  commerce, 
check  our  spirit  of  enterprise,  and  furnish  every  spiteful  or 
insolent  exciseman  with  a  pretext  for  invading  our  domestic 
privacy  and  ransacking  our  houses.  However,  there  is  one 
comfort,  their  meddlesome  tyranny  cannot  last  long.  Let 
slow  or  timid  men  say  as  they  will,  there  is  a  spirit  in  the  new 
generation  that  will  strike  for  freedom  some  day,  and  the 
Minute  Men  won't  be  the  last  in  the  field." 

"  Sydney,  Sydney,  think  of  the  risk !  " 

"  Who  regards  risk  for  a  good  cause,  when  his  heart  is  in  it  f 
I  love  my  country  even  as  I  love  you.  What  danger  should 
deter  me  from  standing  on  the  defence  of  either?  Nay,  Oon- 
8taace,  it  was  yourself  that  first  made  me  a  patriot,  as  fi»-  "  ' 


deserve  the  name.  I  remember  long  ago,  when  we  read  the 
histories  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  heroes  and  the  tales  of 
the  Swiss  patriots  together  in  our  old  summer-house,  how  your 
eyes  used  to  kindle,  and  your  breast  heave  with  emotion,  as 
you  said,  '  Such  men  had  a  right  to  be  loved  and  honored.'  It 
was  those  readings  and  sayings  that  bound  me  to  the  service  of 
liberty  and  land.  Would  you  bid  me  quit  it  now,  when  it  bids 
fair  to  need  every  true  man's  arm  ?  " 

"  No,  Sydney,  no ; "  and  the  young  girl's  face  was  lighted  up 
once  more  with  the  glow  of  that  early  enthusiasm.  "  I  love 
my  country  as  well  as  you ;  I  think  I  could  die  for  it,  woman 
though  I  am,  and  the  daughter  of  an  arrant  old  Tory,  as  your 
Minute  Men  would  call  my  dear  and  kindly  father;  but" — and 
the  light  waned  away  from  eye  and  cheek—"  besides  fearing 
all  sorts  of  snares  and  dangers  into  which  your  hot  haste 
might  bring  you,  I  have  a  suspicion  that  your  devotion  to 
liberty  and  land  will  some  day  make  you  forget  your  old  play- 
mate, Constance,  and  take  to  a  more  eligible  girl,  with  a  sturdy 
Whig  for  her  father." 

"You  are  jesting  with  me,  my  girl,  as  you  did  many  a  time 
before;  but  things  should  be  serious  with  us  now.  Is  it  not 
far  more  likely  that  some  Royalist  officer,  all  fashion  and 
finery,  from  his  lace  ruffles  to  his  diamond  shoe-buckles,  with 
principles  your  father  approves,  and  a  noble  connection  some- 
where in  England,  will  send  poor,  plain  Sydney  Archdale  out 
of  sight  and  out  of  mind?  Don't  look  so  (flspieased,  Con- 
stance; I  was  not  quite  in  earnest ;  but  situated  as  I  am,  it  is 
natural  to  fear  something  of  the  kind  ;  that  is  why  I  wanted  a 
bit  of  a  promise  from  you.  If  we  were  once  engaged,  I  don't 
believe  your  father  would  part  us.  Give  me  your  hand,  and 
say  you'll  be  mine." 

"  I  cannot  say  it  without  his  consent,"  she  said,  withdrawing 
herself  a  little  as  she  spoke ;  and  it  would  be  deceiving  you 
if  I  let  you  imagine  there  was  any  hope  of  that.   My  father 

Sows  fiercer  against  the  Whigs  every  day.  Sometimes  I  fear 
s  mind  is  getting  unhinged  on  the  subject,  he  gives  way  to 
such  bursts  of  temper ;  but  those  who  know  him  best  say  he 
has  never  been  the  same  man  since  my  poor  brother  met  his 
fate.  That  is  another  bond  on  me,  Sydney,  another  reason 
why  I  should  be  the  comfort  and  support  of  his  old  age.  It  is 
creeping  fast  upon  him,  and  I  am  his  only  child,  named  after 
my  mother,  whose  grave  he  visits  on  the  last  day  of  every 
June — the  one  on  which  she  was  taken  from  him  years  before  I 
can  remember.  Since  then  he  has  been  father  and  mother  both 
to  me.  Never  was  so  much  love  and  care  bestowed  upon  a 
daughter  from  the  time  when  he  hushed  me  in  his  arms  to 
sleep  in  stormy  nights,  and  taught  me  to  say  an  evening  prayer 
beside  my  little  bed.  It  has  been  his  constant  habit  to  gratify 
my  wishes,  and  ward  off  from  me  every  cause  of  troiible  or 
annoyance.   Sydney,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  disobey  him." 

"Well.  I  don't  ask  you  do  to  that,"  said  the  young  man, 
calmly ;  but  a  painful  expression  passed  over  his  face ;  "  only 
listen.  My  father  means  to  call  at  the  Elms  to-day  and  sound 
Mr.  Delamere;  he  may  know  nothing  about  the  waiTant.  I 
am  at  Harvard  College,  you  know." 

"Yes;  studying  under  the  lumber-man,"  said  Constance; 
but  as  she  spoke  the  pair  started  to  their  feet,  for  a  sound  re- 
sembling nothing  but  that  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  up- 
land turf  seemed  to  pass  just  behind  the  tree  on  whose  mossy 
root  they  had  been  sitting. 

They  looked  around  on  all  sides,  but  could  see  nothing,  ex- 
cept the  squirrels  climbing  up  the  boughs,  and  the  wood-birds 
and  insects  flitting  about  m  the  quiet  air. 

"There is  a  horseman  somewhere  in  our  neighborhood," 
said  Sydney.  "  One  would  not  expect  to  see  the  like  in  these 
thick  woods ;  but  some  travellers  may  have  taken  them  for  a 
short  cut  across  the  mountains,  and  to  my  certain  knowledge 
the  soil  hereabouts  has  a  singular  power  of  conveying  sound." 

"Might  it  not  be  a  mounted  spy  in  search  of  you?  Oh,  Syd- 
ney, fly  back  to  Vander slock' s  clearing;  and  there  is  Philip's 
signal,"  said  Constance,  as  a  shrill  whistle  came  up  the  slope. 
"Either  he  sees  somebody  coming,  or  it  is  time  for  me  to  go. 
I  came  here  to  gather  the  last  of  the  blue-berries ;  what  ex- 
cuses one  learns  to  make  by  dealing  with  Minute  Men.  Philip 
and  Caesar  are  gathering  them  for  me,  to  make  good  the  excuse. 
But  good-bye ;  I  must  go  now." 

She  was  darting  away,  for  the  shrill  whistle  sounded  once 
more,  but  Sydney  caught  her  by  the  hand.  "You  can't  go 
without  making  me  that  promise,"  he  cried ;  "  say  before  we 
part  that  you  will  be  my  wife." 

"  I  will  if  my  father  consents  to  it ;  that  is  the  only  condi- 
tion. For  your  own  sake,  for  my  sake,  go,"  said  Constance. 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  fled  up  the  slope  with 
the  "peed  of  a  mountain  deer,  while  she  turned  downwards 
at  an  almost  equal  pace. 

CHAPTER  II. — THE  TWO  SQTJIBBS 

That  part  of  the  Connecticut  Valley  commanded  by 
i;Iie  picturesque  range  of  the  Holyoke  Mountains,  would 
s,carcely  be  recognized  to-day  by  the  generation  who 
dwelt  there  wben  Sydney  Archdale  and  Constance  Dela- 
mere held  their  stolen  tryst  on  the  wooden  slope 
above  it.  It  is  now  a  summer  resort  of  New  Eng- 
land's rank  and  fashion— a  scene  sought  out  and 
lingered  in  by  tourists  from  every  part  of  Europe 
and  America  to  which  excursion  trains  bring  their 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


263 


thousands  from  all  the  northern  towns  of  the  Union, 
and  prosperous  or  ambitious  families  send  their 
children  for  education  to  its  numerous  seminaries, 
which  are  celebrated  even  in  Massachusetts,  the  land 
of  schools.  The  place  had  a  different  aspect  and  re- 
pute at  the  time  of  our  story;  it  was  not  the  primeval 
wild,  for  those  fertile  lands  lying  between  the  wmd- 
ing  river  and  the  towering  hills  had  been  among  the 
earliest  of  the  inland  settlements  made  by  emigrants 
from  England. 

The  dwellings  and  the  industry  of  civilized  man 
had  been  there  for  more  than  a  hundred  years. 
Well-tilled  farms,  fruitful  orchards,  and  comfortable 
homesteads  covered  the  valley,  and  here  and  there 
indented  the  woods  that  clothed  the  sides  of  the 
mountains,  herds  and  flocks  grazed  in  the  broad 
green  meadows  through  which  the  Connecticut 
wandered  ;  but  everything  was  yet  rural  and  rustic. 
The  now  large  and  beautiful  town  of  Northampton, 
with  its  princely  hotels,  fashionable  promenades,  and 
far-stretching  outskirts  of  villas  and  gardens,  was 
then  little  better  than  a  country  hamlet.  Its  elder 
sister  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  Hadley,  was 
a  small  old-fashioned  township  containing  the 
same  quaint  but  substantial  bouses,  in  one  of  which  two 
signataries  of  Charles  I's  death-warrant  remained  hidden 
for  many  a  year  from  the  vengeance  of  his  son,  and  the 
same  plain  Presbyterian  meeting-house  in  which  Cotton 
Mather's  cotemporaries  prayed  and  preached  against  the 
witches  ot  Salem. 

They  presented  a  goodly  prospect,  neverthelesss — 
valley  and  village,  winding  river  and  wooded  mountains 
— for  the  fair  landscape,  like  the  fair  face,  can  please 
without  ornament.  The  inhabitants  were  thrifty  and 
well-to-do,  though  in  the  whole  district  there  were  but 
two  properties  that  could  be  called  large,  the  one  locally 
known  as  the  Plantation,  the  other  as  the  Elms.  The 
former  was  situated  on  the  level  lands  west  of  North- 
ampton, and  took  its  name  from  a  grove  of  the  sugar 
mapie,  which  a  former  proprietor  had  planted  there,  in- 
tending to  manufacture  sugar  and  rum  on  a  large  scale. 
But  the  trees  proved  the  only  flourishing  j)art  of  the 
business,  and  his  successors  had  given  it  up  long  ago. 
The  latter  occupied  a  peninsula  formed  by  the  windings 
of  the  Connecticut,  which  enclosed  it  on  the  west, 
north  and  south,  while  on  the  east  it  was  bounded  by 
one  of  the  wooded  steeps  of  the  Holyoke  range,  forming 
at  once  a  majestic  background  and  a  shelter  from  the 
east  wind,  as  unfriendly  to  health  and  vegetation  in 
New  England  as  it  is  in  the  old  country.  The  place  took 
Its  designation  from  two  giant  elms  which  overshadowed 
the  proprietor's  house,  and  were  said  to  be  the  only  sur- 
vivors of  an  ancient  forest  that  had.  filled  the  valley  ages 
hefore  it  was  trodden  by  white  man's  foot.  Moreover, 
the  public  road  to  Hadley,  Northampton,  and  townships 
Blill  farther  west,  led  through  that  property ;  and  for 
crossing  the  river  the  traveller  had  his  choice  of  ford  or 
ferry,  for  bridge  there  was  none.  They  were  both  fair 
and  fertile  estates,  though  the  Elms  got  most  commen- 
dation from  passing  people,  on  account  of  its  beautiful 
situation,  and  pleasant,  sheltered  look.  They  came  so 
near  to  each  other  at  one  point  that  only  the  Connecticut 
divided  them,  and  there  it  had  a  convenient  ford,  yet 


The  first  proprietors  of  those  mansions  and  estates 
arrived  in  Massachusetts  soon  after  Cromwell's  "  crown- 
ing mercy,"  the  utter  defeat  of  the  royal  cause  in  the 
battle  of  Worcester.  They  had  been  knights  and  land- 
owners in  their  native  Bedfordshire,  of  good  descent, 
which,  moreover,  represented  that  of  the  English  na- 
tion, for  the  one,  Sir  Ralph  Archdale,  traced  his  pedigree 
from  a  Saxon  stock,  and  the  other.  Sir  Gervase  Delar 
mere  claimed  a  Norman  ancestry.  They  were  both 
zealous  Presbyterians,  however,  and  did  kniglit's 
service  in  the  Parliamentary  army,  but,  like  most  of 
their  sect,  maintained  the  divine  institution  of  hered- 
itary monarchy  (it  was  one  of  the  points  in  dispute 
between  Presbyterian  and  Independent  at  the  time); 
and  being  in  common  with  many  honest  men  who 
had  fought  and  conquered  for  the  rights  of  Parlia- 
ment and  people,  revolted  by  the  execution  of  the 
king  and  the  domination  of  Cromwell,  they  joined 
Charles  II's  Scotch  expedition  to  rest.ore  himself. 
After  a  ruin  of  that  ill- concerted-  enterprise  on  the 
field  of  Worcester,  roundhead  and  cavalier,  who  had 
a  hand  in  it,  were  happy  to  find  refuge  in  tlie  Ameri- 
can colonies  from  the  heavy  hand  of  the  Lord  Pro- 
tector ;  and  the  Bedford  knights  found  it  on  the 
banks  of  the  Connecticut.  The  southern  settlements 
in  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas,  peopled  as  they  were 
by  emigrant  cavaliers,  would  not  have  afforded 
peaceful  resting  places  to  men  who  had  charged  on 
the  king's  army  at  Marston  Moor  and  Naseby.  The 
Puritan  colonies  on  the  Atlantic  coast  of  New  Eng- 
land, where  Cromwell  was  prayed  for  as  "the  char- 
iot of  Israel  and  the  horseman  thereof,"  would 
scarcely  have  been  safer  quarters  for  those  who 
had  shared  in  the  defeat  of  Worcester  ;  but  the 
luckless  partisans  were  self-reliant  and  capable 
men.  They  had  contrived  to  bring  some  capital  and 
a  few  retainers  from  England,  and  retiring  with  these 
westward  to  the  then  wild  and  but  half  explored  valley, 
they  purchased  from  the  Indian  tribes,  who  still  pos- 
sessed it,  a  tract  of  land  whereon  to  settle  and  begin  life 
anew.  ,  , 

Years  after,  when  the  land  had  been  fairly  divided, 
built  on,  and  brought  under  cultivation,  when  other 
emigrants  had  come  to  the  valley,  and  villages  with 
English  names  grown  up  in  it,  the  Lord  Protector  went 
the  way  of  all  men,  and  Charies  II.  superseded  the  Com- 
monwealth. These  events  brought  great  changes  to 
England,  but  little  or  none  to  her  American  colonies, 
except  that  they  sent  new  governors  with  special  objec- 
tions to  old  charters,  which  nobody  much  minded,  and  a 
large  influx  of  refugees  belonging  to  the  overthrown 
party,  to  increase  their  townships  and  cultivate  their 
wastes.  All  this  was  but  the  news  of  the  day  to  Archdale  and 
Delamere ;  the  old  country  had  neither  hopes  nor  interests  for 
them  now;  their  family  estates  had  passed  into  the  hands  of 
strangers  by  sale  or  mortgage,  to  meet  the  necessities  of  the 
case;  and  the  sovereign  tor  whom  they  periled  and  lost  so 
much  hud  already  proved  himself  no  friend  to  their  Presby- 
terian people.  On  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  they  were 
free  to  worship  after  the  manner  of  their  fathers.  They  bad 
gained  for  themselves  new  estates  and  comfortable  homes  too, 
for  both  had  married  in  the  colony  Children  were  growing 
i  -jp  around  them,  and  the  only  consequence  of  the  Restoration 
I  which  they  experienced,  was  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  claim- 


diverged  so  far  that  neither  house  was  visible  from'  the  j  aul  to  the  land  they  had  bought  from  the  Indians 

^   --  -     -       -  ..........    \    Grantsof  land  in  America  furnished  a  cheap  and  easy  mode 

of  rewarding  the  services  aud  making  up  the  losses  of  old 
friends;  H  was  therefore  a  favorite  one  with  the  .estored 


other.  They  were  both  well-managed  in  the  old  thrifty 
and  homely  fashion,  the  larger  half  let  out  to  leasehold 


ing  tenants,  and  the  smaller  farmed  by  the _ proprietor  j  Charles*  whose  revenue  never  equalled  his  expenditure.  But, 


himself.  The  two  houses  were  as  much  alike  as  the 
lands  ;  iDuilt  when  Charles  II.  was  king,  they  were  now 
reckoned  among  the  old  mansions  of  the  colony,  but 
differed  from  the  surrounding  farm-houses  only  inhaving 
larger  dimensions  and  better-kept  grounds.  There  were 
Uie  same  high-pointed  gables  and  steeply  slopuig  roof, 
broad  eaves,  narrow  windows,  and  wide  porch ;  but 
W^ile  the  farm-houses  had  in  general  but  one  story  and 
an  attic,  they  rose  to  the  height  of  two  ;  while  the  for- 
mer had  only  two  gables,  they  had  four,  with  corres- 
ponding chimneys.  In  front  of  each  mansion  was  a 
smooth,  level  lawn,  and  in  the  rear  a  large  old-fashioned 
garden,  the  whole  enclosed  by  thick  but  trimly-kept 
hedgerows,  interspersed  with  fine  trees  that  had  been 
brought  as  seedlings  from  old  England. 


like  everything  done  for  his  old  friends,  those  grants  were  so 
hastily  and  carelessly  made,  that  they  frequently  served  only 
to  create  conflicting  claims,  which  in  some  cases  were  handed 
dowu  to  trouble  after  generations.  Thus,  an  impoverished 
nobleman,  who  had  followed  the  king's  fortunes  and  been  aa 
iitlle  credit  to  any  fortune  as  his  majesty  himself.  Viscount 
Lavenham.  was  invested  by  letters-patent  with  the  sole  pro- 
orietorship  of  the  tract  occupied  by  the  ancient  brothers  in 
arms,  as  clearly  defined  by  the  landmarks  of  mountain  and 
river  as  if  it  had  been  one  of  the  primeval  solitudes  of  Massa- 
chusetts. Hopes  had  been  entertained  that  the  viscount 
would  be  induced  to  cross  the  Atlantic  and  settle  on  has  new 
estate;  but  the  gaieties  and  games  of  Whitehall  were  more  to 
his  lordship's  taste.  He  therefore  contented  himselt  witn 
sending  a  surveyor  to  mark  its  boundaries,  and  a  steward  to 
take  possession.  .  ,      ui    *  r.  At^  a 

It  was  not  to  be  imagined  that  the  stout  knights  of  Bedford- 
«hire.  who  had  fought  in  every  battle-field  from  EdgehiU  to 


264 


THE  GROWING  WORLD- 


Worcester,  would  tamely  give  up  the  land  they  had  purcliased 
and  reclaimed.  Being  just  men  themselves,  they  neld  their 
title  to  be  one  of  the  best  in  the  colony,  seeing  it  was  bought 
from  the  original  owners  of  the  soil ;  but  what  a  skilful  cour- 
tier might  have  effected  in  Charles  II. 'a  reign  it  were  hard  to 
say,  if  the  viscount  "had  not  about  the  same  time  fallen  In  a 
duel,  and  his  steward  and  surveyor  been  soon  after  banished 
the  Puritan  colony  for  disorderly  conduct. 

Lord  Lavenham's  heirs  took  no  active  measures  to  enforce 
his  claim.  Perhaps  they  knew  It  was  a  business  beyond  their 
abilities,  for  all  were  poor,  and  most  of  them  worthless ;  yet  it 
was  said  their  descendants  never  gave  up  hopes  of  the  grant, 
but  got  it  renewed  In  every  succeeding  reign,  with  the  help  of 
ministerial  or  influential  connections.  Grants  of  the  kind  had 
been  known  to  becoma available,  by  the  dying  out  of  a  family 
or  the  necessities  of  a  thriftless  heir;  but  if  the  noble  and 
straitened  house  expected  any  such  contingency,  they  were 
destined  to  wait  for  it  long. 

The  Bedfordshire  knights  lived  and  died  in  undisturbed  pos- 
session of  the  land  they  won  from  the  vdlderncss.  Archdales 
and  Delameres  after  them  continued  to  flourish,  the  former  on 
the  Plantation,  and  thelatterattheElms,  their  prosperity  keep- 
ing pace  with  that  of  the  colony,  and  their  fair  repute  descend- 
ing from  one  generation  to  another.  They  shared  in  all  the 
notable  transactions  of  Massachusetts,  gave  able  men  to  their 
country's  service  by  land  and  sea,  and  ^nt  forth  their  branches 
to  every  province  of  New  England,  but  the  direct  line  of  each 
remained  unbroken  in  their  first  settlement,  and  mansion  and 
estate  had  been  transmitted  from  father  to  sou  till  the  time  of 
our  story. 

On  the  same  day  and  almost  the  same  hour  in  which 
Sydney  Archdale  and  Constance  Delamere  met  in  the  silence 
of  the  woods  to  talk  over  the  troubles  that  beset  their  youth 
and  love,  there  sat  in  the  second  parlor  of  the  Elms  two  men 
who  might  have  held  trysts  in  woodlands  once ;  but  the  days 
were  long  gone  by,  for  they  were  in  the  afternoon  of  life,  and 
had  left  its  morning  dreams  far  behind  them.  They  were  both 
tall,  robust,  and  still  handsome,  with  a  look  of  having  seen  the 
wond  about  them.  One  would  have  guessed  that  they  had  done 
their  devoirs  in  the  battle-field,  the  chase,  and  the  ball-room, 
and  could  do  the  like  to  some  purpose  yet,  in  spite  of  the  fast- 
Increasing  grey.  To  know  that  they  were  colonists  of  English 
descent  it  was  not  requisite  to  hear  their  speech ;  the  fair  hair 
and  Teuton-like  face  of  the  one,  the  dark* locks  and  Roman- 
esque features  of  the  other,  spoke  of  a  race  that  owed  its  origin 
to  different  sources,  as  plainly  as  such  contrasts  do  in  the 
mother-country.  Those  two  were  the  great-grandsons  of  Sir 
Ralph  and  Sir  Gervase,  the  first  settlers  in  that  part  of  the 
Connecticut  Valley,  the  present  possessors  of  their  estates,  and 
the  bearers  of  their  Christian  names,  which  had  come  down 
like  heirlooms  In  their  families,  though  in  compliance  with 
colonial  custom  the  knightly  style  and  title  had  been  dropped 
long  ago,  and  they  were  known  as  Squire  Archdale  and  Squire 
Delamere,  that  English  designation  for  a  country  gentleman 
being  still  retained  in  the  democratic  land. 

The  two  squires  were  not  more  different  in  aspect  than  in 
character;  both  were  men  of  honor  and  integrity,  in  the  moral 
as  well  as  the  social  sense,  exemplary  in  private  life,  and  faith- 
ful to  their  public  duties,  but  there  the  resemblance  ended. 
Archdale  was  a  man  of  calm  and  considerate  temper,  clear 
judgment,  and  a  thoughtful,  inquiring  habit  of  mind;  the  old 
and  established  never  passed  for  the  right  with  him,  as  they 
do  with  most  men.  nor  could  specious  pretences  gild  over  the 
unsound  or  unjust.  Steadfast  in  principle,  yet  open  to  con- 
viction, he  was  slow  in  coming  to  conclusions,  but  sure  when 
once  he  had  come;  hence  his  verdict  or  opinions  on  any  sub- 
ject had  a  weight  with  his  neighbors  rarely  accorded  to  those 
of  a  private  man  by  the  good  people  of  Massachusetts,  and  he 
might  have  acted  a  leader's  part  in  the  provincial  politics,  but 
for  a  domestic,  home-loving  spirit,  which  made  him  prefer  the 
peace  of  his  own  fields  and  fireside  to  the  turmoil  and  respon- 
sibility it  involved.  Delamere  had  a  warm  heart,  but  a  narrow 
mind.  His  impulses  were  noble,  but  his  prejudices  were  strong, 
find  their  dictates  had  all  the  force  of  truth  to  him.  There  was 
no  man  more  capable  of  a  generous  action,  and  yet  there  were 
few  less  likely  to  do  justice  to  motives  or  opinions  that  differed 
from  his  own.  He  was  not  wanting  in  sound  sense  or  shrewd 
observation,  but  those  who  once  gained  his  confidence,  if  they 
happened  to  be  skilful  and  crafty  enough,  might  also  obtain 
unbounded  influence  over  him. 

Notwithstanding  so  great  a  difference  m  the  men  within,  the 
two  squires  v/ere  eai'ly  and  intimate  friends.  The  bond  which 
united  their  emigrant  forefathers  had  indeed  become  hereditary 
in  both  families.  Fostered  by  their  near  neighborhood  and 
corresponding  circumstances,  that  ancient  friendship  had  come 
down  their  generations,  growing  warmer  Oi  cooler  according 
to  tempcramjnt  and  character,  till  in  the  fourth  it  seemed  to 
have  gathered  strength  from  time.  The  heirs  of  the  Planta 
tion  and  the  Elms  stood  by  each  other  in  school  scrapes  and 
quarrels,  studied  together  at  college,  and  made  the  grand  tour 
of  Europe,  then  thought  requisite  to  complete  a  gentleman's 
education,  in  company.  In  that  sore  strife  between  England 
and  France  for  the  possession  of  the  North  American  conti- 
nent, which  was  really  fought  out  and  won  for  England  by  her 
colonists,  and  still  talked  of  as  the  old  French  war,  the  two 
squires  served  together  with  equal  valor  and  distinction  in  an 
independent  regiment  of  Massachusetts  men,  and  each  held  a 
taptaln's  commission  from  the  Crown.  When  the  war  was 
over  they  had  retired  from  active  service,  laid  the  military  title 


ftslde  with  tho  uniform,  applied  themselves  to  the  management 
of  their  eata*^,  and  lived  brothers  in  peace  as  they  had  been 
in  arms. 

Their  children  played  and  grew  up  together  as  they  had 
done ;  family  troubles  and  festivities  were  shared  by  both 
households,  and  the  domestic  history  of  the  two  men  had  a 
remarkable  similarity  m  every  point  but  one. 
»  Each  had  married  for  love,  lost  his  wife  by  early  death,  and 
never  changed  his  widowed  state,  but  committed  his  home 
affairs  to  the  care  of  a  trusty  housekeeper.  Archdale  bad  but 
one  child— his  son  Sydney.  Delamere  had  but  one  now— his 
daughter  Constance ;  but  there  was  a  time  when  he  had  a  son, 
Gervase,  too.  His  marriage  had  been  earliei  in  life  than  that 
of  his  friend,  but  there  were  seven  years  between  the  births  of 
his  boy  and  girl.  Their  mother  left  the  one  a  child  the  other 
an  infant.  He  loved  and  cared  for  them  equally,  but  Dela- 
mere's  hopes  and  pride  were  set  upon  his  son,  most  people 
thought,  with  good  reason— for  Gervase  was  handsome  and 
clever,  of  an  honest,  fearless,  and  yet  kindly  nature,  that  would 
not  see  wrong  done  to  the  meanest  thing  without  doing  his 
best  to  right  it ;  and  so  precocious  in  growth,  in  learning,  and 
in  sense,  that  he  was  reckoned  a  man  at  an  age  when  others 
were  but  boys.  Gervase  went  to  college  when  little  more  than 
a  child,  took  his  degree  with  honors  while  senior  students 
were  sighing  over  the  grades  they  had  yet  to  obtain;  and  then, 
at  his  own  earnest  request,  his  father  allowed  him  to  accom« 
pany  a  relation  of  the  family,  who  was  a  man  of  discreet  years, 
and  a  merchant  of  high  account  In  Boston,  on  a  tour  of  Europe, 
which  he  intended  to  make  for  business  purposes. 

The  travelers  set  out,  and  all  things  went  well  with  them  till 
they  reached  Versailles,  then  the  abode  of  the  French  Court 
under  Louis  XV.  and  Madame  Pompadour,  and  consequently 
the  scene  of  lavish  splendor,  deep  Intrigue,  and  high  play. 
The  merchant  had  important  affairs  to  transact  there,  and  they 
remained  for  some  time.  The  life  and  fashions  of  the  place, 
so  unlike  those  of  New  England,  had  the  charm  of  novelty  to 
young  Delamere ;  his  good  sense  and  better  principle  kept  him 
cleur  of  its  follies  and  vices,  and  his  companion  free  from 
anxiety  on  his  account.  Thus  when  the  latter  was  occupied 
with  his  mercantile  concerns,  he  went  about  by  himself,  seeing 
what  was  to  be  seen,  especially  in  places  of  public  amusement. 

One  of  these  was  the  Cafe  du  Monde,  a  union  of  coffee  and 
gaming-house  not  uncommon  in  Versailles,  but  on  a  splendid 
scale,  and  frequented  by  men  of  rank  and  fashion,  where  they 
met  their  friends,  discussed  the  news  of  the  day,  apd  lost  or 
won  at  the  hazard  tables.  Among  the  company  to  be  found 
there  that  season  was  a  man  of  English  birth,  and  still  young, 
though  not  a  stripling;  he  represented  himself  to  be  the  son 
of  a  worthy  planter  in  Jamaica.  His  card  bore  the  name  of 
Courtney  Percivil,  but  beyond  this  nothing  was  known  of  him, 
exce:3t  that  he  had  wonderful  luck  at  the  tables.  Young  Dela 
mere  visited  thevhouse sometimes,  but  always  as  a  spectator; 
and,  one  evening,  while  thus  engaged,  his  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  Percivil's  mode  of  playing  with  a  young  French 
nobleman,  from  whom  he  had  already  won  a  considerable  sum, 
A  few  minutes  of  close  observation  made  it  plain  to  him  that 
the  Frenchman  was  grossly  dieated,  and  with  his  usual  hon- 
esty and  courage,  he  steppea  forward  and  denounced  the 
fraudulent  trick  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the 
Whole  compr."".  The  West  Indian  was  caught  in  the  act,  and 
could  not  deny  it ;  his  wonderful  luck  was  no  longer  a  mystery, 
and,  as  it  was  thought  beneath  French  honor  to  challenge  so 
base  a  knave,  the  young  nobleman  and  his  friends  contented 
themselves  with  making  him  refund  his  unfair  winnine.t,  after 
which  he  was  by  common  consent  ignominiously  expelled  the 
cafe. 

Geivase  Delamere  got  compliments  and  commendationt 
enough  to  turn  the  head  of  many  an  older  man ;  the  young 
count  vowed  eternal  friendship  to  him  on  the  spot,  while  he 
vowed  he  had  only  done  an  honest  man's  duty.  The  affair  was 
talked  of  in  city  and  court ;  the  Boston  merchant  was  proud 
of  his  travelling  companion ;  but  three  days  after  his  pride  was 
changed  to  grievous  mourning.  The  inn  at  which  they  lodged, 
though  a  most  respectable  one,  was  situated  in  the  oldest  part 
of  Versailles,  and  had  been  a  small  priory,  which  was  sup- 
pressed  for  Jansenism  in  the  persecuting  reign  of  Louis  XI  v., 
and  the  prior's  garden  still  remained  in  its  rear  inclosed  by 
high  walls,  above  which  the  backs  and  roofs  of  tall  old  houses 
could  be  faintly  seen,  and  communicating  with  a  narrow  gate 
and  passage  with  one  of  the  crooked  and  ancients  streets  of 
the  town.  It  was  an  overgrown,  neglected  place,  but  green 
and  flowery  in  the  beautiful  spring  of  France,  which  had  now 
come ;  and  the  country-bred  young  man,  when  weary  of  th* 
show  and  bustle  of  the  courtly  city,  used  to  retire  with  his 
book  to  a  small  arbor  in  its  most  pleasant  corner.  He  had 
done  so  one  warm  evening— it  was  the  third  after  his  detection 
of  Percivil— but  lingered  to  such  an  unusually  late  hour,  that 
the  merchant  went  to  remind  him  that  bedtime  was  approach- 
Ing.  The  good  man  found  him  still  in  the  arbor,  but  the  book 
had  fallen  from  his  hand,  and  he  had  fallen  forward  on  a  little 
table,  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  some  villain  who  must  have 
reached  him  through  the  tangled  jessamine  behind  his  seat. 

It  wag.  the  work  of  a  determined  assassin,  and  no  robber. 
The  few  valuables  poor  Delamere  had  about  him  were  un- 
touched  It  was  done  by  surprise,  for  the  rapier  he  wore  In 
compliance  with  French  custom  had  not  been  drawn.  The 

fate  communicating  with  the  crooked  street,  and  believed  to 
e  always  locked,  was  found  open,  and  there  every  trace  of  the 
Dernetrato'-  «nded.   The  British  Ambassador,  the  court,  th* 


THE  GROOVING  JVORLD. 


26- 


«ity  and  the  police,  all  exerted  themselves  for  his  discovery, 
but  in  vain.  Everybody  suspected  the  West  Indian,  but  he 
was  nowhere  to  be  lound  ;  and  when  Inquiry  and  investigation 
alike  failed  to  throw  light  on  the  dark  deed,  the  heart-stricken 
merchant  returned  to  Ncav  England  with  the  remains  of  his 
relation's  dear  and  hopeful  son,  to  be  laid  in  the  grave  among 
his  kindred.  The  whole  country  lamented  the  young  man's 
fate  and  sympathised  with  the  bereaved  father  It  was  al^ 
lowed  all  hands  that  Squire  Delamere  bore  up  against  his 
•Teat  sorrow  as  became  a  man  and  a  Christian ;  but  the  stroke 
was  heavy,  and  his  mind  never  recovered  from  it.  Great  griefs 
or  losses  that  come  in  middle  life  are  apt  to  have  more  lasting 
and  strange  effects  than  those  that  fall  upon  either  youth  or 
age  Of  the  two  squires,  Delamere  had  been  the  most  jovial 
and  light-hearted,  for  Archdale  was  by  nature  a  grave  and 
serious  man;  but  after  the  fate  of  his  son  was  made  known  to 
him  the  luckless  father  was  rarely  seen  to  smile.  His  temper, 
which  had  always  been  hasty,  became  irritable  and  obstinate, 
and  his  views  of  moral  and  religious  duty  grew  austere  and 
antiquated  as  those  of  his  Puritan  ancestors. 

CHAPTER  III. — THE  OLD  BOND  BROKEN. 

Years  had  passed  since  the  grievous  event  recorded  In 
the  last  chapter.  The  two  that  were  children  then  Avere 
now  deep  in  the  romance  of  youth.  The  friends  Avho 
had  mourned  with  almost  equal  sorrow  were  friends 
still,  but  the  discord  of  the  time  put  a  heavy  strain 
on  the  old  hereditary  bond. 

Calm  and  cool  in  his  ways  of  thought  and  action, 
an  advocate  and  example  of  moderation,  Archdale 
was  nevertheless  known  to  be  what  his  neighbors 
called  "an  out-and-out  liberty  man,"  a  genuine  dem- 
ocrat, who  maintained  the  sovereign  rights  of  the 
people  on  as  broad  a  basis  as  ever  did  Greek  or  Rom- 
an when  king  and  tyrant  were  synonymous  titles 
with  them.  Sincerely  attached  to  the  land  of  his 
birth  and  parentage,  with  a  boundless  hope  in  its 
future  and  a  firm  faith  in  its  resources,  he  took  part 
with  his  American  countrymen  in  their  opposition  to 
the  royal  prerogative ,  which  in  his  opinion  should 
never  have  existed,  and  to  the  parliament  in  whose 
election  they  had  no  voice. 

Naturally  inclined  to  trust  in  the  long-established, 
and  revere  what  elder  generations  had  set  up,  Dela- 
mere was  a  Tory  of  the  old  nonjuring  stamp,  only 
his  faith  was  pledged  to  a  different  dynasty.  He 
believed  in  the  divine  right  of  George  III.  to  tax  his 
American  provinces,  thought  the  acts  of  the  British 
parliament  perpetually  binding  on  all  the  colonies, 
and  loyalty  to  his  king  the  first  duty  of  a  Christian 
gentleman. 

Many  a  warm  hut  friendly  controversy  the  two 
squires  had  on  their  respective  opinions,  par- 
ticularly as  regarded  the  points  in  dispute  be- 
tween the  old  country  and  their  own.  But 
as  the  dispute  grew  hotter,  and  tempers 
more  inflamed  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  they  avoiaea 
the  subject  by  tacit  agreement,  which  indeed  kept 
peace,  but  also  brought  estrangement  between  the  old 
familiar  friends.  Without  free  speech  there  is  no  real 
companionship,  and  it  v/as  neither  natural  nor  possible 
to  keep  silence  on  questions  with  which  the  land  rang 
from  side  to  side. 

They  became  less  frequent  visitors  at  each  other's 
houses ;  less  frequent  surveyors  of  each  other's  fields  ; 
and  when  they  did  chance  to  meet,  there  was  a  degree  of 
constraint  in  the  intercourse  unknown  to  former  days. 
Such  constraint  was  upon  them  now  as  they  sat  in  that 
pleasant,  room,  with  windows,  full  of  flowering  plants, 
looking  out  on  the  lawn,  and  commanding  beyond  it  a 
glorious  prospect  of  farm  and  woodland,  hill  and  river, 
bathed  in  the  soft  haze  and  mellowed  sunshine  of  the 
season. 

There  were  grander  apartments  in  the  mansion  kept 
for  times  of  state  and  fine  company,  but  that  was  the  cita- 
del of  household  comfort  and  convenience — half  parlor, 
half  library — where  Delamere  kept  his  treasury  of  books, 
old  and  new — for,  like  most  American  gentlemen,  he 
had  a  cultivated  taste  and  a  genuine  love  of  literature — 
where  his  father's  escritoir,  his  mother's  rocking  chair, 
and  his  daughter's  work-table,  stood  side  by  side,  with 
other  old-fashioned  and  memorial  furnishings.  Man^  a 
social  hour  had  the  two  passed  there  at  the  open  win- 
dows in  summer  evenings,  or  by  the  blazing  heartli  in 


winter  nights,  and  the  genius  of  the  place  might  have 
brought  back  to  them  those  better  times,  but  unfortu- 
nately in  his  last  importation  of  books  from  England 
there  was  a  pamphlet  after  Delamere's  own  Tory  heart, 
which  he  had  read  and  rejoiced  over  all  the  morning. 

There  !"  he  cried,  with  a  look  of  boundless  triumph, 
putting  it  into  Archdale's  hand  the  moment  they  had 
exchanged  greetings,  "'Taxation  no  Tyranny,'  by  Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson.  Kead  it ;  you  are  welcome  to  the 
loan ;  and  if  that  does  not  bring  you  to  a  right  way  of 
thinking,  nothing  will." 

''Thank  you,  'my  friend,  but  1  have  read  it — Franklin 
sent  it  to  me  by  the  last  packet,"  and  Archdale  laid 
down  the  pamphlet  on  the  table  and  took  a  chair  close  by. 

"Are  you  convinced  then?"  inquired  the  master  of 
the  Elms. 

"  Yes,  that  the  man  has  gone  far  out  of  his  depth," 
said  the  other." 

"  What,  Archdale  !  the  author  of  the  'Rambler,'  which 

you  used  to  admire  so  much  ?" 

"  I  do  so  still,  my  friend.  In  the  '  Rambler '  Johnson 
was  at  home  with  his  subjects  ;  he  is  a  man  of  wit,  of 
learning,  and  of  piety,  after  his  own  fashion  ;  but  he  is 
neither  a  politician  or  a  philosopher;  his  mind  is  too 
backward  for  the  one  and  too  bounded  for  the  other." 

"  Ah  1  you  depreciate  the  great  Samuel  because  he 
writes  against  your  party.  Upon  my  word,  I  thought 
you  had  more  candor." 

"  Well,  then,  Delamere,  I  will  do  him  justice  now  ;  the 
great  Doctor  is  the  man  of  the  uppermost,  he  roars 
against  us  at  the  London  dinner-tables  because  it  suits 
George  III.  and  his  ministers ;  he  would  have  roared 
against  Luther  because  it  suited  Kaiser  Charles  and  the 
Pope,  and  against  the  early  Christians  because  it  suited 
Nero,  Perhaps  that  is  overstating  the  case/'  said 
Archdale,  for  he  saw  a  dark  flush  rising  to  his 
friend's  brow;  "  but  surely  Delamere,  you,  as  a  New 
England  man,  cannot  approve  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  chooses  to  speak  of  us,  as  if  we  were  all  the 
descendents  of  convicts,  or  men  who  had  fled  from 
their  creditors,  which  must  be  intentional  misrepre- 
sentation, for  I  cannot  believe  it  is  ignorance." 

"  I  do  not  approve  of  it,"  and  the  squire  looked 
half  ashamed  of  his  faith's  defender.  "  If  I  were  as 
clever  as  you,  Archdale,  I  would  write  Johnson  a 
smart  letter  on  the  subject." 

"  You  could  do  it  better  than  I,  my  friend;  but  it 
is  not  worth  while;  nobody  could  set  a  man  right 
who  means  to  stay  wrong  ;  and  there  is  some  allow- 
ance to  be  made,  for  how  could  he  and  the  dinner- 
loving,  four- walled,  wordy  generation,  amongst 
whom  he  lives,  from  a  true  estimate  of  a  people 
born  and  brought  up  among  these  grand  old  woods 
and  noble  rivers,  where  liberty  breathes  in  every 
breeze  and  speaks  in  every  echo." 

"Ay,  Archdale  ;  but  this  talk  about  liberty  will 
bring  ruin  on  these  provinces.  I  wish  that  you  and 
otlier  sensible  men  of  your  party  would  lay  to  heart 
Johnson's  warning,  for  wherever  the  doctor  is  wrong 
be  sure  he  is  right  there.  If  the  hot  heads  among  us 
drive  this  country  into  rebellion,  they  will  bring 
upon  us  the  vengeance  of  a  powerful  government, 
British  fleets  will  destroy  our  ports,  and  British 
armies  lay  waste  our  lands. 

"  My  friend,  war  always  brings  evil  and  destruction, 
and  is  therefore  to  be  avoided  as  far  as  possible  by  everj' 
wise  and  good  man.  Yet  if  the  questions  between  us 
and  the  old  country  went  to  the  arbritration  of  the 
sword,  we  need  not  fear  for  the  issue.  There  are  yet 
living  among  us  the  men  -who  fought  at  Fort  Duquesne 
and  Louisburg,  at  Niagara  and  C^own  Point ;  in  those 
fields,  whether  of  victory  or  defeat,  you  know  if  it  were 
the  British  regulars  or  our  own  men  that  did  the  most 
effectual  service,  for  you  and  I  were  there,  Delamere." 

"  I  remember — I  remember  them  well.  It  was  our 
own  men  that  did  whatever  was  done  ;  but  that  was  for 
our  king  and  his  just  rights,"  said  the  master  of  the 
Elms,  with  a  sigh. 

"No,  Delamere,  it  was  for  our  country — for  oui 
Protestant  faith  and  for  our  English  laws,  to  save  them  from 
\  the  clutch  of  the  Most  Christian  King  and  his  advisers,  tem- 
poral and  spiritual.    I  ivcollect  yen  aud  iii<?  uiscus^siiig  that 


266 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


subject  by  a  watch-fire  on  the  bank  of  the  Monongahela,  the 
night  after  poor  Braddock's  retreat." 

"  You  saved  my  life  that  day,"  said  Delamere. 

"  And  you  saved  mine  the  day  we  met  old  Dieskau  at  Crown 
Point,"  said  Archdale.  "Ah!  my  friend,  with  such  recollec- 
tions, and  years  of  kindly  companionship  at  home  and  abroad 
to  bind  our  hearts  together,  why  should  you  and  I  dispute  on 
matters  of  opinion,  in  which  the  best  may  differ?  and  no  rea- 
sonable man  can  hold  himself  free  from  error.  I  came  to  speak 
with  you  this  afternoon  on  a  subject  which  more  nearly  con- 
cerns us  and  ours.  Your  daughter  and  my  son  have  played  and 
grown  up  together,  and  you  probably  know  something  of  the 
affection  that  exists  between  them.  I  can  vouch  for  its  truth, 
on  Sydney's  part  at  least;  but,  like  ourselves  in  the  courting 
days  long  ago,  my  poor  boy  is  troubled  with  jealous  fears,  lest 
some  of  the  numerous  young  men  who  gather  around  Miss 
Constance  wherever  she  goes,  may  some  day  step  before  him 
and  carry  off  the  prize.  But  it  is  his  belief — orratherhope — that 
with  your  sanction  he  could  push  on  the  siege  more  vigorously, 
and  foil  them  all  at  last.  You  may  be  sure  I  should  be  well 
content  to  see  the  ancestral  friendship  of  our  families 
cemented  by  the  young  people's  wedding.  The  Plantation 
will  be  Sydney's,  of  course,  when  I  go  hence ;  but,  my  friend, 
it  is  not  the  union  of  estates  I  am  concerned  about.  If  you 
would  prefer  that  a  Delamere  should  occupy  after  you  and 

fierpetuate  the  old  name  at  the  Elms,  I  know  you  would  not 
eave  your  child  portionless  with  your  own  will,  and  should 
the  like  occur  by  any  of  those  accidents  to  which  human  life 
find  human  plans  are  liable,  it  would  make  no  difference  to 
cither  my  son  or  myself." 

Delamere  had  listened  with  a  grave  and  thoughtful  look, 
which  his  face  still  wore  as  he  said,  "Archdale,  Constance  is 
the  heiress  of  my  estate,  that  is  a  settled  thing ;  but  1  know 
not  what  to  say  about  your  son.  I  had  a  great  opinion  of  him 
once ;  he  seemed  to  be  a  good  boy ;  handsome  and  clever 
enough  to  take  any  woman's  fancy,  and  I  could  not  have 
wished  a  better  husband  for  my  Constance ;  but  all  that  ap 
pears  to  be  changed.  They  tell  me  he  has  taken  to  the  com 
pany  of  those  seditious  speech-making  fellows*  that  fill  our 
colleges  nowadays — braggarts  and  swaggerers  every  one  of 
them,  unworthy  of  the  name  of  students,  and  fit  for  nothing 
but  troubling  the  country.  I'll  warrant  it  was  some  of  them 
that  waylaid  old  Yardley,  the  storekeeper,  when  he  was  going 
to  Marblehead  to  get  out  of  the  Custom  House  some  goods  he 
bought  cheap  from  one  who  was  afraid  to  pay  duty  lor  them 
himself.  The  creature,  is  fond  of  bargains,  you  see.  Well, 
they  set  upon  him  a  mile  or  so  from  Hadley,  took  the  Custom 
House  warrant  out  of  his  pocket,  tore  it  to  shreds,  and  made 
him  give  three  cheers  for  liberty  on  the  open  road." 

"I  don't  think  it  did  the  old  man  much  harm  to  give  three 
cheers  for  liberty,"  said  Archdale,  smiling;  "but  my  son  and 
his  fellow-students  had  no  hand  in  that  absurd  transaction :  it 
was  one  of  the  performances  of  Hiram  Hardhead  and  his 
Green  Mountain  Boys." 

"  They  deserve  to  be  banished  the  province  "  said  Delamere ; 
but  here  the  room  door  was  suddenly  opened,  and  a  tall,  mus- 
cular youth,  with  a  handsome  Irish  face  and  a  strong  Irish 
accent,  named  Denis  Dargan,  and  known  to  the  neighborhood 
as  the  squire's  best  man,  stepped  in  with,  "Here's  a  paper  for 
yer  honor;  the  postmasther  sint  it  wid  his  compliments,  becase 
the  mail  bags  is  just  come  in,  an'  his  son  give  it  to  me  among 
the  stubbles  yonder,  where  we're  all  winnowin'  the  whait." 

"  Thank  you  Denis,"  said  Delamere,  taking  the  paper  ;  "  'tis 
Governor  Gage's  handwriting,"  he  continued,  glancing  at  the 
cover,  and  then  opening  it.  "  'Rivington's  Gazette  1'  there 
must  be  something  particular  here;  you  are  in  time  for  the 
news,  Archdale." 

"Rivington's  Gazette"  was  the  government  organ  for  all 
the  American  provinces ;  and  there  was  something  particular 
in  it  that  day,  for  the  first  of  the  print  on  which  Delamere's 
eye  lighted  was  a  strong  article  setting  forth  the  misdeeds  of 
the  students  of  Harvard  College,  and  more  especially  those  of 
Sydney  Archdale,  including  his  raid  on  the  revenue  oflicers  in 
the  widow's  house,  and  ample  quotations  from  the  young 
man's  speeches  in  public  and  private. 

Delamere  read  it  quickly  and  silently;  and  the  expi*ession 
of  mingled  wrath  and  astonishment  in  lus  face  almost  prepared 
hi  i  friend  for  what  was  to  follow  as  he  handed  him  the  paper, 
lying,  "  Look  at  that,  Archdale,  and  tell  me  if  you  believe  it 
to  be  true." 

"  For  the  most  part  I  believe  it  is,"  said  Archdale,  when  he 
li  i'J  glanced  over  the  article. 

"•  And  knowing  that,  you  have  asked  my  consent  to  such  a 
fellow  paying  his  addresses  to  my  only  child  I  "  cried  Delamere, 

"Holdl  hold!  Sydney  has  compromised  himself  by  his 
opposition  to  arbitrary  and  unjust  laws,  which,  being  such,  no 
Diun  is  morally  bound  to  obey.  We  cannot  expect  the  pru- 
dence of  age  from  hot  and  headlong  youth;  but  he  has  done 
n  .thing  for  him  or  for  me  to  be  ashamed  of,"  said  Archdale, 
wj  th  a  look  of  quiet  pride  that  fairly  fired  up  the  master  of  the 
Elms. 

"What,  sir!"  he  cried,  almost  sjjringing  from  his  chair; 
"  do  you  call  his  speech  at  the  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall  noth- 
I  tell  you  it  is  downright  treason.  Do  you  call  raising 
a  a  armed  force  and  attacking  the  king's  revenue  officers  in  the 
<!.  sctiarge  of  their  duty,  nothing  ?  I  tell  you  it  is  open  rebel 
lion." 

"  Suppose  it  is  treason  and  rebellion,  both  are  right  or  wrong 
uccordinc  to  their  cause ;  no  tyrant  was  ever  overthrown  or 


nation  liberated  without  them :  no  patriot  ever  yet  escaped 
their  imputation.  William  Tell  was  a  rebel  against  the  Aus- 
trian Governor,  who  set  up  his  cap  to  be  bowed  to  in  the 
market-place.  The  Protestant  princes  of  Germany  were  rebels 
against  Charles  "V.,  who  wanted  to  burn  them  and  their  sub- 
jects for  heresy.  Our  own  great-grandfathers  were  rebels 
against  Charles  I.,  who  wanted  to  tax  the  English  nation  with- 
out the  consent  or  their  representatives,  as  George  III.  wishes 
to  do  by  us,"  said  Archdale. 

"  Our  great-grandfathers  must  answer  for  themselves ;  if 
they  could  reconcile  their  consciences  to  rebellion,  I  cannot, 
and  will  not,  for  all  the  Whiggish  sophistry  that  any  man  may 
talk.  Your  son's  doings  are,  no  doubt,  according  to  your 
principles"— Delamere  was  growing  hotter  every  minute— 
"  but  I  detest  and  abhor  everything  of  the  kind,  and  I  tell  you 
frankly  that  he  shall  never  have  my  consent  to  speak  or  corres 
pond  with  my  daughter." 

"The  girl  might  speak  and  correspond  with  worse,"  said 
Archdale;  his  calm  face  had  a  look  of  sore  displeasure  now. 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate,  sir,  that  my  innocent  child 
would  ever  stoop  to  disgrace  herself  and  her  family  ?  I  must 
say  that  is  worthy  of  a  Whig  1 "  and  Delamere  laughed  sneer- 
ingly. 

"A  long  life's  acquaintance  has  let  you  know  me  better  than 
to  think  so."  Archdale  was  himself  again.  "What  I  meant, 
not  to  insinuate,  but  to  say,  was  that  she  might  chance  to 
many  a  less  worthy  man  than  my  son.  His  morals  are  with- 
out reproach,  his  honor  is  without  stain;  man  never  loved  a 
woman  more  truly  and  devotedly  than  Sydney  loves  your 
daughter ;  and  all  that  can  be  said  against  him  is,  that  he  loves 
his  country  too ;  which  is  not  wonderful,  seeing  he  beara  the 
name  of  one  who  fell  fighting  for  liberty  on  a  foreign  soil,  the 
gallant  and  accomplished  Sir  Phillip,  and  of  one  who  died  for 
it  on  an  English  scaffold,  the  noble  and  virtuous  Algernon." 

"You  had  always  arguments  enough  at  your  fingers'  ends, 
Archdale :  but  you  will  never  reconcile  me  to  such  a  match, 
nor  my  Constance  either;  she  has  too  much  respect  for  her 
father's  principles,  and  I  may  say  her  own,  to  think  of  marry- 
ing a  captain  of  rebels,  for  those  Minute  Men  are  nothing  else. 
I  know  she  has  a  mind  above  the  like ; "  and  the  master  of  the 
Elms  looked  proud  in  his  turn. 

"Stop,  my  friend,  there  are  none  of  us  old  heads  that  can 
truly  promise  for  young  people  and  their  weddings."  It  was 
an  injudicious  speech  of  the  prudent  Archdale,  for  it  roused  a 
lurking  fear  in  Delamere's  breast  that  made  him  furious  for  a 
time. 

"Sir,  I  understand  you,"  he  cried  ;  "those  who  would  in- 
sult their  sovereign  in  public  meetings,  and  trample  on  the 
authority  of  Parliament,  would  not  scruple  to  turn  a  child 
against  her  father;  but  I  defy  your  son's  arts,  and  yours  too. 
My  Constance  has  been  educated  in  sound  principles ;  she  will 
not  break  her  father's  heart  for  all  your  crafty  endeavors,  for  I 
tell  you,  and  it  is  my  last  word  on  the  subject,  I  would  rather 
see  the  girl  in  her  grave— though  I  have  no  other  child — than 
married  to  such  a  man  as  your  son." 

"You  scarcely  mean  what  you  say,  Delamere ;  you  will  think 
better  of  it  hereafter;  in  the  meantime  let  us  part  in  peace ; '^ 
and  Archdale  rose  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"No,  sir,"  cried  the  angry  master  of  the  Elms,  stepping 
back ;  "  I  will  never  shake  the  hand  of  a  man  who  has  threat- 
ened me  with  the  disobedience  and  desertion  of  my  own  child, 
to  be  brought  about  by  his— that  is  all  I  have  to  say." 

Archdale  made  no  reply ;  the  blow  on  his  heart  vvas  too 
heavy  for  remonstrance,  and  without  a  word  or  sign  he  turned 
away,  found  the  outer  door  open,  and  walked  quickly  from 
the  house. 

OHAPTER  IV. — THE  PROPHET   OF   THE  GREEN  MOUNTAIN 
BOYS. 

Scarcely  was  Delamere  left  alone,  when  the  fiery  mist 
of  anger  began  to  clear  away  from  his  brain.  He  sat 
iown  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  tried  to  persuade  himself 
'.hat  he  had  only  acted  as  became  a  gentleman  under 
oUch  provocation.  But  it  would  not  do  ;  all  the  good 
md  noble  qualities  of  his  old  and  trusty  friend,  all  the 
ioving-kindness  that  had  been  between  them,  came 
rushing  back  on  his  memory  with  a  remorseful  convic- 
tion that  he  had  carried  the  quai-rel  too  far. 

Without  any  fixed  Intention,  but  vaguely  hopmg  that 
Archdale  might  yet  be  in  sight,  he  rose  and  walked  out 
to  the  porch.  The  bright  farewell  of  the  Indian  sum- 
mer sun  was  gilding  the  distant  heights  and  glowmg  on 
the  quiet  river  ;  but  there  was  no  receding  figure  on  the 
path  by  that  river  side  which  led  over  the  ford  to  the 
Plantation.  ,  . 

His  daughter  had  not  yet  returned  from  gathenng 
blue-berries  in  the  Holyoke  woods  with  her  page,  PhJLlip. 
His  men  were  all  occupied  on  the  high-lymg  stubble 
ground,  winnowing  the  new  wheat  by  favor  of  the  solt 
west  wind,  for  fanning  machinery  was  not  then  known 
in  New  England.  The  maids  were  milkmg  the  cows  m 
the  meadow,  and  there  was  nobody  about  the  house  but 
himself  and  his  trusty  housekeeper,  Hannah  Armstrong, 
a  plain,  sensible-looking  woman,  who  belonged  to  the 
Society  of  Friends,  and  had  all  the  trustworthy  qualitiea 


PARTING  IN  ANGER. 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


269 


and  soberness  of  mind  and  manner  which  so  frequently 
eharacterise  its  members.  She  was  well  advanced  in 
age,  but  her  sturdy  strength  had  not  yet  failed,  nor  was 
her  dark  hair  tinged  with  grey,  though  she  had  seen 
strange  and  terrible  things  in  her  time — for  Hannah  had 
been  the  wife  of  a  backwoodsman  in  Michigan  ;  and  as 
she  sat  there  in  her  drab  ^own,  white  apron,  and  whiter 
cap,  sewing,  and  singing  m  a  low  voice  an  old  hymn  at 
the  best  kitchen  window,  Delamere  recollected  the  day 
of  hard  frontier  fighting  eighteen  years  before,  in  which 
he  rescued  her  from  the  hands  of  an  Indian  chief,  who 
had  killed  her  husband  and  her  three  children,  burned 
their  cabin,  and  was  carrying  herself  away  captive  to 
the  western  wilds. 

Archdale  was  fighting  by  his  side  that  day,  and  with 
the  memory  of  it  a  strong  impulse  came  over  him  to  go 
at  once  to  the  Plantation  and  try  to  heal  the  breach  that 
was  made  between  him  and  his  friend.  It  might  have 
been  done,  for  the  first  lapse  in  friendship  is  easily  re- 
stored, and  things  might  have  gone  differently  with  him 
and  his  ;  but  what  trifling  neglect  may  tell  on  the  mind 
and  the  life  of  man  1 

As  Delamere  turned  from  his  long  and  unperceived 
look  at  Hannah,  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  figure  which 
few  who  saw  it  once  would  not  recognise  again. 

Hard  by  the  low  hedge  which  fenced  the  lawn,  on  the 
side  where  a  small  stream  wound  its  way  to  the  river, 
was  the  stump  of  a  large  and  ancient  tree  which  had 
sent  up  shoots  like  young  saplings,  and  with  an  arm 
around  one  of  these,  and  a  foot  on  the  stump,  while  the 
other  dangled  in  the  air,  stood  a  man  whose  body  and 
limbs  seemed  at  once  so  slender  and  so  loosely  hung, 
as  to  give  him  a  reminding  resemblance  to  a  large  spider. 
His  head  was  beyond  the  common  size,  and,  besides  the 
remains  of  an  old  leather  cap,  was  covered  with  matted 
and  bristly  hair  of  a  dark  color  ;  his  face  was  equally 
large,  and  embellished  by  a  straggling  beard  of  the  same 
hue,  on  which  no  razor  had  been  exercised  for  some 
time ;  he  had  an  uncommon  length  of  nose,  eyes  re- 
sembling those  of  a  ferret,  a  wide  mouth  that  appeared 
to  be  always  speaking,  and  a  complexion  that  defied 
both  sun  and  wind  to  give  it  a  deeper  or  more  husky 
brown.  His  dress  consisted  of  a  red  woollen  shirt,  a 
jacket  made  of  the  remnant  of  an  Indian's  buffalo  robe, 
buckskin  continuations  that  had  seen  hard  service, 
leather  leggings  in  the  same  estate,  and  rough  shoes 
resembling  the  Indian  moccasin. 

The  individual  of  this  prepossessing  appearance,  had 
a  name  to  match,  for  he  was  Hiram  Hardhead,  one  of 
those  eccentric  characters  that  crop  up  in  all  times  of 
public  agitation,  and  echo  in  their  own  odd  fashion  the 
voices  of  their  age  and  land.  He  styled  himself  the 
Prophet  of  the  Green  Mountain  Boys,  from  an  associa- 
tion corresponding  to  that  of  the  Minute  Men,  but  be- 
longing to  a  lower  stratum  of  society,  and  less  advanced 
districts,  for  it  consisted  of  the  young  men  inhabiting 
the  clearings  and  shanties  scattered  along  the  sides  of 
the  Green  Mountains,  a  range  of  high  and  then  forest- 
5lad  hills  on  the  western  side  of  the  Connecticut  Valley, 
and  some  twenty-five  miles  from  the  Hoosac,  or  Holyoke 
chain,  which  forms  its  eastern  boundary.  The  Green 
Mountains  were  Hiram's  habitat,  but  he  was  seen  and 
heard  in  all  the  adjacent  country,  as  far  as  his  anteced- 
ents were  known.  He  had  been  a  bee-hunter^  trapper, 
and  a  backwood-trader's  man  ;  but  latterly  Hiram  dis- 
Oovered  that  his  calling  was  to  preach  and  prophesy^ 
which  he  did  without  ceasing,  but  fortunately  it  was  not 
on  religion,  but  politics.  If  he  had  ever  received  any 
education,  it  was  not  a  liberal  one,  yet  Hiram  was  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  the  whole  controversy  between 
England  and  America,  the  character  and  policy  of  pub- 
lic men  on  both  sides,  and  the  views  and  motives  of 
contending  parties  in  his  native  province.  He  was 
known  to  be  no  coward,  but  the  chief  weapon  of  his 
warfare  was  that  generally  thought  peculiar  to  the  fair 
sex ;  for  Hiram  had  a  tongue  of  such  power  and  volume, 
that  once  set  on  it  left  gainsayers  no  chance.  He  said 
he  had  got  the  inward  light,  or  liberty,  and  could  talk 
down  any  ten  Tories,  or  Britishers  either ;  moreover, 
Hiram  was  a  far-out  cousin  of  Hannah  Armstrong.  The 
good  woman  was  by  no  means  proud  of  the  relationship. 
He  had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  the  same  sect,  but 
was  long  ago  cast  out  of  its  communion  for  his  erratic 
ways,  yet  the  prophet  retained  his  early  style  of  speech, 
which,  together  with  backwood  phrases  and  words  of 
his  own  coiniQff,  made  a  remarkable  mixtura- 


f'' Stamps  of  trees  and  top  rails  of  fences  were  his  favor- 
ite places,  a«  well  for  prophesying  as  for  rest.  Whatever 
caprice  made  him  choose  that  station  at  the  Elms,  it  was 
evidently  for  the  latter  purpose.  Hiram  had  produced 
from  his  ample  breast-pocket  the  pipe  and  match,  flint 
and  steel — a  smoker's  complete  outfit  in  those  days — 
when  Delamere  caught  sight  of  him ;  and  all  the 
squire's  recent  indignartion  against  liberty-men  blazed 
jip  anew. 

"  What  business  have  you  in  my  grounds,  you  idle, 
seditious  fellow  ?"  he  shouted.  "  Begone  ftiis  moment ! 
I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  to  show  your  face  after 
tearing  up  the  warrant  from  his  Majesty's  Custom 
House." 

"I  have  come  to  prophesy  against  thee,  thou  brother 
of  Herod  and  Pilate— thou  confusticated  fag-end  of 
British  iniquity!"  cried  Hiram,  in  a  far  louder  shout, 
swinging  round  on  the  stump,  and  leveling  his  pipe  at 
him,  as  if  it  had  been  a  pistol.  The  stink  of  thy  pride 
has  gone  up  into  the  nostrils  of  the  Massachusetts  peo- 
ple, like  the  unsavory  scent  of  a  seven-year-old  polecat 
at  high  noon  in  midsummer." 

'Tor  shame,  Hiram  Hardhead  !  "  said  Hannah  Arm- 
strong, looking  out  at  her  unboasted  kinsman ;  "  thou 
hast  no  right  to  speak  so  to  friend  Delamere  on  his  own 
land.    Go  about  thy  business,  and  learn  better  manners." 

"  I  will  also  testify  against  thee,  Hannah  Armstrong, 
though  thou  art  my  cousin,"  responded  Hiram;  *'yea, 
I  will  lift  up  my  voice  like  a  trumpet  "—he  was  certainly 
doing  so  by  this  time — "  because  thou  dwellest  in  peace 
and  pleasantness  with  that  barking  bloodhound  of  British 
tyranny.  Thou  guidest  his  house  ;  thou  boldest  therein 
quilting  and  apple-bees  ;  thou  preparest  for  him  buck 
wheat  cakes  and  dough-nuts,  bacon  and  beans,  and  such- 
like confections,  and  settest  them  before  him  in  the 
midst  of  his  high  jinks  and  rampagious  rigs  agin  the 
rights  and  liberties  o'  the  great  American  people,  when 
thou  shouldest  rather  lift  up  thy  testimony  and  heave 
the  dishes  at  him." 

Delamere  had  first  thought  of  going  in  for  his  pistols  ; 
but  when  Hannah  undertook  the  combat,  he  thought  it 
better  to  let  the  woman  and  her  cousin  settle  it ;  and, 
with  that  wise  intention,  he  was  turning  into  the  house, 
when  his  eye  fell  on  a  stout  cane  in  the  comer  of  the 
porch.  The  temptation  to  chastise  Hiram's  insolence 
on  the  spot  proved  too  great  for  the  poor  squire's  wisdom, 
and,  catching  up  the  cane,  he  rushed  out  with  "Tou 
umnannerly  fellow,  I'll  teach  you  how  to  talk  to  your 
betters."  The  blow  he  aimed  at  the  prophet  over  the 
,low  hedge  would  have  been  something  to  remember,  but 
, Delamere  had  not  calculated  on  probabilities.  By  a 
dexterous  stoop  and  a  backward  swing  Hiram  avoided 
his  cane,  and  the  squire,  having  over-reached  himself  in 
the  attempt,  lost  his  balance  and  came  down,  partly  on 
the  hedge  and  partly  on  the  ground. 

•'Behold,  thou  art  brought  to  the  dust  with  a  mighty 
down-come  and  a  thunderin'  kerwollup,"  cried  Hiram, 
performing  a  sort  of  war-dance  with  one  foot  on  the 
stump  and  the  other  in  the  air,  but  still  keeping  judi- 
ciously out  of  reach,  "in  the  midst  of  thy  high-flyin' 
randyness  and  tryin'  to  leather  the  righteous,  wherefore 
thou  art  an  emblem  of  the  varsal  overthrow  and  upturn- 
in'  of  all  Toryism  in  this  land.  Also  from  thee  I  will 
take  up  my  parable  concernin'  that  man  George,  in  the 
rotten  old  country  ;  his  name  is  Whelps,  and  truly  a 
cross-grained,  Ul-conditioned,  pig-headed  whelp  he  is." 

Here  the  prophet  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  of,  "  By 
the  powers^  I'll  give  you  a  parable  for  onsultin'  the 
squire,  yer  world's  wondher  I "  and  Denis  Dargan, 
floui-ishing  a  flail,  his  favorite  weapon,  bore  dowTi  upon 
him  at  the  other  side  of  the  hedge.  Hiram  was  not  dis- 
posed to  await  the  onset  of  the  strong  and  active  young 
man  from  the  Emerald  Isle  ;  he  took  a  spring  to  clear 
the  stream,  but  fell  headlong  into  it.  Dargan's  flaO 
made  the  water  splash  yards  high  the  next  moment,  and 
his  loudly-expressed  intention  to  break  every  bone  in 
the  prophet's  skin,  was  escaped  only  in  some  degree  by 
the  latter  scrambling  out  of  the  stream  and  flying  at 
top-speed  towards  the  Holyoke  woods,  dripping  like  a 
drifting  rain-cloud,  and  hotly  pursued  by  his  furious 
assailant. 

It  was  proverbial  that  nobody  could  overtake  Hiram 
Hardhead,  the  man  was  so  perfectly  constructed  for 
running.  Denis  kept  him  in  sight  for  some  time,  and 
cheered  on  the  chase  with,  "Whoo  there,  the  Balyma- 


270 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


carrot  boys,  only  let  me  get  hould  o'  ye  !"  But  on  the 
high-wooded  ground  the  prophet  disappeared  from  his 
vision,  and  was  finally  lost  among  the  thick-growing  trees. 
"  Nothing  living  could  catch  that  creature ;  but  bad 
luck  to  the  matther  it  is,  for  he's  his  own  any  way," 
said  Denis,  after  a  long  look  round  him.  "  Howsom- 
ever,  he  won't  come  back  in  a  hurry.  I  got  two  or  three 
wallops  at  him  wid  the  flail." 

Vat  you  be  seenen  arter,  my  friend  ?"  said  a  man's 
voice  from  the  slope  above  ;  and  Dargan  saw,  standing 
in  the  shadow  of  an  old  tree,  a  figure  so  short,  stout  and 
sturdy,  that  it  might  have  passed  in  uncertain  light  for 
one  of  his  own  logs  set  up  to  dry,  for  it  was  no  other 
than  Vanderslock,  the  Dutch  lumber-man,  whose  life 
was  passed,  like  others  of  his  trade,  in  the  mountain 
forest  solitudes,  hewing  down  trees,  stripping  off  their 
branches,  and  sending  their  trunks  down  the  nearest 
stream  that  had  communication  with  the  seaward  river 
on  which  stood  a  port  or  town,  where  they  might  be 
sawn  into  planks,  or  otherwise  prepared  for  the  use  of 
the  carpenter  and  builder.  Vanderslock' s  trunk-hose 
and  leather  doublet  would  have  been  a  study  for  a 
painter  given  to  Dutch  groups;  so  would  his  face,  whicb 
was  round  and  full  as  one  of  his  native  cheeses,  and 
never  wanting  the  ornament  of  a  short  pipe,  for  some 
people  said  he  slept  smoking ;  but  it  was  not  wanting 
either  in  an  expression  of  mingled  honesty  and  shrewd- 
ness, which  made  him  true  in  trust  and  safe  in  action. 

"I'm looking  for  that  strange  baist,  Hiram  Hardhead," 
said  Denis,  who  in  common  with  all  the  country  round, 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  lumber-man  ;  "he's  been 
playing  his  pranks  on  the  squire,  screechin'  abuse  over 
his  hedge,  till  I  could  hear  it  every  word ;  and  it  would 
be  Ul  my  comin'  to  stand  still  and  hear  the  like." 

"So  vould  it,  mine  friend;  you  are  the  squire's  pest 
man,  set  in  great  bower  and  drust ;"  and  Vanderslock 
came  down  and  stood  confidentially  by  his  side. 

"More  nor  that,"  said  Denis,  "he  tuck  me  into  his 
sarvice  three  years  ago,  when  I  was  an  orphant  boy, 
saved  by  a  marciful  despinsary  out  of  a  shipwreck  in 
Boston  Bay,  where  my  parents  and  two  brothers  was 
lost.   And  a  good  master  he  has  been  iver  since." 

"  He  is  von  very  big  Dory,"  said  the  lumber-man. 

"  An'  the  more's  the  pity ;  I'm  for  liberty  myself. 
Maybe,  if  it  begins  here,  it  will  get  the  length  of  poor 
Ireland  at  last." 

But  Dargan's  patriotic  aspirations  were  cut  short  by 
the  Dutchman  saying  in  a  hasty  whisper,  "  Mine  friend, 
did  you  see  a  man  on  a  horse's  back  'mid  holsters,  and 
a  valise  on  him,  hereabouts  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  him  I  saw.  Are  ye  af eared  to  be  tuck 
unawares  ?  Is  it  a  private  still  ye  keep  up  there  ?"  said 
Denis,  in  a  tone  as  low. 

"No,  no,  mine  friend,  dere  is  noting  to  still;  only 
somebody  tell  me  dere  was  a  man  of  dat  sort  galloping 
about  de  voods.  I  only  come  down  to  look  for  mine 
frau's  squirrel.  Oh,  mine  friend,"  and  the  Dutchman 
sent  a  puff  of  smoke  into  Dargan's  face  with  the  forc^ 
of  the  sigh  he  drew,  "  dere  is  no  peace  mid  the  fraus,  if 
you  don't  give  dem  all  der  own  vills  and  vays  ;  dat  vUl 
be  made  clear  to  your  understandment  ven  you  get  into 
vedenlock,  vich  indeed  has  much  drials  for  de  batience 
and  vortitude  of  man." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  Father  O'Reily,  over  in  Balyma- 
carrot,  used  to  say  the  women  were  the  '■  Ould  Boy  him- 
self,' but  we  couldn't  do  widout  thim,  which  showed 

treat  undherstanding  in  him,  seeing  he  was  a  priest,  and 
ad  nobody  but  his  niece  about  him,  in  course.  How- 
somever,  I  must  go  home.  Good  evenin',  Misther  Van- 
derslock ;  I  hope  ye '11  soon  catch  yer  lady's  squirrel," 
and  Denis  turned  away,  singing — 

"A  fair  maid  once  I  coorted, 
And,  oh,  but  ^he  was  thrue." 

But  at  some  distance  he  looked  back,  where  the  puffs  of 
the  Dutchman's  pipe  could  yet  be  seen,  and  added, 
"Well  done,  old  broad  breeches,  ye  have  something 
afoot  ye  don't  want  me  to  know  ;  but  I'll  make  it  out 
wid  continwal  watchin'." 

CHAPTER  v. — THE  STRANGER  PROM  ENGLAND. 

As  Dargan  went  singing  down  the  wooded  hillside  by 
one  path,  the  squire's  daughter  made  her  homeward 
way  by  another,  less  rough  and  steep,  and  leading  by  a 
more  circuitous  route  to  the  Elms.  She  had  no  com- 
panion but  her  page,  Philip,  a  bright-eyed  negro  boy  of 
about  thirteen,  well  grown  for  his  years,  and  handsome 


for  one  of  his  African  descent,  having  something  of  a 
Spanish  cast  in  countenance  and  carriage,  which  proved 
him  in  some  degree  related  to  a  European  race ;  but 
Philip's  origin  was  not  exactly  known.  The  captain  of 
a  West  India  ship  had  brought  him  to  Boston  in  his  early 
childhood,  and  contrived  to  forget  and  leave  him  behind 
—it  was  thought  by  design— at  the  inn  where  he  had 
lodged ;  and  Squire  Delamere,  happening  to  be  in  the 
provincial  capital  at  the  time,  and  hearing  of  the  child's 
destitute  condition,  with  his  wonted  charity  took  him 
home,  and  placed  him  under  the  kindly  rule  of  his 
daughter  Constance.  Under  that  rule  Philip  grew  up  to 
robust  boyhood,  and  became  Miss  Delamere's  page,  an 
attendant  most  congenial  to  her  active  habits  and  the 
homelv  life  of  New  England,  where  every  lady  was  her 
own  maid.  She  taught  him  his  prayers,  his  manners,  and 
his  learning;  in  consequence  Philip  could  read  well, 
could  speak  good  English,  with  scarcely  an  alloy  of 
negro  patois,  and  was  liked  by  all  the  household  as  a 
good-natured,  well-behaved,  and  very  handy  boy.  It 
was  true  that  he  gave  early  promise  of  being  a  negro 
beau  of  the  first  degree  ;  great  was  the  brushing  and 
much  the  pomatum  bestowed  on  his  fleecy  locks,  to  give 
them  the  appearance  of  a  white  gentleman's.  He  chose 
to  be  called  Master  Delamere  by  negro  boys  of  inferior 
position,  for  Philip  could  properly  claim  no  name  but 
the  Christian  one— a  case  common  enough  with  his 
colored  brethren — and  no  relation,  friend,  or  owner  ever 
appeared  to  claim  him,  so  Delamere  he  was  likely  to 
remain,  as  neither  the  squire  nor  his  daughter  would 
grudge  him  that  piece  of  gentility. 

Never  was  knight's  squire  or  lady's  page  in  the  days  of 
chivalry  more  faithful  and  devoted  than  was  Philip  to 
his  young  mistress.  He  looked  after  her  pony,  he 
worked  in  her  own  privr.te  flower  garden,  he  would  have 
gone  any  distance  to  get  new  shrubs  and  roots  for  it, 
and  wherever  Constance  went  Philip  went  also.  Like 
pages  and  squires  of  old,  he  stood  high  in  his  lady's  con- 
fidence. The  solitary  girl,  without  brother  or  sister, 
naturally  made  no  stranger  of  the  faithful  boy,  and  as 
the  sight  of  the  gallows  in  full  preparation  for  him 
would  not  have  made  Philip  disclose  one  of  her  private 
affairs,  he  knew  them  all,  and  was  deep  in  the  interest 
of  Sydney  Archdale. 

Lady  and  page  were  walking  home  together  now,  car- 
rying a  basket  of  blue-berries  between  them,  and  talking 

confidentially.   

"  Where  did  you  see  the  horseman  first,  Philip  ?" 
"  Up  among  the  pines  beside  the  old  bear-traps,  miss, 
standing  up  in  his  stirrups  and  looking  away  through 
the  trees.  Caesar  saw  him  too,  and  told  me  that,  in  hib 
belief,  he  was  a  traveler  who  had  come  over  the  moun- 
tains by  the  open  slopes  that  lay  to  the  right  of  Vander- 
slock's  clearing  but  had  lost  his  way  in  the  wooded  parts 
down  here.  He  moved  away,  and  we  lost  sight  of  him 
for  a  little  while,  but  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  made 
me  look  up,  and  there  he  was  within  a  stone's-throw  ol 
us,  his  horse  standing  stUl  and  he  looking  all  about.  1 
don't  think  he  saw  either  Caesar  or  myself,  we  were  so 
hidden  among  the  bushes  in  the  hoUow,  and  what  he 
was  looking  for  I  don't  know,  but  in  a  minute  or  two  he 
turned  his  horse  and  rode  away  in  the  direction  he  had 
come  from." 
"  What  was  he  like,  Philip  ?" 

"Like  a  man  from  England,  miss — a  government  offi* 
cer,  or  something  of  that  sort.  He  rode  a  fine  horse, 
and  had  everything  handsome  about  him— he  was  hand- 
some  himself  for  that  matter." 

"Are  you  sure  it  was  not  Mr.  Archdale's  friend,  the 
Quaker  merchant,  riding  over  the  hills  to  see  him  ?" 

"I  am  sure  he  was  no  Quaker,  miss ;  I  would  know 
that  man  anywhere?" 
"  Why,  Philip,  have  you  seen  him  before  ?" 
"I  have  not  just  seen  him,  but  you'll  laugh  at  me. 
Miss  Constance— there's  a  dream  I  have  sometimes  about 
a  large  house  and  a  plantation— not  like  Mr.  Archdale's 
place  or  the  Elms— and  a  lady  on  horseback  with  a  habit 
like  your  own,  but  she  is  not  like  you  herself,  and  the 
gentleman  that  rides  with  her  is  the  man  I  saw  m  the 
wood. " 

As  the  boy  spoks,  Constance  recollected  that  years 
ago,  when  he  was  new  at  the  Elms,  Philip  used  to  talk, 
with  the  faint  and  confused  remembrance  of  early  chdd- 
hood,  about  living  on  a  plantation  where  liines  and 
sugar-canes  grew,  the  horse  his  mother  used  to  nde,  and 
the  man  from  England,  who  seemed  an  object  of  special 
tftrror  to  kim. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


"It  Is  a  singular  tiream,  Philip,"  she  said;  "and 
still  more  singular  that  you  should  know  the  horseman 
from  it.'» 

They  were  turning  out  of  the  wood  at  this  moment, 
ind  into  the  open  road  leading  straight  to  the  Elms. 
The  mansion  and  estate  were  clearly  to  be  seen  from 
the  spot,  and  Philip  looked  half  frightened,  so  indeed 
did  his  mistress,  for  right  before  them,  and  as  if  waiting 
their  approach,  a  horseman  had  drawn  his  bridle. 

"There  he  is  I"  whispered  the  boy,  and  he  had  de- 
scribed man  and  horse  with  remarkable  accuracy.  The 
latter  was  a  fine  creature — coal  black,  and  of  a  make 
that  might  have  served  for  a  cavalry  charger.  The  for- 
mer, though  not  in  uniform,  had  a  military  style  of  dress 
and  a  distinguished  air  ;  he  sat  his  horse  well,  and 
seemed  above  the  middle  size  a  man  of  about  thirty- 
flve.  English  bom,  for  the  solid  firmness  of  the  old 
country  was  about  him,  but  this  complexion  had  been 
tinged  by  the  sun  of  a  brighter  climate.  His  face  was 
of  the  Delamere  type  but  had  no  resemblance  to  the 
family.  Those  who  saw  only  cut  and  color  would  have 
called  it  handsome,  for  the  features  were  good  and  set 
oH  by  an  abundance  of  almost  black  hair,  which,  in 
traveler's  fashion,  he  wore  without  powder,  and  he  evi- 
dently thought  himself  too  young  for  the  fast-declining 
wig  ;  but  there  was  something  at  once  sensual  and  sin- 
ister about  the  mouth,  and  a  cold,  hard  expression  in 
the  otherways  fine  eyes,  especially  when  he  was  silent 
or  off  his  guard. 

The  latter  happened  to  be  the  case  that  evening  ;  he 
was  deceived  by  the  homespun  attire  and  the  basket  of 
blue-berries,  and  turning  upon  Constance  a  gaze  of  that 
bold  and  intrusive  admiration  with  which  the  gallants 
of  the  old  country  were  apt  to  regard  low-born  beauty, 
he  said,  "  Good  evening,  my  dear,  I  am  waiting  for  you, 
you  see,  because  I  know  that  such  a  face  as  yours  must 
own  a  tender  heart.  Will  you,  out  of  Christian  charity, 
show  a  poor  stranger,  who  has  been  astray  for  hours  in 
these  bewildering  woods,  the  nearest  way  to  North- 
ampton ?" 

Accustomed  to  the  true  and  chivalrous  respect  for 
womankind,  which  is  still  the  most  honorable  and  dis- 
tinguishing trait  of  American  society,  the  New  England 
girl  was  too  indignant  to  show  him  either  anger  or  con- 
tempt, but  as  to  her  great  satisfaction  Denis  Dargan 
emerged  from  the  wood  at  the  same  moment,  she  said 
quietly,  "  Denis,  be  good  enough  to  show  that  gentle- 
man his  way  to  Northampton,"  and  walked  on  without 
taking  any  further  notice  of  his  existence. 

The  traveler  looked  what  in  common  parlance  is  called 
scared  for  an  instant ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  too  large 
experience  to  be  long  put  out  of  countenance,  and  when 
Denis  had  finished  telling  him  that  he  must  ride  down  to 
the  river  and  keep  along  its  bank  till  he  came  to  the 
"foord  or  the  ferry,  and  take  which  o'thim  plased 
him  best."  he  thanked  the  young  man  with  patron- 
izing civility,  and  then  said  looking  towards  the  Elms, 
"  To  whom  does  that  fine  property  belong  ?" 

"  To  Squire  Delamere,  sir." 

Dargan  did  not  notice  the  strange  expression  that 
passed  over  the  traveler's  face  as  he  spoke,  the  words 
seemed  to  have  fallen  on  him  like  a  blow  ;  but  recover- 
ing himself  instantly,  he  said  in  a  still  more  bland  tone, 
"  And  who  is  that  young  lady  who  passed  just  now  with 
the  boy  and  the  basket  ?" 

"  Miss  Delamere,  sir  ;  she's  all  the  children  the  squire 
has  now,  and  the  estate  is  to  be  her  inharitance.  I'm 
sure  she  desarves  it,  for  a  kinder  lady  never  broke  the 
world's  bread,  and  any  man  may  see  she's  a  bom 
beauty,"  said  Denis. 

"She  is,  indeed,"  and  the  traveler  smiled.  "I  have 
never  seen  a  lovelier  face.  Are  you  in  the  squire's  ser- 
vice ?" 

"I  am,  sir;  they  call  me  his  best  man  hereabouts. " 
Dargan  never  hid  that  light  under  a  bushel. 

"A  good  master,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  traveler. 

"A  betther  never  breathed  the  breath  of  life,  it's 
proud  I  am  to  sarve  him  night  and  day,"  and  Denis  would 
have  gone  on  sounding  the  squire's  praise,  but  the 
traveler  stopped  him. 

"  That's  right,  my  man ;  a  good  master  deserves  good 
service.  But  I  must  go,  drink  my  health  with  this,"  and 
he  handed  Denis  a  dollar;  "  may  be  I  will  come  back  to 
this  quarter  some  time,  if  it  were  only  to  get  another 
sight  of  your  young  mistress  ;"  and  putting  spurs  to  his 
horse,  he  galloped  away. 


Troth,'*  said  Denis,  surveying  the  silver,  "  that's  a 
downright  ginerous  gentleman,  and  isn't  he  tuck  on  wid 
Miss  Constance  ;  howsomever  she's  not  tuck  on  wid 
him.  by  the  way  she  passed  by  cowld  and  careless. 
She'll  be  thme  to  young  Archdale  if  lords  and  dukes 
come  axin  her ;  but  I'll  be  bound  the  squire  would 
rather  have  that  gintleman  for  a  son-in-law,  for  it's  my 
opinion  he's  a  king's  officer  ;"  and  Denis  turned  home- 
ward to  report  the  adventure  to  his  confidants  at  the 
Elms. 

The  soft,  misty  night  was  falling  when  Constance 
reached  home.  The  household  people  were  gathering 
in  from  field  and  farm-building,  but  her  father  was 
pacing  the  grounds  alone,  like  one  who  could  not  rest. 
His  misadventure  with  Hiram  Hardhead,  little  as  it  re- 
lated to  the  business,  had  altered  his  mind  as  regarded 
seeking  a  reconciliation  with  Archdale.  It  was  another 
phase  of  Whiggish  doings,  an  evidence  of  what  loyal 
men  might  expect,  if  treason  and  sedition  were  allowed 
to  be  talked  by  the  educated  classes  and  acted  by  the 
ignorant.  Moreover,  Delamere  had  a  secret  conscious- 
ness that  his  own  conduct  in  the  transaction  had  been 
foolish,  and  the  figure  he  cut  was  rather  a  ridiculous 
one.  Would  not  Archdale  laugh  at  him?  Would  not 
the  whole  country  do  the  same  ?  for  Whigs  and  liberty 
men  abounded  in  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut :  but  he 
would  keep  aloof  from  them  all,  and  stand  by  his  prin- 
ciples. 

Then  his  daughter;  what  steps  should  he  take  to 
guard  her  from  the  wiles  of  Sydney  Archdale  ?  Time 
was  when  he  had  encouraged  the  idea  of  a  match  be- 
tween the  two,  and  thought  his  friend's  son  might  stand 
to  him  in  the  stead  of  his  own  lost  Gervase.  The  young 
tnan  had  not  taken  to  sowing  sedition  then,  but  the  case 
Was  altered  now.  He  had  told  Constance  so  already ; 
he  had  plainly  shown  her  the  evil  tendency  of  Sydney's 
ways.  "That  has  turned  her  mind  against  him,"  said 
the  simple  squire  to  himself;  "she  never  mentions  his 
name  of  late  ;  my  girl  knows  a  disloyal  man  will  never 
make  a  faithful  lover  or  husband,  and  she  can  get  a 
better  match  any  day.  The  warrant  against  him  is  just 
a  matter  of  thankfulness,  it  will  keep  him  out  of  this 
country,  so  he  can  have  no  opportunity  to  waylay  and  flat- 
ter her  out  of  her  senses,  as  a  cunning  villain  like  him 
would ;  and  when  I  show  her  that  article  in  '  Rivington's 
Gazette,'  Constance  will  give  the  fellow  up  entirely." 

Alas  for  that  ever-recurring  conflict  of  opinions  and 
inclinations  between  the  old  generation  and  the  new. 
Sometimes  sad  to  see,  the  seed-time  of  bitter  memories 
that  will  come  when  heads  are  grey  and  graves  are 
green,  sometimes  working  so  silently  and  far  beneath 
the  surface  as  not  to  be  observed,  but  evermore  renewed 
by  time  and  tide,  as  sure  as  the  spring  of  the  one  ap- 
proaches the  leaf-fall  of  the  other.  It  took  the  hidden 
form  between  Constance  and  her  father.  Delamere  was 
deceived,  as  most  fathers  ai-e  ;  but  it  was  from  affection 
and  not  fear.  The  master  of  the  Elms,  with  all  his 
arbitrary  principles  as  regarded  sovereign  and  subject, 
was  in  practice  one  to  be  beloved  by  all  about  him.  As  he 
half  guessed  at  times,  there  was  not  a  soul  of  his  own 
opinions  in  the  household,  yet  man,  woman,  and  boy 
would  have  stood  by  him  against  any  adversary,  as 
promptly  as  his  Quaker  housekeeper  and  his  Irish  best 
man  did  against  the  prophet  of  the  Green  Mountain 
Boys.  That  love  took  a  deeper  root  in  his  daughter's 
heart,  and  made  her  take  an  untmthful  way  that,  was 
foreign  to  her  nature,  rather  than  vex  or  grieve  him. 
Constance  would  not  mention  Sydney's  name  now, 
though  it  was  more  than  ever  in  her  thoughts,  for  the 
young  man  was  in  danger;  would  not  take  his  part, 
though  she  was  proud  of  his  recent  doings  ;  and  would 
not  express  her  views  on  the  subject,  though,  like  most 
New  England  girls  of  her  age  and  station,  she  had  pretty 
clear  and  decided  ones,  because  they  were  contrary  to 
those  of  her  father.  When  he  was  silent  and  out  of 
sorts  at  supper  that  evening,  terror  took  hold  of  her  lest 
her  meeting  with  Sydney  in  the  wood  had  been  discov- 
ered. When  he  showed  her  the  article  in  the  "Gazette  " 
next  morning,  and  bade  her  read  it,  she  promised  to  do 
so,  but  got  out  of  the  room  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and 
when  he  saw  her  again,  and  inquired  if  she  did  not  think 
Sydney  Archdale  a  very  wicked  young  man,  Constance, 
though  sincerely  ashamed  of  herself,  evaded  his  ques- 
tion. 

'"I  was  sure  you  could  not  approve  such  doings, 
mj  £:irL"  said  the  satisfied  Delamere  ;  and  yet  I  was 


-72 


THE  GROIVING  PVORLD. 


sorry  to  see  such  an  account  of  my  old  friend's  son.  I 
wish  I  had  not  seen  it  either,  for  it  made  me  quarrel 
with  Archdale ;  so  child,  you  must  remember  not  to  go 
near  the  house,  nor  let  our  people  borrow  anything; 
mind,  I  dont  say  against  lending,  and  if  Archdale 
speaks  to  you,  don't  turn  away,  or  be  dry  with  him,  for 
old  time's  sake." 

"  Quarreled  with  Mr.  Archdale,  father  !  I  thought  you 
would  never  do  that."  Constance  knew  what  business 
had  brought  Sydney's  father  to  the  Elms,  and  the 
chasm  which  that  quarrel  must  open  between  Sydney 
and  herself. 

"Once  I  thought  so,  too,  but  people  of  opposing 
principles  cannot  long  agree.  These  times  Avill  split  up 
many  a  friendship  as  well  as  ours  ;  but  there,  child,  say 
no  more  about  it,  some  things  are  better  forgotten." 
And  the  squire  turned  away  with  a  look  so  sad  and 
heart-sore,  that  she  could  never  again  venture  on  r-itum- 
ing  to  the  subject. 

That  was  not  the  only  cause  of  trouble  Constance 
had.  For  days  her  faithful  Philip  could  get  no  sight  of 
his  correspondent,  Caesar,  though  he  made  many  an  in- 
genious excuse  for  going  up  to  the  Holyoke  woods  ;  in- 1 
deed,  the  squire's  turkeys  and  pigeons  seemed  to  have -I 
taken  a  general  turn  for  flying  that  way,  and  Philip's 
tame  hare  had  to  be  sought  for  in  the  same  direction. 
Still,  no  sight  of  Caesar,  and  no  intelligence  of  his  mas- 
ter could  be  gained  ;  and  lady  and  page  took  terror  to 
their  hearts  at  last,  for  in  farm-house  and  hamlet  all 
along  the  valley,  there  was  talk  of  strangers  who  had 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  neighborhood,  and  whose 
business  there  was  not  exactly  known.  Constance,  of 
course,  thought  they  were  government  spies  in  search 
of  Sydney  Archdale,  but  her  fears  on  that  point  were 
unexpectedly  set  at  rest. 

She  and  Philip  had  ridden  to  Springfield,  the  nearest 
town  of  any  importance,  to  make  some  purchases  of  her 
own  at  the  stores,  spend  the  evening  and  stay  for  the 
Dight  with  her  maternal  aunt,  an  old  lady,  who  had  a 
pleasant  house  there,  and  was  always  partial  to  Con- 
stance. On  their  return  in  the  afternoon  of  the  follow* 
ing  day,  they  found  the  Elms  in  an  unusual  bustle  and 
excitement.  A  dinner  of  more  than  ordinary  expense 
and  elegance  was  in  course  of  preparation ;  the  best  par- 
lor was  opened  as  on  occasions  of  ceremony,  and  the 
cloth  laid  on  its  long  and  rich  mahogany ;  the  lady's 
drawing-room — as  such  state  apartments  were  called  in 
the  colony  from  their  first  introduction,  being  supposed 
the  special  domain  of  the  lady  of  the  mansion — stood 
open  also,  and  in  its  doorway  stood  Squire  Delamere. 
fie  had  rather  a  fancy  for  a  fuss  at  times,  and  caught  his 
daughter  by  the  hand  the  moment  she  entered.  "  Con- 
gtance,  my  girl,  go  at  once  to  your  own  room,  take  off 
that  vulgar  homespun,  and  dress  yourself  in  the  best  of 
your  silks.  A  gentleman  in  his  Majesty's  service,  who 
has  come  with  a  company  of  engineers  to  reconstruct 
Fort  Frederick,  which  is  to  be  garrisoned,  and  will,  I 
trust,  keep  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  in  order,  called  on 
me  this  morning  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
Governor  Gage,  and  I  have  invited  him  and  the  other 
oflQcers  of  the  company  to  dine  with  me  this  evening, 
when  of  course,  my  daughter  must  appear  as  becomes 
her  rank  ;  in  short,  child,  we  may  have  good  company 
here  often,  and  I  hope  to  see  you  in  that  dairymaid's 
dress  no  more." 

"Dost  thou  not  think  that  there  will  be  vanity  enough 
In  the  child's  head,  friend  ?"  said  Hannah  Armstrong, 
who  chanced  to  be  within  the  room  removing  linen 
covers  from  the  well-kept  furniture. 

"Vanity  or  not,"  cried  Delamere,  "I  will  have  my 
daughter  dressed  like  a  lady,  as  her  mother  used  to  be, 
before  this  Whiggish  nonsense  got  into  our  people's 
heads.  Go,  Constance,  like  a  good  girl,  and  let  these 
gentlemen  from  the  old  country  see  what  your  father 
has  to  be  proud  of  in  his  grey-haired  days." 

Constance  went  up  to  her  room  much  astonished  and 
somewhat  relieved  in  mind.  Those  engineers  and  their 
followers  were  the  strangers  about  whose  business  there 
had  been  so  many  contrary  reports  in  the  neighborhood. 
They  had  not  come  to  look  for  Sydney  Archdale,  but  to' 
rebuild  Fort  Frederick,  a  picturesque  ruin  on  one  of  the 
Green  Mountain  heights,  twenty-six  miles  north-west  of 
the  Elms.  It  had  been  erected  in  the  time  of  the  old 
IFrench  war  as  a  defense  to  that  side  of  the  province, 
named  in  honor  of  George  the  Ill's  father,  Frederick, 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  considered  a  place  of  strength 
bill  one  of  Montcalm's  officers  reduced  and  ruined  it 


Governor  Gage  sent  a  newly-arrived  Eng/lsh  captalr. 
from  New  York  to  command  the  reconstructing  com- 
pany, and  formally  introduced  him  by  letter  to  Squire 
Delamere,  for  whom  it  was  the  governor's  policy  of  late 
to  profess  great  respect  and  esteem,  as  the  only  loyal 
gentleman  in  the  Connecticut  Valley. 

When  Constance  Delamere,  by  the  paternal  command, 
arrayed  herself  that  evening  in  the  purple  brocade,  point 
lace,  and  pearls  of  less  self-denying  days,  it  must  be 
confessed  that  her  toilette  was  a  great  deal  more  care- 
fully made,  and  her  mirror  more  frequently  consulted, 
than  usual.  Before  the  interesting  rites  were  quite  com- 
pleted, she  caught  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  by  a 
peep  from  her  window  saw  six  gentlemen  in  uniform 
alight  at  the  door,  and  heard  the  cordial  and  kindly  greet- 
ing with  which  her  father  received  them. 

Constance  waited  till  the  bustle  of  arrival  had  sub- 
sided, took  a  last  look  at  the  mirror,  and  then  descended 
to  the  drawing-room.  Nature  had  bestowed  on  her  that 
rare  degree  of  beauty  and  grace  which  sets  off  dress 
and  lends  a  charm  to  ornament,  and  well  might  a  flush 
of  pride  light  up  the  squire's  face,  as,  in  the  stately  and 
ceremonious  manner  of  his  generation,  he  introduced 
his  daughter  to  the  chief  of  the  company,  Captain 
Devereaux ;  but  in  the  queued  and  powdered,  gold' 
laced,  and  epauletted  gentleman  who  bowed  before  her 
with  such  admiring  respect,  Constance  recognized  the 
traveler  of  the  Holyoke  woods  who  had  asked  the  way 
to  Northampton. 

CHAPTER  VI. — THE  SQUIRE'S  GUEST. 

The  captain  had  been  introduced  by  Governor  Gage 
as  the  nephew  and  heir-presumptive  of  Viscount  Laven- 
ham,  K.  C.  B.,  and  he  gave  Miss  Delamere  on  that  occa- 
sion her  first  lesson  in  the  arts  of  high  life  ;  for  had  her 
face  never  come  within  his  vision  till  that  moment,  he 
could  not  have  looked  more  unconscious  of  their  meet- 
ing on  the  road,  or  of  her  recognition. 

The  rest  of  the  company  were  duly  presented;  but 
Captain  Devereux  was  the  only  distinguished  figure 
among  them.  The  remainder  were  four  young  men  of 
the  average  military  and  commonplace  type,  and  such 
as  may  be  found  in  force  at  any  mess-table,  and  one 
veteran.  Lieutenant  Gray,  at  least  as  old  as  the  squire, 
and  with  nothing  particularly  striking  about  him,  except 
that  he  looked,  and  was,  a  man  of  sense,  and  a  frank 
and  fearless  soldier. 

As  her  father's  principal  guest,  and  specially  intro- 
duced to  the  family,  it  was  natural  that  the  gallant  cap- 
tain should  be  particularly  attentive  to  the  squire's 
daughter;  and  as  Constance  was  not  a  girl  to  be  met 
with  every  day,  it  was  equally  natural  that  the  captain 
should  be  struck  with  her  appearance.  Struck,  and 
attentive  too,  Captain  Devereux  was  ;  from  the  moment 
of  his  introduction  to  Miss  Delamere  he  constituted 
blmself  her  cavaliere  servanie  ;  he  conducted  her  to  the 
dinner-table,  took  a  seat  by  her  side,  of  course,  ad- 
dressed his  conversation  to  her  entertainment  chiefly, 
and  paid  those  polite  attentions  to  her  wants  and  wishes 
which  old  custom  prescribes  as  the  most  effectual  means 
to  win  a  lady's  grace.  Perhaps  from  the  knowledge 
that  they  were  his  subordinates,  the  other  oflftcers  left 
him  master  of  the  situation,  which  must  have  been  dull 
for  the  young  men,  as  there  was  nobody  else  in  the  form 
of  women  present  but  Hannah  Armstrong,  who  had  pre- 
sided over  the  family  table  in  festival  or  in  private  for 
many  a  year ;  and  a  rare  sight  it  was  for  them,  in  the 
midst  of  their  gold  lace  and  scarlet,  to  see  the  worthy 
housekeeper,  drab  homespun,  Quaker  cap  and  all,  say- 
ing grace  with  as  much  self-possession  and  more  earnest 

Eiety  than  many  an  army  chaplain.  The  squire  showed 
is  approbation  by  letting  things  take  their  course,  and 
conversing  a  good  deal  with  the  young  ofl^cers  and 
Lieutenant  Gray.  The  latter  had  served  in  the  old 
French  war,  and  been  present  at  most  of  the  actions 
where  the  New  England  regiment,  in  which  he  and 
Archdale  held  commissions,  was  engaged  ;  and  some  of 
his  remarks  brought  back  thoughts  of  old  times  to 
Delamere  as  they  sat  over  the  wine.  . 

They  did  not  sit  long  ;  the  temperate  habits  of  then 
Puritan  ancestors  stiU  prevailed  among  the  gentry  ol 
the  land,  and  the  captain,  whose  eyes  and  heart  seemed 
to  have  followed  Constance  as  she  retired  with  the 
Quakeress,  was  the  first  to  suggest  an  adjournment  to 
the  drawing-room.  There  he  stood,  wrapped  in  admira- 
tion, as  it  wercv  and  at  the  same  time  turning  the  leaves 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


^13 


of  the  music-bool<,  or  doing  any  other  little  service, 
while,  at  her  father's  request,  she  played  on  the  harpsi- 
chord and  sang  a  few  of  the  songs  then  in  fashion. 

Of  course  they  were  all  delighted,  and  so  was  the 
squire ;  at  parting  he  told  every  man  of  the  company, 
and  especially  Captain  Devereux,  how  pleased  he  should 
be  to  see  him  often  at  his  house,  if  he  would  be  good 
enough  to  drop  in  just  in  a  friendly  way,  for  they  were 
homely  people  at  the  Elms  ;  and  the  captain  was  par- 
ticularly impressive  in  his  promise  to  avail  himself  of 
the  invitation. 

*'What  do  you  think  of  him,  Constance?"  said  the 
somewhat  elated  father,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 
Constance  did  not  well  know  what  to  think.  Devereux's 
conversation  had  entertained  and  amused  her ;  he  had 
seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  had  lived  in  fashionable 
society,  and  got  that  surface  gathering  of  clever  remark, 
witty  saying,  and  curious  anecdote  that  always  charms 
the  young  and  untraveled. 

Moreover,  the  captain  could  compliment  and  flatter 
as  nobody  did  in  the  Connecticut  Valley,  for  it  was  done 
by  look,  insinuation,  and  suggestion.  What  home-bred 
girl  could  be  insensible  to  such  homage  ?  But  there  was 
something  about  him  that  broke  the  charm  and  dis- 
solved the  spell.  That  cold,  hard  look  in  his  eyes  had 
corresponding  thoughts  and  words  that  escaped  him,  it 
seemed,  by  accident ;  that  vicious  sinister  expression  in 
the  lower  part  of  his  face  was  borne  out  by  occasional 
remarks  that  he  always  explained  away  ;  and  somehow, 
though  she  could  mention  no  proof  or  reason  for  it,  Con- 
stance had  an  impression  that  he  stood  in  a  sort  of  un- 
accountable fear  of  both  her  father  and  herself. 

With  these  strange  and  indefinite  thoughts  contend- 
ing in  her  mind,  the  girl  could  only  answer,  "  Captain 
Devereux  ?   He  is  a  very  fine  gentleman." 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  thought  that  was  the  very  thing  for  you 
demoiselles.  In  my  youth  men  could  not  be  too  fine 
for  the  ladies  ;  but,  really,  Constance — "  and  Delamere 
looked  inquiringly  in  her  face,  if  you  don't  think  much 
of  the  captain,  you  must  be  strangely  ungrateful,  for  I 
am  sure  he  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you." 

Constance  thought  of  the  meeting  on  the  Holyoke 
road,  but  she  did  not  tell  it,  for  the  times  had  taught 
her  prudence.  It  would  be  certain  to  bring  down  a  lec- 
ture on  the  disgrace  of  a  gentleman's  daughter  appear- 
ing in  that  vulgar  homespun,  to  be  taken  for  a  low-bred 
country  wench  by  every  stranger  who  got  a  sight  of  her; 
so  she  said  nothing,  and  the  captain  was  allowed  to 
drop  for  the  time  ;  but  ever  after  as  the  girl  tried  to  un- 
ravel or  understand  the  mingled  impressions  he  had  left 
on  her  mind,  there  rose  before  her  in  strong  and  de- 
cisive contrast,  the  manly  frankness  and  undoubted 
worth  of  Sydney  Archdale. 


Late  in  that  night,  when  Delamere's  company  were 
gone,  and  he  and  all  his  household  long  retired  to  rest, 
when  lights  were  out  in  all  the  neighboring  homes,  at 
the  hour  when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon  man.  Squire 
Archdale  sat  alone  in  a  small  room  of  his  own  house, 
the  rest  of  which  lay  as  dark  and  silent  as  the  dwellings 
around.  Archdale  called  that  room  his  sanctuary  ;  to  H 
he  was  wont  to  retire  in  times  of  domestic  perturbation, 
"bee  evenin's  and  house  fixin'  days  ;"  for  ^rs.  Martha, 
his  housekeeper,  was  a  woman  of  the  uncompromising 
regulation  type,  and  those  were  apt  to  be  heavy  dispen- 
sations. It  was  situated  on  the  ground  lioor  and  opened 
from  the  best  parlor  ;  but  it  had  another  door  of  glass, 
serving  also  for  a  window,  and  opening  on  a  shrubbery 
which  skirted  that  side  of  the  mansion,  and  sheltered 
the  sanctuary  alike  from  the  winter's  blast  and  the  sum- 
mer's sun.  The  old  books  in  which  Archdale  delighted 
were  arranged  in  convenient  cases  there  ;  the  portrait  of 
his  earlj-lost  wife  hung  above  the  mantel-piece,  and  his 
family  papers  were  stored  in  a  cedar  cabinet,  occupying 
one  comer,  and  said  to  be  the  first  of  its  kind  made  in 
the  colony.  A  bright  wood  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth, 
for  the  nights  were  growing  cold,  and  hoar  frost  was 
seen  in  the  mornings  ;  close  by  was  a  comfortable  supper- 
table  laid  for  two ;  but  Archdale  sat  alone  reading  one 
of  his  old  books,  and  occasionally  looking  up  at  a  clock 
that  clicked  in  the  opposite  corner. 

Its  hands  were  pointing  ten  minutes  to  two,  when 
there  was  a  light  step  outside  and  a  tap  at  the  glass 
door.  The  squire  rose  quickly,  drew  aside  the  thick 
curtains  which  allowed  no  light  to  be  seen  abroad,  un- 
did the  bolt,  and  his  son  Sydney  stepped  in.   The  young 


man  had  got  a  careworn,  out-of-heart  look  since  the 
3ay  when  he  sat  beside  Constance  Delamere  on  the 
moss-grown  root  of  the  old  tree,  but  he  smiled  when 
his  father  clapped  him  on  the  back,  as  if  he  had  been 
still  wearing  a  pinafore,  and  said,  "Welcome,  my  boy;  I 
have  waited  for  you,  you  see  ;  sit  down,  and  let  us  have 
supper  together,  for  it  may  be  some  time  till  we  sit  at 
the  same  table  again. 

They  sat  down,  and  Archdale  reverently  said  grace — 
he  never  omitted  that  good  old  custom  of  his  father's — 
and  then  the  supper  and  the  talk  went  on  between 
them. 

"  You  mean  to  go  and  see  your  old  friends  the  Mo- 
hawks, Sydney  ?" 

"Yes,  father;  I  think  it  will  be  safest  course,  since 
the  men  in  power  are  taking  such  backward  notes  of  mv 
doings,  and  keeping  up  so  hot  a  hunt.  VanderslocK 
and  bis  force  have  got  frightened  ;  the  poor  souls  have 
been  kind,  but  i  believe  they  would  be  glad  to  lose  sight  of 
me  now,  so  1  mean  to  take  my  hunting  shirt  and  rifle, 
and  thread  my  way  through  the  woods  and  over  the 
hills  to  the  Mohawk  country  ;  I  know  it  well,  for  I  have 
gone  that  way  before.  Shingis,  the  old  sachem,  will 
make  me  welcome,  1  have  no  doubt ;  and  I  can  live  as 
well  as  any  Mohawk  till  there  is  more  work  for  active 
men  in  this  country,  which  I  think  will  not  be  long." 

"I  fear  it  will  not,  Sydney;  my  mind  misgives  me 
that  nothing  but  open  war  can  come  between  us  and 
Britain." 

"  The  sooner  it  comes  the  better,  father." 

"  Don't  say  that,  my  boy  ;  it  will  be  a  war  of  brothers; 
may  they  be  pardoned  who  are  urging  it  on  ;  but  it  is 
our  duty  to  maintain  our  liberty,  and  may  He  who  alone 
is  righteous  defend  the  right." 

"  Amen,  and  that  is  our  side  ;  but  father,  I  must  not 
stay  long,  for  there  is  the  first  cock-crow." 

"  Well,  Sydney,  there  is  no  danger  yet,  let  us  drink 
each  other's  health  in  this  fine  old  port ;  it  will  keep  the 
damp  night  air  out  of  your  heart,, as  Mrs.  Martha  says." 

These  drinking  customs,  rar^  in  New  England,  the 
colonists  had  inherited  from  the  old  country. 

Archdale  filled  the  glasses  and  they  drained  them, 
with  hearty  good-wislies,  and  a  warm  shake-hands 
across  the  table ;  the  self-reliant,  forward-going  ways  of 
the  one,  and  the  quiet  wisdom  of  the  other,  had  long 
made  the  squire  and  his  son  more  like  familiar  friends 
than  men  of  different  generations  are  apt  to  be  ;  but 
when  that  kindly  ceremony  was  finished  the  senior  said  : 
"  You  got  the  letter  I  sent  you  by  Vanderslock,  and  you 
saw  the  ill  success  of  my  mission  to  the  Elms,  Sydney." 

"  I  did ;  and  I  think  Mr.  Delamere  has  behaved  very 
Ul  to  you,  father." 

"  He  has  ;  but  never  mind  that,  my  boy.  Gervase 
Delamere  was  a  trusty  and  loving  friend  to  me  many  a 
year  before  you  young  people  came  forward  to  embroil 
the  old  heads  with  your  hasty  tricks  and  courtships. 
That  is  spoken  in  jest,  Sydney ;  Delamere  and  I  might 
have  had  the  same  dispute  if  you  had  never  been  con- 
cerned ;  our  times  and  opinions  would  have  given  the 
cause,  and  he  is  not  the  man  I  knew  him  once.  Strange 
and  heavy  trials,  though  they  make  no  change  on  the 
surface  of  a  man's  life,  are  apt  to  sap  the  foundations  of 
the  mind,  so  to  speak,  and  make  it  lose  the  balance 
never  to  be  recovered  on  this  side  of  the  sky.  He  has 
had  such  a  one,  therefore  let  us  pass  over  all  that  hap- 
pened that  day  between  him  and  myself  except  to 
consider  from  it  our  own  duty  to  him  and  his.  Sydney, 
that  is  the  point  on  which  I  wished  to  speak  with  you 
before  we  parted  ;  for  who  that  part  know  when  they 
may  meet  again  ?  You  know  what  poor  Delamere  said 
about  his  daughter  being  beguiled  and  won  away  from 
him  ;  Sydney,  I  can  understand  that  better  than  you  wdi 
till  you  have  children  of  your  own,  and  I  ask  you,  for 
conscience,  for  honor,  for  true  love's  sake,  to  give  up, 
I  do  not  say  all  wishes,  for  that  is  impossible,  but  ail 
endeavors  to  gain  over  Constance  Delamere  till  you  can 
gain  her  father  too  ;  promise  me  that,  my  only  son,  who 
never  yet  broke  a  pledge  or  promise,  and  I  will  bless 
you  and  let  you  go." 

Sydney  sat  silent  for  a  minute,  and  then  said,  as  if 
thinking  aloud,  "  She  cares  more  lor  her  father  than  for 
me." 

"She  knows  his  love  longer  and  better  than  yours, 
Sydney  ;  that  is  a  good  reason  why  you  should  not  try 
to  part  them.  Delamere's  daughter  would  be  a  worthy 
choice  for  the  best  man  in  New  England,  yet  I  wish  you 


274 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


had  never  set  your  affections  on  her,"  said  Archdale. 

"  I  wish  so,  too  ;  but  it  is  done,  and  cannot  be  undone. 
[  can  never  love  another  woman  as  I  love  Constance 
Delamere.  Whether  she  ever  cared  for  me  or  not  I 
3an't  tell;  there  is  no  making  out  some  women,"  said 
Sydney ;  "but  what  you  say  is  wise  and  right,  father, 
and  I  give  you  my  solemn  promise  that  I  will  never 
again  attempt  to  woo  or  win  her  without  Mr.  Delamere's 
consent." 

'  "It  is  enough,"  and  Archdale  rose  and  laid  his  hand 
on  the  black  clustering  curls  of  the  young  head  that 
bent  in  reverence  beneath  it.  "  The  blessings  of  our 
Father  in  heaven  rest  upon  you,  my  dear  and  only  son  ; 
be  with  you  in  the  wilderness  and  among  the  homes  of 
savage  men,  and  bring  you  back  to  my  house  and  heart 
in  peace  1" 

"The  same  blessing  be  with  you,  father,  and  fear 
nothing  for  me  ;  I  shall  do  very  well  among  the  Mo- 
hawks, and  steal  back  sometimes  to  see  you."  That 
was  all  Sydney  could  say ;  at  the  door  they  kissed  each 
other,  and  the  young  man  sped  away  through  the  quiet 
night.  His  father  stood  listening  to  the  sound  of  his 
steps  until  it  was  lost  in  the  distance,  and  then  looked 
up  to  see  the  first  faint  whiteness  of  the  dawn  stealing 
over  the  Holyoke  summits,  where  they  rose  above  the 
Elms. 

Nobody  in  that  mansion  knew  how  or  when  it  hap- 
pened— that  a  bunch  of  the  wild  flowers  that  linger  latest 
in  woodland  dell  and  dingle,  was  thrown  by  some  dex- 
terous hand  into  the  little  balcony  at  Miss  Delamere's 
bedroom  window,  where  she  was  sure  to  see  it  first, 
among  the  favorite  plants  that  were  tended  every  day 
by  her  own  hands. 

Constance  did  see  it  with  a  welcome  in  her  eyes  and 
in  her  heart.  Sydney  Archdale  used  to  send  her  such 
wild  wood-gathered  bouquets  by  her  page  Philip,  with 
a  note  in  the  centre,  carefully  bound  up  and  nestled 
among  the  flowers.  There  was  a  note  in  this  one,  too, 
but  how  brief  and  cold  it  seemed  compared  with  the 
many  that  had  come  in  the  same  fashion—"  Farewell, 
Constance  ;  I  cannot  go  without  saying  so,  yet  go  I 
must,  and  it  is  best  I  should.  May  you  be  happy,  what- 
ever becomes  of  me  1" 

She  read  it  over  and  over  again ;  it  was  strangely 
worded ;  it  was  also  vague,  and  told  her  nothing  of  his 
reasons  or  intentions.  He  had  doubtless  heard  of  the 
quarrel,  perhaps  took  his  own  father's  part  against  hers. 
The  sense  of  justice  Constance  had  would  not  allow  her 
to  blame  him  for  that ;  but  was  his  love  so  easily  chilled 
and  changed  ?  Mr.  Delamere  had  said  hard  things  of 
Sydney  and  the  cause  to  which  he  was  devoted ;  would 
that  make  him  willing  to  give  his  daughter  up  after  so 
many  vows  and  professions  ?  was  Sydney's  pride  so 
much  stronger  than  his  affection  for  her?  or  had  he 
found  out  at  last  that  the  prize  was  not  worth  the  diflB- 
culties  of  the  pursuit  ? 

These  were  the  questions  the  young  girl  asked  herself 
in  her  half  knowledge  of  what  had  passed,  and  the  only 
answer  she  could  find  was  that  ancient  one,  men  were 
deceivers  ever.  Maybe  it  was  her  deserving  for  keeping 
trysts  with  him  and  listening  to  his  tales  and  vows,  when 
she  should  have  been  better  engaged,  and  more  to  her 
father's  liking.  Well,  she  would  be  wiser  for  the  future, 
and  think  of  him  no  more.  Constance  burned  the  note, 
and  was  going  to  throw  the  flowers  out  of  the  window, 
but  their  wild  beauty  and  the  memories  that  came  with 
it  forbade  her,  so  she  put  them  in  a  vase,  and  looked  at 
them  night  and  morning  as  they  faded,  like  her  own 
dream,  away. 

CHAPTER  VII.— THE  NOBLE  SUITOR. 

Had  Captain  Devereux  kept  every  promise  as  faith- 
fully as  he  did  the  one  to  avail  himself  of  the  squire's 
general  invitation,  he  would  certainly  have  escaped  the 
guilt  of  broken  vows.  Almost  every  second  day  found 
him  dropping  in  at  the  Elms  on  one  account  or  other. 
His  ingenuity  in  finding  excuses  was  remarkable,  but 
the  best  and' most  frequent  he  had  was  to  consult  Dela- 
mere on  subjects  involved  in  the  reconstruction  of  Fort 
Frederick.  The  squire  prided  himself  on  his  knowledge 
of  military  engineering,  particularly  the  art  of  fortifica- 
tion, of  which  he  was  an  amateur,  and  had  studied 
Vauban  and  other  authorities.  It  was  not  in  man— at 
least,  it  was  not  in  Delamere— to  be  insensible  to  thej 
flattering  fact  that  a  captain  in  his  majesty's  service,  and| 
the  nephew  of  an  English  peer,  to  whom  an  important! 


work  of  the  kind  had  been  entrusted,  should  be  coming 
at  all  hours  of  the  twenty-four  to  request  his  opinion  re- 
garding plans  and  projects  for  strengthening  the  place. 
As  a  natural  consequence,  the  captain  grew  in  favor 
with  him,  was  always  made  welcome  and  pressed  to 
stay,  while  the  other  officers  of  the  company,  though 
occasionally  invited  to  the  Elms,  were  generally  left  out 
of  sight  and  out  of  mind. 

When  they  had  reached  this  state  of  intimacy, 
Devereux  found  another  subject  on  which  to  consult  the 
squire.  He  had  shared  a  family  dinner  one  day,  and  as 
the  door  closed  on  the  retreat  of  Constance  and  Hannah, 
and  the  gentlemen  were  left  alone,  the  captain  drew  a 
deep  sigh  and  said,  "Ah,  Mr.  Delamere,  you  are  a 
happy  man !" 

"I  don't  know  that,"  said  the  squire;  "  I  have  had 
my  share  of  troubles  and  trials  in  this  world,  as  most 
people  have,  I  suppose." 

"  No  donbt  of  it,  my  dear  sir  ;  but  what  I  meant  was 
that  you  ai-e  happy  in  having  such  a  daughter,"  and  the 
captain  sighed  again. 

"  Oh,  Constance  is  a  good  girl,  and  rather  handsome,  I 
think  ;"  Delamere  was  looking  into  his  glass  and  en- 
deavoring to  take  the  matter  coolly. 

"  Good  !"  cried  the  captain  ;  "  she  is  an  angel ;  hand- 
some— her  beauty  is  beyond  comparison  !  What  a  sen- 
sation it  would  create  in  the  court  circle  or  the  fashion- 
able world  of  London  ;  but  it  is  not  in  those  scenes  of 
gaiety  and  splendor  that  the  whole  amount  of  her  worth 
could  be  known.  No ;  it  is  in  the  home,  which  her 
presence  would  make  beautiful  and  her  smile  fill  with 
sunshine.  Mr.  Delamere,  a  man  gets  tired  of  tossing 
about  the  world  without  a  home  or  a  helpmate,  as  your 
good  ministers  say.  That  is  my  case.  I  have  seen  a 
good  deal  of  high  life — a  good  deal  of  government  ser- 
vice, too  ;  but  there  is  nothing  like  domestic  peace  and 
affection  when  one  has  come  to  years  of  discretion.  In 
short,  I  mean  to  settle  as  soon  as  possible  ;  that  is,  if 
I  can  obtain  the  woman  of  my  choice.  With  my  connec- 
tions one  would  have  many  a  chance  of  pairing  off  to 
advantage,  you  know,  but  I  could  not,  squire— I  could 
not  marry  except  I  loved,  as  I  do  now,  with  my  whole 
heart.  You  will  excuse  the  unceremonious  manner  of  a 
brother -in-arms — is  your  charming  daughter  engaged  ?" 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  said  Delamere,  "  and  I  am 
sure  Constance  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind  unknown 
to  me." 

"  I  am  certain  she  would  not,  and  I,  as  a  man  of  honor, 
could  not  think  of  addressing  her  without  first  consult- 
ing you.  Be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  then  in  plain  terms," 
and  the  captain's  voice  took  a  tone  of  tremulous  anxiety, 
"may  I  ask — may  I  hope— for  the  honor  of  her  hand  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  squire,  considerably  nonplussed  for 
a  suitable  reply,  "  they  say  in  New  England,  that  a  man 
courts  or  fights  best  for  himself.  My  Constance  must  be 
wooed  and  won  like  other  fair  ladies,  I  suppose.  She  is 
not  a  girl  to  go  without  offers,  for  besides  the  fortune  of 
her  face,  which  her  looking-glass  tells  her  of  every  day, 
Constance  will  inherit  the  Elms.  I  have  no  other  heir, 
and  fortunately  the  estate  was  not  entailed  when  I  lost 
my  son  ;  you  have  probably  heard  in  what  manner  from 
Governor  Gage." 

"  Oh,  yes — yes ;  do  not  recall  such  sad — "  As  the 
captain  spoke  a  weird  groan  sounded  through  the  quiet 
and  now  darkened  room,  for  the  night  was  falling,  and  he 
sprang  from  bis  chair  with  such  a  bound  as  almost  to 
upset  the  table. 

"Why,  captain,  I  did  not  think  you  were  so  easily 
alarmed,"  said  Delamere,  as  soon  as  pure  astonishment 
would  allow  him  to  speak.  "  That  is  a  peculiar  sound 
though  ;  it  comes  through  a  minute  crevice  in  the  frame 
of  the  window  there  when  the  wind  happens  to  be  turn- 
ing," and  he  rose  and  rang  for  the  candles. 

"Ah,  the  wind  does  make  strange  sounds  through 
crevices.  I  wonder  you  don't  get  that  one  filled  up  ;  it 
quite  startled  me,  it  was  so  like  the  cry  of  an  owl.  You 
must  know  I  have  a  strange  antipathy  to  that  bird  of 
night.  They  tell  me  I  was  frightened  by  one  of  them  in 
my  infancy  at  our  family  seat  in  Suffolk.  And  as  you 
have  mentioned  Miss  Delamere's  prospects,"  and  Dev- 
ereux drew  his  chair  nearer  to  that  of  the  squire,  "  of 
course,  that  is  the  very  last  thing  I  should  consider,  but 
I  think  it  right  to  acquaint  you  with  mine.  As  the  eldest 
nephew  of  the  present  Viscount  Lavenham,  who  has 
lived  a  bachelor,  and  is  now  an  old  one,  I  am  heir  to  the 
family  estate  and  title,  but  have  not  much  else  to  count 


THE  OLD  HOME  O^;  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  277 


upon,  except  a  reversionary  interest  in— let  me  see,  I  ^ 
think  it  is  twenty  thousand  pounds  on  the  decease  of 
two  maiden  aunts,  both  far  advanced  in  years."  Seated 
there  in  the  full  light  of  the  wax  candles,  and  looking 
60  military,  distinguished,  and  debonnaire,  nobody  would 
have  thought  him  the  man  to  be  startled  by  a  moan  of 
the  wind  in  the  deepening  twilight.  "The  dear  old 
tabbies,"  he  continued;  "long  may  they  enjoy  their 
dividends  1  They  never  meant  to  be  in  the  least  hurry 
getting  out  of  my  way  to  the  principal ;  they  had  quite 
a  different  plan  of  providing  for  me,  which  they  used  to 
propound  when  I  was  a  youngster,  spending  my  holidays 
with  them.  What  do  you  think  it  was,  squire  ?" 
"  Buying  you  a  commission,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Dela- 

™"^Something  much  better.  Only  look  at  this,  I 
brought  it  to  show  you  as  a  curiosity,  but  the  subject  of 
our  conversation  banished  every  other  from  my  mind," 
and  Devereux  produced  from  one  of  the  capacious 
pockets  in  his  broad-skirted  coat  of  the  period  a  roll  of 
parchment  which  he  handed  to  the  squire. 

The  latter  opened  it,  and  saw  for  the  first  time  what 
he  had  heard  his  father,  his  grandfather,  and  their  con- 
temporaries of  the  Archdale  famUy  talk  of,  among  their 
old  tales  and  traditions  of  the  settlement— namely,  a 
grant  of  the  lands  now  called  the  Elms  and  the  Planta- 
tion, by  his  most  gracious  majesty,  Charles  II.,  to  Cecil 
Devereux,  Viscount  Lavenham.    An  ancient  map  ap- 

E ended  showed  the  lands  in  their  wilderness  state  on 
oth  sides  of  the  Connecticut ;  but  the  grant  had  actu- 
ally been  renewed  by  George  III. 

"It  is  a  curiosity,"  said  Delamere,  when  he  had  read 
the  document;  "but  of  course  of  no  effect.  How 
strange  it  is  that  the  king  and  his  advisers  should  ac- 
cept such  a  map  made  in  1602,  and  then  at  fault ;  for 
Archdale's  greatgrandfather  and  mine  were  in  posses- 
sion of  the  estates,  and  had  reclaimed  and  built  upon 
them." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  captain  in  his  most  per- 
suasive tone,  "kings  and  ministers  have  so  many  near- 
hand  affairs  to  occupy  their  attention,  that  they  are  apt 
to  lose  the  knowledge  of  things  abroad.  I  don't  know 
what  induced  my  uncle  to  get  the  grant  renewed  ;  it 
strikes  me  Lord  Granville  did  it  before  he  went  out  of 
office  to  please  the  poor  old  maidens  ;  they  always  set 
apart  the  tract  of  land  in  America,  for  my  sole  use  and 
benefit.  The  parchment  is  certainly  of  no  effect  as  re- 
gards you,  Mr.  Delamere— a  man  of  sound  principles, 
and  a  loyal  subject ;  but  there  are  those  wnom  it  might 
concern  if  the  British  Government  should  come  to  a 
sharp  reckoning  with  these  provinces." 

Delamere  gave  him  an  astonished  stare.  "  It  may  be 
my  dullness,  but  really  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  There  will  be  a  great  change  when  you  become  dull, 
squire  ;  but  the  fact  is,  we  of  the  old  country,  who  have 
connections  in  court  and  cabinet,  get  a  knowledge  of  in- 
tended measures  and  arrangements  of  which  the  public 
do  not  yet  dream.  That  happens  to  be  the  case  with  my 
family ;  we  have  always  been  intimate  with  the  Gran- 
Villes.^  my  mother  was  related  to  Lord  North,  and  my 
uncle,  the  viscount,  is  one  of  his  oldest  friends.  From 
these  sources  I  have  certain  information  of  what  no  man 
but  yourself,  my  dear  Mr.  Delamere,  should  hear  from 
me,"  and  the  captain  assumed  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
a  solemn  secret  to  impart. 

"  Should  the  plotters  of  treason  in  this  country 
proceed  to  open  insurretcion,  as  it  is  expected  they 
will  in  the  course  of  next  year,  for  the  ministry  are 
better  acquainted  with  their  secret  councils  than 
they  imagine,  the  rebellion  will  be  put  down  with  a 
strong  hand,  and  government  will  take  the  opportunity 
thus  afforded  to  curtail  the  powers  and  pretensions 
of  large  proprietors  throughout  the  provinces,  because 
the  king  himself  considers  them  the  most  dangerous 
class  of  his  American  subjects.  As  his  majesty  said  in 
a  private  conversation  with  which  he  honored  my  uncle 
in  the  royal  gardens  at  Kew,  *  their  large  estates  and 
retinues  have  made  them  so  insolent,  that  they  fancy 
themselves  independent  of  the  crown;  but  we  will 
change  all  that.'  So  they  will,  Mr.  Delamere;  depend 
upon  it,  charters  and  patents  shall  be  done  away  with, 
as  they  were  in  Charles  II's  time,  a  little  before  that 
grant  was  made,  I  believe  ;  titles  and  proprietary  rights 
flfaaU  be  strictly  investigated,  and  some  high  heads  shall 
be  shorn  of  their  grandeur.  That  George  Washington, 
who  makes  such  a  fuss  in  Virginia,  will  find  his  wings 


clipped  in  Mount  Vernon ;  the  fellow  has  a  demesne 
there  that  might  serve  the  Prince  of  Wales.  And  that 
squire  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  Mr.  Delamere,  I 
understand  you  have  given  up  his  acquaintance  ;  let  me 
congratulate  you  on  having  done  so  in  time,  for  he  is  a 
more  than  suspected  man ;  his  son  is  known  to  be  a 
downright  rebel ;  forfeiture  and  confiscation  always  fol- 
low attainers  of  treason,  and  an  ancient  grant  would, 
of  course,  take  effect  in  favor  of  any  faithful  servant  of 
the  crown." 

"  I  hope  you  are  mistaken  as  regards  Archdale,"  said 
the  squire  ;  though  I  did  give  up  his  acquaintance  on 
account  of  his  son's  doings  and  his  own  opinions,  there 
was  a  time  when  I  had  not  a  better  friend  in  the  world  ; 
and  I  would  do  anything  yet  to  prevent  his  coming  to 
such  loss  and  ruin." 

"My  dear  sir,  there  is  no  -^listake  in  the  matter.  1 
have  seen  compromising  evidence  in  his  own  hand- 
writing, and  things  must  take  their  course.  Neither 
myself  or  any  of  my  family  would  wish  to  entirely  dis- 
possess a  man  so  situated,  though,  of  course,  our  claim 
is  worth  considering;  and  a  loyal  gentleman  like  your- 
self might  be  able  to  secure  a  remnant  of  the  Plantation 
for  him — that  is,  if  you  had  influential  connections  in  the 
old  country.  Have  you  any  such,  Mr.  Delamere?"  and 
the  captain  endeavored  to  look  disinterested. 

"  No  I  my  connections  are  all  on  this  side  of  the  At- 
lantic— bom  Americans,  every  one,"  said  Delamere. 

"Ah.  that  is  a  little  unfortunate — I  mean,  my  dear 
sir,  in  view  of  the  chances  and  changes  which  probable 
events  are  sure  to  bring.  The  parchment  cannot 
directly  affect  your  interest  in  the  Elms  ;  if  it  could,  my 
own  hands  should  thrust  it  in  yonder  fire" — the  captain 
made  a  gesture  worthy  of  any  stage  hero — "  but  should 
anything  happen  to  cut  short  your  life,  which  Providence 
prevent,  yet  if  the  like  did  happen,  and  your  daughter 
were  left  young,  solitary  and  unprotected,  myself  at  a 
distance  on  his  majesty's  service,  and  therefore,  unable 
to  take  her  part  as  I  would  do  with  my  life,  who  can  say 
what  use  might  be  made  of  a  grant  so  recently  renewed  ? 
No  man  can  vouch  for  his  relatives  in  such  a  case ; 
and,  between  ourselves,  I  would  not  vouch  for  mine." 

"  No  man  can  well  vouch  for  another ;  but  this  instru- 
meni  could  not  affect  the  interests  of  my  child  any  more 
than  mine,"  said  Delamere.  If  I  were  called  away,  law 
and  justice  should  still  remain.  Constance  is  my  direct 
heiress,  and  we  have  relations  in  every  part  of  New 
England  who  would  maintain  her  right  to  her  father's 
property." 

"No  doubt  they  would,  and  my  fears  are  groundless ; 
one  is  apt  to  have  such  fears  on  account  of  those  in 
whom  one  is  deeply  interested.  But,  squire,  this  old 
curiosity — thing  of  the  past,  I  may  say — has  led  our  talk 
raway  from  the  question  nearest  my  heart ;  may  I  hope 
for  the  happiness  of  becoming  your  son-in-law  ?" 

"  If  you  can  get  my  daughter's  consent,  captain,  you 
shall  have  mine  ;  from  what  I  know  of  you,  as  well  as 
what  you  have  told  me  of  your  prospects  and  connec- 
tions, I  think  Constance  might  make  a  worse  match ; 
but  not  for  the  King  of  England  would  I  put  any  pres- 
sure on  the  inclinations  of  my  only  child.  Success  to 
your  wooing  is  the  best  I  can  say ;  but  you  know  the 
-proverb,  *A  faint  heart  never  won  a  fair  lady,'"  and 
Delamere  smiled  encouragingly. 

"I  know  it,  my  dear  sir  ;  and  with  your  good  will  I 
'fear  nothing.  Ah,  how  can  I  thank  you  for  this  kindness 
to  a  stranger  !"  but  there  was  a  look  of  disappointment 
in  Devereux's  eyes.  "The  best  way  to  show  ray  grati- 
tude will  be  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  it,"  and  he 
wrapped  up  the  parchment  and  returned  it  to  his  coat 
pocket,  then  glanced  at  the  timepiece,  and  rose  hastily,  ■ 
exclaiming,  "  Dear  me,  I  did  not  think  it  was  so  late ; 
how  time  files  in  such  conversation,  squire  !  But  I  must 
goTiow,  and  get  up  early  in  the  morning  to  see  if  that 
stupid  engineer  can  understand  your  suggestions  about 
the  escarpment." 

The  hospitable  Delamere  pressed  him  in  VPin  to  stay 
a  little  longer,  and  intimated  that  Constance  •  •  ight  come 
in  to  bid  him  good-night.  She  was  assisting  at  one  of 
Hannah's  apple-bees  that  evening ;  these  institutions 
were  conducted  with  great  quiet  and  propriety  bv  the 
prudent  Quakeress— but  the  captain  responded,  "Not 
for  the  world,  my  dear  sir,  would  I  disturb  the  young 
lady  in  the  midst  of  her  domestic  duties  ;"  and,  after  a 
most  friendly  leave-taking,  he  mounted  his  ^orse  and 
rode  away. 


278 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  bee  was  still  in  progress,  and  Delamere  sat  alone, 
thinking  of  all  that  had  passed  between  him  and  his 
visitor.  The  captain's  proposal  was  not  unexpected ; 
his  undisguised  admiration  of  Constance,  and  the  marked 
attentions  he  paid  her,  had  prepared  the  squire  for 
something  of  the  kind.  Neither  was  it  unwelcome. 
Delamere  had  a  true  Tory's  veneration  for  aristocratic 
rank  ;  the  lords  of  England  stood  next  to  the  king,  and 
must  forever  stand  above  the  commons  in  his  system  of 
things.  Here  was  the  prospect  of  a  noble  alliance, 
which  would  make  his  Constance  a  viscountess  some 
day,  with  all  the  rights  of  privilege  and  procedure,  and 
all  the  glory  of  the  Lavenham  coronet.  "What  a  lucky 
chance  that  she  has  entirely  given  up  Sydney  Archdale," 
thought  the  simple  squire  ;  "no  disengaged  girl  would 
think  of  refusing  Devereux ,  if  he  is  some  years  older, 
he  will  make  the  more  'discreet  and  steady  husband." 
Then  Delamere  found  himself  wishing  that  the  captain's 
family  were  better  known  in  America,  and  that  his  past 
history  could  be  learned  from  some  acquaintance  more 
familiar  and  less  reticent  than  Governor  Gage.  But  he 
had  evidently  a  true  love  for  Constance ;  he  had  begun 
by  asking  her  father's  consent — that  was  like  a  man  of 
honor,  and  after  the  squire's  own  heart.  He  had  spoken 
with  good  sense  and  propriety  on  every  point,  and  stated 
his  prospects  and  expectations  with  modesty  and  exact- 
ness ;  but  there  was  one  incident  of  the  evening  which 
did  not  please  the  squire  so  well,  and  that  was  the  pro- 
duction of  the  lately  renewed  grant.  The  captain  had 
said  it  was  only  a  curiosity,  but  his  own  sense  told  him 
it  must  be  null  and  void  ;  but  Devereux's  insinuations 
regarding  the  use  that  might  be  made  of  it  in  case  Con- 
stance was  left  fatherless  and  unprotected  in  the  troubled 
times  that  seemed  approaching,  coupled  with  the  ex- 
plicit information  he  appeared  to  possess  on  government 
plans  and  intentions,  gave  the  subject  a  weight  and  im- 
portance in  his  thoughts  which  Delamere  coiLld  not  well 
define. 

A  man  better  acquainted  with  society  as  it  existed  in 
the  old  capitals  of  Europe  would  have  been  warned  by 
the  over-assumption  and  unaccountable  perturbation  of 
the  noble  suitor,  that  there  was  something  remarkably 
wrong.  But  Delamere  had  spent  his  life  on  the  skirts  of 
the  primeval  forests,  among  a  farming  and  pastoral  peo- 
ple as  honest  and  open-hearted  as  himself. 

Whether  the  renewal  of  that  grant  was  a  complete 
forgery,  or  had  been  obtained  by  secret  influence  to 
serve  the  ends  of  the  Lavenham  family,  could  never  be 
ascertained.  Certain  it  was  that  official  men  in  England 
were  singularly  misinformed  regarding  things  in  America, 
whether  by  their  friends  or  enemies  it  were  hard  to  say ; 
but  they  committed  strange  mistakes  in  consequence  ; 
and  it  was  equally  certain  that  proceedings  akin  to  those 
which  the  captain  set  forth,  were  believed  to  be  contem- 
plated by  the  king  and  his  ministers. 

Neither  they  nor  their  Tory  friends  on  both  sides  v^f 
the  Atlantic  were  capable  of  discerning  the  signs  of  the 
times.  It  was  not  the  determined  struggle  out  of  which 
a  nation  was  bom  that  they  expected,  but  a  hasty  insur- 
rection of  rash  and  inconsiderate  men,  to  be  easily 
crushed,  and  thus  give  fair  occasion  for  the  establish- 
ment of  arbitrary  power  throughout  the  American 
provinces.  Entertaining  a  similar  view,  Delamere  ac- 
cepted the  statements  of  his  intended  son-in-law  as  a 
ministerial  revelation.  It  was  an  alarming  one  for  a  na- 
tive of  the  land  ;  but  the  zealous  partisan  is  never  a 
patriot.  The  royal  prerogative  must  be  maintained,  the 
Acts  of  Parliament  must  be  enforced.  Why  should  not 
the  promoters  of  treason  pay  the  forfeits  they  had  in- 
curred ?  and  then  he  thought  of  the  captain's  assertions 
regarding  Archdale.  Was  it  not  his  duty,  for  old  friend- 
ship's sake,  to  warn  him  privately  of  the  risk  he  was 
running  ?  How  many  a  generous  impulse  does  petty 
ambition  stifle  !  The  squire's  second  thought  was,  that 
if  he  did  so,  it  might  lead  to  the  old  friendship's  re- 
newal, a  thing  to  be  avoided  now ;  lest  thereby  Archdale's 
son  might  find  an  opportunity  to  wile  away  Constance 
from  him  and  the  brilliant  match  intended  for  her. 
Must  he,  then,  leave  Archdale  to  his  fate  ?  Here  Dela- 
mere was  startled  from  his  dark  brown  study,  for  a  light 
hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  something  savory  steamed 
under  his  nose,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  Constance  hold- 
ing there  a  splendid  specimen  of  the  doughnut  order. 

"I  knew  you  were  alone,  father,"  said  the  laughing 
girl,  "  and  I  brought  you  this  from  our  bee  ;  it  my- 
self that  made  it.'' 


"Tou  are  always  thinking  of  your  old  father,  Con- 
stance," said  the  squire,  taking  up  the  little  present  and 
gazing  on  it  with  admiration.  "  There  is  a  doughnut  1 
fit  for  a  prince.  Won't  I  finish  it  when  it  is  cool  enough  1 
Always  thinking  of  your  old  father,  and  yet  you  will  be 
leaving  him  some  day  for  a  fine  young  man  with  no  grey 
hair  on  his  head." 

"No,  father;  I  will  never  leave  you  tor  any  man," 
cried  Constance. 

"  What,  not  for  one  that  wears  a  scarlet  coat,  and  may 
be  called  my  lord  before  he  is  much  older  ?  Constance, 
I  will  tell  you  a  secret;"  and  Delamere  threw  his  arm 
about  her  slender  waist,  and  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  Cap- 
tain Devereaux  has  this  evening  asked  you  from  me  in 
marriage.  What  is  the  matter,  my  girl?"  he  continued^ 
almost  frightened,  for  his  daughter's  face  had  turned 
deadly  pale. 

"  Nothing,  father  ;  only  I  don't  want  to  marry  the  cap- 
tain— I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody,  but  stay  with  you 
all  my  days.  Surely  you  would  not  send  me  away  ?" 
said  poor  Constance. 

"  No  fear  of  that,  my  own  daughter  ;  you  are  all  I  have 
to  care  for  in  this  world.  But  every  girl  means  to  marry, 
or  ought  to  mean  it,  and  where  could  you  get  a  better 
match  than  Captain  Devereux?  He  is  a  gentleman  by 
birth,"  and  Delamere  proceeded  to  enlarge  on  the  cap- 
tain's expectations  and  connections — on  the  prospect  his 
wife  would  have  of  being  called  the  Viscountess  of 
Lavenham,  and  your  ladyship — of  being  presented  at 
court  and  taking  precedence  of  all  untitled  people  in 
every  assembly,  public  or  private,  of  sporting  arms  on 
the  panels  of  her  carriage,  and  a  coronet  everywhere ; 
but  his  daughter's  look  only  grew  more  sad  Mid 
troubled. 

"Father,"  she  said,  at  length,  "I  don't  care  for  these 
things,  and  I  don't  care  for  the  captain." 

"Why,  my  child?"  demanded  Delamere;  and  there 
Constance  was  puzzled.  Her  impressions  of  Devereux 
remained  the  same  as  they  were  on  the  first  evening  cf 
their  acquaintance,  but  she  could  not  translate  them 
into  words,  for  they  were  derived  from  the  instinctive 
perceptions  of  the  mind,  and  not  from  any  outward 
cause  or  reason' that  could  be  quoted. 

"  Father,  I  don't  know  why.  I  may  be  foolish  to  say 
so,  but  I  do  not  and  never  shall  like  him.  You  know  I 
would  do  anything  to  please  you,  but,  father  dear,  don't 
bid  me  marry  Captain  Devereux." 

Her  look  of  mingled  terror  and  distress  was  too  much 
for  the  kindly  squire.  He  drew  her  closer  to  his  heart, 
and  said,  "  Constance,  I  would  not  bid  you  to  marry  the 
King  of  England,  except  you  were  willing ;  but,  as  you 
don't  know  exactly  why  you  dislike  the  captain,  your 
mind  may  change,  as  ladies'  minds  often  do.  Your  dear 
mother  refused  me  twice,  and  accepted  me  at  the  third 
asking.  I  don't  think  she  ever  regretted  it ;  but  we  will 
say  no  more  at  present ;  there  is  time  enough  for  you  to 
consider  the  captain's  case  and  come  to  a  conclusion  one 
way  or  the  other. 

CHAPTBK  vm. — THE  CAPTAIN'S  PROGRESS. 

Delamere  had  no  doubt  that  the  ultimate  finding 
would  be  in  the  captain's  favor;  he  thought  the  pros- 
pect of  a  title  and  a  coronet  must  weigh  with  his 
daughter  as  it  did  with  himself,  and  therefore  left  the 
business  to  time  and  Devereux's  wooing  abilities.  The 
captain  appeared  to  be  of  the  same  opinion,  and  now 
began  the  siege  in  due  form ;  his  attentions  were  more 
marked,  his  compliments  more  direct,  his  visits  to  the 
Elms  more  frequent,  and  undisguisedly  those  of  a 
lover. 

Who  can  win  the  heart  that  will  not  be  taken  ?  Con- 
stance was  polite  to  her  father's  new  friend— ready  to 
sing  and  play  for  his  entertainment  when  the  squire 
wished  it ;  she  shared  his  company  and  converse  on  all 
occasions  when  it  was  necessary  that  the  daughter  of 
the  house  should  be  present ;  but  no  Spanish  maiden, 
under  the  eyes  of  a  watchful  duenna,  could  be  more 
coldly  circumspect  in  her  conduct  towards  him.  The 
girl  had  a  good  deal  of  self-command  for  her  years  ;  she 
did  not  see  his  love-making  glances  ;  she  did  not  hear 
his  tender  insinuations ;  sighs  and  languishing  looks 
were  fairly  lost  upon  her,  and  she  contrived  never  to  be 
for  three  minutes  alone  with  Captain  Devereux. 

"  Where  there's  a  will  there's  way,"  says  the  pro- 
verb, and  the  reverse  is  equally  true  with  ladies  of  all 
ages — where  there  is  not  a  will  there  is  not  a  way,  nor 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


279 


my  possibility  of  making  one,  as  the  nephew  of  Lord 
Lavenham  found.  It  was  in  the  father's  good  graces  he 
advanced,  not  in  those  of  the  daughter. 

Older  in  constitution  and  habits  than  he  was  in  years, 
Devereux  was  a  more  suitable  companion  for  the  squire 
than  for  his  young  heiress.  He  had  lost  the  dexterity 
of  youth  in  the  witching  arts  of  love,  if  he  ever  had  the 
like  •  and  whatever  the  captain's  experience  might  have 
been,  it  was  not  in  courting  ladies  hard  to  woo  and  win. 
His  ill-succoss  appeared  to  drive  him  to  his  wits'  end 
at  times,  though  either  pride  or  policy  prevented  him 
from  owning  it.  Dclamere  was  surprised  and  occasion- 
ally annoyed  at  it  too,  and  that  troubled  poor  Constance. 
But  it  was  not  the  only  cause  of  trouble  which  the  cap- 
tain's wooing  brought  to  the  household  of  the  Elms. 

The  work  in  which  Devereux  was  engaged  was  ob- 
noxious to  the  whole  country,  and  more  especially  to 
the  dwellers  on  the  Green  Mountains.  Fort  Frederick 
had  been  serviceable  in  its  day,  but  that  was  with  the 
past.  The  land  had  rest  from  her  ancient  enemies  now, 
and  the  on^y  purpose  of  its  rebuilding  must  be  to  over- 
awe and  curb  the  popular  discontent  with  government 
measures.  The  most  judicious  officer  would  have  found 
it  a  difficult  affair  to  manage,  but  Lord  Lavenham's 
nephew  was  the  right  man  to  make  bad  worse.  He  be- 
gan by  giving  himself  airs  of  superiority,  as  a  high-bom 
man  from  the  old  country  and  an  offier  in  his  Majesty's 
service — the  readiest  way  to  offend  the  independent 
New  Englanders.  He  proceeded  to  spread  verbal  mani- 
festoes against  Whigs,  Liberty  Men,  and  Green  Moun- 
tain Boys,  generally  winding  up  with  what  he  intended 
when  the  fortress  w?^  rebuilt  and  himself  in  command 
of  the  garrison. 

The  consequences  were  such  as  might  have  been  ex 
pected;  the  country  people  set  their  faces  against  him 
and  his  company.  Not  one  of  them  could  find  quarters 
in  farm-house  or  cottage,  but  had  to  build  shanties  and 
cabins  for  themselves  ;  no  native  mechanic  or  laborer 
would  lend  a  hand  to  their  work  for  any  wages  ;  no 
larmer  would  lend  wagon,  horse  or  ox  to  bring  building 
materials  for  any  price.  When  they  attempted  to  pur- 
chase provisions  in  farm-house  or  dairy,  the  men  ordered 
them  out  of  the  premises,  while  the  sturdy  women 
armed  themselves  with  fire-irons,  kitchen  untensils,  and 
the  like,  and  chased  them  for  their  lives. 

Instead  of  being  warned  by  these  experiences  of  the 
mountain  people's  metal,  Devereux  exerted  himself  to 
make  reprisals.  He  applied  for  warrants  against  the 
women  who  had  chased  his  men,  but  the  latter  could 
not  or  would  not  identify  their  fair  assailants  for  fear  of 
being  laughed  at ;  and  the  country  justices  advised  him 
to  let  the  Green  Mountain  ladies  alone,  for  their  hands 
and  their  tongues  were  equally  ready. 

He  made  forays  on  the  farms  to  impress  wagons  and 
animals  for  his  Majesty's  service,  and  paid  for  them  af- 
terwards at  government  prices  ;  but  somehow  the  own- 
ers got  timely  intimation,  the  wagons  were  not  to  be 
found  at  all ;  boys  mounted  on  the  bare  backs  of  horses 
were  seen  driving  others  before  them  at  a  pace  which 
left  men  unaccustomed  to  the  wild  country  utterly  at 
fault.  The  oxen  were  said  to  be  grazing  in  the  wood- 
land pastures  ;  some  of  the  proprietors  offered  Captain 
Devereux  a  rope-noose  to  go  and  catch  them,  at  the 
same  time  remarking  that  their  oxen  were  all  of  the 
buffalo  breed,  and  "uncommon  spry  with  their  horns  at 
strangers  ;"  and  finally,  one  sturdy  farmer  gathered  a 
few  of  his  neighbors,  informed  the  captain  that  he  had 
no  authority  to  seize  horse  and  wagon  there,  and  com- 
manded him  to  quit  his  farm  directly.  Devereux  talked 
of  using  fire-arms,  but  neither  officers  nor  men  of  his 
company  cared  to  come  into  collision  with  the  hardy 
inhabitants  of  the  Green  Mountains — accustomed  to 
hunt  the  bear  and  wolf,  and  crack  shots  every  man — 
so  the  captain  had  to  beat  an  ignominious  retreat,  talk- 
ing of  the  Mutiny  Act  and  courts-martial  all  the  way. 
The  boys  hooted  him  as  he  passed,  and  he  threatened  to 
arrest  and  punish  them  ;  but  one  of  their  fathers  sent 
him  word  that  he  had  a  cowhide  ready  for  his  Majesty's 
oflScer  in  case  a  finger  was  laid  on  his  child.  He  brought 
mechanics  and  laborers  from  the  distant  towns,  but  his 
peremptory,  overbearing  manner,  so  disgusted  them  that 
they  deserted  the  work  and  made  common  cause  with 
the  country  people.  Fortress  building  under  such  cir- 
cumstances was  simply  impossible ;  indeed,  the  little 
that  was  done  shared  the  fortunes  of  Penelope's  web, 
for  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  destroyed  over  night  all 


that  had  been  accomplished  in  the  day.  When  sentinels 
were  placed  to  watch  against  these  destructives,  they 
either  got  frightened  or  took  the  opportunity  to  desert, 
and  could  never  be  caught  again.  Finally,  the  service 
was  found  so  wearisome  and  useless  that  desertion 
became  a  common  cause,  and  very  few  of  the  comp- 
any remained,  except  the  disheartened  and  discontented 
officers. 

Captain  Devereux  had  enhanced  his  own  defeat  and 
incurred  the  general  hatred,  but  unfortunately  the  odium 
did  not  fall  on  him  alone.  Squire  Delamere's  political 
opinions  had  always  been  unpopular  with  his  neighbors, 
and  now  the  squire  became  unpopular  also.  He  had 
quarreled  with  Bquire  Archdale,  his  best  friend,  and  the 
friend  of  liberty,  too.  He  had  associated  himself  and 
his  family  with  the  unscrupulous  instrument  of  an  op- 
pressive government.  It  was  no  secret  that  he  meant  to 
bestow  his  heiress,  and  the  large  estate  she  would  In- 
herit from  him,  on  the  detested  stranger,  on  account  of 
his  high  birth  and  connections  in  the  old  country,  though 
she  had  been  sought  in  vain  by  Sydney  Archdale,  her 
equal  in  every  respect,  and  now  regarded  as  a  banished 
patriot.  There  was  scarcely  a  man  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut  who  did  not  feel  himself  called  upon  to  re- 
sent such  open  opposition  to  his  country's  cause,  and 
the  ladies  unanimously  included  in  the  proscription  poor 
innocent  Constance,  who  dreamt  of  Sydney  Archdale 
every  night,  and  would  have  given  a  cheap  bargain  of 
the  captain  to  any  bidder. 

Did  they  not  see  her  flaunting  in  brocade  and  lace 
when  all  the  respectable  women  of  the  land  were  clad  in 
homespun  and  busying  themselves  spinning  flax  and 
wool  to  assist  their  family's  wardrobe  ? 

They  little  knew  how  trying  it  was  for  her  to  see  old 
and  once  friendly  neighbors  frown  on  her  father  and 
herself  as  they  passed  by,  or  not  recognize  their  ex- 
istence at  all.  How  hard  it  was  to  find  old  acquaint- 
ances, to  whose  family  festivities  they  used  to  ride  so 
merrily  through  the  summer  evening,  or  the  clear,  cold 
winter  night,  and  who  came  in  the  same  fashion  to  the 
Elms,  refusing  her  father's  invitations,  some  in  reproach- 
ful terms  and  some  with  cold  excuses. 

In  hot  Virginia  or  the  Carolinas,  a  few  duels  would 
have  been  fought ;  but  the  Puritan  spirit  which  still 
prevailed  in  New  England  forbade  "affairs  of  honor"  as 
infractions  of  the  sixth  Commandment ;  so  things  took 
a  quieter  and  more  persistent  course. 

Delamere  had  considerable  pride  and  greater  obsti- 
nacy ;  moreover,  the  converse  of  Lord  Lavenham's 
nephew  had  blown  up  his  Toryism  to  a  perfect  blaze. 
He  took  no  notice  of  the  general  indignation,  except  to 
defy  it,  and  show  the  Whiggish  neighborhood  that  it 
could  not  frighten  him. 

He  rode  out  ostentatiously  with  the  captain,  and  in- 
sisted on  his  daughter  riding,  too,  in  all  the  pomp  of 
British  fashion,  with  liveried  servants  behind  the  party. 
When  some  serious  old  friends  attempted  to  argue  the 
point  with  him,  he  retorted  with  charges  of  sedition  and 
treason  on  them  and  the  whole  country.  When  the 
minister  of  the  old  meeting-house  in  Hadley  prayed  that 
George  III  and  his  counsellors  might  be  brought  to  re- 
pent, and  turn  from  their  unjust  dealings  with  the  Am- 
erican provinces,  the  squire  rose  from  the  pew  which  his 
great-grandfather  had  erected,  caught  Constance  by  the 
arm,  and  hurried  out,  exclaiming  that  he  would  not  hear 
rebellion  encouraged  in  the  house  of  the  Lord. 

Probably  no  other  man  could  have  proceeded  to  such 
lengths  with  equal  impunity  ;  but  Delamere's  charities 
to  the  poor,  and  kindly  doings  to  the  people  of  all 
classes  were  not  to  be  forgotten,  and  the  comments  on 
his  conduct  at  many  a  fireside  were  wound  up  rather  in 
sorrow  than  in  anger. 

His  relations,  who  were  all  of  his  own  principles,  but 
moderate  and  prudentmen,remonstrated  with  him,  some 
by  word  and  some  by  letter  from  the  distant  provinces 
where  they  were  settled,  but  all  in  vain.  The  squu-e  of 
the  Elms  had  reached  that  point  of  wrong-head edness 
froni  which  he  was  not  to  be  moved  ;  it  was  a  liability 
of  his  mental  constitution,  and  made  him  impatient  with 
even  the  gentle  expostulations  of  his  loving  daughter. 
"Dear  father,  she  would  say  at  times,  when  venturing 
to  advise  him  against  some  contemplated  exhibition  of 
his  loyalty,  "these  doings  will  make  the  whole  country 
your  enemies." 

"  What,  Constmce,"  Delamere  would  cry,  "are  you  a 
soldier's  daughter  and  afraid  of  a  pack  of  bragging 


28o 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Whigs  ?  Thev  will  all  be  quiet  enough  when  the  King's 
troops  arrive  in  Boston  Harbor,  aye,  and  glad  to  dance 
at  your  wedding  the  day  you  become  Mrs.  Captain 
Devereuz,  and  soon  to  become  my  Lady  Lavenham,  I 
hope." 

"I  wish  we  had  never  seen  Captain  Devereux,"  said 
poor  Constance  one  day  when  a  sudden  fit  of  sincerity 
overcame  her  habitual  deference  to  her  father. 

"  Now,  girl,  you  will  make  me  angry  with  you  !  What 
possible  objection  can  you  have  to  the  captain  ? — a  per-  . 
feet  gentleman  by  birth  and  breding,  a  distinguished 
ofllcer,  or  he  would  not  be  appointed  to  such  an  impor- 
tant charge  as  the  rebuilding  of  Fort  Frederick,  and  so 
devotedly  attached  to  you  !  I  must  say,  Constance,  your 
perverse  ingratitude  perfectly  surprises  me,"  said  the 
squire.  "  You  will  not  meet  with  such  a  lover  every  day. 
He  can  scarcely  look  at  anything  else  when  you  are 
present.  What  is  your  opinion,  Hannah  ?"— Mrs.  Arm- 
strong happened  to  enter  the  room  at  that  moment — 
"  Did  you  ever  see  a  man  caught,  brought  into  bondage, 
enslaved,  I  may  say,  by  any  woman,  as  Capt.  Devereux 
\a>  by  my  girl  here  ?" 

"  Friend,"  said  the  Quakeress,  I  am  no  judge  of  that 
matter,  having  left  the  days  of  courtship  far  behind  me; 
but  I  know  that  the  same  Devereux  is  a  stranger  to  thee, 
for  he  was  not  brought  up  in  thy  neighborhood,  and 
thou  knowest  nothing  of  his  bygone  years,  or  in  what 
manner  they  have  been  spent.  I  also  know  that  his  com- 
ing to  this  land,  and  especially  to  this  house,  hath 
brought  much  confusion  and  little  comfort.    I  have  a 

treat  concern  on  my  mind  regarding  the  same,  but  I 
ave  laid  it  before  the  Lord.  Do  thou  likewise,  friend 
Delamere,  and,  casting  away  all  thine  own  conceits  and 
devices,  seek  His  direction  how  to  deal  with  this  man 
whom  thou  hast  not  proved  " 

Delamere  made  no  reply :  he  did  not  relish  Hannah's 
exhortation,  though  he  could  not  dispute  its  wisdom  and 
piety;  but  had  the  squire  been  invested  with  the 
wizard's  invisible-making  mantle,  and  stationed  at  p 
comer  of  the  log  hut  occupied  by  Lieutenant  Gray,som' 
days  after,  he  would  have  heard  hir  own  soa-in-]f:v 
elect  more  fully  discussed. 

CHAPTER  IX. — THE  LIEUTENANT'S  REVELATI<M8r 

The  lieutenant's  hut  stood  in  a  hollow  of  the  moun- 
tain side,  partially  sheltered  by  a  thicket  of  evergreen 
shrubs,  but  open  to  the  sun,  which  was  shining  in  at  its 
open  door,  bright  and  warm,  as  it  shines  in  the  finei 
Winter  days  of  New  England,  when  the  sky  is  clear  and 
the  frost  has  been  keen  over  night.  The  leaHess  woods 
around  were  all  in  a  glitter,  for  every  bough  was  hung 
with  icy  gems  that  took  a  thousand  colors  as  they 
caught  the  rays  of  light ;  the  rough  ground  was  in  a 
glitter,  too,  for  every  mountain  plant  and  deep-rooted 
stump  had  got  its  share  of  brilliance,  and  the  roofs  of 
the  cabins  built  round  the  ill-prospering  works  of  Fort 
Frederick,  where  every  sheltered  spot  could  be  found 
for  them,  had  a  glistening  coat  of  the  Winter's  wearing. 
Most  of  these  cabins  were  tenantless,  but  from  some  the 
smoke  was  rising  through  the  aperture  in  the  roof 
which  served  for  a  chimney.  It  was  streaming  up  from 
the  lieutenant's  habitation,  but  he  sat  in  the  warm 
sunshine  on  a  log  beside  his  door,  in  an  undress,  shabby 
and  weather-worn,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and  whistling 
"  Lord  Antrim's  March,"  though  he  looked  considerably 
out  of  sorts  and  cheer.  His  hut  stood  alone,  and  at 
some  distance  from  the  rest ;  but  a  mountain  path  led 
past  it,  and  along  that  path,  at  a  rattling  pace,  came  a 
young  hunter,  who  might  have  been  taken  for  an  Indian 
at  the  first  glance,  for  he  wore  the  hunting-shirt,  the 

firt-up  blanket,  and  the  long  leggings  of  the  red  man, 
ut  his  face  and  figure  belonged  to  the  European  race. 
Both  were  singularly  handsome.  Over  his  right  shoulder 
he  carried  a  rifle  of  the  best  construction  then  known — 
for  it  was  on  the  flint-and-steel  principle — and  over  the 
left  a  game-bag,  so  well  filled,  that  dark  glossy  wings 
and  tail  feathers  protruded  from  its  opening. 

The  old  soldier's  face  took  a  foraging  look  at  the 
sight  of  it,  and  as  the  young  hunter  approached  he  said, 
Grood  day,  friend ;  I  wish  your  luck  had  been  mine 
this  morning." 

"  Good  day,"  said  the  hunter,  pausing  in  his  rapid 
march;  "but  have  you  got  no  luck  of  your  own  to 
spare  ?" 

*'  Well,  when  a  man  cannot  go  a-shooting  on  accoimt 
of  a  sprained  arm,  from  a  fall  over  one  of  these 


treacherous  stumps  in  the  dark,  and  dare  not  go  to  a 
farm-house  to  buy  a  chicken  or  so,  for  fear  of  the  gentle 
ladies  of  these  parts  falling  on  him  with  poker,  shovel, 
and  tongs,  I  think  he  can  scarcely  be  called  lucky  on 
the  whole,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

Scarcely,  indeed  ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  see  a  gentleman 
and  a  soldier  so  situated  ;  do  me  the  favor,  sir,  to 
choose  anything  that  may  suit  you  here;"  and  the 
hunter  lowered  his  game-bag,  and  opened  it  to  show  the 
contents. 

'You  are  very  good,  sir,  but  a  certain  class  should 
not  be  choosers,  they  say ;  anything  you  are  kind 
enough  to  give  me  will  be  very  acceptable  under  the 
circumstances,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"Well,  suppose  we  say  this  fat  turkey,"  said  the 
hunter,  taking  out  a  noble  specimen  of  the  Indian  cock, 
as  the  first  French  colonists  called  it,  and  placing  it  on 
the  log  by  the  lieutenant's  side. 

'  Really,  sir,  it  is  too  much  to  take  from  you ;  but  I 
have  not  had  a  good  dinner  for  a  twelvemonth,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  your  generosity  in  my  time  of  need. 
K  there  were  anything  stronger  than  water  within  my 
reach,  I  should  drink  your  health  on  the  spot ;  do  sit 
down  ar'i  rest  awhile."  And  the  lieutenant  made  room 
on  the  log. 

"That  can  be  had,  sir,  if  you  will  do  me  the  honor." 
And  the  hunter  produced  from  a  wallet  concealed  by 
his  blanket  coat,  a  goodly  flask  and  two  cups  of  beech- 
wood,  one  of  which  he  proceeded  to  fill  and  hand  to  the 
higenuous  old  officer. 

'*  I  don't  generally  drink  in  the  morning,  but  I  will  on 
this  occasion.  Your  name,  sir,  if  you  please  ;  I  like  to 
drink  a  gentleman's  health  in  due  form.  My  own  is 
Gray,  Charles  Edward  by  christening.  My  mother  in- 
sisted on  that,  because  her  family  were  all  Jacobites. 
I  am  not  sure  that  they  don't  call  George  III.  the  Elector 
of  Hanover  to  this  day  " 

"  Families  will  have  their  ways,"  said  the  young  man. 
"My  name  is  Hunter — Westwood  Hunter— at  your 
service." 

"A  good  name  for  these  parts,"  said  the  lieutenant  j 
and  the  new  acquaintances  drank  to  each  other  out  of 
the  beech  wood  cups  with  all  the  complimentary 
formalities  of  the  time— a  time  in  which  these  drinking 
customs  were  the  great  curse  of  all  society,  as  they  are 
too  much  still. 

"I  must  say,  sir,  you  understand  what  good  liquor 
is."  And  the  old  oflicer  smacked  his  lips  before  he  had 
half  emptied  the  cup. 

"Do  me  the  favor  to  accept  the  flask;  I  can  get 
another  as  well  filled  where  I  am  going,"  said  Westwood 
Hunter,  as  he  placed  his  second  present  beside  his  first. 

"  No,  no,  sir— you  are  too  generous  ;  I  cannot  deprive 
you  of  such  a  valuable  traveling  companion."  Here  the 
lieutenant  suddenly  changed  his  strain,  as  a  negro,  with 
a  bundle  of  dry  sticks  on  his  shoulder,  emerged  from 
the  neighboring  wood.  "Look,  Pompey !"  he  cried, 
taking  up  the  turkey  and  flourishing  it  in  the  air ;  "here 
is  a  treat  we  have  not  met  with  before  in  this  inhospitable 
place.  Go,  my  man,  and  make  it  ready  for  dinner  ;  but 
mind  you  keep  well  within  doors,  for  if  they  catch  the 
scent  they  will  be  down  upon  it  like  a  pack  of  wolves 
on  a  spent  deer,  and  not  leave  a  bone  for  us  to  pick. 
There  are  four  young  fellows  that  could  eat  a  bison  be- 
tween them.  You  will  stay  and  dine  with  me  on  your 
own  present,  my  boy  ;"  and  he  clapped  Hunter  on  the 
shoulder.  "  Pompey  is  a  splendid  cook.  You'll  stay- 
say  you  will." 

"  I  cannot,  sir ;  don't  press  me.  It  would  not  be  kmd, 
for  I  have  to  meet  a  friend  whom  I  may  not  see  for  some 
time  again,  far  down  in  the  low  country  beside  the  Con- 
necticut ;  but  I  will  sit  here  and  rest  awhile,  with  your 
good  leave,  and  then  go  on  my  journey,"  said  Hunter. 

"Well,  my  boy,  I  should  be  sorry  to  do  anji^hing  un- 
kind by  you  after  your  civility  to  me,  but  you  will  come 
this  vray  again,  I  hope.  Maybe  I  will  find  something  to 
make  a  fitting  acknowledgment  for  your  fat  turkey  and 
good  liquor.  As  I  was  saying,  you  understand  that 
subject,  which  cannot  be  said  of  most  young  men— they 
know  little  except  about  girls'  faces.  I'll  warrant  you 
are  up  to  that  matter,  too ;  here  is  success  to  your 
wooing,  my  boy." 

"Were  you  not  up  to  it  in  your  own  time,  lieutenant  V 
said  his  young  companion.  ^    ^  * 

{That  I  was.  I  courted  a  lady  said  to  be  the  finest 
woman  in  Portsmouth ;  she  was  acknowledged  belle  oi 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


all  the  ladies  at  our  garrison  balls.  But  she  jilted  me, 
my  boy — she  jilted  me.  I  couldn't  blame  her,  either," 
said  the  lieutenant;  "there  were  seven  sisters  to  pro- 
vide for,  with  not  a  farthing  of  fortune,  and  every  one 
plainer  than  another  except  herself.  A  rich  army 
contractor  came  up  to  the  scratch,  and  I  was  only  a  poor 
subaltern." 

It  is  curious  to  notice  how  elderly  men,  even  those  of 
grave  and  busy  life,  sometimes  like  to  tell  of  the  tender 
hopes  and  the  disappointments  of  their  younger  days. 
That  elderly  soldiers,  with  idler  life  and  fewer  ideas, 
dwell  on  such  topics,  is  less  surprising.  Of  Lieutenant 
Gray's  prattle  to  his  young  friend  we  have  told  more 
than  enough,  were  it  not  that  it  prepares  the  reader  for 
■some  incidents  in  the  sequel  of  the  story. 

"But  you  might  have  got  promotion,"  suggested 
Hunter. 

"  Promotion  I "  and  the  old  oflflcer  laughed  ironically ; 
*'that  shows  how  much  you  know  about  our  country, 
my  gay  young  man.  If  a  man  happens  to  have  relations 
or  connections  among  the  tip-tops,  he  will  get  promotion 
sure  enough,  but  without  that  he  might  as  well  expect 
guineas  to  be  rained  fi'om  the  skies  to  him.  Here  is  your 
humble  servant,  for  example.   My  father  was  a  mer- 
chant in  London,  thrifty  and  well-to-do.    He  wanted  *o 
make  one  of  his  sons  a  gentleman,  and  put  the  rest  in 
business.    I  wanted  to  be  a  soldier,  so  he  bought  me 
lieutenant's  commission,  and  it  is  in  my  pocket  yet. 
have  served  the  king  nearly  thirty  years ;  I  have  been  ii 
as  many  actions  in  both  Europe  and  America.    It  does 
not  become  a  soldier  to  speak  in  his  own  praise,  but  I 
have  had  many  an  honorable  mention  by  my  superior 
officers.    And  what  was  the  result  ?  Why,  at  least  a 
score  of  young  coxcombs,  with  titled  kin,  stepping  over 
my  head,  and  some  of  them  only  young  in  the  service, 
like  our  precious  Captain  Devereux." 

"  Nobody  hereabouts  seems  to  like  the  captain,"  said 
Hunter. 

"Nobody  could,  for  he  is  a  fool— of  the  worst  sort, 
too  ;  a  fool  that  can  talk.  He  has  picked  up  saws  and 
sentences  in  all  directions.  To  hear  him  lay  down  the 
law  on  any  subject,  one  would  imagine  he  knew  every- 
thing under  the  sun  and  above  it.  It  strikes  an  honest 
man  dumb  to  hear  him  holding  out  on  religion  and 
morals  after  the  rigs  he  has  run." 

"  Has  he  led  a  bad  life,  then  ? "  Inquired  Hunter. 

"  As  bad  as  man  could  lead  short  of  a  quick  march  to 
the  gallows,"  said  Gray.  "He  was  a  trouble  and  dis- 
grace to  his  family  from  the  first  use  of  his  razor.  This 
promising  boy  (Cecil  Talbot  Devereux  is  his  name,  I 
understand)  was  the  youngest  of  five,  and  the  only  son. 
The  four  sisters  are  all  old  maids  now,  and  the  whole 
lot  live  at  the  family  seat  in  Suffolk,  a  tumbled-down 
old  place,  whicn  it  would  take  thousands  to  repair. 
They  give  out  that  Cecil  is  heir  to  the  Lavenham  estate, 
and  a  valuable  inheritance  it  is  !  The  lands  are  so 
deeply  mortgaged  that  no  amount  of  interest  woMd  in- 
duce one  of  the  Jews  to  lend  a  farthing  on  a  post  obit 
from  that  quarter ;  and  besides,  nobody  can  certify  that 
there  is  not  a  Scotch  marriage  contracted  by  the  old 
viscount  when  in  Edinburgh.  It  is  also  rumored  that 
two  sons  by  this  marriage  are  in  the  army. 

"  The  one  boy  in  a  family  is  commonly  spoiled,  they 
say;  and  if  the  old  folks  at  home  spoiled  Master 
Devereux,  they  have  reaped  abundant  fruit  of  it.  At 
Cambridge  he  got  into  debt  too  deep  for  his  noble  rela- 
tives to  pay,  and  there  were  two  or  three  charges  of 
swindling  his  fellow-students,  besides.  He  avoided 
writs  and  prosecutions  by  flying  to  the  Continent,  where 
he  remained  for  some  years,  moving  from  one  town  to 
another,  and  living  by  card-sharping  and  other  disrepu- 
table means.  At  length,  when  the  debts  were  somehow 
compromised,  and  the  swindlings  smoothed  over,  Cecil 
came  back,  and  his  friends  got  him  into  the  Treasury. 
I  don't  know  what  he  did  there— they  never  let  out  the 
misdoings  of  young  men  related  to  lords— but  he  was 
dismissed  within  the  year.  Then  his  friends  got  him 
shipped  to  Jamaica,  as  manager  of  an  estate  belonging 
to  the  Earl  of  Ai-ran,  who  is  distantly  related  to  his 
mother,  but  there  were  keen  Scotch  eyes  upon  him.  He 
was  found  out  appropriating  cash— that  is  the  correct 
phrase,  I  think — and  sent  adrift  once  more.  However 
he  contrived  to  strike  up  with  a  widow  at  Spanish 
Town ;  she  was  a  quadroon,  with  nearly  as  much  of 
Spain  as  of  Africa  in  her  composition,  but  a  remarkably 
handsome  woman.    An  old  negro,  free  and  rich,  had  | 


married  her,  and  on  his  death,  which  happened  but  a 
few  years  after,  left  her  a  good  jointure  and  one  little 
boy,  the  beir  of  his  property. 

The  Honorable  Cecil  courted  and  married  the  widow, 
got  hold  of  her  jointure,  and  got  hold  of  the  boy's  in- 
heritance. Soon  after,  the  boy  was  missing  one  day, 
and  supposed  to  be  kidnapjjed.  Many  thought  that 
Devereux  had  a  hand  in  the  affair  ;  and  the  boy  has  never 
been  heard  of  since.  His  inheritance  could  not  be  sold 
without  proof  of  his  death,  which  in  some  respects  was 
fortunate,  for  it  remains  to  this  day  a  dilapidated, 
neglected  place,  but  still  worth  claiming  if  the  negro's 
son  should  ever  turn  up  again.  Devereux  spent  ail  he 
could  raise  upon  it  in  extravagant  dissipation,  spent  the 
quadroon's  jointure  in  the  same  manner,  and  neglected 
herself  till  the  poor  soul  took  to  bad  ways,  and  upset 
the  little  brain  she  had. 

"When  all  was  gone,  her  vile  husband  deserted  her, 
and  went  to  Barbados ;  but  from  that  island  he  was 
obliged  to  fly  for  uttering  forged  checks.  The  hunt  for 
him  was  hot  over  all  the  West  Indies,  but  the  bird  was 
not  taken,  and  where  he  found  refuge  was  never  known. 
His  family,  to  their  great  relief,  I  suppose,  lost  sight  of 
.him  for  years.  Some  tourists  said  they  had  seen  him 
wandering  about  the  Continent.  And  the  most  curious 
part  of  the  tale  was  that  the  poor  crack-brained  woman 
disappeared  from  Jamaica  when  the  search  for  him  died 
away ;  and  the  said  tourists  believed  they  had  seen  her 
in  his  company. 

"Be  that  as  it  will,  Cecil  Talbot  Devereux  turned  up 
at  last.  The  servants  whispered  that  he  had  come  home 
one  night  rather  late,  and  in  such  a  shabby  condition 
that  the  four  maiden  sisters,  mother  and  all,  went  off  in 
strong  hysterics  at  the  sight ;  but  they  got  over  it,  poor 
ladies,  and  kept  him  hidden  somewhere  till  new  clothes 
and  other  requisites  were  got  ready,  and  then  the  vis- 
count's heir  showed  himself  as  grand  as  ever,  and  full 
of  fine  talk  about  his  travels  in  Spanish  "^-merica. 

"  It  is  probable  that  he  was  there  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  eclipse,  for  his  negro  servant,  Paul,  nearly  as  great 
a  rascal  as  himself,  let  it  out  to  Pompey,  that  he  had 
placed  his  quadroon  wife  in  a  convent  among  the  moun- 
tains of  Peru,  where  it  seems  they  kept  a  lunatic  asylum 
—not  an  uncommon  case,  I  believe,  in  Catholic  countries. 
Old  Gage,  in  New  York,  is  related  to  the  Devereuxs,  and 
the  Devereuxs  are  related  to  the  minister,  so  the  family 
scapegrace,  who  could  not  be  put  in  a  creditable  position 
at  home,  is  sent  out  to  be  provided  for  in  Massachusetts, 
and  Gage  gets  up  an  appointment  for  him  to  superintend 
the  rebuilding  of  Fort  Frederick.  The  old  fox  is  per- 
fectly aware  that  the  captain  might  as  well  be  sent 
to  rebuild  the  Tower  of  Babel.  He  knows  as  much  of 
engineering  and  fortification  as  he  does  of  Japanese,  and 
is  as  fit  to  manage  the  country  people  as  a  wild  buffalo ; 
but,  then,  that  is  the  make-believe  part  of  the  business. 
The  real  one  is  a  certain  Squire  Delamere,  living  in  a 
fine  estate  of  his  own,  called  the  Elms,  down  yonder, 
beside  the  Connecticut,  and  his  daughter,  who  is  to  in- 
herit it  after  him.  Believe  me,  she  is  the  handsomest 
girl  I  ever  saw,  except  the  one  who  turned  her  back  on 
me  and  took  the  army  contractor.  Well,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, Devereux' s  real  business  is  to  court  the  heiress,  and 
come  in  for  the  estate  in  due  time.  It  seems  the 
Lavenham  family  had  some  kind  of  a  claim  on  it  out  of 
date  and  out  of  mind,  but  they  have  an  eye  on  the 
chance,  you  see,  trust  them  for  that.  They  say  the 
captain  had  no  mind  to  try  it  at  first,  but  since  he  has 
seen  the  girl  and  the  estate  he  is  dead  on  them  both, 
which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  but,  Mr.  Hunter,  it 
goes  against  my  conscience  to  see  a  hal£-married,  ill- 
conditioned,  ill-conducted  knave  like  him  getting  hold 
of  such  a  fine  girl  in  the  days  of  her  youth  and  in- 
nocence." 

"Do  you  think  he  will  succeed,  then ? "  The  young 
man's  look  was  bent  on  the  ground. 

"  I  fear  he  will,"  said  the  lieutenant.  "  Delamere  is  a 
fine,  generous  fellow,  but  he  has  a  good  bit  of  the  sim- 
pleton in  him— just  the  man  for  Devereux  to  talk  over; 
and  I  fancy  the  notion  of  his  daughter  being  called 
'  your  ladyship  '  some  day  has  got  into  his  head.  There 
would  be  no  use  in  telling  him  what  sort  of  a  son-in-law 
he  is  likely  to  have  ;  the  man  is  as  obstinate  as  a 
hundred  pigs  when  he  happens  to  be  bent  on  a  thing. 
Devereux  would  swear  it  was  the  blackest  of  calumny, 
and  you  know  it  doesn't  suit  to  speak  against  one's 
superior  officer^ especially  when  he  is  related  to  a  lord." 


282 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


"And  the  young  lady,"  inquired  Hunter,  still  con- 
templating his  mother  earth;  *'is  sheas  much  taken 
with  the  prospect  of  a  title  as  her  father  ?" 

The  lieutenant  did  not  notice  the  eager,  anxious  tone 
in  which  that  question  was  asked,  but  he  answered 
quickly,  "Not  a  bit  of  her;  she  has  got  twice  her 
father's  sense,  and  I  think  can  smell  a  rat,  young  as  she 
is.  In  short,  I  wouldn't  mind  surely  aflarming  that  for 
all  his  fawning  and  flattering,  she  hates  the  sight  of 
Devereux  ;  but  by  all  ficcounts  she  is  a  good  girl,  and 
won't  go  against  her  father  in  anything ;  so  I  am  afraid 
she  may  be  persuaded  to  marry  the  crafty  villain  at  last; 
and  the  more's  the  pity." 

"  It  is,"  said  Hunter,  as  he  rose  and  took  up  his  rifle. 
"  Good  day,  sir ;  and  many  thanks  for  your  curious  tale ; 
it  lets  a  young  fellow  like  me  know  something  of  the 
world;  but  of  course  I  repeat  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"No  doubt  of  your  discretion,  my  boy  ;  I  never  saw  a 
man  of  the  woods  wanting  in  that.  Good  day ;  and 
sorry  I  am  that  you  can  stay  no  longer.  But  you  won't 
forget  to  come  again  this  way,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

'^Be  sure  I  will,  if  it  were  only  to  see  you  and  hear 
hoAV  the  captain's  business  gets  on;"  and,  warmly  re- 
turning his  sturdy  shake-hands,  the  young  man  set  for- 
ward at  a  pace  which  soon  took  him  out  of  the  old  oflS- 
cer's  sight. 

"A  flrst-rate  fellow,"  soliloquized  the  latter.  "I'll 
warrant  he  is  a  son  of  liberty,  or  a  Minute  Man ;  it  is 
best  to  have  no  hand  in  their  politics  ;  he  has  given  me 
a  good  dinner,  and  something  to  wash  it  down,  so  good 
luck  go  with  him.  Wise  folks  they  are  in  England  to 
think  of  taming  a  country  full  of  boys  like  that ;  and  old 
jage  writing  to  them  that  when  the  British  lion  roars 
the  Americans  will  become  lambs ;  no,  indeed,  they 
will  find  their  mistake  soon ;"  and  he  went  in  to  look 
after  Pompey  and  the  turkey. 

CHAPTER  X. — THE  NIGHT  ATTACK, 

The  evening  of  that  fine  winter  day  in  which  Lieuten- 
ant Gray  relieved  his  mind  to  Westwood  Hunter  on  the 
subject  of  his  superior  officer,  found  Constance  Dela- 
mere  standing  at  her  father's  gate  as  its  twilight  melted 
into  the  light  of  a  glorious  moon.  The  Squire  had  gone 
to  Springfield  on  matters  of  business  ;  she  had  expected 
him  home  by  this  time,  and  grew  anxious  now  when  he 
happened  to  be  out  late.  But  there  was  the  sound  of 
hoofs  on  the  frozen  road;  she  stepped  out,  and  had 
almost  said,  "  Welcome  home,  father,"  when  Captain 
Devereux,  followed  by  his  negro  servant,  Paul — he 
never  rode  alone  in  that  country — galloped  up. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Delamere,"  he  cried,  springing  from 
his  saddle  with  aU  the  agility  of  a  youthful  gallant ;  "it 
IS  an  unexpected  pleasure  to  meet  you  here  by  moon- 
light alone." 

"  I  was  looking  out  for  my  father ;  we  expect  him 
home  from  Springfield,  and  I  took  the  sound  of  your 
horse's  hoofs  for  his,"  said  the  rather  confused  Con- 
stance. 

"  Well,  he  has  a  glorious  night  for  riding  home  ;  a 
happy  home,  too,  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  and  bright 
eyes  looking  out  for  his  coming — what  could  a  man  ask 
more  ?"  and  the  captain  heaved  one  of  his  deepest 
sighs. 

"I  wish  he  would  come,"  said  Constance,  not  know- 
ing what  else  to  say. 

"Let  us  go  and  meet  him  ;  a  walk  in  this  splendid 
moonlight  will  cheer  your  spirits,"  and  the  captain  at- 
tempted to  draw  her  arm  within  his  own. 

"  Oh  no,  thank  you,"  cried  Constance,  with  an  invol- 
tmtary  start  back  that  considerably  increased  the  dis- 
tance between  them. 

"Might  I  ask  why,  Miss  Delamere?"  the  captain's 
(tone  had  grown  coldly  sharp  now. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  but — but  I  am  not  accustomed  to  walk 
alone  with  gentlemen  ;"  and  Constance  felt  strongly  in- 
clined to  run  into  the  house. 

"Indeed,"  said  the  captain  ;  "that  custom  cannot  be 
of  long  standing,  for  I  had  the  honor  to  see  Miss  Dela- 
mere in  close  conversation  with  a  gentleman  in  the 
Holyoke  Woods  one  day  last  fall." 

Constance  did  not  catch  the  sinister  triumph  of  his 
look,  for  the  veil  of  night  concealed  it,  but  she  knew 
that  his  words  referred  to  her  last  interview  with  Sydney 
Archdale.  That  was  the  man  whom  Philip  had  seen 
standing  up  in  his  stirrups  and  looking  through  the 
trees.  It  was  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs  that  startled 


them  in  the  silent  forest.  These  recollections  flashed 
across  her  mind  like  lightning,  and  the  young  girl's 
sense  and  spirit  came  to  her  aid  at  once. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  in  a  calm  but  dignified  tone, 
"you  did  see  me,  for  I  happen  to  know  it,  in  conversa-- 
tion  at  the  time  and  place  you  mention ;  but  he  was  the 
son  of  my  father's  oldest  friend,  my  earliest  companion, 
who  had  been  to  me  as  a  brother  ever  since  I  lost  my 
own." 

The  speech  was  plain  and  simple  enough,  but  it  had 
an  unaccountable  effect  on  the  captain.  He  turned 
quickly  away,  as  if  to  leave  her  and  the  Elms  without  a 
word,  but  altered  his  mind  the  next  moment,  for  Dela^ 
mere  himself  rode  up,  with  his  usual  cordial  greetings^ 
and  some  additional  raillery  on  what  he  called  their 
romantic  moonlight  meeting. 

Devereux  replied  in  the  same  strain.  Constance  was 
herself  again  ;  nobody  could  have  guessed  that  anything 
particular  had  passed  between  them,  and  the  three  went 
in  to  spend  the  evening  as  many  a  one  had  been  spent 
since  the  captain's  first  visit  to  the  Elms.  They  were 
sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  talking  together  over  the 
news  which  the  squire  had  brought  home  from  Spring- 
field. It  was  all  about  the  misdoings  of  Whigs  and 
Liberty  Men,  when  Constance  heard  what  seerded  to 
her  a  low  knock  at  the  outer  door ;  then  there  came  a 
rush  of  rapid  feet,  the  next  moment  the  drawing-room 
door  was  flung  open,  and  a  troop  of  armed  men  poured 
in. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  cried  Delamere  ;  but  before 
he  could  utter  another  word  two  powerful  fellows  threw 
themselves  upon  him,  and  pinned  him  down  to  the 
chair. 

"Masther,  darlin,  where's  your  guns  and  pistols,  we'll 
all  be  robbed  and  murdhered,"  shouted  Denis  Dargan, 
as  he  broke  in  at  a  small  side  door ;  but  the  best  man 
was  seized  by  another  two,  and,  in  spite  of  his  struggles 
and  vehement  appeals,  bound  with  a  strong  rope,  hands 
and  all,  to  an  old-fashioned  arm-chair  in  the  corner. 
Captain  Devereux  was  fixed  upon  almost  at  the  same 
instant.  Constance  saw  them  dragging  him  out  of  the 
room,  while  he  made  a  desperate  but  silent  resistance, 
and  she  remembered  long  after  the  fierce,  dogged  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  not  like  the  look  of  a  brave  soldier 
overpowered  by  numbers,  but  that  of  a  criminal  who 
knew  himself  to  be  taken.  Caring  only  for  her  father, 
and  knowing  her  countrymen  too  well  to  have  any  fear 
for  herself,  the  girl  pushed  in  between  them,  and  threw 
her  arms  about  his  neck  ;  while  Delamere  who  was  too 
much  of  a  soldier  not  to  know  when  the  game  was  up 
with  him,  and  too  proud  to  make  demonstrations  which 
could  not  be  effectual,  and,  moreover,  was  somewhat 
stunned  by  the  unexpected  attack,  said  quietly,  as  he 
looked  at  the  two  sturdy  Green  Mountain  farmers, 
"  You  have  daughters  yourselves,  do  my  poor  girl  no 
harm." 

"  There  is  not  a  man  here  that  would  lift  his  hand 
against  a  woman,  so  don't  be  frightened,  Miss  Delamere; 
nor  against  you  either,  squire  ;  we  all  know  what  a  true 
and  worthy  gentleman  you  are,  though  we  don't  like 
your  principles,"  said  a  man  who  appeared  to  be  the 
leader  of  the  expedition.  He  was  dressed  exactly  like 
the  rest  of  the  Green  Mountain  Boys — for  such  the  in- 
vaders were — but  his  face  was  entirely  concealed  by  a 
black  mask,  and  his  voice  had  a  strange  metallic  sound, 
as  if  he  spoke  through  some  artificial  contrivance. 
"None  of  us  will  do  harm  to  you  or  yours,  it  is  that 
English  captain  we  came  to  deal  with." 

*' And  how  do  you  mean  to  deal  with  him  ?"  said 
Delamere  ;  remember  he  is  a  king's  officer." 

"  We  mean  to  send  him  in  a  good  boat  and  the  charge 
t)l  four  honest  men  down  the  Connecticut  to  Long  Island 
Sound  ;  there  he  will  be  landed  at  the  first  convenient 
place,  with  orders  not  to  be  seen  in  this  country  again, 
or  he  may  chance  to  go  down  the  Connecticut  without  a 
boat." 

The  masked  man  stepped  out  as  he  spoke,  but  Con- 
stance, who  by  this  time  had  crept  away  to  a  seat  behind 
her  father,  where  she  sat  with  a  much  relieved  mind, 
saw  him  whispering  something  to  a  determined-looking 
young  man  outside  the  door,  who  was  evidently  his 
second  in  command,  and  by  following  their  glances  to 
an  opposite  corner,  she  found  that  the  subject  was 
Hirnm  Hardhead.  There  stood  the  prophet,  silent  and 
eclipsed  by  the  presence  of  a  superior  power.  His  face 
was  c-t  work,  however,  making  the  most  extraordinary 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


283 


grimaces,  as  if  in  rehearsal  for  a  coming  exhibition. 
They  were  meant  for  her  too,  but  the  girl  scarcely  saw 
them.  There  was  something  in  the  air  and  figure  of  the 
masked  man  as  he  stood  there,  half  in  light  and  half  in 
shadow,  that  riveted  her  attention,  something  she  had 
seen  before  ;  and  could  it  be  possible  ?  but  as  he  caught 
her  look  and  acknowledged  it  with  a  respectful  bow, 
she  knew  it  was  Sydney  Archdale.  Constance  kept  that 
secret  in  her  own  breast  for  many  a  day  ;  but  scarcely 
had  she  recognized  him  ere  he  was  gone,  and  the  determ- 
ined-looking young  man  stepping  in,  said  to  his  company, 
u  We're  to  stop  here  and  keep  folks  in  their  places — so 
are  the  boys  outside — till  the  Britisher  gets  a  good  start 
down  the  river,  and  when  we  ketch  the  crack  o'  the 
rifle,  slope  every  man." 

At  this  intimation  a  general  settlement  took  place. 
The  Green  Mountain  Boys,  young  and  old,  seated  them- 
selves around  Delamere's  drawing-room  with  as  much 
order  and  gravity  as  in  the  pews  of  their  mountain 
meeting-houses. 

"  Let  go  my  father's  arms,  and  he  will  sit  quietly  ;  I 
am  sure  he  wUl,"  whispered  Constance  to  the  kindest-^ 
looking  of  Delamere's  custodians. 

"  There  ain't  any  use  in  taking  up  any  other  line, 
miss.  However,  we  don't  mean  to  be  ugly  ;  I've  got  a 
daughter  myself  about  your  time." 

''I  expect  I've  got  two!"  said  his  companion  in 
arms,  as  both  released  the  squire  from  their  hold  and 
withdrew  a  little  into  the  background,  while  Constance 
seated  herself  close  by  her  father's  side,  and  Hannah 
Armstrong  glided  in,  needlework  in  hand,  and  took  her 
place  on  the  other. 

The  house  was  quiet  without  and  within — so  much  so, 
that  Constance  could  hear  the  undertoned  talk  of  the 
men  who  had  been  placed  outside  to  prevent  escape  by 
doors  or  windows,  and  the  opportunity  of  making  him- 
self heard  was  too  good  for  Hiram  Hardhead  to  lose. 
"  That  lad  has  got  the  inward  light  o'  liberty,"  he  said, 
with  a  grimace  at  Constance,  specially  intended  for  her 
Information  regarding  the  masked  man,  and  Hiram's 
mode  of  conveying  the  like  was  rather  remarkable,  for 
by  some  inexplicable  movement  of  his  countenance  the 
one  side  of  it  seemed  to  go  up  and  the  other  down. 
"  He  has  got  the  inward  light  o'  liberty,  I  say.  Yea,  and 
I  will  prophesy  furthermore  concerning  him,  that  not  a 
cracker  in  these  here  provinces  will  do  more  valiantly  in 
the  battle  for  freedom,  or  come  to  greater  fame  and  ex- 
altation in  Massachusetts.  Let  those  that  hear  roe  un- 
derstand and  consider — "  here  he  made  a  still  more 
fearful  grimace  at  Constance,  which  the  squire  could 
not  see,  owing  to  his  position,  but  his  best  man  could, 
and  Dargan's  indignation  fairly  boiled  over. 

There's  that  fellow  at  the  prophesyin'  agin,"  he 
cried,  writhing  in  vain  to  break  the  rope  that  bound  him. 
"  If  I  was  at  him  wid  the  flail,  I'd  give  him  the  light  o' 
liberty  through  a  crack  in  his  skull.  Mrs.  Armstrong, 
darlin'!  stuff  up  his  throat  wid  that  sewin'  o'  yours." 

Friend  Denis,"  said  Hannah,  while  she  calmly  sewed 
on,  "  it  were  better  for  thee  to  keep  quiet,  for  thou  ad- 
Visest  things  that  are  not  convenient ;  rather  turn  thine 
eyes  and  ears  away  from  that  foolish  fellow  who  is 
manifestly  out  of  his  wits — if  he  ever  had  any." 

"  Saycst  thou,  that  I  am  out  of  my  wits,  Hannah  Arm- 
strong?" cried  Hiram;  "I,  who  have  foretold  marvel- 
lous things  whereof  no  man  but  myself  had  got  a 
winklin  !  I,  who  have  prophesied  in  every  shanty,  from 
Rattler's  Rest  to  Cob's  Canter,  and  preached  on  every 
stump,  from  Badger's  Bourn  to  Polecat's  Hole,  making 
glad  the  hearts  of  all  that  heard  me  !  Thou  lanky, 
shanky,  hickory-hearted  female  !  I  tell  thee — when  the 
good  days  which  I  have  foretold  shall  come  to  this  land; 
when  the  Britisher's  yoke  is  thrown  from  our  necks, 
and  we  go  it  like  buffalo  calves  on  the  spring  grass,  and 
pay  no  taxes  :  when  every  man  shall  forget  his  causes 
of  grief  and  indignation ;  when  we  shaU  import  tea 
without  duty,  and  the  women  shall  rejoice  over  it,  and 
their  tongues  will  go  with  the  might  of  a  mill  stream ; 
when  my  praire  is  in  all  men's  mouths,  because  of  my 
prophesies  in  the  time  of  bondage,  and  I  am  set  on  high 
as  the  bully-boy  of  the  Green  Mountains — then,  Hannah, 
I  will  cast  thee  out  of  my  cousinly  remembrance !" 

The  Quakeress  sewed  away  without  giving  Hiram 
so  much  as  an  answering  look  ;  but  at  this  point  of  his 
discourse,  he  caught  Constance,  and  her  father  too, 
silently  laughing.  Their  situation  was  not  a  merry  one, 
but  Hiram's  threat  matched  with  his  appearance,  and 


had  an  Irresistible  effect  on  both.  The  prophet  at 
once  found  a  way  to  revenge  himself. 

For  the  present  I  will  testify  against  thee,  thou  stiff- 
Rtarched  remnant  of  most  ancient  muslin— or  rather, 
huckaback,"  he  continued,  "because  thou  hast  not 
plucked  the  wings  of  pride  and  the  plumes  of  vanity 
from  the  back  of  yonder  wench,"  and  his  forefinger  was 
shot  out  like  an  arrow  at  Constance.  "  There  she  sits, 
all  fal-dals  and  feather-me-fair,  like  any  daughter  of 
Babylon — "  Here  Delamere  turned  fiercely  towards 
him,  but  there  was  no  time  for  his  wrath  to  find  vent, 
the  determined-looking  young  man  at  that  instant 
caught  Hiram  from  behind  by  the  shoulders,  and  ran 
the  prophet,  like  a  piece  of  furniture  on  casters,  straight 
out  of  the  front-door,  which  he  closed  upon  him  with 
the  gentle  injunction,  "  Prophesy  there,  you  varmint." 

Prophesy  Hiram  did  in  the  utter  darkness,  which 
seemed  to  lend  vigor  and  volume  to  his  tongue.  They 
heard  him  hold  forth  to  the  men  on  guard  against  the 
squire's  daughter  and  her  fine  clothes ;  against  the 
squire  for  thinking  "  o'  hitchin'  her  to  that  stumped-up 
bundle  o'  airs  and  iniquities  from  the  played-out  old 
country;"  against  George  III.,  his  ministers,  and  his 
parliament ;  and  against  Hannah  Armstrong  and  all  her 
Quaker  relations.  It  was  curious  that  though  the 
Green  Mountain  Boys  had  evidently  no  great  respect  for 
their  prophet,  and  could  treat  him  with  little  ceremony 
when  occasion  required,  they  nevertheless  listened  to 
his  deliverances  with  a  sort  of  tacit  approbation.  His 
style  was  more  famUiar  than  grotesque  to  those  quaint 
and  primitive  people  of  the  wooded  hills,  and  they  found 
in  him  an  exponent  of  popular  opinions  and  expecta- 
tions. It  was  also  curious  that  Hiram,  though  accus- 
tomed, in  his  own  phrase,  to  lift  up  his  voice  like  a 
trumpet,  especially  when  prophesying  against  anybody, 
poured  forth  his  torrent  of  predictions  and  enunciations 
in  a  tone  so  low  and  quiet  that  no  belated  passenger 
could  suppose  there  was  anything  particular  going  on  at 
the  Elms. 

Noiseless  without  and  within  the  whole  house  re- 
mained ;  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  sat  watchfully,  and 
occasionally  exchanged  whispers.  Delamere  sat  with 
folded  arms  in  a  state  of  dignified  resignation.  Con- 
stance turned  over  a  volume  of  prints  for  his  and  her 
own  entertainment.  Philip  peeped  over  her  shoulder, 
and  saw  them  too.  Hannah  Armstrong  proceeded  with 
her  needlework,  undisturbed  by  her  cousin's  half-heard 
femarks.  Denis  Dargan  fell  asleep  in  his  bonds,  and 
woke  up  at  intervals  with  the  force  of  his  own  snoring. 
Thus  things  went  on  for  an  hour  or  so,  till  the  sharp 
report  of  a  rifle  broke  the  silence  of  the  night. 

"It's  time  to  slope,  boys,"  said  the  determined-look- 
ing young  man,  putting  up  his  knife  and  stick ;  and 
without  a  sound,  but  that  of  their  retiring  steps,  the 
whole  of  the  invading  force  passed  out  of  the  squire's 
mansion,  quietly  closing  doors  and  gates  as  they  went. 
Then  the  Quakeress  rose,  laid  aside  her  sewing,  and  un- 
tied the  rope  which  had  kept  Denis  fast  in  the  old  arm- 
chair. A  similar  process  was  supposed  to  be  going  on 
in  the  kitchen  department,  for  the  maid-servants  ap- 
peared with  fragments  of  rope  in  their  hands,  and  the 
men  talked  of  being  cramped  and  screwed  with  the 
"tyin'  up  ;"  but  the  interpretation  given  by  the  squire's 
best  man,  who  was  the  first  on  the  spot,  to  his  familiar 
friends  was  probably  the  correct  one. 

"Bad  luck  to  the  one  of  thim  was  tied  at  all;  it  was 
every  bit  a  pretince  to  keep  the  squire  from  firing  the 
braes  on  them.  Shure  they  were  jumpin'  out  o'  their 
skins  wid  joy  to  get  rid  o'  the  captain  ;  and  good  raison 
they  had,  he  was  a  botheration; to  the  counthry's  side 
and  to  the  house  too.  It's  proud  I  was  myself  to  see 
him  a  thralling  out,  but  I  knowed  it  went  agin  the 
squire  intirely,  and  the  master  knows  I  would  box  the 
Green  Mountain  Boys  all  round  rather  nor  displaise 
him." 

CHAPTER  XI. — LEAVING  THE  OLD  HOME. 

It  was  deep  midnight  before  the  squire's  mansion  was 
clear  of  the  invaders.  There  was  then  no  use  in  giving 
the  alarm,  or  attempting  anything  for  the  captain's  de- 
liverance ;  he  was  far  on  his  way  to  Long  Island  Sound 
by  that  time,  as  the  capturers  intended  he  should  be, 
aud  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  for  the  dawn  of 
another  day. 

The  supper  at  the  Elms  was  late,  and  almost  silently 
discussed  in  parlor  and  kitchen  ;  the  different  lights  in 


284 


THE  GROIVING  H  ORLD. 


whicli  the  event  of  tlie  evening  appeared  to  the  house- 
hold and  its  head,  made  a  prudent  reserve  the  general 
policy.  If  I  had  got  half-an-hour's  warning  they 
should  have  had  a  hot  reception,"  was  the  only  remark 
Delamere  made  regarding  his  recent  visitors.  Constance 
would  have  reminded  him  of  the  overwhelming  number — 
she  knew  her  father  had  a  soldier's  spirit,  and  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  being  defeated  without  striking  a 
blow — but  the  subject  was  a  hard. one  for  her  to  speak 
of.  It  was  a  positive  relief  to  have  got  rid  of  the  cap- 
tain and  his  suit,  though  the  process  was  rather  sum- 
mary ;  but  it  grieved  the  true-hearted  girl  that  her  father 
should  have  been  treated  with  such  indignity  in  his  own 
house,  and  that  Sydney  Archdale  should  have  been 
leader  in  the  business.  After-reflection  made  it  plain 
to  her  that  the  young  Minute  Man  had  acted  for  the 
best,  and  in  the  meantime  Hannah  Armstrong,  though 
she  said  not  a  word  to  the  squire,  put  the  case  in  the 
clearest  light,  when,  in  her  concluding  grace,  she  gave 
thanks  that  though  armed  men  had  been  permitted  to 
enter  their  dwelling,  neither  strife  nor  bloodshed  had 
thereby  come  to  pass. 

The  squire  was  early  astir  next  morning,  riding  to  Fort 
Frederick,  and  arousing  the  few  that  remained  of  the 
captain's  company  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  abduct- 
ed chief  by  bringing  the  perpetrators  to  justice.  They 
were  not  fired  to  vengeance.  Devereux  was  just  the 
man  whom  they  as  well  as  the  country-side  could  spare. 
But  they  were  considerably  astonished  ;  the  thing  had 
been  so  quickly  and  quietly  done  that  the  news  of  it 
took  everybody  by  surprise,  and  the  only  sign  or  intima- 
tion heard  of  in  the  whole  neighborhood  was,  that  late- 
sitting  and  early-rising  people  on  the  river's  l3anks  had 
seen  a  boat  with  a  number  of  men — none  could  say  how 
many  on  board — steering  down  the  Connecticut  with  all 
the  speed  that  well-plied  oars  and  a  seaward  current 
could  give  it. 

For  certain,"  said  Lieutenant  Gray,  when  their  in- 
quiries had  made  out  that  report,  *'it  was  the  captain's 
passage-boat.  I  hope  he  is  safe  in  New  York  by  this 
time.  You  see  the  masked  man  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
By  the  way,  squire,  I  have  observed  that  your  New  Eng- 
land men  commonly  keep  promises  of  that  kind  ;  but  as 
for  having  the  law  of  the  said  gentleman  and  his  follow- 
ing, we  might  as  well  expect  to  get  it  of  as  many  wild 
cats.  Who  could  find  or  identify  the  Green  Mountain 
Boys  in  their  native  wilds  ?  I  have  had  a  taste  or  two  of 
their  quality.  Take  a  friend's  advice,  squire,  and  let 
them  alone."  The  country  justice  before  whom  Dela- 
mere laid  informations  against  the  invaders  of  his  house 
indorsed  the  lieutenant's  opinion,  and  ultimately  the 
squire  could  not  help  entertaining  it  himself.  He  wrote 
a  full  account  of  the  transaction  to  Governor  Gage,  and 
the  govemer  replied  in  a  letter  of  high  laudation  to  him, 
and  great  fury  against  the  Green  Mountain  Boys.  He 
would  send  a  regiment  to  be  quartered  on  the  country 
people,  whether  the  magistrates  allowed  it  ^tjaot: 
he  would  have  Fort  Frederick  rebuilt  and  garrisoned 
without  delay,  for  the  protection  of  loyal  subjects  and 
the  repression  of  treasonable  parties  ;  but  a  subsequent 

{)ost  brought  Lieutenant  Gray  orders  from  his  Excel- 
ency  to  leave  the  work  in  which  so  little  progress  had 
been  made,  and  return  to  New  York  with  the  remnant 
of  the  company  as  quietly  as  he  could. 

The  lieutenant  executed  those  orders  so  punctually, 
that  the  evacuation  was  known  only  by  the  bhanties  be- 
ing found  empty,  on  which  discovery  the  youth  of  the 
Green  Mountains  assembled  in  great  force,  demolished 
with  picks  and  crows  the  little  work  that  had  been  ac- 
complished, reduced  the  shanties  to  their  original  logs, 
pUed  them  up  and  made  a  gigantic  bonfire  on  the  bite 
marked  out  for  bastion  and  casemate,  round  which  they 
rejoiced,  and  Hiram  Hardhead  prophesied  for  the  great- 
er part  of  a  winter  evening.  On  the  day  of  that  trans- 
action Squire  Delamere  received  a  letter  marked**  Pri- 
vate "  and  skillfully  printed  with  the  pen,  a  device  much 
in  use  at  the  time,  to  prevent  the  recognition  of  hand- 
writing. JJt  began  with,  "  Honored  sir,  I  think  it  right 
to  let  yoit  know  what  has  come  to  my  knowledge  con- 
cerning the  man  to  whom,  as  report  says,  you  meant  to 
entrust  the  future  happiness  of  your  child,"  and  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  Captain  Devereux's  history  exactly  as 
it  was  told  by  his  subordinate  officer  to  Westwood 
Hunter,  but  the  signature  was  simply  an  **  Unknown 
Friend." 

"  A  rascally  piece  of  impertinence  and  slander,"  said 


Delamere.  "Just  like  all  Whiggish  doings — first  force 
a  man  out  of  the  country  and  then  calumniate  him  to 
the  only  friend  he  had  in  it.  The  squire  made  these  re 
flections  to  himself,  and  kept  the  letter  to  himself  also  ; 
but  he  read  it  over  two  or  three  times,  and  finally  put  it 
away  in  the  secret  drawer  of  his  own  bureau,  saying  1 
will  hear  what  the  captain  has  to  say  on  the  subject,  if 
ever  we  meet  again." 

Devereux's  removal  gave  general  satisfaction  to  the 
country  people,  and  the  manner  of  it  entertained  them, 
particularly  as  reported  by  the  provincial  papers  ;  but 
that  was  the  one  drop  which  made  Delamere's  cup  of 
bitterness  overflow.  He  was  one  of  those  characters  on 
whom  misdoings  or  mischances  weigh  more  heavily  in 
succeeding  time  than  at  the  first  brush.  His  quarrel 
with  Archdale  had  been  the  cause  of  untold  regret  to 
him,  and  yet  the  breach  was  never  to  be  healed ;  the 
circumstances  of  the  time  seemed  to  make  that  impos- 
sible, for  his  ancient  friend  had  been  elected,  almost  in 
spite  of  himself,  one  of  the  Massachusetts  delegates  to 
the  Whig  Congress  then  sitting  in  Philadelphia.  The 
estrangement  of  old  neighbors  and  intimate  associates 
vexed  nim  more  than  he  would  ever  own ;  and  now  the 
entire  district,  where  he  and  his  fathers  had  lived  in 
honor  and  esteem,  was  amused  with  the  lowering  details 
of  that  night  attack  upon  his  house,  when  his  familiar 
guest  and  his  daughter's  suitor  was  dragged  out,  and  he 
a  powerless  witness  to  the  fact. 

These  reflections  and  memories  made  his  old  home  and 
neighborhood  distasteful  to  the  squire,  and  prudential 
considerations  pressed  upon  him  too.  He  was  the  only 
royalist  of  note  in  that  part  of  the  Connecticut  Valley 
The  Liberty  Men  were  growing  bolder,  and  the  country 
.more  disturbed  every  day.  Who  could  tell  that  Sydney 
Archdale  might  not  find  his  way  to  the  Elms  some  night 
with  a  band  of  Minute  Men  and  **  such-like  villains," 
and  carry  off  his  daughter,  or  frighten  her  into  an 
elopement  ?  From  the  sight  he  got  of  Constance  and 
the  captain  together  in  the  moonlight,  innocent  Dela- 
mere believed  that  the  noble  suitor  would  have  certainly 
succeeded  if  time  had  been  allowed  him,  and  he  had 
more  than  once  endeavored  to  console  the  imaginary 
grief  of  his  daughter  by  assuring  her  that  Devereux 
would  prove  true  and  come  back  in  spite  of  all  his  ene- 
mies. 

In  the  meantime,  the  regiment  that  was  to  protect 
loyal  subjects  did  not  make  its  appearance.  Governor 
Gage  had  nothing  of  the  kind  to  spare  ;  but  a  circular  of 
his,  addressed  to  all  officers  who  had  held  the  king's 
commission  in  tne  French  war,  and  requesting  them  to 
raise  independent  companies  for  his  Majesty's  service, 
reached  the  Elms. 

"  I  could  not  raise  a  man  here,  except  my  own  plough- 
boys  ;  and  I  am  not  sure  of  them  either,"  said  Delamere  ; 
"  but  I  can  serve  the  king  myself,  and  with  the  help  of 
Providence  I  will.  A  man  had  better  take  up  arms  at 
once,  and  get  into  the  stir  and  change  of  military  life, 
than  stay  here  alone,  to  fret  and  fear  and  be  insulted  by 
a  Whiggish  pack  that  one  has  no  means  of  bringing  to 
reason.  I  am  not  yet  too  old  to  serve  his  Majesty  with 
honor,  I  hope,  and  do  my  part  in  putting  down  rebellion 
in  this  country.  If  things  should  come  to  that,  they  will 
give  me  the  commission  I  formerly  held,  no  doubt.  I 
must  go  to  Boston  and  see  about  it.  But  my  daughter- 
It  would  not  be  safe  for  her  to  remain  here  ;  no,  nor  to 
stay  with  her  aunt  in  Springfield ;"  and  then  a  second 
plan  occurred  to  the  squire. 

He  was  the  owner  of  a  house  in  the  provincial  capital, 
which  had  been  bequeathed  to  him  by  a  childless  uncle, 
and  tenanted  for  years  past  by  a  Quaker  merchant, 
known  to  his  people  as  Friend  Stoughton,  a  man  emi- 
nently successful  in  business,  and  esteemed  by  the  towns- 
people for  his  blameless  life,  upright  dealings,  and  lib- 
eral spirit,  but  at  this  time  winding  up  his  affairs,  with 
the  intention  of  retiring  to  spend  his  latter  days  among 
his  kindred  in  Peansylvania.  Stoughton  was  Archdale's 
Ultimate  friend  ;  but  Delamere  and  he  had  always  been 
on  cordial  terms  ;  and  as  the  house  was  large,  the  squire 
had  no  doubt  that  arrangements  could  be  made  with 
him  for  room  sufficient  to  accommodate  himself  and 
his  daughter,  and  the  few  helps  they  would  require,  till 
his  time  of  occupation  expired  and  the  house  should  be 
their  own^ 

How  would  you  like  to  go  and  live  in  Boston  ?"  he 
1  said,  as  his  daughter  entered  the  second  parlor,  whicl» 
I  was  the  scene  of  his  musin^CB- 


THE  GARDEN  SEAT. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


too 

able    .  ,  _ 

come  within  its  walls  ;  cold  or  frowning  faces  passed  by 
its  windows  ;  and  for  all  its  pleasant  sheltered  situation, 
and  fine  prospect  of  fertile  valley,  winding  river,  and 
wooded  heights,  she  was  ready  and  willing  to  leave  the 
Elms.  ^    ^  , 

The  squire  lost  no  time  in  writing  to  his  Quaker  tenant 


best  built  in  all  the  New  England  provinces,  it  was  vir- 
tually their  metropolis — the  emporium  of  their  com- 
merce, the  high  place  of  their  fashion,  and  the  home  of 
their  best  society.  Then,  as  well  as  now,  Boston  might 
have  been  called  the  Athens  of  the  western  world,  from 
the  acknowledged  intelligence  of  its  inhabitants,  and 
<jn"the7ubiect7anTre^iv7danamwerchaV^^^  of  the  general  cultivation  of  arts  and  letters.    It  might 


the  people  and  the  man 

Friend  Delamere.  we  have  room  enough  and  to 
spare,  but  it  would  cause  much  inconvenience  to  brinf^ 
hither  thy  household  goods  till  ours  were  removed; 
therefore,  if  it  answer  thy  purpose,  come  thyself,  thy 
daughter,  and  such  helps  as  may  be  needful,  and  live 
with  us  as  part  of  our  family  till  we  are  ready  to  leave 
the  house  in  thine  own  possession.  If  thou  art  coming, 
be  good  enough  to  let  us  know  what  time  we  may  expect 
thee  ;  and  be  sure  that  thou  and  thine  chall  be  welcome 
to  thy  friends,  Jacob  and  Rachel  Stoughton." 

"  Plain  and  brief,  but  as  kind  as  can  be.  We  will 
bundle  and  go  at  once,"  said  the  squire  ;  "  Quakers 
neither  make  nor  expect  ceremony.  Hannah  Armstrong 
is  just  the  prudent,  trusty  woman  to  be  with  a  young 
girl  when  I  am  with  my  regiment.  Constance  would  not 
like  to  leave  Philip  behind,  and  Philip  would  not  like  to 
be  left ;  that  is  enough  to  invade  the  Stoughtons  with. 
They  are  Christians  indeed  to  take  us  in  so  frankly." 

Preparations  were  accordingly  made  for  the  four. 
Denis  Dargan  was  formally  appointed  viceroy  and  gov- 
ernor-general of  outdoor  affairs  during  his  master's 
absence.  Hannah's  place  of  power  and  trust  in  the 
house  was  conferred  on  her  second,  Martha  Ashford, 
an  experienced  young  woman,  who  owned  to  thirty-five, 
and  was  believed  to  have  a  tender  inclination  towards 
Denis,  which  unfortunately  was  not  reciprocated  by 
Erin's  son^  for  he  had  been  heard  to  say  with  equivocal 
gallantry, Shure  it't  far  too  good  for  the  likes  of  me 
.^he  is,  bein'  a  sant  all  out ;  isn't  it  a  pity  she's  not  a  thrifle 
handsomer?"  However,  the  Quakeress  recommended 
Martha,  as  a  steadfast-minded  maid.  A  trusty  attorney 
was  deputed  to  watch  over  the  weightier  affairs  to  the 
estate  ;  and  thus  everything  at  the  Elms  was  placed  in 
good  hands. 

From  the  foot  of  Mount  Holyoke  to  the  city  of  Boston 
is  not  a  journey  of  much  consideration  now,  when  a 
system  of  railways — the  largest  and  most  complete  in 
the  world — seams  the  United  States  in  every  direction, 
and  threads  the  trackless  wilds  that  lie  between  their 
western  frontiers  and  the  shores  of  the  Pacific.  A  dis- 
tance of  some  eighty  miles  before  one  was  a  different 
thing  a  hundred  years  ago  ;  there  were  as  good  public 
conveyances  in  the  long-settled  American  provinces  as 
could  be  found  in  most  parts  of  Europe  at  the  time,  and 
they  were  little  to  be  boasted  of.  The  family  coach  and 
the  travelling  chai-iot  of  English  rank  and  fashions  were 
to  be  met  with  among  the  wealthy  planters  of  Virginia, 
but  sober,  thrifty  Massachusetts  had  not  yet  given  way 
to  such  pomps  and  vanities.  There  the  country  gentry 
still  travelled  on  horseback,  as  their  fathers  did,  and 
much  after  the  manner  of  Delamere  and  his  party — 
aamely,  the  squire  mounted  on  his  own  good  roan,  with 
his  faithful  housekeeper  on  a  pillion  behind  him ;  Con- 
stance riding  her  gentle  and  well  kept  jennet ;  Philip  on 
his  pony  trotting  by  her  side,  and  a  man  in  charge  of  the 
two  pack-horses  laden  with  theii-  luggage  bringing  up 
the  rear.  It  was  on  a  cold,  calm  winter  morning,  when 
the  sun  was  struggling  through  the  mist  that  lay  heavy 
on  the  eastern  hills,  and  the  land  was  white  with  its  first 
thin  coat  of  snow.  They  were  going  with  their  own  good 
will,  and  only  for  a  time  ;  they  might  come  back  and  see 
the  old  place  any  day  ;  they  had  no  fears  for  the  people 
they  left  there  ;  Green  Mountain  Boys  or  Minute  Men 
would  not  molest  them  ;  yet,  on  rising  ground  above  the 
bend  of  the  river,  Delamere  and  his  daughter  paused 
and  looked  back  at  the  Elms.  Was  it  a  vague  presentment 
of  the  strange  trials  they  were  to  meet  before  the  old 


also  have  been  called  the  nursery  of  American  freedom, 
for  in  Boston  began  the  first  movements  of  the  revolu- 
tion. An  ultra-royalist  officer  justly  described  it  from 
his  own  point  of  view,  in  a  letter  to  one  who  was  des- 
tined to  command  the  American  army  before  its  walls, 
and  in  many  a  famous  field  besides — to  no  other  than 
George  Washington  :  "  This  town  is  full  of  rank  Whigs, 
stark  mad  for  independency  and  the  paying  of  no  taxes 
to  the  king." 

The  squire  and  his  company  took  a  seaward  direction 
and  rode  straight  into  Harbor  Street — so  named  from 
its  situation,  and  the  extensive  view  of  port  and  ship- 
ping that  could  be  had  from  its  windows.  There  they 
drew  bridle  before  the  largest  house,  a  mansion  of  three 
stories — the  lower  of  stone,  the  two  upper  of  timber — 
with  the  street  door  in  one  of  its  high  pointed  gables, 
and  arms  of  its  first  owner,  a  ship  in  full  sail,  with  the 
pious  motto,  "My  safety  cometh  from  the  Lord," 
quaintly  carved  above  it.  That  house  had  been  the 
wonder  of  the  colony  when  it  was  built  by  one  of  Dela- 
mere's  ancestors  on  the  maternal  side,  some  years  before 
the  accession  of  James  II.,  and  though  old-fashioned  at 
the  time  of  which  we  speak,  it  was  still  considered  a 
comfortable  and  very  genteel  residence. 

The  locality  is  altered  in  aspect  and  name  ;  the  house 
built  by  Delamere's  ancestor  has  been  swept  away  long 
ago  by  the  march  of  civic  improvement ;  but  is  was  a 
pleasant  sight  for  those  weary  travelers  from  the  banks 
of  the  Connecticut,  whom  the  fall  of  the  winter  evening 
had  brought  to  their  journey's  end,  to  see  the  warm, 
red  light  streaming  from  its  windows,  and  its  door  hos- 
pitably opened  to  receive  them.  Out  of  it  stepped  a 
man  in  the  broad-brimmed  hat  and  drab  suit  of  Penn's 
people,  the  common  designation  of  American  Quakera 
at  the  time,  and  they  knew  him  to  be  Jacob  Stoughton. 
"  Friend  Delamere,  thou  art  welcome,  thou  and  all  that 
are  with  thee,"  he  said,  heartily  shaking  the  squire's 
hand.  "  Is  this  thy  daughter  ?  How  fair  and  goodly 
she  hath  grown  up  1  My  young  friend,  I  am  glad  to  see 
thee  !"  and  he  shook  hands  with  Constance  too.  "  And 
this  thy  housekeeper  ?  Friend  Hannah,  thou  art  very 
welcome  for  thine  own  as  well  as  thy  friend's  sake  ;  it  is 
many  a  year  since  that  stormy  night  when  I  found 
shelter  in  thy  dwelling  in  the  woods  beside  Lake 
Michigan.  Come  in,"  he  continued,  after  some  equally 
kind  words  to  Philip  and  the  man  in  charge  of  the  pack- 
horses,  the  only  part  of  the  company  of  whom  he  had 
no  previous  acquintance  ;  "  ye  have  all  need  of  rest,  and 
our  helps  wOl  look  after  evef-ything.  The  family  had 
come  to  the  door  to  bid  the'm  welcome,  though  the 
evening  was  intensely  cold ;  they  were  introduced  in 
Quaker  fashion,  and  the  difference  of  manners  and  cus- 
toms was  curiously  illustrated  by  Delamere's  stately 
bows  and  complimentary  greetings,  not  to  speak  of  his 
daughter's  genteel  curtseys  in  response  to  ''This  is 
Rachael,  my  wife  ;  this  is  Susanna,  our  daughter  ;  and 
this  is  friend  Caleb  Sewell,  my  partner  in  business, 
who  has  always  lived  with  us." 

Delamere  had  become  acquainted  with  Jacob  Stough- 
ton years  before,  through  Squire  Archdale,  whose  calm 
wisdom  and  liberal  mind  had  a  charm  for  the  worthy 
Quaker,  though  few  of  his  people  ever  formed  friend- 
ships with  ''men  of  the  world. "  Constance  remembered 
to  have  seen  him  occasionally  at  the  Plantation,  but  his 
wife,  his  daughter  and  his  partner  were  unknown  to 
both  her  father  and  her  till  that  evening.  Jacob  was  a 
man  more  of  Archdale's  type  than  Delamere's  but 
thinner  and  older  than  either  of  them,  for  though  yet 


home  rose  upon  their  sight  again  which  prompted  that  |  upright,  his  face  had  the  paleness  of  advanced 

long  leave-taking  look  ?  Neither  could  have  said;  but  B,ge,  and  his  hair  was  as  white  as  snow.  His  wife  re- 
it  passed  with  the  moment,  and  they  rode  onward  to  l  sembled  him  in  a  remarkable  degree;  one  would  have 
look  back  no  more.  I  taken  them  for  brother  and  sister,  and  both  must  have 

„  .         ,  ,  been  eminently  handsome  in  their  youth,  for  they  had 

CHAPTER  xii.-THE  QUAKER  FAMILY.  ^^^^^  finely-moulded  features  which,  of  all  human 

Allowing  for  the  advance  which  most  towns,  and  i  beauties,  suffer  least  from  the  ravages  of  time.  Susanna, 
especially  those  of  America,  have  made  in  the  last  1  their  daughter,  had  inherited  the  same  perfect  grace  ol 


288 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Nature's  sculpture,  but  in  her  it  was  matclied  with  a 
complexion  of  such  dazzling  fairness  without  tint  or 
tinge  of  the  rose,  that  it  reminded  one  of  Parian  marble, 
and  gave  to  the  face  and  figure,  especially  when  in  re- 
pose, a  statuesque  and  scarcely  living  look  ;  and  the 
effect  was  heightened  by  the  color  of  her  long  and 
abundant  hair,  flax  threaded  with  silver,  as  if  the  white-i 
ness  of  her  parents'  age  had  descended  on  her  youth, 
for  they  had  married  late  in  life,  and  Susanna  was  not 
quite  eighteen.  Thus,  near  to  Constance  in  age,  she 
was  much  of  the  same  height  and  figure  ;  but  the  dark 
lustrous  hair,  the  rosy  bloom,  and  the  youthful  anima- 
tion of  the  squire's  daughter  were  advantageously  con- 
trasted with  the  colorless  beauty  of  the  young  Quakeress, 
which  would  have  been  lifeless  too,  but  for  her  large 
blue  eyes,  softly  bright  and  changeful  as  the  evenings 
of  spring,  and  yet  they  had  a  weary  look  at  times,  like 
that  of  one  early  destined  to  a  better  world. 

Caleb  Sewell  was  the  young  man  of  the  house  ;  by  all 
appearance  he  had  not  yet  advanced  beyond  thirty.  His 
father  had  been  Jacob  Stoughton's  partner  in  business, 
but  he  and  his  wife  died  while  their  son  was  yet  a  child, 
and  left  him  and  his  portion  to  Jacob's  care.  The  trust 
had  been  faithfully  and  kindly  discharged.  Caleb  was 
brought  up  in  the  Stoughton's  house,  became  Jacob's 
partner  in  process  of  time,  and  was  to  be  his  suc- 
cessor in  business  ;  yet  nobody  could  be  more  unlike 
the  friends  with  v/hom  he  lived.  About  the  middle  size 
and  fresh-colored,  though  of  rather  a  brown  com- 
plexion, his  frame  and  features  were  cast  in  a  coarser 
mould  than  theirs.  From  his  short,  dark,  and  straightly- 
brushed  hair  to  his  shoe-strings,  Caleb  had  a  look  of 
method  and  precision  that  was  astonishing  to  see. 
There  was  in  his  face  a  sturdy  seriousness  that  would 
not  hesitate  to  speak  its  mind  or  do  censor's  work,  if 
occasion  required.  He  was  a  stiff  subject,  and  not 
likely  to  conquer  hearts,  but  he  was  also  an  honest, 
trustworthy  man  in  every  sense,  and  a  devoted  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends. 

The  entire  household  held  hard  by  the  original  prin- 
ciples and  practice  of  their  sect,  which  time  has  some- 
what modified  in  both  America  and  England.  They 
eschewed  not  only  the  pomps  and  vanities,  but  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  world.  Their  ways  were  un- 
familiar to  the  Delameres,  accustomed  though  they 
were  to  the  well-regulated  and  sober  life  of  New  Eng- 
land; but  looking  on  the  pleasant,  cheerful  parlor, 
where  everything,  from  the  wainscoted  walls  to  the 
white  table-linen,  glistened  with  stainless  purity  and 
polish  in  the  ruddy  hearthlight,  and  on  the  placid  faces, 
which  from  youth  to  age  showed  no  trace  of  outward 
trouble  or  inward  care,  the  squire  especially  felt — for 
he  had  come  to  the  time  when  such  things  strike  us — 
that  his  friends  in  drab  had  cast  away  but  the  chaff  and 
kept  the  wheat  of  life,  and  that  a  heart  weary  with  the 
world's  falsehood  and  turmoil  might  find  a  haven  of 
rest  in  the  Quaker's  home. 

They  kept  earlier  hours  in  that  house  than  at  the 
Elms.  Early  to  bed,  they  were  all  astir  next  morning 
before  the  dawn  of  the  day.  There  was  no  idle  time  in 
the  Stoughtons'  dwelling,  neither  was  there  haste  or 
overwork,  every  one  of  the  household  was  occupied. 
Jacob  and  Caleb  in  the  concerns  of  the  business,  which 
was  not  only  to  be  transferred  to  the  sole  management 
of  the  latter,  but  also  from  Boston  to  Philadelphia, 
whither  the  family  were  going ;  Jacob's  wife  in  domestic 
preparations  for  the  removal,  in  works  of  charity  among 
the  neighboring  poor,  and  in  the  affairs  of  the  Society, 
for  friend  Kachel  was  one  of  its  preachers. 

Susanna  did  most  of  the  needlework  and  knittLig. 
She  had  not  been  accustomed  to  woodland  walks  or 
long  gallops  over  hill  and  dale  like  Constance.  The 
Stoughtons  had  always  lived  in  town,  and  as  people  did 
not  move  about  in  that  generation  as  they  do  now,  the 
ladies  of  the  family  had  seen  but  little  of  the  country. 
Moreover,  Susanna's  health  was  delicate  from  her  child- 
hood ;  she  rarely  went  out  in  the  winter,  but  would  sit 
for  hours  close  by  the  stove,  marking  linen,  knitting 
f^loves  and  stockings,  and  writing  long  letters  to  her 
*iousins  in  Philadelphia.  Of  a  meek  and  gentle  disposi- 
tion, and  unacquainted  with  the  ''people  of  the  world," 
she  was  shy  with  Constance  at  first ;  but  the  squire's 
daughter  was  naturally  agreeable,  easy  and  unselfish,  a 
girl  who  would  do  her  part  anywhere,  in  work  or  play, 
and  had  sense  enough  to  respect  and  esteem  good 
peoplCj  however  their  manners  and  modes  of  thought 


might  differ  from  those  to  which  she  had  been  accusr 
tomed. 

So  the  young  people  became  good  friends,  and  in' 
some  degree  took  to  each  other's  ways.  Constance  had 
little  of  her  father's  company,  and  so  had  the  Stough- 
tons. He  had  taken  an  early  opportunity  to  call  on  the 
governor.  Royalists  of  his  stamp  were  not  numerous  in 
New  England.  His  offer  to  serve  the  king  was  accepted 
in  the  most  flattering  manner.  He  was  presented  with 
a  major's  commission  in  a  regiment  newly  raised  in 
Canada,  and  appointed  to  a  place  on  the  governor's 
staff.  The  squire's  pride  was  gratified  by  these  marks 
of  governmental  esteem,  and  the  man  of  note  they 
made  him  in  the  eyes  of  all  subalterns.  His  old  military 
inclinations  came  strongly  back  upon  him  in  his  down- 
hill and  solitary  days,  and  something  of  his  youth 
seemed  to  come  with  them.  He  found  old  friends,  too, 
in  the  Canadian  regiment  and  among  the  British  garri- 
son in  Castle  Williams  ;  men  with  whom  he  had  served 
long  ago,  when  Archdale  and  he  were  comrades  in  arms 
for  the  same  cause.  The  necessary  attendance  on  his 
official  duties,  the  company  in  the  mess-room  with  their 
loyal  toasts  and  speeches,  and  an  occasional  talk  over 
old  times  and  adventures  with  a  brother  oflScer  beside 
the  fire,  occupied  Delamere'e  time^  and  were  more  after 
his  own  heart  than  the  quiet,  serious  ways  of  the  Quaker 
family.  He  never  failed  to  show  them  respect  and 
gratitude,  and  offered  more  acknowledgments  than 
they  would  accept  for  their  kindness  to  him  and  his. 
He  allowed  no  day  to  pass  without  a  call,  however  brief, 
to  see,  as  he  expressed  it,  how  his  girl  was  behaving 
herself  ;  but  the  squire,  in  common  with  the  officers  of 
the  Crown,  and  the  people  of  Boston,  got  weightier  mat- 
ters to  think  of  before  that  dreary  December  came  to 
its  end. 

CHAPTER  XIII. — STRANGE  DOINGS  IN  BOSTON. 

Throughout  all  England  and  English  peopled  territory, 
the  eighteenth  century,  especially  its  latter  half,  was 
the  reign  of  tea.  The  costly  leaf,  as  it  might  well  be 
called,  when,  according  to  Mrs.  Delaney,  good  tea 
could  be  obtained  only  at  thirteen  shillings  the  pound, 
was  identified  with  gentility,  with  letters,  in  short,  with 
good  society  in  general.  It  enlivened  Mrs.  Montagu's 
blue  parties  and  the  antiquarian  Wednesdays  of  Sir 
Hans  Sloane.  It  smoothed  for  the  time  the  ruggedness 
of  Johnson's  temper,  for  it  is  on  record  that  he  never  in- 
sulted anybody  so  completely  at  tea  as  he  did  at  dinner. 
It  almost  charmed  away  the  clouds  that  darkened  over 
Cowper's  genius,  and  was  even  said  to  mollify  the  royal 
stiffness  of  old  Queen  Charlotte.  By  moralists  of  or 
for  the  humbler  classes,  tea  was  dreaded  and  denounced 
as  a  cause  of  extravagance  more  ruinous  than  the  love 
of  finery  is  supposed  to  be  in  our  generation  ;  for,  like 
the  latter,  its  dominion  was  over  the  fair  sex,  and  it  was 
held  in  special  horror  by  husbands  and  fathers  as  the 
temptation  which  cottage  beauty  could  not  resist. 

How  strangely  are  the  small  and  great  of  human 
affairs  linked  to  each  other.  "The  cup  which  cheers 
but  not  inebriates,"  as  Cowper  sings,  became,  under 
the  management  of  selfish  and  short-sighted  politicians, 
the  wedge  which  split  forever  the  connection  of  England 
and  her  American  colonies.  The  question  at  issue  be- 
tween them  was  to  govern  and  tax  themselves  by  their 
elected  representatives.  That  right  had  long  been 
established  in  the  old  country  ;  its  infraction  brought 
Charles  I.  to  the  scaffold,  and  yet  by  one  of  those 
eclipses  which  prove  the  fallibility  of  human  judgment, 
in  national  as  well  as  individual  cases,  neither  the 
English  people,  the  English  parliament,  and  still  less 
the  English  king,  appeared  to  see  that  what  was  wrong 
on  the  one  side  of  the  Atlantic  could  not  be  right  on  the 
other.  Ministry  after  ministry  had  attempted  to  impose 
duties  on  every  consumable  article,  and  taxes  under 
every  pretext,  till  the  Homespun  Wearing  and  Non- 
importing  Association  had  banished  British  manf  actures 
and  British  merchandise  from  the  American  markets. 
Then  Lord  North  and  his  royal  master  resolved  to  try 
the  tea  temptation  on  a  whole  people,  and  satisfy  the 
East  India  Company,  whose  complaints  were  both  loud 
and  deep,  for  their  warehouses  were  filled  to  overflowing 
with  the  expensive  store ;  so  they  abolished  aU  the 
taxes  they  had  never  got  paid,  and  allowed  tea  to  be 
shipped  to  the  American  ports  at  one-fourth  of  the  duty 
charged  upon  it  in  England.  The  Tories  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlancic  were  enraptured  with  this  gracious  and 


THE  G ROWING  WORLD. 


liberal  policy,  which  they  thought  must  silence  the  difl- 
content  of  every  province  from  Maine  to  Georgia.  But 
the  American  people  were  not  to  be  won  by  the  bait 
which  caught  village  belles  and  pretty  wives  in  the  old 
country  ;  they  stood  by  the  right  of  self -taxation,  would 
pay  no  duty  imposed  by  the  English  parliament,  nor 
Buffer  the  taxed  tea  to  be  landed  on  their  shores.  So 
when  three  ships  laden  with  it  cast  anchor  in  Boston 
Harbor  it  was  evident  to  men  of  all  parties  that  the 
gauntlet  had  been  thrown  down,  and  nothing  but  a  trial 
of  strength  could  be  expected.  « 

Never  did  tea  create  such  a  ferment  in  any  town. 
Public  meetings  were  held  and  patriotic  speeches  made 
in  every  direction.  There  were  gatherings  of  the  popu- 
lace round  the  Tree  of  Liberty  on  the  Common,  and 
assemblies  of  the  municipal  authorities  in  the  Town 
Hall.  The  tea  was  the  theme  of  discourse  in  the 
market-place,  and  on  the  wharfs,  at  the  corners  of 
streets  and  by  family  firesides.  It  gave  occasion  for  a 
fair  exchange  of  abuse  between  the  Whigs  and  Tories ; 
proved  the  cause  of  many  a  bitter  quarrel  between  old 
neighbors,  and  of  sundry  stand-up  fights  among  the  less 
cultivated  of  the  population.  Still  the  three  ships  rode 
at  anchor,  and  the  people  most  to  be  sympathized  with 
were  their  captains  and  their  crews.  The  town-council 
would  not  allow  them  to  land  a  chest  of  their  cargoes  ; 
the  civil  governor  would  not  sign  the  permit,  without 
which  they  could  not  leave  the  harbor,  though  deputa- 
tion after  deputation  of  citizens  waited  upon  him  for 
that  purpose  ;  but  his  Excellency  escaped  their  impor- 
tunities at  last  by  quietly  going  out  of  town. 

As  the  law  then  stood,  in  American  ports  a  ship  was 
allowed  but  twenty  days  to  discharge  her  cargo  under 
any  circumstances  ;  if  undischarged  at  the  expiration  of 
that  time,  it  became  the  property  of  the  government ; 
and  with  that  double  dealing  which  is  the  sure  charac- 
teristic of  weak  administration,  and  as  surely  brings 
upon  them  public  hatred  and  contempt,  the  men  in 
power  at  St.  James's,  and  their  deputies  in  Massachu- 
setts were  bent  on  getting  possession  of  the  rejected  tea, 
and  thus  obtaining  a  swindler's  triumph  over  the 
American  patriots,  by  having  it  sold  and  distributed 
throughout  the  land  at  their  pleasure  or  convenience. 

J acob  Stoughton's  house  was  perhaps  the  only  dwelling 
in  all  the  town  of  Boston  where  the  tea  question  made 
but  little  din.  The  worthy  merchant  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  public  agitation  of  his  time,  though  he  believed 
the  American  cause  to  be  just.  Jacob,  in  common  with 
the  primitive  Quakers,  held  that  resistance  to  consti- 
tuted authority,  or  even  to  take  arms  in  self-d  jfence, 
was  not  lawful  for  a  Christian. 

His  partner,  Caleb,  maintained  the  contrary  opinion, 
for  he  was  a  Williamsite — that  is  to  say,  a  disciple  of 
brave  old  Roger  Williams,  who  was  banished  from 
Massachusetts  in  the  persecuting  time,  when  its  Puritan 
inhabitants  considered  the  Indian  incursions  a  special 
judgment  upon  them  for  not  enforcing  the  laws  against 
Quakers,  and  who  in  his  banishment  founded  the  colony 
of  Rhode  Island,  and  in  his  old  days  took  up  arms  to 
defend  it  against  the  French  and  their  Indian  allies. 
Notwithstanding  the  external  formality  that  appears  in 
the  Society  of  Friends,  their  rejection  of  dogmatic 
teaching  and  belief  in  inward  light  allow  larger  scope 
for  individual  opinion  on  many  points  than  can  be  found 
in  any  other  body.  Thus,  Jacob  and  his  partner  agreed 
to  differ ;  and  neither  being  disputatious,  the  perturba- 
tion outside  found  no  echo  at  board  or  hearth. 

Friend  Rachel  concerned  herself  about  nothing  but 
spiritual  or  domestic  things.  Susanna  followed  her 
mother's  example,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
squire's  daughter  knew  not  what  was  stirring  only  by 
the  chance  words  she  heard  in  the  streets,  or  read  on 
the  public  placards,  which  were  quickly  torn  down. 
Major  Delamere — he  rather  preferred  the  military  title — 
was  so  boiling  over  "with  loyal  indignation  at  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  Boston  people  for  the  favors  showered  upon 
them  by  king  and  parliament  that  he  did  not  care  to 
trust  himself  in  such  unsympathizing  company  as  the 
Stoughtons,  and  was,  morever,  engrossed  by  some  new 
fortifications  they  were  getting  up  at  Castle  Williams. 
Constance  therefore  saw  little  of  him,  and  the  above- 
mentioned  intimations  had  been  lost  to  her  for  some 
days.  The  weather  was  bad,  with  a  keen  north-easterly 
wind,  and  heavy  showers  of  sleet  and  snow,  which  ter- 
minated at  length  in  the  usual  hard,  clear  frost. 


Mrs.  Stoughton  and  Susanna  had  both  caught  a  bad 
cold  ;  but  the  former  had,  in  Quaker  phrase,  a  great 
concern  on  her  mind  regarding  a  poor  sickly  widow  and 
her  four  young  children,  who  lived  in  a  humble  street 
at  the  opposite  end  of  the  town,  and  she  had  reason  to 
fear  they  might  be  in  sore  distress.  A  long  walk  on  a 
fine  frosty  day  was  no  diflHculty  to  a  girl  brought  up  at 
the  foot  of  Mount  Holyoke ;  and  Constance  cheerfully 
volunteered  to  go  with  her  faithful  page,  Philip,  and 
look  after  the  widow. 

They  started  early  in  the  afternoon,  Philip  carrying  a 
^basket  well  filled  with  things  helpful  to  the  poor  family ; 
but  when  they  reached  what  had  been  the  widow's 
residence,  she  and  her  children  had  removed  to  cheaper 
lodgings,  the  direction  of  which  their  former  neighbors 
could  not  clearly  point  out,  and  a  good  deal  of  time  was 
lost  in  attempts  to  find  them.  They  were  found  at  last, 
however;  and  Constance  and  her  page  turned  home-' 
wards  rather  tired,  but  glad  at  heart,  for  they  had  been 
instrumental  in  relieving  great  necessity,  and  were  bear- 
ing back  the  blessing  of  the  widow  and  fatherless  to 
friend  Rachel. 

The  early  night  of  December  was  falling  fast.  Boston, 
like  most  towns  before  the  discovery  of  gas,  was  but 
dimly  lighted ;  and  trusting  to  their  knowledge  of  its 
old  intricate  streets,  they  took  what  seemed  to  them  a 
short  cut,  in  order  to  reach  home  before  it  grew  quite 
dark. 

The  lanes  and  by-ways  through  which  they  passed 
were  quiet  enough,  or  rather  appeared  deserted,  for 
there  was  nobody  to  be  seen,  and  very  few  lights  in  the 
houses  ;  but  as  they  walked  rapidly  on,  sounds  of  hurry- 
ing feet  and  mingled  voices,  like  those  of  a  great  multi- 
tude, rose  before  them,  and,  turning  out  of  a  narrow 
alley,  they  found  themselves  close  by  Faneuil  Hall,  in 
Dock  Square. 

Here  lady  and  page  stood  fairly  bewildered  at  the 
scene  which  burst  upon  them. 

The  great  square  was  filled  with  a  crowd  that  swayed 
and  surged  like  the  waves  of  a  stormy  sea.  The 
great  building,  which  comprehended  a  market-house 
and  a  town-hall,  was  lighted  from  ground-floor  to  roof ; 
every  door  and  window  stood  wide  open  in  defiance  of 
the  frosty  night,  and  they  were  jammed  with  eager  lis- 
teners. On  steps,  on  rails,  wherever  foothold  or  hang- 
ing-on  room  could  be  found,  the  people  clustered  like 
bees  in  the  swarming  time.  That  evening  the  public 
excitement  had  reached  its  height ;  a  meeting  of  leading 
patriots  was  held  in  Faneuil  Hall,  long  after  known  as 
the  nest  of  the  revolution,  and  the  townspeople  were 
gathered  within  and  without  to  hear  the  proceedings ; 
for,  with  the  last  stroke  of  midnight,  the  twenty  days 
allowed  to  the  laden  ships  would  expire,  and  the 
British  governors  must  have  their  own  way  on  the  mor- 
row. Not  knowing  what  to  think  or  do,  Constance  and 
Philip  stood  still  together.  To  cross  the  crowded  square 
was  simply  impossible,  and  they  knew  no  other  way  to 
get  home. 

Suddenly  the  crowd  stood  stock  stni  too,  and  a 
breathless  silence  fell  on  the  gathered  thousands.  They 
saw  a  figure  rise  in  the  open  hall  above,  and  the  deep, 
distinct  voice  of  Samuel  Adams  said,  in  tones  that 
every  man  could  hear,  "This  meeting  can  do  no  more 
for  the  country." 

"We  can  throw  the  cause  of  its  trouble  overboard," 
said  a  voice  without,  no  less  loud  and  clear ;  it  made 
Constance  start  as  if  she  had  heard  a  trumpet-blast ;  for 
that  voice  had  spoken  to  her  in  softer  tones  beside  the 
Connecticut.  But  was  that  an  Indian  yell  that  followed 
it  ?  She  had  no  time  to  think ;  the  meeting  and  the 
crowd  were  breaking  up  now,  and  in  trying  to  avoid 
their  homeward  rush,  Philip  and  herself  were  driven 
into  the  very  midst  of  a  band  of  Mohawks  in  full  array, 
hatchets,  scalping-knives,  war  paint  and  all. 

The  red  men  of  that  handsome  but  ferocious  tribe 
were  no  rare  sight  at  the  time  in  Massachusetts, 
especially  in  the  western  parts  of  the  province. 

Constance  and  her  page,  in  their  own  extensive 
rambles,  had  frequently  seen  their  hunting  parties  pass- 
ing through  the  Holyoke  woods,  or  over  the  fords  of  the 
Connecticut ;  but  both  were  struck  with  terror  to  find 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  so  large  a  body  of  Indians. 
Before  they  could  retreat,  the  chief  of  the  band  caught 
Constance  by  the  arm  ;  but  she  knew  the  voice  that  said 
in  her  ear,  "  This  is  a  terrible  place  for  you,  Constance  ; 
come  with  me,  and  don't  be  afraid ;  I  am  Sydney  Arch- 
dale-" 


290 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


"  Oh,  Sydney,  have  you  gone  to  live  among  the 
Indians?"  said  the  bewildered  girl. 

"They  are  not  Indians,  but  Minute  Men  of  my  com- 
panv.  Come  along ;  follow  us,  Philip,  my  boy,  if  you 
can/'  He  drew  her  arm  into  his,  and  with  the  other 
warded  off  the  pressure  of  the  crowd,  till  they  reached 
an  arched  passage  between  the  warehouses  which  occu- 
pied that  side  of  Dock  Square.  An  old  negro,  with  a 
lantern  in  his  hand,  stood  in  the  opening,  to  whom 
Sydney  said,  "See  them  safe  to  the  top  of  Harbor 
Street,"  and  then  whispered  to  Constance,  "Get  home 
as  quickly  as  you  can,  but  say  nothing  to  anybody  of 
our  meeting  here  ;  and  if  you  hear  any  noise  in  the 
night  give  no  alarm,  but  look  out  to  the  old  wharf,  for  I 
know  your  window  commands  it.  Good  night !  He 
pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips  in  the  old  f ei'vid  fashion, 
and  in  the  next  moment  was  lost  in  the  crowd  beyond. 

Without  a  word  the  negro  conducted  them  to  an  iron 
gate  at  the  farther  end  of  the  passage  ;  this  he  opened 
with  a  key  and  locked  again  behind  them.  That  negro 
was  the  watchman  of  the  warehouses,  but  neither  Con- 
stance nor  Philip  could  ever  retrace  the  network  of 
lanes  and  alleys  through  which  he  led  them  to  the  top 
of  Harbor  Street,  and  having  thus  fulfilled  his  orders, 
he  stayed  not  lor  thanks  or  acknowledgment,  but 
walked  away  in  unbroken  silence. 

Constance  had  just  time  to  warn  Philip  against  men- 
tioning the  encounter  in  Dock  Square,  when  they  met 
Caleb  Sewell  on  his  way  to  search  for  them.  He  was 
the  man  in  all  household  emergencies  of  the  Stoughtons. 
They  had  been  rather  alarmed  by  the  young  people 
staying  so  late,  but  the  widow's  removal,  and  the  time 
spent  in  looking  for  her  new  home,  accounted  for  the 
delay  to  their  entire  satisfaction.  There  was  no  sign  of  the 
great  meeting  and  the  excited  crowd  in  that  quiet  street. 
The  evening  meal  was  served,  the  evening  prayers  were 
said,  and  the  Quaker  family  retired  to  rest  at  their  ac- 
customed hour.  Constance  was  tired  with  the  long 
hours  of  walking  about  Boston,  but  she  could  not  sleep, 
her  thoughts  were  occupied  with  Sydney  Archdale. 
What  business  had  he  and  his  Minute  Men  on  hand,  and 
what  did  he  mean  by  telling  her  if  she  heard  any  noise 
in  the  night  to  give  no  alarm,  but  look  out  towards  the 
old  wharf?  "There  was  a  time  when  Sydney  would 
have  spoken  more  plainly  to  me,"  she  thought;  "he  is 
growing  too  great  a  man  among  the  Whigs  to  have  any 
confidence  in  his  old  companion  now  ;  maybe  that  is 
only  to  be  expected.  My  father  is  a  major  in  the  king's 
service,  hand  in  glove  with  General  Gage,  and  everybody 
knows  that  men  are  changeable.  Sydney  may  have  seen 
somebody  else.  He  was  kind  this  evening,  but  ready 
enough  to  part  with  me." 

She  had  reached  this  point  in  her  melancholy  musings 
when  the  silence  without  was  broken  by  sounds  that 
came  indistinct  and  muffled  to  her  well-enclosed  bed- 
room. Was  that  the  noise  of  which  Sydney  had  warned 
her  ?  She  rose  hastily,  threw  a  warm  cloak  about  her, 
stole  to  the  window,  drew  the  curtains,  unbarred  the 
shutter  as  quietly  as  possible,  and  looked  out  upon  the 
night.  It  was  cold  and  dark,  as  the  nights  of  December 
are  apt  to  be,  but  the  old  wharf  seemed  in  a  blaze  of 
torchlight,  so  were  the  three  tea  ships  riding  there  at 
anchor.  She  could  see  their  dark  hulls  and  white  rig- 
ging stand  out  more  conspicuously  than  they  did  by 
day ;  and  as  her  eye  grew  accustomed  to  the  strange 
lurid  lights  and  deep  shadow,  Constance  saw  that  the 
wharf  was  filled  with  armed  men — the  very  Mohawks 
she  had  got  among  in  Dock  Square  !  They  stood  there 
as  fixed  as  trees  in  the  red  man's  native  forest.  On  the 
shore  beyond  a  dense  crowd  had  gathered ;  there  were 
sounds  of  hurrying  feet  from  all  the  neighboring  streets 
and  lanes,  but  not  a  word  or  voice  broke  the  silence 
of  the  night.  There  were  sounds  from  the  ships,  too, 
like  those  of  unlading.  Men  were  busy  there  getting 
out  the  cargo,  but  it  was  not  to  land  it.  She  heard  the 
crack  of  hammers  and  breaking  up  timber,  as  chest  after 
chest  of  the  precious  tea — for  which  many  a  poor  wife 
in  England  sighed  in  vain — was  burst  open  and  emptied 
sheer  over  the  bulwaucs  into  the  deep  water  of  Boston 
Harbor,  to  be  washed  out  by  the  next  ebb-tide  to  the 
broad  Atlantic.  It  was  some  time  before  Constance 
could  clearly  comprehend  what  was  transacted  almost 
before  her  eyes  ;  and  then  the  work  came  to  an  end,  for 
all  destruction  is  quickly  done.  The  men  who  had 
executed  it  quitted  the  ships  ;  the  armed  guard  retired 
from  the  whan' ;  the  crowd  hurried  away  as  voiceless  as 


they  came ;  and  the  old  wharf,  the  harbor,  and  neigh- 
borhood were  left  in  the  silence  and  darkness  of  a 
December  midnight. 

CHAPTER  XIV. — RIVAXiS  ON  BOTH  SIDES. 

When  Constance  had  closed  shutter  and  curtains  and 
retired  from  the  window,  she  sat  for  some  minutee 
wrapped  in  her  cloak,  and  thinking  of  the  scene  she  had 
witnessed.  Notwithstanding  her  youth  and  small  ac- 
quaintance with  public  affairs,  the  thoughtful,  intelli- 
gent girl  knew  that  a  memorable  thing  had  been  done 
that  night — a  deed  which  those  who  saw  would  tell  and 
talk  of  to  another  generation  when  their  own  heads 
were  gray  and  its  consequences  had  become  history. 
Within  the  last  hour  a  handful  of  Massachusetts  men 
had  hurled  defiance  at  the  power  of  Britain,  and  chal- 
lenged the  strongest  government  in  Europe  to  mortal 
combat  with  them  and  theirs.  She  knew  who  had  been 
mover  and  leader  in  the  action  ;  but  what  might  its  end 
bring  to  him,  to  her  father,  to  herself,  and  to  their  com- 
mon country  ?  There  gathered  the  cloud  of  fears  that 
ever  darkens  the  unlifted  cloud  of  futurity  to  man — 
fears  sufficient  to  bewilder  an  older  and  wiser  head  ;  but 
her  youth  and  unsophisticated  mind  sought  refuge  from 
them — where  the  strongest  and  the  weakest  may  alike 
find  rest — in  reliance  on  the  all-directing,  all-disposing 
Providence.  Constance  knelt  at  her  bedside,  and 
prayed  fervently  for  her  father,  for  Sydney  Archdale, 
for  herself,  and  her  native  land. 

Prayers  not  less  earnest  and  heartfelt  went  up  that  - 
night  from  many  a  New  England  home,  to  which  the 
news  was  brought  by  passing  runners— a  class  of  men 
that  have  died  out  long  ago,  for  their  vocation  has  been 
superseded  by  the  appliances  of  modern  life,  but  in 
those  days  they  were  the  telegraphs  of  the  American 
people ;  for  the  most  part  of  French  or  Indian  origin, 
and  always  natives  of  the  backwoods.  They  were  ac- 
quainted with  ail  the  short  cuts  of  the  country,  wild  or 
settled,  and  their  exploits  in  conveying  intelligence 
against  time  and  distance,  argue  a  swiftness  of  foot 
scarcely  credible  in  our  steam-carried  generation.  As 
soon  as  the  last  chest  was  emptied  over  the  bulwarks  of 
the  third  tea-ship,  three  runners  started  from  Boston  in 
as  many  different  directions,  and  all  the  towns  along 
Massachusetts  Bay,  the  inland  villages,  and  outlying 
farms,  as  far  as  the  Green  Mountains,  were  woke  up 
with  the  news  before  the  break  of  day. 

Yet  in  the  town  where  it  was  done  the  transaction  was 
unknown  to  the  government  authorities  till  an  advanced 
hour  in  the  morning.  Then  proclamations  were  posted' 
up  in  all  directions,  offering  large  rewards  for  any  infor- 
mation that  might  lead  to  the  apprehension  and  con  vie- . 
tion  of  the  "  wicked  and  malicious  persons"  who  had^ 
forcibly  boarded  the  East  India  Company's  ships,  and , 
destroyed  the  tea  consigned  to  the  civil  governor's  two 
sons. 

"Three  hundred  and  eighty  chests,  they  say,"  said 
Caleb  Sewell,  who  first  brought  the  news  to  the  Quaker^ 
household,  when  he  came  in  from  business  at  their  early\ 
dinner-hour. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jacob ;  "it  is  grievous  to  think  how  much 
of  the  Lord's  good  gifts  are  lost  to  the  world  and  given  v 
to  destruction,  in  the  unreasonable  quarrels  and  evil 
haste  of  men.    Armies  trample  down  the  standing  com/ 
when  they  make  speed  to  shed  each  other's  blood  ;  they' 
waste  the  land  with  fire,  and  turn  fair  fields  and  homer 
steads  into  desert  places,  that  those  whom  they  call  thd^. 
enemy  may  find  no  sustenance  therein ;  and  thus,  in  the 
harbor  of  our  own  city,  those  many  chests  of  the  heart- ^ 
cheering  tea,  brought  from  the  far  east  with  much  cost 
and  labor  of  man,  have  been  cast  into  the  deep  salt 
water,  that  the  man  whom  they  call  George  III.  mighl^  ' 
get  no  tax  upon  it." 

"So  it  is,  friend,"  said  Caleb;  "and  thou  wilt  ba^ 
grieved  also  to  hear  a  report  which  came  to  my  ear  this* 
day.  It  is  rumored  in  the  city  that  friend  Archdale's> 
son  was  the  chief  contriver  of  that  business,  and  leader ' 
of  the  men  who  cast  the  tea  overboard."  ' 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Jacob,  "for  his  father's 
sake,  and  for  his  own,  too  ;  indeed,  I  had  thought  him 
inclined  to  better  things." 

"He  is  a  rash  young  man,  friend  Jacob,  and  one  that 
will  come  to  an  evil  end,  except  Providence  prevents  it, 
for  the  pursuit  after  him  is  hot,  though  carried  on  in  a 
secret  manner ;  and  if  he  be  taken,  I  fear  his  life  will 
nav  the  forfeit."    Caleb  was  ostensibly  addressing  the 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


291 


iiead  of  the  Stoughton  family,  who  sat  beside  him,  but 
he  was  looking  from  under  his  brows— a  mode  oJ 
stealthy  observation  which  the  partner  had— at  tht 
opposite  side  of  the  table,  where,  according  to  old 
Quaker  custom,  the  ladies  of  the  household  had  then 

Terror  took  hold  of  Constance  at  first;  she  thought 
that  stealthy  look  must  be  intended  for  her,  but  the  next 
moment  she  saw  that  it  was  directed  to  Susanna,  who, 
as  Sewell  came  to  his  ominous  conclusion,  dropped  the 
glass  of  water  she  had  just  raised  to  her  lips,  and 
seemed  ready  to  drop  from  the  chair  herself,  so  deadly 
pale  did  the  poor  girl's  face  become. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  child?"  said  her  father  and 
mother  in  a  breath  ;  and  Caleb  ran  to  her  assistance. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Susanna;  "  but  the  glass  slipped 
from  my  tingers.  I  am  not  well,  and  will  go  to  my  own 
room."  She  rose  hastily  and  left  the  table,  but  in  a  few 
minutes,  while  her  mother  was  yet  remarking  that 
Susanna  was  never  strong  in  mid-winter  time,  and  she 
thought  their  removal  to  Philadelphia  was  a  providential 
dispensation,  for  the  climate  of  Boston  was  too  severe 
for  the  child,  the  young  Quakeress  returned  all  herself 
again,  and  the  dinner  passed  without  further  incident  or 
interruption. 

Nobody— not  even  Caleb— seemed  to  have  taken  note 
of  the  small  occurrence ;  but  it  cast  a  new  light  or 
shadow  on  the  mind  of  Constance  Delamere.  There  was 
another  than  herself  interested  in  Sydney  Archdale,  and 
the  partner  guessed  it.  Had  he  taken  that  way  to  make 
the  matter  out,  or  were  his  predictions  regarding  the 
"rash  young  man"  the  dictates  of  secret  and  unsuc- 
cessful rivalry  ? 

There  is  no  life  so  composed  and  guarded  that  those 
disturbing  influences  cannot  enter  it,  especially  in  the 
days  of  youth— the  heart's  spring-time — when  it  sends 
forth  blossoms  fair  or  faint,  according  to  the  soil. 
Business,  precision,  and  the  interests  of  his  sect,  did 
not  entirely  fill  up  the  thoughts  and  days  of  Caleb 
Sewell.  The  sturdy,  methodical,  brown-complexioned 
young  merchant  had  a  dream  of  the  fair  and  delicate 
Susanna,  who  was,  moreover,  his  partner's  only  child 
and  heiress ;  and  he  had  also  his  fears  or  misgivings  of 
being  barred  out  by  a  man  of  the  world. 

That  afternoon  Constance  and  Susanna  sat  together  in 
a  small  cheerful  room  on  the  first  floor,  which  they  had 
appropriated  as  a  sort  of  private  parlor  for  themselves  : 
there  the  girls  kept  their  favorite  books  and  pieces  oi 
industry,  and  there  they  were  accuHtomed  to  talk  more 
ireely  and  confidentially  than  in  the  presence  of  theii 
seniors.  Susanna  sat  silent  and  thoughtful  for  some 
time,  as  if  revolving  something  in  her  own  mind,  and 
then  said,  without  looking  up  from  the  linen  she  was 
marking,  "Constance,  dost  thou  think  friend  Caleb  was 
truly  informed  in  what  he  said  to-day  concerning  Svdnev 
Archdale?"  ^  J  J 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Constance.  It  was  difficult  to 
keep  up  the  appearance  of  unconsciousness  in  that 
truth-telling  house,  but  she  had  had  some  practice  with 
her  father  at  the  Elms.  "  Young  Archdale  is  a  Whig  ; 
and  many  of  that  party  would  think  the  destruction  of 
the  tea  a  brave  action,  and  a  vindication  of  their 
country's  rights." 

"  May  be  so  ;  and  Caleb  should  not  speak  so  hardly  of 
him,  for  he  is  of  the  same  opinions.  I  have  heard  him 
say  that  if  British  troops  ever  invaded  these  provinces, 
he  would  take  up  arms  and  east  in  his  lot  with  the  New 
England  people.  But,  Constance,  dost  thou  think"— 
there  was  a  slight  tremor  in  Susanna's  tone— "that 
young  Archdale  will  be  taken  by  the  king's  men  V" 

"1  don't  think  he  will,"  said  Constance.  She  was 
better  informed  on  the  subject  than  the  secluded 
Quakeress,  and,  therefore,  had  no  fears.  "  Most  of  our 
country  people  are  of  his  principles,  and  he  has  many 
private  friends." 

"Ah,  no  doubt  he  has  friends  who  would  hide  him 
from  them,  Constance  ;  I  would  hide  him  myself."  The 
Squire's  daughter  looked  up  in  pure  surprise.  Never 
had  the  damask  rose  a  brighter  color  than  that  which 
flushed  Susanna's  face ;  the  fervid  heat  of  youth  was 
there  under  the  settled  snow  ;  but  what  a  bloom  of  life 
and  loveliness  it  gave  her  for  the  time!  "I  mean— I 
mean,"  she  continued,  bowing  her  head  till  the  flushed 
face  was  hidden  by  the  snowy  linen,  "my  father  and 
mother  would  hide  him  ;  you  know  we  are  bound  tc 
.*iielter  those  that  flee  from  their  enemies ;  and  besidep 


tnat,  I  must  tell  thee  that  we  have  great  right  and  reaaon 
to  do  anything  in  our  power  for  young  Archdale.  Thou 
knowest  that  his  father  and  mine  have  been  familiar 
companions  for  many  years ;  and  when  Sydney  was  at 
Harvard  College,  and  had  not  gone  so  openly  against 
the  government,  he  used  to  be  very  friendly  with  us, 
coming  often  to  our  house,  and  even  attending  our 
meetings,  so  that  my  mother  had  hopes  he  would  one 
day  give  up  the  world,  for  few  young  men,  she  thought, 
were  so  free  from  its  sins  and  vanities.  But  that  is  not 
all  1  have  to  tell.  There  is  a  farm  called  Ottersboum  in 
the  country,  three  miles  above  Concord.  The  family 
who  live  there  belong  to  our  Society,  and  we  have  been 
accustomed  to  spend  some  weeks  with  thera  every  sum- 
mer, when  Boston  grew  hot  and  dusty.  My  mother  and 
I  were  there  last  year  in  the  seventh  month.  Business 
kept  my  father  in  town,  but  he  came  to  see  us  once 
every  week.  I  was  stronger  that  season  than  I  am  now, 
and  used  to  go  out  with  the  youngest  daughter,  Eliza- 
beth, for  half  days  together,  gathering  wild  flowers  and 
berries  along  the  banks  of  the  stream  that  gives  the  farm 
its  name^Ottersboum.  It  rises  in  the  hills  far  west, 
and  falls  into  Charles  river.  The  hot  summer  time 
makes  it  almost  dry,  a  child  could  cross  it  in  any  direc- 
tion ;  but  when  there  happens  to  be  rain  in  the  hill 
country,  the  bourn  is  subject  to  great  freshets,  which 
come  down  at  once  and  without  warning.  Elizabeth 
and  I  had  gone  out  one  day  when  there  was  only  a  thread 
of  water  in  its  channel ;  we  saw  finer  berries  on  the  op- 
osite  bank  than  those  we  were  gathering.  She  imme- 
iately  crossed  the  stream ;  I  lingered  for  some  minutes 
to  get  the  best  of  the  berries,  and  then  tried  to  cross  too, 
but  I  had  not  got  half  way  over  when  we  heard  a  mighty 
roar  of  water,  and  down  it  came  like  a  moving  wall.  I 
tried  to  turn  back,  but  the  freshet  was  upon  me,  and 
swept  me  away  down  the  stream  like  a  straw  before  the 
wind.  Elizabeth  ran  for  her  life.  The  water  was  rising 
over  bank  and  meadow  ;  she  cried  for  help,  and  so  did 
I.  There  was  none  of  the  farm  people  within  hearing, 
but  Sydney  Archdale  was  out  with  his  gun  in  the  neigh- 
boring wood.  He  heard  us,  and  came  to  my  rescue, 
pulled  off  his  coat,  plunged  into  the  roaring  flood,  and 
caught  me  as  I  was  sinking,  I  remember  nothing  more, 
for  I  was  insensible  and  nearly  drowned  ;  but  they  told 
me  afterwards  how  he  kept  my  head  above  water,  swam 
with  the  current,  and  brought  me  safe  to  land  a  long 
way  from  the  farm  ;  then  carried  me  home  in  his  arms  to 
my  poor  mother.  She  was  bending  over  me  when  I  came 
to  myself ;  but  Sydney  had  run  to  Concord  for  a  doctor, 
with  whom  he  came  back,  and  stayed  with  my  mother 
till  I  was  out  of  danger.  He  would  never  listen  to  her 
thanks  or  mine,  but  made  light  of  the  matter,  saying  any 
man  could  and  would  have  done  the  same,  and  it  was  he 
that  should  be  thankful  to  Providence  for  bringing  him 
to  the  spot  in  time.  Now,  Constance,  doot  thou  nut  think 
that  I  and  my  family  have  a  right  to  remember  that 
young  man  in  our  prayers— ay,  and  to  help  and  serve 
him  in  time  of  extremity?" 

"  Indeed,  I  do,"  said  Constance  ;  she  was  thinking 
that  Sydney  had  never  mentioned  the  adventure  at  Otiers- 
boum  to  her.  True,  he  was  not  the  man  to  rehearse  his 
own  exploits,  but  might  not  the  fair  face  of  the  young 
Quakeress  have  as  much  to  do  with  making  him  so  long 
a  stranger  as  the  loyalty  of  her  father  and  the  vigilance 
of  government  spies  ? 

Susanna  did  not  guess  what  was  passing  in  her  com- 
panion's mind,  "I  knew  thou  wouldst  think  so,"  she 
said.  "My  father  has  a  great  concern  on  his  mind  re- 
garding Sydney  ;  but  my  mother  has  lost  hopes  of  him 
now.  She  says  he  has  returned  to  profane  ways,  and 
also  that  it  is  not  right  for  a  girl  in  our  Society  to  think 
of  a  man  of  the  world,  because  her  youngest  sister  was 
lost  by  so  doing." 

"Lost!"  said  Constance,  not  knowing  what  to  make 
of  the  statement. 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  we  say  of  those  who  slide  away 
from  us  ;  I  know  not  if  it  be  a  right  saying,"  answered 
the  mild  Susanna.  "  My  mother's  sister  married  a  sea 
captain  ;  she  tried  hard  to  bring  him  in  among  the 
Friends,  but  could  never  get  him  further  than  a  promise 
against  swearing,  and  she  was  never  happy.  My  mother 
says  none  ever  are  that  leave  our  Society,  but  those  that 
come  into  it  attain  to  great  blessedness,  even  on  this 
earth,  for  "  (added  she  humorously)  "  she  knew  several 
maids  who  married  Friends,  having  become  such  them- 
selves— for  none  of  our  people  would  take  in  marriage 


292 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


one  of  the  world.  Constance  wouldst  thou  marry  a 
Quaker  ?" 

"If  1  liked  him,"  said  Constance,  not  wishing  to  be 
too  explicit  on  the  point. 

"  Ay,  but  wouldst  thou  like  a  Quaker  ?"  and  there  was 
a  look  of  archness  in  Susanna's  face  that  one  would  not 
have  expected  to  see  there.  "  I  know  thou  wouldst  not, 
Constance,  for  I  have  heard  that  thou  art  engaged  to  a 
king's  officer  from  the  old  country,  of  high  birth  and 
heir  to  a  great  estate ;  and  thou  knowest  there  is  nothing 
more  unlike  a  Quaker  than  such  a  man  as  he." 

"  Who  told  you  that,  Susanna  ?  Whoever  it  was  they 
did  not  tell  you  truth,  for  I  am  engaged  to  nobody,  from 
the  old  country  or  the  new  !" 

Well,  Constance,  I  heard  it ;  and  that  you  had  re- 
fused Sydney  Archdale  on  account  of  the  captain — that 
is  his  title  in  the  world,  they  say — which  I  thought  very 
strange  ;  but  it  was  not  from  himself  I  heard  it,  remem- 
ber, though  he  used  to  speak  of  thee  to  us.  Tell  me, 
Constance,  did  he  ever  speak  to  thee  of  me  ?"  and  Su- 
sanna's head  bent  down  to  the  linen  once  more. 

"No  doubt  he  did,  though  I  cannot  recollect  it.  I 
have  had  little  conversation  with  him  for  a  long  time. 
My  father  is  adverse  to  his  principles,  as  you  know,  and 
Sydney  is  occupied  with  the  doings  we  hear  of  too  much 
to  mind  anything  else,  I  suppose,"  said  the  cunning 
Constance. 

"Ah,  that  is  the  worst  part  of  him,  as  my  mother  says. 
If  he  had  joined  our  Society  in  time  " — Susanna  spoke 
with  a  sigh — "he  would  have  escaped  all  those  snares 
and  dangers  of  the  world.  It  is  a  safe  thing  to  be  a 
Friend,  Constance.  What  dost  thou  think  of  Caleb 
Sewell  ?   Wouldst  thou  like  him  ?" 

"I  don't  think  1  should,"  said  Constance. 

"  Yet  he  is  a  just,  good  man ;  and  my  mother  says  we 
ahould  choose  our  partners  in  marriage  only  for  inward 
excellence  and  understanding,  because  the  chief  end  of 
marrying  is,  that  the  husband  and  wife  may  help  each 
other  in  their  pilgrimage  to  the  New  Jerusalem.  On 
that  account  she  and  my  father  wish  me  to  marry  Caleb, 
but  I  cannot  bring  my  mind  to  like  him." 

"Oh,  but  you  may  change  your  mind  and  marry  Caleb 
yet."  said  her  more  lively  companion. 

"No,  Constance,  I  will  never  marry  him,  nor  anybody 
else.  No  doubt  it  is  unwise  and  wrong  in  me,  but  I  like 
none  of  our  people  except  as  Friends,  and  I  would  not 
fall  away  to  the  world  and  be  cast  out  of  our  Society, 
because  it  would  grieve  my  father  and  mother;  besides, 
a  man  of  the  world  might  not  care  for  me.  I  will  never 
marry,  Constance  ;  and  sometimes  I  think  it  would  be 
well  to  wean  my  thoughts  away  from  such  matters.  I 
am  not  strong  and  active  like  other  girls  ;  the  nights  are 
often  long  and  sleepless  and  the  days  heavy  with  me, 
and  I  have  inward  warnings  that  it  will  be  my  lot  to  go 
early  home." 

There  was  a  native  nobleness  in  Constance  Delamere 
that  raised  her  above  the  commonplace  woman's  fear 
and  hatred  of  a  rival.  If  Sydney  had  fallen  away  from 
her  for  the  charms  of  a  newer  face — and  there  was  no 
certainty  of  that — Susanna  was  not  to  blame ;  she  was 
still  her  friend ;  and  even  had  they  been  strangers,  the 
sad  and  serious  tone  of  the  young  girl's  talk,  the  re- 
signed, patient  spirit  it  disclosed,  so  hopeless  for  this 
world  and  so  prepared  for  that  to  come,  would  have  en- 
gaged her  sympathy  and  secured  her  regard. 

"No,  no,  Susanna,"  she  said,  bent  rather  on  cheering 
up  a  less  buoyant  mind  than  speaking  her  real  thoughts, 
"  you  will  get  strong  and  well  in  your  own  Philadelphia ; 
our  New  England  climate  is  a  severe  one,  and  trying  to 
most  people  from  other  countries,  they  say.  You  will 
get  strong  and  well,  I  know  you  will,  ands  ee  somebody 
to  your  mind,  to  your  father  and  mother's  mind  too,  I 
hope" — Constance  knew  that  would  not  be  Sydney — 
"but  whoever  it  may  be,  mind  you  invite  me  to  the 
wedding." 

"  Thou  wouldst  not  care  much  for  a  Friend's  wed- 
ding, after  the  gay  assemblies  thou  hast  seen,"  said  Su- 
sanna with  a  melancholy  smile  ;  "  at  any  rate  the  like 
wfll  never  be  my  lot ;  but  the  Lord's  will  be  done.  It 
is  the  best  for  me  and  for  thee,  Constance — ay,  for  us 
all,  if  we  could  but  think  so" — here  she  stopped  short 
as  her  mother  stepped  into  the  room 

"  Constance,  my  good  girl,  I  want  thee  to  do  an  errand 
for  me  ;  thou  wilt  not  take  it  amiss  that  I  ask  thee  rather 
than  Susanna,  because  of  her  cold?" 


"  No  ;  indeed  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  asked  Susanna 
to  go  and  me  here,"  and  the  squire's  daughter  sprang 
up  to  show  her  readiness. 

The  errand  was  regarding  certain  delicacies  which  the 
family  storekeeper  had  promised,  but  forgotten  to  send. 
The  evening  was  approaching,  and  with  it  the  supper- 
hour.  The  table  was  a  subject  of  high  consideration  to 
the  Stoughton's  house ;  and  as  all  within  its  walls  were 
busy,  and  Philip  had  got  leave  to  go  skating  with  boys 
of  his  own  caste,  Constance  set  forth  alone,  with  a  bas- 
ket on  her  arm  in  the  homely  fashion  of  old  Boston,  to 
bring  home  the  required  good  things.  The  distance  was 
short,  and  the  neighborhood  particularly  quiet  at  that 
hour.  She  had  succeeded  in  her  mission,  and  was  re- 
turning, deep  in  thought  over  Susanna's  tale  about  the 
Ottersbourn,  when,  on  passing  a  recess  between  two  of 
the  irregularly-built  houses  in  Harbor  street,  her  eye  was 
caught  by  the  figure  of  a  man  standing  in  its  inmost  cor- 
ner, as  if  in  wait  for  something. 

His  face  was  turned  away  from  her,  and  he  was  dress- 
ed in  the  costume  of  the  Mohawk  band  outside  Faneuil 
Hall,  except  that  the  hatchet  and  feathers  were  wanting, 
but  that  figure  was  Sydney  Archdale  !  Was  he  aware  of 
the  hot  though  secret  search  after  him  which  Caleb  Sew- 
ell had  mentioned  ?  The  thought  of  the  risk  the  young 
man  was  running  overcame  every  other  consideration ; 
and  stepping  into  the  recess,  she  said  almost  in  his  ear, 
"  Is  it  you,  Sydney?"  The  man  turned  quickly  round, 
and  what  was  her  consternation  to  see  that  it  was  not 
young  Archdale,  but  a  veritable  Mohawk  about  the  same 
age,  and  as  fine  a  specimen  of  the  red  race  as  the  former 
was  of  the  European. 

Constance  would  have  turned  and  fled,  but  before  she 
had  fairly  seen  his  face,  the  Indian  had  stepped  before 
her,  and  there  he  stood  barring  her  passage,  and  gazing 
upon  her  with  a  look  of  unmistakable  admiration. 

How  much  is  the  tongue  needed  in  the  service  of  the 
intellect — how  little  in  that  of  the  heart !  The  most 
flattering  compliment  or  high-flown  eulogy  that  ever 
gallant  uttered  could  not  have  expressed  the  power  of 
her  beauty,  and  his  complete  subjugation  more  clearly  to 
Constance  than  did  the  eyes  of  that  son  of  the  forest, 
who  could  address  her  in  no  other  language.  How  long 
he  would  have  stood  before  her  it  were  hard  to  say,  but 
when  the  first  shock  of  astonishment  had  passed,  the 
,giri'8  sense  and  courage  came  to  her  aid.  She  tried  a 
brief  apology  for  her  mistake,  but  the  Indian  shook  his 
head— her  words  were  unintelligible  to  him.  She  then 
made  him  a  sign  that  she  wished  to  pass,  and  with  the 
native  courtesy  of  the  red  man  he  made  way  for  ner,  but 
followed  her  steps  into  the  street,  and  gazed  after  her  a& 
she  sped  quickly  to  the  Quaker's  door. 

The  people  of  that  house  rarely  looked  out,  so  none  of 
them  got  an  inkling  of  her  adventure  with  the  Indian, 
Constance  gave  them  an  excised  edition  of  it  at  the  sup- 
per table.  Oh  I  not  a  word  was  there  about  the  remark- 
able resemblance  and  her  consequent  mistake  ;  but  then 
she  learned  from  Jacob  Stoughton  that  the  young  Mo- 
hawk was  chief  of  a  tribe  located  near  the  western  bor- 
bers  of  Massachusetts,  between  whom  and  certain 
Quaker  merchants,  including  himself,  there  was  a  trad- 
ing compact  of  long  standing,  which  brought  their  chief 
and  some  of  their  most  considerable  men  once  a  year  at 
the  same  season  to  Boston  to  exchange  their  furs  and 
other  products  of  the  wilderness  for  the  white  man'i 
goods. 

"  The  elder  men  have  made  the  journey  so  often  thati 
they  can  speak  good  English,"  said  Jacob  ;  "  so  could 
their  former  chief,  with  whom  I  was  well  acquainted, 
but  he  departed  this  life  last  fall ;  and  of  this  young  man 
I  know  nothing,  except  that  he  speaks  only  his  native 
tongue,  that  his  name  is  Kashutan,  and  that  his  people 
hold  him  in  high  repute  for  justice  and  generosity,  which 
I  also  believe ;  but,"  he  added,  to  the  relief  of  Con- 
stance, who  had  some  fears  of  street  meetings  with  her 
Indian  admirer,  "they  will  all  set  forward  for  home  to- 
morrow." 

CHAPTER  XV. — A  DANGEROUS  TRUST. 

The  year  that  came  was  a  trying  one  for  the  most 
flourishing  province  and  city  of  New  England,  while 
tea-laden  ships  that  chanced  to  get  the  news  within 
sight  of  American  ports,  turned  quickly  homeward,  to 
avoid  a  sacrifice  of  their  cargo  similar  to  that  made  in 
Boston  Harbor.  Swift  sailing  packets  brought  tidings 
of  wrath  and  vengeance  from  the  old  country.    As  not  a 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


293 


Single  man  of  the  tea-destroying  company  could  be 
caught,  the  British  Government  determined— perhaps  it 
vvas  natural  for  a  government  in  such  circumstances — ^to 
make  an  example  of  the  rebellious  town  and  province. 
Did  anybody  ever  find  out  how  it  is  that  bad  measures 
can  be  got  through  parliaments  so  much  more  quickly 
than  those  that  are  wise  and  good  ?  In  hot  haste  they 
passed  the  Port  Bill,  and  rescinded  the  provincial  char- 
ter. The  former  closed  the  ports  of  Boston  and  Charles- 
town,  and  thus,  at  one  blow,  struck  down  a  commerce 
which  had  been  the  growth  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  and  was  known  to  send  out  annually  a  thousand 
ships.  By  the  latter  measure,  all  colonial  rights  were 
abolished,  all  public  officers  dispossessed,  and  their 
places  filled  by  men  of  royal  appointment.  Neverthe- 
less, Massachusetts  kept  a  good  grip  of  her  charter  ;  it 
was  not  to  be  set  aside  by  a  parliament  sitting  in  Old  St. 


him  regarding  Captain  Devereux,  namely,  that  the  cap- 
tain had  arrived  safe  at  New  York^  and  been  imme- 
diately despatched  to  England  on  an  important  mission, 
which  allowed  him  no  time  to  write  to  his  friends  at  the 
Elms,  but  he  was  coming  back  with  one  of  the  regiments 
that  were  to  bring  the  American  provinces  to  their 
senses,  and  they  should  hear  of  him  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut. 

Constance  would  rather  have  heard  news  of  Sydney 
Archdale ;  but  there  was  none  to  be  had  for  many  a 
day,  till  one  evening,  as  they  sat  at  supper,  Jacob 
Stoughton  said  to  his  business  partner,  "Caleb,  dost 
thou  think  there  is  any  truth  in  a  report  which  one  told 
me  this  afternoon,  that  friend  Archdale's  son  has  got  a 
colonel's  commission  from  the  Provincial  Congress,  and 
is  raising  a  regiment  of  militia  in  his  native  vafley  ?" 
It  may  be  true,  for  I  have  heard  the  same  report 


Stephen's.  England's  blood  rose  up  before  England's  and  Caleb's  face  took  the  look  of  hard  self-restraint 
face  in  her  colonists,  to  prove  them  truly  of  the  same  *'   '  ,    ,  ,  .  - 

kith  and  kin.  Neither  the  courts,  the  town-councUs, 
nor  the  people  would  tolerate  the  crown-appointed  men. 
The  old  olilce-bearers  might  go  out,  but  the  new  ones 
dare  not  come  in,  so  business,  law  and  justice  were 
brought  to  a  standstill.  However,  the  country  people 
kept  things  lively  in  a  different  way.  After  the  fashion 
of  the  Presbyterians  of  other  days,  they  made  a  solemn 
league  and  covenant — it  was  not  against  Popery  and 
prelacy  this  time,  but  the  importation  and  use  of  British 
goods.  The  authorities  denounced  it  by  proclamations, 
which  were  put  up  in  every  market-place,  and  pub- 
lished abroad  by  criers ;  but  the  people  tore  down  the 
placards,  and  chased  the  criers  home.  The  land  was 
preparing  for  more  serious  contingencies — every  town- 
ship had  its  company  of  volunteer  militia  ;  every  village 
resounded  with  the  sounds  of  fife  and  drum ;  popular 
sports  and  pastimes  were  neglected  for  military  drill ; 
and  stores  of  arms  and  ammnnition  were  said  to  be  ac- 
cumulated in  secret  places. 

The  capital  presented  a  less  excited  but  more  singular 
aspect.  General  Gage  was  there  in  great  power  and 
perplexity,  with  five  regiments  encamped  on  the  Com- 
mon and  quartered  in  the  State  House,  and  so  many 
ships  of  war  in  the  harbor  that  the  town  looked  like  a 

Elace  invested  by  land  and  sea.  Boston  had  alv/ays 
een  a  stronghold  of  Whigs,  it  was  now  become  a  refuge 
•of  Tories  also.  Finding  it  neither  prudent  nor  pleasant 
to  remain  in  districts  where  they  were  commonly  called 
enemies  of  their  country,  all  the  royalists  of  mark 
crowded  in  beneath  Gage's  sheltering  wings.  The  ladies 
gave  spinning  parties,  an  institution  of  the  period  in  as 
high  toil  as  our  own  five  o'clock  teas ;  and  the  gentlemen 
beset  the  general  with  inquiries  and  requests,  sugges- 
tions and  advices,  till  the  luckless  commander  declared 
—it  was  to  his  private  secretary— that  Major  Delamere 
was  the  only  loyal  subject  in  the  province  who  was  not 
the  plague  of  his  life  I 

There  were  greater  evils  in  the  city  than  those  that 
vexed  its  military  governor.  The  closing  of  Boston  port 
had  closed  many  an  avenue  of  industry  and  earning 
against  trading  and  working  people,  and  brought  dis- 
tress into  many  a  home.  It  was  true  that  help  came  to 
them  from  most  of  the  American  towns  and  provinces — 
the  Carolinas  shared  their  rice,  and  Virginia  and  Mary- 
land their  maize,  with  the  sufferers  for  the  common 
Clause — but  much  was  left  for  private  benevolence  to  do, 
and  in  some  instances  it  was  nobly  done.  Mrs.  Stough- 
ton— otherwise  Friend  Kachel — spent  half  her  time  in- 
quiring into  the  wants  of  her  poor  neighbors,  and  sent 
•Constance,  Susanna  and  Philip  forth  on  errands  of  dis- 
tributing charity.  Delamere  impoverished  himself  in 
relieving  the  necessity  around  him,  and  often  employed 
ills  daughter's  hand  when  he  did  not  wish  his  own  to  be 
too  much  seen.  "  Never  ask  whether  they  are  Whigs  or 
Tories,  child,"  was  his  generous  but  unnecessary  coun- 
sel; "it  is  not  people's  principles,  but  their  need,  we 
should  think  of  in  cases  of  this  kind." 

The  squire  was  not  improving  his  fortunes  in  Boston, 
but  his  military  reputation  had  risen  high  enough  to  be 
the  envy  of  many  a  provincial  officer,  for  General  Gage 
was  fortifying  Boston  Neck,  in  order  to  have  in  his  own 
liand  the  key  of  communication  between  the  disloyal 
city  and  the  mainland,  and  Delamere  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  superintend  an  important  part  of  the  works. 
They  consequently  saw  less  of  him  than  ever  in  Harbor 
street;  but  he  found  time  to  tell  Constance,  under  the 
seal  of  secrecy,  one  day,  what  General  Gage  had  told 


it  always  assumed  when  a  subject  was  disagreeable  to 
him  ;  "  and  to  my  mind  it  manifests  much  conceit  in  so 
young  a  man  to  take  upon  himself  such  an  important 
office,  not  to  speak  of  his  thereby  embroling  the 
country.  Trust  me,  friend  Jacob,  he  is  one  of  those 
men  whose  headstrong  forwardness  will  ruin  the  Ameri- 
can cause." 

"  He  is  raising  militia  in  the  old  home,  and  he  has  for- 
gotten me,"  thought  Constance  ;  but  she  gave  no  sign 
of  her  thoughts  by  word  or  look. 

"  Father,  said  Susanna,  while  her  pale  cheeks  flushed, 
and  her  soft  eyes  brightened,  "there  are  men  of  age 
and  wisdom  in  the  Provincial  Congress  ;  dost  thou  think 
they  would  give  any  man  a  place  of  high  command  ex- 
cept they  thought  him  fit  for  it  ?" 

"  Thou  art  right,  my  daughter ;  they  would  not,"  and 
he  smiled  on  her  approvingly,  while  Caleb  laid  down  his 
knife  and  fork  and  stared  at  her  as  if  she  had  talked  of 
the  world  coming  to  its  end,  then  took  up  his  weapons 
again  without  a  word,  and  ate  on  with  great  determina- 
tion. 

Except  that  both  were  good  and  dutiful,  there  was  no 
point  of  resemblance  between  those  two  girls  without 
or  within,  and  yet  their  young  lives  were  crossed  by  the 
same  unlucky  line  ;  each  had  fixed  her  first  affections  on 
a  man  every  way  worthy,  but  separated  from  her  by 
impassable  barriers,  and  each  by  her  natural  guardians 
was  destined  for  another. 

The  dead-lock  in  all  civil  business  kept  the  Stoughtons 
in  Harbor  street  many  a  mouth  beyond  the  time  fixed 
for  their  removal.  They  were  anxious  to  go,  as  rumors 
of  growing  hostility  between  the  people  and  the  govern- 
ment thickened  every  day.  An  insurrection  was  appre- 
hended by  all  parties,  but  few  imagined  it  would  extend 
farther  than  New  England,  though  the  Virginia  House 
of  Burgesses  had  appointed  a  day  of  prayer  and  fasting 
for  the  closing  of  Boston  Port,  and  a  congress  of  dele- 
gates from  all  the  American  provinces  were  sitting  with 
closed  doors  in  Philadelphia.  No  such  demonstrations 
of  discontent  had  been  made  there  as  in  the  North,  and 
the  Quaker  family  hoped  to  find  peace  and  safety  in 
their  native  town.  Partly  by  their  earnest  invitation, 
and  partly  because  he  saw  no  other  arrangement  suit- 
able, Delamere  agreed  that  his  daughter,  Hannah  Arm- 
strong, and  Philip  should  go  with  them.  It  was  hard  to 
send  Constance  so  far  out  of  his  sight,  it  was  hard  for 
Constance  to  leave  her  father  so  far  behind,  but  all 
Delamere's  relations  had  nearly  as  distant  homes.  The 
greater  part  of  them  had  been  estranged  by  his  ultra- 
Toryism,  and  its  consequences  at  the  Elms.  He  might 
have  to  march  anywhere  with  his  regiment ;  and  where 
could  his  daughter  be  so  safe,  so  well  cared  for,  and  so 
much  at  home  as  with  the  kindly  Jacob  and  Rachel,  and 
with  her  young  companion,  Susanna  ? 

Jacob  Stoughton's  affairs  were  settled  at  last,  and  the 
family  prepared  to  quit  the  dwelling  they  occupied  for 
80  many  years. 

There  were  no  disturbing  rumors  from  the  country 
that  day,  and  everything  seemed  quiet  in  the  town. 
The  Stoughtons'  friends,  all  but  Delamere,  had  called 
and  taken  leave  of  them  with  many  a  good  wish  and 
many  a  kind  farewell ;  everybody  was  getting  ready  for 
departure,  and  so  was  Constance,  when  Philip,  who  had 
been  out  on  some  needful  errands,  stole  to  her  room- 
door  and  whispered,  "Miss  Constance,  as  I  came 
through  Blackstone's  Alley,  a  gentleman  standing  close 
by  the  garden  fence  slipped  this  into  my  hand,"  PhUip 
Showed  a  half-dollar,  "and  said,  '  Can  you  take  a  mes 


294 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


sage  to  Miss  Delamere,  and  let  nobody  hear  it  but  her- 
self ?'  *  It's  my  opinion  I  can,  sir,'  says  I.  *  Well,'  says 
he,  *  tell  her  a  friend  of  the  two  Archdales  has  something 
particular  to  say  if  she  will  come  for  a  moment  and 
speak  with  him  over  the  fence  here.' " 

"What  sort  of  a  gentleman  was  he,  Philip?"  said 
Constance,  wondering  what  this  strange  suggestion 
could  mean. 

"  About  as  old  as  your  father,  miss,  but  not  so  grand 
and  handsome  as  the  squire  looks  in  his  new  uniform. 
He  has  a  grave,  good  face,  though  ;  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  he  was  a  minister,"  said  the  observant  page. 

Constance  hesitated,  but  thinking  that  he  must  have 
something  particular  to  say — it  might  be  regarding  Syd- 
ney— stepped  out,  and  posting  Philip  at  the  back-door 
to  watch  and  give  signal  of  danger,  she  hastened  to  the 
appointed  spot.  The  fence  at  that  part,  though  sub- 
stantial, was  low,  and  looking  over  it  was  a  face  that 
Constance  recognized  at  the  first  glance  as  that  of  Dr. 
Joseph  Warren,  a  gentleman  whom  she  had  often  seen 
visiting  at  the  Plantation,  and  Sydney  had  told  her  that 
he  was  the  Boston  member  of  the  Committee  of  Corres- 
pondence, a  secret  society,  whose  agents  far  outstripped 
the  press  of  those  days  in  circulating  political  intelli- 
gence among  the  Whig  party. 

"  Miss  Delamere,"  he  said,  courteously  bowing  as  she 
came  forward,  "I  trust  the  time  and  business  will  ex- 
cuse my  want  of  ceremony,  even  to  a  lady.  One  who 
knows  you  well  and  esteems  you  above  all  other  ladies, 
has  told  me  of  your  faithfulness,  sense  and  courage,  as 
well  as  your  good  inclinations  to  your  country's  cause. 
Will  you  do  that  cause  a  signal  service  ?" 

"  Alas,  sir,"  said  Constance,  "  a  woman  can  serve  her 
country  only  by  her  prayers." 

"  Only  I  Miss  Delamere.  Can  any  greater  service  be 
done  to  cause  or  country  than  that  of  seeking  for  it  the 
Divine  assistance,  without  which  man  is  nothing  ?  Yet, 
besides,  remember  that  Deborah  the  prophetess,  and 
many  another  woman  of  whom  both  history  and  holy 
writ  keep  record,  has  done  for  her  land  and  people  that 
which  man  could  not  do  at  the  time,  and  you  may  follow 
their  example." 

"  With  the  help  of  Providence,  I  will  do  so  to  the 
best  of  my  ability.  What  is  the  thing  to  be  done?" 
said  Constance,  for  his  words  had  warmed  up  the  patriot 
blood  that  was  in  her. 

"It  is,"  said  Warren,  "to  take  charge  of  this  letter," 
and  he  placed  in  her  hand  an  ordinary-looking  but  well- 
sealed  epistle,  with  the  words  "From  Brother  Jona- 
than," clearly  written  where  the  address  should  have 
been.  "  Keep  it  safe  from  every  eye,  and  give  it  to  the 
first  person  who  speaks  of  Brother  Jonathan  to  you  or 
your  friends  after  you  leave  Boston ;  but  recollect,  in 
doing  so,  to  find  an  opportunity  or  excuse  that  may 
ward  off  observation ;  and  be  sure  your  country  will 
thank  you  for  it  yet.  Providence  be  your  help  and 
guard.  I  hear  a  coming  step;  farewell."  He  turned 
quickly  away,  and  was  out  of  sight  before  one  of  Jacob 
Stoughton's  old  warehousemen  came  down  the  alley. 

As  Constance  re-entered  the  house,  she  heard  her 
father's  voice  requesting  a  word  in  private  with  friend 
Ja^-ob.  The  Quaker  and  he  were  closeted  in  the  back 
parlor  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  then  Delamere 
slipped  away,  and  Jacob  came  out  looking  rather  con- 
cerned. 

"  It  behoves  us,"  he  said  to  his  family,  "not  yet  to 
put  on  our  traveling  raiment.  Friend  Delamere  has 
brought  me  word  that  the  man  Gage  has  closed  his  bar- 
riers, and  set  a  watch,  not  suffering  man,  woman  or 
child  to  pass  out  of  the  town.  He  has  promised  our 
friend,  nevertheless,  that  we  shall  be  free  to  go,  but  not 
till  two  or  three  hours  hence,  which  will  certainly  bring 
the  night  upon  us  before  we  have  made  much  way ;  yet 
we  shall  set  forth,  trusting  in  Him  to  whom  the  midnight 
is  as  the  noonday." 

It  was  weary  waiting  in  the  empty  house,  buu  tneir 
minds  were  occupied  with  the  singular  proceedings  by 
which  they  were  detained.  What  could  have  been  the 
general's  motive  for  shutting  up  the  town  ?  The  men  of 
the  family  went  out  in  search  of  news  on  the  subject, 
but  they  could  get  none.  Everybody  seemed  equally 
taken  by  surprise,  and  none  could  guess  the  cause  of 
such  extraordinary  precautions.  Almost  three  hours 
passed  away,  and  Delamere  came  at  last  to  say  that  they 
might  set  forward. 

The  Quaker  family  lost  no  time  ;  but  when  all  were 


Veady  to  start,  Jacob  gathered  them  round  him  in  the 
old  family  room,  now  bare  and  empty,  and  there,  stand- 
ing in  the  ancient  fashion  of  his  people,  he  prayed  for 
those  that  went  forth  and  for  those  that  remained — that 
the  same  all-seeing  Eye  might  watch  over  them,  and  the 
same  Providence  be  their  guide.  Then  Delamere  took 
leave  of  his  friends  and  his  daughter.  How  hard  it 
seemed  for  the  squire  to  part  with  her — as  if  the  shadow 
of  all  that  was  to  happen  before  they  met  again  dark- 
ened over  his  mind  for  the  moment. 

Constance  kept  a  good  heart,  though  shadows  rarely 
fall  upon  the  young,  and  she  had  Warren's  letter  to  con- 
ceal and  deliver.  The  risk  and  the  secret  blunted  the 
sorrow;  and  Delamere  would  not  cast  a  damp  on  her 
spirits,  so  he  tried  to  look  cheerful,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  with  them  over  Boston  Neck,  and  past  the 
outermost  of  General  Gage's  sentinels,  planted  on  the 
main  road,  with  orders  to  turn  back  every  individual 
who  by  any  chance  got  out  of  the  town,  except  them- 
selves. 

CHAPTER  XVI. — THE  FIRST  BLOODSHED. 

A  considerable  cavalcade  they  were,  that  excepted 
company,  and  one  that  would  be  thought  a  curious  sight 
if  setting  forth  from  the  Boston  of  our  day.  Caleb 
Sewell  led  the  van.  He  was  to  do  guide's  duty,  having 
done  the  commercial  traveling  of  the  firm  for  some 
years,  and  being,  therefore,  best  acquainted  with  the 
country  through  which  they  had  to  pass.  Susanna  was 
seated  on  a  comfortable  pillion  behind  him ;  she  had 
hever  been  strong  enough  to  learn  horse-riding,  and 
Caleb  insisted  that  nobody  could  take  care  of  her  so 
well  as  himself.  Mrs.  Stoughton  had  been  brought  up 
in  the  country,  and  was  a  good  horsewoman  ;  she  rode 
her  own  bay,  and  kept  beside  the  pair.  Jacob  had  his 
old  acquaintance,  Hannah  Armstrong,  mounted  behind 
him.  Constance  and  Philip  rode  side  by  side,  as  usual. 
Then  came  a  number  of  discreet  men  in  Jacob's  employ- 
ment, with  sedate  servant  maids  behind  them,  and 
a  long  train  of  pack-horses  and  men  who  had  charge  of 
them  closed  the  procession. 

They  had  proceeded  about  a  mile  after  Delamere  left 
them,  when  the  whole  party  were  called  to  a  halt  by  a 
sentinel  pacing  up  and  dovm  in  front  of  a  temporary 
guard-house  on  the  roadside. 

"Friend,"  said  Jacob,  "we  have  been  permitted  to 
go  on  our  journey  by  the  man  Gage,  who  commands  in 
Boston." 

"  That  is  no  business  of  mine ;  you  must  speak  to  the 
lieutenant  here,"  said  the  sentinel ;  and  in  his  usual 
frank  and  soldier-like  fashion,  out  stepped  Lieutenant 
Gray. 

He  was  unacquainted  with  the  Stoughtons,  but  of 
course  recognized  Constance  at  once  ;  made  many  kind 
inquiries,  and  complimented  her  on  her  father's  return 
to  the  king's  service, 

"  I  have  not  seen  the  major,"  he  said,  "  having  come 
here  only  this  morning  from  my  leave  of  absence  in 
New  York,  and  I  can't  understand  this  manoeuvre  of 
General  Gage ;  but  my  orders  are  imperative  to  let  no 
traveler  from  Boston  pass  without  a  written  permission 
from  himself." 

"That  is  hard  upon  us,  friend,"  said  Jacob,  "for  the 
barriers  of  the  Neck  are  now  closed,  and  I  doubt  if  they 
will  admit  us  to  the  town." 

"I  doubt  it,  too,  said  the  lieutenant ;  and  he  added  in 
a  lower  tone,  "that  old  fellow  is  always  bungling;  but 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  can  do.  If  you  will  alight  and  bring 
the  ladies  into  my  room — it  is  a  chill  night  for  them  to 
be  stopping  here— I  will  send  one  of  the  soldiers  with  a 
note  to  tell  Gage  all  about  it,  and  bring  back  his  written 
permission  if  it  can  be  got." 

"  I  thank  thee  with  all  my  heart,  friend,"  said  Jacob  ; 
and  Constance  was  supplementing  his  gratitude,  when 
her  attention,  as  well  as  that  of  the  whole  party,  was 
caught  by  an  unexpected  visitant. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  the  guard-house,  there  stood  a  timber  cottage,, 
poor,  but  picturesque-looking  in  the  deepening  twi- 
light, with  the  blaze  of  a  bright  wood  fire  flashing  from  its 
half-open  door.  Out  of  it,  as  they  parleyed  there,  came 
a  tall  stooping  woman,  with  her  head  so  enveloped  in 
flannel  and  red  cotton  handkerchiefs  that  it  looked  twice 
the  ordinary  size  ;  a  stout  crutch  under  her  one  arm  to 
n^ake  up  for  a  remarkably  lame  leg,  while  with  the 
other  she  held,  bag-fashion,  a  check  apron  full  of  large 
douirhnuts. 


THE  FLOWING  15IVER 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


297 


"You're  from  Boston,  I  guess,  you  folks,"  she  said, 
"  can  any  of  you  tell  me  what's  become  on  my  brother 

Jonathan?"  ,      ^     j..       i-       *  •  ^ 

"Where  does  thy  brother  Jonathan  live,  friend?" 
inquired  the  cautious  Quaker.  ^     ^  „    oi,  i 

'''Well  I  expect  it's  in  Pilgnm  street."  She  spoke 
with  a  nasal  twang  that  was  even  matchless  in  New 
England  '*  You  must  know  him  ;  he's  just  like  myself, 
a  bit  troubled  with  the  rheumaticals,  but  there  aint  such 
a  boy  in  old  Tremont ;  them  Britishers  is  wantin'  to 
make  him  a  king's  officer.".  t  •  * 

"  There's  a  compliment  to  the  service,"  said  Lieuten- 
ant Gray,  laughing  heartily  ;  the  soldiers  followed  their 
officer's  example,  for  they  had  all  come  out  to  see  the 
travelers :  the  Quaker  family  forgot  their  accustomed 
gravity,  but  the  woman  seemed  nowise  abashed  by  their 

^''T'ake  a  doughnut,"  she  said,  presenting  her  full 
apron  to  one  after  another ;  but  none  of  the  party,  ex- 
cept the  lieutenant,  availed  themselves  of  the  offer  till 
she  came  to  Constance,  with  an  exhortation  to  pick  the 
biggest,  which  the  squire's  daughter  seemed  to  obey ; 
but  nobody  guessed  with  what  a  quaking  heart  she  let 
the  concealed  letter  slip  out  of  her  sleeve  into  the 
woman's  apron,  and  covered  it  with  the  doughnuts. 

"You  haven't  got  no  news  about  my  brother,  it 
seems,"  said  the  dame,  but  a  glance  from  under  her 
wrappings  told  Constance  that  all  was  right ;  and  as  she 
hobbled  back  to  the  cottage  it  would  have  been  difficult 
to  persuade  one  of  the  on-lookers  that  the  flannels,  the 
crutch,  and  the  female  garments  disguised  a  smart  lad 
in  the  service  of  Samuel  Adams,  and  one  of  the  most 
expeditious  runners  in  the  province.  They  did  not  see 
him  a  minute  after  sally  from  the  back  door,  in  the  dress 
of  a  young  countryman,  leap  the  garden  fence,  and 
scour  across  the  fields  with  a  speed  like  that  of  a  deer. 

The  youth's  father  belonged  to  the  sect  of  the  Old 
Light  Burghers,  and  had  given  him  the  edifying  Christian 
name  of  Dust-thou-art ;  but  his  contemporaries  abbrevi- 
ated it  to  Dust,  by  which  unaspiring  title  his  fame  long 
survived  himself  in  that  locality.  The  cottage  in  such  near 
neighborhood  to  the  guard-house  was  the  dwelling  of  his 
particular  friend,  a  flax-dresser  and  a  militiaman.  It  was 
also  the  first  news  station  from  Boston.  There  Dust 
waited  for  intelligence,  in  the  character  of  the  flax-dress- 
er's mother-in-law,  and  came  out  with  the  same  inquiry 
regarding  his  brother  Jonathan  to  all  travelers  when  any- 
thing important  was  expected  It  is  said  that  the  name 
thus  agreed  upon  between  the  Committee  Men  and  their 
most  active  agent,  to  indicate  tidings  of  more  than  com- 
mon import,  became  on  that  account,  first,  the  sobriquet 
of  the  Bostonians,  and  finally,  that  of  the  American  peo- 
ple, though  some  assign  to  it  a  different  origin,  for  tra- 
dition grows  hazy  and  uncertain  in  the  lapse  of  a  hundred 
years. 

To  return  to  the  detained  travelers.  They  were  happy 
to  accept  the  lieutenant's  kind  offer  and  await  at  the 
guard-house  the  return  of  his  messenger  to  General 
Gage.  The  old  officer  gallantly  conducted  the  ladies  to 
the  best  seats  at  his  room  fire,  found  places  for  the  sedate 
maids,  as  well  as  for  Jacob  and  Caleb,  who  remained  as 
guardians  of  the  fair  in  his  quarters,  while  the  rest  of 
the  men  allowed  their  horses  to  nibble  the  fresh  grass 
which  spring  had  brought  up  on  the  roadside,  and  held 
friendly  converse  with  the  soldiers  by  their  guard-room 
fire,  for,  being  Quakers,  they  lived  at  peace  with  all 
men — including  "  Britishers."  The  lieutenant  despatch- 
ed his  note  by  a  soldier  who  generally  kept  sober,  and 
promised  to  make  no  delay.  Then  he  sat  down  among 
his  unexpected  guests,  and  beguiled  the  time  by  conver- 
sing with  them  about  their  intended  journey. 

They  had  time  enough,  for  hours  elapsed  before  the 
messenger  returned.  General  Gage  had  been  at  supper 
with  a  party  of  officers,  and  coulid  scarcely  be  persuaded 
to  attend  to  the  business  at  all ;  but  at  length  the  soldier 
came  back  with  his  written  permission  for  the  travelers 
to  proceed.  They  remounted  their  horses,  took  a  friendly 
leave  of  the  lieutenant,  and  set  forward  once  more,  in 
hopes  to  reach  the  village  of  Lexington  before  the  brealv 
of  day,  and  rest  there  at  a  well-known  inn  called  Buck- 
man's  tavern. 

It  was  long  after  dark  by  this  time,  a  fine  star-lit  night 
overhung  the  land  ;  but  as  the  party  rode  on,  its  silence 
was  broken  by  sounds  of  strange  import.  They  heard 
drums  beaten  in  every  direction ;  the  bells  of  village 
churches  pealed  forth  alarms  ;  signal  fires  flamed  up  on 


every  height,  till  the  whole  horizon  seemed  in  a  blaze. 
They  could  hear  the  trampling  of  horses'  hoofs  in  neigh- 
boring byways,  and  see  the  figures  of  men  hurrying 
across  the  fields.  "  The  country  is  alarmed  and  rising. 
What  can  it  mean?"  said  Caleb  8c well. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Jacob ;  but  let  us  push  on  to  Lex- 
ington. There,  perhaps  we  shall  hear  what  has  happened, 
for  certainly  there  are  some  strange  doings  in  the  land 
this  night.    The  Lord  prevent  bloodshed." 

They  did  push  on  as  quickly  as  the  darkness  and  the 
rough  road  would  allow.  The  sounds  of  alarm  and  the 
signal  fires  seemed  to  spread  all  over  the  country.  The 
men  whom  they  chanced  to  see  were  either  in  too  great 
haste  or  at  too  great  a  distance  to  give  them  any  intelli- 
gence ;  but  when  they  reached  Lexington  in  the  gray 
light  of  the  early  morning,  they  found  its  inhabitants  all 
astir,  and  the  village  green  in  front  of  the  old  meeting- 
house occupied  by  a  body  of  armed  men. 

"What  is  the  cause  of  this  gathering,  and  the  sounds 
of  tumult  which  we  hear  on  all  sides,  friend  ?"  said  Ca- 
leb, as  he  rode  up  to  one  who  was  piling  fagots  on  a 
watch-fire  hard  by, 

Constance  knew  that  man's  face  as  the  blaze  shot  up. 
He  was  the  determined-looking  young  man  who  had  run 
Hiram  Hardhead  out  of  the  door  at  the  Elms  on  the 
night  of  Captain  Devereux's  unceremonious  removal. 

"  The  cause  is  ole  Gage  yonder  in  Boston ;  he  got 
wind  somehow  of  the  store  of  arms  and  ammunition  our 
people  had  laid  up  in  Concord  to  defend  their  lives  and 
liberties  with  ;  and  last  night,  after  shuttin'  up  the  town 
tUl  no  cretur  could  get  out  or  in,  he  sent  a  force  of  reg- 
'lars  across  the  Cambridge  marshes,  under  cover  o'  dark- 
ness, to  destroy  the  store  and  take  two  honest  men, 
Samuel  Adams  and  John  Hancock,  that  he  thought  tc 
find  in  their  beds  at  the  minister's  house  here.  How- 
somever.  Providence  subvarses  the  schemes  o'  the  wick- 
ed. Somebody— we  don't  know  who — ^got  out  o'  the 
town  with  a  letter  from  Joseph  Warren.  So  the  runners 
have  been  wakin'  up  the  country  all  night.  If  the  Brit- 
ishers do  get  the  length  o'  Concord,  they  won't  get  much 
to  play  their  spite  on  ;  and  if  Colonel  Sydney  Archdale 
comes  up  in  time  with  his  militia,  they'll  find  things  hot- 
ter than  they  expected  in  this  township. ' '  1 
"  I  pray  thee,  friend,"  said  Caleb,  "  thou  and  they  that' 
are  with  thee,  consider  to  what  issue  this  affair  may 
come  under  the  conduct  of  that  headstrong  youth." 

"  Ride  on,  my  drab  darlin'  1"  cried  the  young  man— 
his  name  was  Thaddeus  Magrory,  and  he  was  known  to 
be  of  Irish  origin.  "  Ride  on  and  get  the  women  out  o- 
danger,  for  the  Britishers  is  coming  up  at  your  tail,  an' 
I  guess  you'll  like  their  room  better  than  their  company." 

"  Come,  Caleb,  persuasion  is  of  no  avail  here  ;  let  us 
take  the  Bedford  road,  though  it  is  somewhat  out  of  our 
course  ;  Concord  is  no  place  for  peaceable  people  to 
venture  on  now,"  said  Jacob. 

Accordingly  they  took  the  Bedford  road,  which  opened 
on  the  right  hand  side  of  the  green,  while  that  to  Con- 
cord lay  on  the  left.  It  led  over  hill  and  dale,  through 
a  pleasant  district  of  farm  and  pasture  land,  skirted  by 
remnants  of  the  ancient  woods.  But  the  Quaker  com- 
pany had  made  little  way  when  on  the  ridge  of  its 
first  rising  ground  they  paused  with  one  consent,  and 
turned  to  look  and  listen.  The  sun  was  mounting  above 
the  eastern  heights,  the  birds  were  singing  his  welcome 
in  the  woods,  and  the  breath  of  spring  flowers  went  up 
from  the  meadow  lands  like  incense  to  the  brightness  of 
his  rising ;  but  on  the  earth  below  there  was  a  sound 
like  the  steady  tramp  of  marching  men,  and  arms  and 
helmets  flashed  in  the  kindling  day.  It  was  the  secret 
expedition  entering  the  village,  i'.s  advance  led  by  Major 
Pitcairn  with  his  marines.  The  travelers  were  too  far  off 
to  hear  the  high-handed  old  officer  summon  the  militia- 
men, by  the  style  and  title  of  rebels  and  villains,  to  lay 
down  their  arms,  but  they  heard  the  sharp  report  of  his 
pistol  which  followed,  and  then  a  volley  of  musketry. 
They  saw  the  regulars  rush  on  and  the  pro\ancials  give 
way,  far  outnumbered  for  the  time.  The  country  around 
them  rang  with  a  long,  loud  British  cheer,  followed  by  a 
din  of  dropping  shots  and  shouting  voices,  and  the 
simplest  there  knew  that  the  long  threatened  war  of 
brothers  had  begun. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  said  Jacob,  as  he  bowed  his  head  over 
his  clasped  hands,  "have  mercy  on  this  unhappy  land, 
and  stay  the  effusion  of  blood  I" 

But  Caleb  looked  towards  the  scene  of  action,  now 
bidden  bv  rolling  smoke  wreaths.    The  impulse  of  the 


298 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


hour  had  rafsed  the  methodical  young  merchant  ahove 
the  level  of  his  daily  life ;  for  there  was  a  higher  spirit 
in  him,  one  that  could  have  done  the  patriot's,  or,  if 
need  were,  the.martyr's  part,  for  faith  or  freedom's  sake, 
as  with  uplifted  eyes  and  hands  he  said,  Oh,  Lord, 
lince  thou  hast  permitted  the  sword  to  be-  drawn  in  this 
land,  stand  by  the  cause  which  thou  knowest  to  be 
righteous,  and  let  not  tyranny  and  kingcraft  prevail  up- 
bn  the  earth  ;"  and  the  company  with  one  voice  respond- 
ed, "Amen," 

The  well-head  of  a  great  river  gives  little  token  of  the 
mighty  flow  with  which  it  will  meet  the  ocean,  and  so  it 
is  with  the  springs  of  the  world's  greatest  changes.  The 
military  men  who  were  in  that  action  spoke  of  it  as  a 
mere  skirmish  ;  such  in  their  parlance  it  was  ;  but  which 
of  them  ever  guessed  or  dreamed  of  its  mighty  issues  ? 
The  history  of  a  republic  more  free  and  powerful  than 
that  of  ancient  Rome ;  the  thunders  that  shook  down 
thrones  in  the  French  Revolution,  and  woke  the  bonds- 
men of  Europe  from  their  slumbers  in  the  debris  of  the 
feudal  times  ;  hopes  that  yet  speak  to  the  toiling  thou- 
sands of  better  things  than  were  ever  known  to  them  or 
their  fathers  in  the  old  world  or  the  new— all  had  their 
birth-time  in  that  sweet  spring  morning  when  the  first 
shot  in  the  War  of  American  Independence  was  fired, 
and  the  first  blood  shed,  on  the  village  green  at  Lexing- 

CHAPTER  XVII. — THE  LOST  WAY. 

"Onward,  dear  friends!"  cried  Jacob,  as  he  saw  the 
provincials  retreating  towards  the  Bedford  road;  "on- 
ward, or  the  flying  and  the  pursuers  will  be  both  upon 
us  !" 

On  they  rode,  as  quickly  as  good  horses  could  bear 
them,  but  there  was  little  danger  to  be  apprehended 
from  flight  or  pursuit.  The  militia  retired  but  a  short 
distance,  the  regulars  turned  and  marched  on  to  Con- 
cord ;  yet  here  the  real  diflaculties  of  the  Quaker  com- 
pany began. 

Through  every  lane  and  bye-way,  along  the  public 
road  and  across  the  fields,  men  on  foot  and  on  horse- 
back came  pouring  to  the  scene  of  action  with  a  haste 
that  stayed  for  no  hindrance  and  brooked  no  delay. 
The  Bedford  road  was  rough  and  narrow  in  those  days  ; 
but  with  many  a  stoppage  and  many  a  turning  aside  the 
travelers  pushed  on,  reached  the  little  town,  and  found 
rest  at  its  single  inn.  All  sorts  of  rumors  followed  them 
there  ;  some  said  that  General  Gage  had  sent  out  large 
reinforcements  to  his  expedition,  and  the  regulars  were 
wasting  the  country  with  fire  and  sword  ;  others  said 
there  was  sharp  fighting  at  Concord  and  Lexington  ;  but 
late  in  the  evening  it  was  ascertained  that  the  expedi- 
tion, reinforcements  and  all,  had  been  driven  back  to 
Boston,  and  that  the  provincials  were  assembling  to  be- 
siege the  tovm  and  prevent  Gage  and  the  four  thousand 
men  under  his  command  from  taking  vengeance  on  the 
surrounding  country,  as  it  was  believed  they  would. 

All  that  night  the  hoofs  of  horses  and  the  tramp  of 
hurrying  feet  were  heard  throughout  the  land.  Men  to 
whom  the  news  was  brought,  in  the  midst  of  their  farm- 
work  on  the  hills  of  New  Hampshire  or  the  valleys  of 
Connecticut,  unyoked  their  teams  from  plough  and 
wagon  and  rode  post  haste  to  lend  a  hand  to  the  good 
cause  under  the  walls  of  Boston.  The  next  day  dawned 
through  heavy  and  threatening  clouds.  April  weather 
can  change  as  quickly  in  the  new  as  in  the  old  England, 
but  on  the  travelers  went,  being  anxious  to  get  out  of  the 
disturbed  districts. 

They  had  gone  out  of  their  course  by  taking  the  Bed- 
ford road,  and  to  recover  it  were  obliged  to  traverse 
wild  and  broken  bye-ways,  where  their  progress  met 
with  more  serious  interruptions  than  in  the  preceding 
day.  Now  it  was  a  troop  of  Minute  Men  from  some  of 
the  western  towns  that  dashed  through  and  parted  the 
company ;  then  it  was  a  corps  of  mounted  militia  in  full 
gallop,  from  whom  they  had  to  scatter  away  and  take 
refuge  on  either  side.  To  add  to  their  perils,  a  blinding 
storm  of  hail  burst  on  them  when  climbing  a  steep  and 
wooded  hill,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  body  of  Green 
Mountain  Boys,  on  half -wild  horses,  with  Hiram  Hard- 
head in  their  van,  mounted  on  a  steed  as  lean  and  crazy 
as  himself,  and  prophesying  with  all  his  might,  came 
down  like  a  whirlwind.  There  was  no  chance  for  the 
travelers  but  to  fiy  out  of  their  way  as  best  they  could  : 
probably  none  of  them  ever  knew  exactly  how  they 
accomplished  it,  for  these  things  are  instinctively  done. 


But  when  the  rash  and  the  storm  were  past  suflacientr 
for  them  to  see  and  think,  a  part  of  the  company,  coi. 
sisting  of  Jacob,  with  Hannah  Armstrong  behind  hici 
Constance,  and  Philip,  found  themselves  together  atth 
opening  of  a  narrow  glade  at  some  distance  fromta 
path  they  had  left. 

The  path  was  quickly  regained,  biii  they  lookec:  round 
in  vain  for  the  rest  of  the  company.  "Nodoub..  they 
have  gone  forward,  expecting  us  to  follow,  and  are 
hidden  from  our  sight  by  yonder  tall  trees;"  and  Jacob 
pointed  to  a  thick  clump  that  almost  barred  the  way ;. 
"let  us  make  haste  to  overtake  them.  I  would  nc*^ 
willingly  be  parted  from  friend  Caleb,  for  he  knows  th 
country  much  better  than  I  do." 

They  did  make  haste,  and  passed  the  clump  of  treec, 
but  could  see  nothing  of  their  friends.  Another  fierc^ 
hailstorm  obliged  them  to  take  refuge  in  the  neareo: 
shade,  and  when  it  was  over  they  passed  on  again,  eveiy 
one  of  the  four  believing  that  path  to  be  the  very  saoci 
which  Caleb  had  chosen  when  the  rush  of  armed  meii 
made  it  expedient  to  quit  the  public  road.  Their  pro- 
gress was  impeded  by  nothing  of  the  kind  now ;  the;c 
was  no  sound  of  voice  or  step,  no  human  figure  to  t : 
seen  on  the  wild-hill  side,  which  they  continued  t: 
climb.  The  hailstorms  had  given  place  to  heavy  am 
constant  rain;  the  shades  of  evening  were  falling  fac' 
when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  bye-path  ;  but  instea: 
of  the  public  road  to  which  Caleb  said  it  would  lea: 
them,  there  opened  before  them  two  ways,  more  roug' 
and  wild  than  that  they  had  traversed,  the  one  on  th 
right  hand  leading  up  to  a  still  higher  ground,  and  th 
other  on  the  left  descending  to  a  deep  valley,  overgrow^ 
with  slirubs  and  brushwood. 

"  I  fear  we  have  lost  our  way  ;  the  Lord  direct  us  I' 
said  Jacob  ;  but  as  he  spoke  they  heard  a  sound  like  ; . 
din  of  mingled  voices.  There  was  a  company  of  som._ 
kind  coming  down  the  right-hand  path  ;  but  in  a  minute, 
or  two  Constance  and  Philip,  who  were  a  little  in  ad 
vance,  discovered  that  the  said  company  consisted  o. 
their  old  acquaintance,  Vanderslock,  the  Dutch  lumber 
man,  mounted  on  his  shaggy  horse,  with  his  frau  behinc 
him,  claspiag  her  loving  lord  round  the  waist  with  both 
arms,  and  scolding  in  sound  Dutch  at  the  top  of  hei 
shrill  voice ;  while  a  sUent,  unconcerned-looking  man, 
who  might  have  been  a  lumberer  too,  rode  side  by  side 
with  them  on  an  equally  shaggy  creature,  which  also, 
carried  a  wicker-basket,  with  a  couple  of  axes  tied  to  its 
handles.  The  Dutch  lady  ceased  as  she  caught  sight  of 
the  party ;  and  Constance  lost  no  time  in  saluting  her 
old  friend  of  the  Holyoke  Woods,  and  inquiring  if  hj 
could  tell  them  the  way  to  Harmony,  a  Quaker  village, 
where  Jacob  intended  to  rest  for  the  night,  and  ezpectei ' 
to  meet  the  wagons. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Telamere,"  cried  the  Dutchman,  '■'-yoxi  art.-; 
all  misconducted  ;  you  are  all  stray  sheeps ;  Haimon:/ 
is  laid  miles  " — here  he  made  a  gesture  demonstrative 
of  distance,  but  in  doing  so,  somehow  displaced  tho 
straw-pad  which  served  his  fair  partner  for  a  pillion. 
I)own  she  went,  with  a  shriek  that  made  the  woodlands 
ring ;  and  down  went  he,  for  the  lady  never  lost  herhold 
on  his  waist,  and,  both  being  of  short  and  solid  buUd, 
rolled  a  considerable  way  down  the  turfy  slope,  while 
the  docile,  intelligent  horse  stood  still  on  the  spot  where 
they  left  it  till  the  wedded  pau-  scrambled  up  again, 
nothing  the  worse  but  for  mud,  and  commenced  a  good 
matrimonial  squabble  in  their  native  tongue. 

By  this  time  Jacob  had  addressed  a  similar  inquiry  to 
the  unconcerned-looking  man,  who  rode  on  with  a  com- 
posed manner  worthj'^  of  his  appearance,  and  acswered 
in  the  same  fashion,  "  Well,  I  guess  you're  many  a  mile 
out  of  the  right  track  for  Harmony." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  us,  friend;  and  canst  thou 
direct  us  to  any  place  where  we  could  find  shelter  for 
the  night ;  the  horses  are  spent,  and  the  women  are  both 
Wet  and  weary,"  said  Jacob. 

"  1  expect  there's  no  place  of  the  kind  nearer  than  my 
own  location,"  and  the  lumberer  pointed  down  the  wild 
valley.  "H  you  all  come  along,  I  promise  you  shelter 
and  share  of  the  victuals  I  have  got." 

"  I  thankfully  accept  the  offer,  friend,  and  will  pay 
whatever  thou  mayst  justly  ask,"  said  Jacob. 

"No,  no,"  cried  the  lumberer;  "I  wants  no  thanks, 
and  I'll  have  no  payment.  I'm  a  woodsman,  and  never 
tuke  nothin'  from  travelers  ;"  and  he  led  the  way  down 
the  steep  path  on  the  left  hand,  followed  by  the  whole 
party,  with  the  remounted  Vanderslocks  carrying  on. 
+heir  contest  in  the  rear. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


299 


"  Dost  thou  live  here,  friend  ?"  inquired  the  Quaker, 
as  they  made  their  way  through  the  thick  underwood. 

"  I  guess  I  do,  when  I'm  at  home.  Old  C  moe  left  me 
his  block-house,  which  you'll  see  this  minute.  I  don 
know  what  his  real  name  was,  but  he  built  the  house 
himself,  to  keep  the  valley  and  the  trout  stream  he  had 
bought  from  the  Indians  clear  of  squatters,  and  lived  in 
tt  fifty  years  or  more.  He  was  a  good  friend  to  me,  I  can 
tell  you,  when  I  sloped  away  from  Amhurst's  army, 
having  got  enough  of  the  soldiering  business ;  and  £ 
good  house  he  left  me  ;  but  one  gets  tired  at  times  o 
livin'  by  himself  among  the  trees  and  the  wild  crature, 
so  sometimes  I  lumbers  and  sometimes  I  peddles.  They 
know  me  a  good  ways  round  about.  My  name's  Green 
Crossland,  but  they  mostly  calls  me  Greenland— so  may 
you,  if  you  like,  I  never  takes  it  amiss.  I  went  up  last 
fall  to  the  Holyoke  Hills  to  help  Vanderslock  there  in 
the  lumberin'  line.  They're  honest  folks,  him  and  his 
frau,  though  she  does  scold  a  bit.  It's  my  opinion  every 
woman  follows  that  trade.  I  would  have  stopped  up 
there,  and  so  would  Vanderslock,  but  there's  such  a 
mighty  rising  of  militia  by  a  young  crackskull — Arch- 
dale's  his  name,  I  think — and  people  that  won't  sarve 
gets  called  enemies  to  their  country — that  we  sloped,  to 
be  at  peace  here  for  a  bit.  Aiut  that  a  nice  location  ?" 
continued  Greenland,  as  he  drew  up  in  front  of  a  habita- 
tion placed  in  the  narrowest  part  of  the  valley,  which 
was  there  a  mere  pass,  and  just  leaving  room  for  a  beau- 
tiful stream  on  the  one  side  and  a  grassy  path  on  the 
other.  It  was  a  regular  block-house  of  the  old  colonial 
times,  square  and  low.  The  walls  were  logs  and  the 
roof  was  of  shingles ;  both  were  moss-grown,  but 
weather-tight  and  substantial,  and  round  the  house,  at  a 
sulBcient  distance  to  enclose  ground  enough  for  a  good 
garden,  ran  a  strong  fence  made  of  the  trunks  of  trees 
firmly  wedged  together,  with  one  narrow  but  massive 
gate,  which  its  owner  said  would  keep  out  bears  or 
Indians  till  the  man  got  his  rifle  loaded. 

The  gate  was  securely  locked,  but  Greenland  had 
the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  opened  it  before  his  guests. 
The  ground  within  was  covered  with  young  com,  a  wild 
crop,  he  said,  that  grew  from  the  droppings  of  last  fall. 
Water  from  the  stream  was  ingeniously  introduced  by  a 
wooden  pipe  passing  through  the  fence,  but  not  to  be 
seen  on  the  outside,  for  the  block-house  had  been  ex- 
pected to  stand  sieges  in  its  time.  Thus  there  was  some 
provender  for  the  horses.  Jacob,  Philip,  and  the  Van- 
derslocks  exerted  themselves  to  get  supplies  for  the 
tired  and  hungry  creatures,  and  put  them  up  as  best  they 
could  in  the  only  outbuilding  that  existed  there — a  shed 
behind  the  house. 

"  I  takes  them  indoors  when  there's  few  on  them  in 
the  winter  time  ;  but  that  aint  the  case  now,  and  I  never 
does  the  like  before  ladies  ;  not  that  they  came  often  to 
Block-house  Hollow— that's  the  name  of  this  place;  you're 
the  first  I've  seen  in  it  for  five  years  past  last  Candle- 
mas," said  Greenland,  as  he  conducted  Constance  and 
Hannah  into  his  mansion,  of  which  the  woodsman  was 
not  a  little  proud.  It  consisted  of  one  large  room  with 
a  well-made  earthen  floor,  a  hearth  paved  with  tiles,  a 
wide  chimney,  and  two  very  small  windows.  There  was 
a  loft  above,  accessible  by  a  rough  step-ladder,  a  very 
,good  place,  the  master  said,  to  keep  bits  o'  stores  in,  and 
fire  out  of  on  the  IndHns  that  might  want  to  burn  the 
house  ;  but  the  high  piace  of  his  pride  was  a  small  room 
opening  from  the  large  one,  which  Greenland  called  his 
parlor.  He  showed  them  the  treasures  laid  up  there  ; 
they  consisted  of  a  chest  of  drawers  with  an  old  family 
Bible  on  top  :  "It  was  the  only  thing  saved,"  he  said, 
"when  the  French  Iroquois  burned  our  village— New 
Canaan,  they  called  it,  on  the  borders  of  Maine ;  my 
father  and  mother's  wedding-day  and  our  seven  birthdays 
is  entered  in  it.  There  was  not  a  livin'  soul  of  the  family 
left  but  myself,  for  I  happened  to  be  with  Amhurst's 
army  at  the  time."  Besides  the  drawers  and  the  Bible, 
there  was  a  rocking-chair  that  had  been  occupied  by  his 
grandmother.  The  one  small  window  was  draped  with 
a  French  officer's  cloak,  all  garnished  wdth  golden  lace, 
which  Greenland  had  obtained  somehow  before  he 
"  sloped  "  out  of  military  life.  A  pair  of  silver-mounted 
pistols  similarly  come  by,  and  a  china  teapot,  orna- 
mented a  small  mahogany  table  in  one  corner ;  and  in 
the  other,  as  his  crowning  triumph,  he  showed  them  a 
real  bedstead  made  of  oak  by  the  hands  of  old  Canoe. 
"  There,"  said  he  ;  "you  may  sleep  like  queens;  look, 
'tis  a  good  straw  mattress,  a  nice  bolster  of  good 


feathers,  mind,  and  two  red  blankets;  I  never  slept  in 
it  myself,  bein'  better  accustomed  to  dry  grass  beside 
the  kitchen  fire  ;  but  just  see  this,"  and  he  took  from 
one  of  the  drawers,  and  unfolded  for  their  admiration,  a 
patchwork  quilt  of  many-colored  stuffs,  cut  in  various 
shapes  and  artistically  sewn  together.  "It  took  five 
aunts  of  mine  to  make  that  quilt;  they  were  all  single 
when  they  began  it,  but  the  last  of  them  got  married  be- 
fore it  was  finished ;  there  was  no  old  maids  in  the 
country  then,  you  see.  Now,  ladies,  that's  all  the  fine 
things  that  I  have  to  show  you  ;  I  had  a  Sunday  suit  of 
store  clothes  in  them  drawers  once,  but  Tubal  Cain 
Jenkens,  down  in  Deluge  Town,  borrowed  them  to  get 
married  in,  and  next  momin',  before  he  was  up,  his 
brother  Noah  got  them  on,  started  off  to  see  his  friends 
in  New  York,  and  hasn't  been  heard  of  since.  Come 
along,  till  I  see  about  gettin'  something  for  the  supper." 

Greenland's  kitchen,  or  family  room,  was  not  over- 
furnished.  It  contained  a  deal  table,  a  settee  hewn  out 
of  the  trunk  of  an  oak,  some  square  logs  which  might 
be  sat  upon  or  burned  as  occasion  required,  a  pile  of 
dry  grass  in  one  of  the  chimney-comers,  and  a  heap  of 
firewood  in  the  other.  The  household  utensils  were 
equally  primitive ;  an  iron  pot  and  a  rude  spit,  an  old 
gridiron,  and  two  rasty  knives,  a  few  wooden  plates  and 
a  dish,  a  pewter  tankard  and  two  drinking  homs,  all 
arranged  on  one  shelf,  were  the  entire  supply,  and 
Greenland  said  "few  woodsmen  had  such  a  lot  o'  things 
to  set  before  folks."  He  went  up  to  his  store  in  the 
loft,  and  brought  down  a  bag  of  hard  biscuits,  a  quan- 
tity of  venison  and  trout  cured  by  the  smoke  of  green 
wood,  and  warranted  to  keep  for  years,  a  large  wooden 
bottle  of  cider,  and  a  dish  of  wild  honeycombs  in  fine 
preservation,  at  the  same  time  informing  them  that  he 
had  com  to  boil  and  flour  to  bake  up  there.  Hannah 
found  a  birch  broom  behind  the  door,  and  with  it  made 
the  floor  and  hearth  clean,  then  kindled  a  fire,  nnd 
spread  the  table,  Constance  assisting,  while  the  master 
of  the  house  went  out  to  help  the  men.  And  when  at 
last  their  ostler  work  was  done,  and  they  all  sat  round 
the  uncovered  board,  where  Hannah  said  the  grace  and 
distributed  the  fare  exactly  as  she  used  to  do  in  the 
parlor  at  the  Elms,  there  was  not  a  more  thankful  or 
cheerful  company  in  the  province  that  evening. 

"Ah,"  said  Greenland,  laying  down  the  biscuit  on 
which  he  had  been  making  mighty  way,  and  casting  an 
admiring  glance  at  the  Quakeress,  "it's  trae  what  my 
father  used  to  say,  '  No  man  has  got  a  home  except 
there's  a  woman  in  it.'  Here  we  are  all  set  and  sarved 
like  princes.  I  never  saw  such  a  fire  as  that  on  the 
block-house  hearth  before.  What  a  poor  comfusticated 
lot  we  would  have  been,  if  you  and  the  young  lady  had 
not  come  here,  mistress." 

Thou  art  right,  friend,"  said  Jacob  ;  "  the  Lord  him- 
self saw  that  it  was  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  even  in 
Eden  ;  and  for  mine  own  part,  I  have  never  seen  a 
bachelor  whose  life  was  to  be  admired  either  at  home  or 
abroad." 

The  prudent  Quakeress  said  nothing,  but  Constance, 
having  some  skill  in  such  matters,  took  note  that  Green- 
land ever  after  paid  her  particular  attentions,  and  took 
frequent  occasion  to  let  her  understand  how  well  he 
could  provide  for  a  wife. 

They  talked  over  the  strange  news  of  the  day — what 
the  travelers  had  seen  at  Lexington  and  heard  at  Bed- 
ford. How  little  the  events  which  so  mightily  moved 
the  land,  and  called  forth  its  men,  young  and  old  to 
arms,  told  on  the  quiet  spirits  seated  by  that  block-house 
fire,  differing  in  experience,  education,  and  everything, 
except  the  love  of  peace  and  the  horror  of  war. 

"Friend  Crossland,"  said  Jacob,  at  last,  "my  com- 
pany and  I  have  had  a  long  day's  travel,  and  would  fain 
retire  to  rest." 

"  Well,"  said  Greenland,  "  there's  a  nice  bed  for  the 
ladies  in  my  parlor,  plenty  of  dry  grass  for  us  men  folks 
to  sleep  on  here  beside  the  fire,  and  my  friends,  the 
Vanderslocks,  will  have  a  good  shake-down  behind  the 
wood,  yonder;  it's  a  real  warm  corner." 

"  Well  arranged,  friend  Crossland ;  if  thou  has  no  ob- 
jection, the  impression  is  on  my  mind  to  pray  with  thee 
and  thy  friends  before  we  all  go  to  sleep,  which  is,  in- 
deed, our  emblem  of  going  from  this  life  ;  or  wilt  thou 
pray  with  us  thyself?"  said  Jacob. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Quaker,  I'm  a  poor  hand 
in  the  religion  line.  My  father  was  a  Cameronian,  and 
kept  us  well  posted  up  in  the  Catechism  and  the  Confea- 


300 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


filon,  but  between  soldferln'  and  slopm',  pedlln',  and 
lumberin',  they  have  clean  slipped  out  o'  my  mind ;  only 
I  does  my  best  endeavor  to  fear  the  Lord  an'  keep  a  grip 
o'  the  Commandments.  Give  us  a  bit  of  prayer  your- 
fielf  ;  there'll  be  none  of  us  the  worse  for  it,"  said  Green- 
land. 

Thus  invited,  Jacob  officiated  as  the  woodman's  chap- 
lain. Afterwards  Greenland  went  out  to  see  that  all  was 
safe  and  bar  his  gate.  "  I  never  locks  it  when  I'm  at 
home ;  locks  may  go  wrong  with  a  man,  but  bars  can't," 
he  said ;  and  on  his  return  he  brought  his  guests  the 
gratifying  intelligence  that  the  rain  was  over,  and  the 
clear  sky  promised  fine  weather  for  the  coming  day.  In 
a  short  time  the  company  were  disposed  of  according  to 
their  host's  arrangement,  and  sleep  soon  fell  upon  the 
tired  travelers.  The  bed  assigned  to  Constance  and 
Hannah  in  Greenland's  private  parlor  was  singularly 
comfortable  and  well  kept  for  a  woodsman's  cabin. 
The  one  window  of  the  room  was  close  upon  it ;  and 
both  dropped  asleep,  lulled  by  the  murmur  of  the 
stream  that  flowed  past  that  side  of  the  block-house.  It 
was  a  long,  sound  slumber,  earned  by  a  day  of  travel  in 
the  wilds.  But  they  were  roused  from  it  when  the  day 
was  creeping  in  by  a  sound  which  Constance  had  never 
heard  before  and  never  afterwards  forgot — a  prolonged, 
shrill,  unearthly  yell— loud,  as  if  uttered  by  a  legion  of 
evil  spirits  ;  and  Hannah,  as  she  sprang  out  of  bed,  ex- 
claimed, "May  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us  ;  it  is  the 
Indian  war-whoop  1" 

CHAPTEE  XVIII. — MAIN-ROUGE  AND  HIS  FOLLOWERS. 

From  tales  related  by  her  father  and  old  neighbors  at 
the  Elms,  Constance  knew  what  a  signal  of  death  and 
destruction  the  Indian  war-whoop  was.  She  sprang  up 
also,  and  the  two  peeped  out  of  the  window,  which  was 
so  constructed  in  the  thick  log  wall  that  those  within 
could  see  without  being  seen.  A  glorious  morning  had 
broken  on  the  wooded  hills  and  the  wild  valley,  but  its 
light  showed  them  that  the  enclosure  around  the  house 
was  occupied  by  Indians,  arrayed  somewhat  like  the 
Mohawks,  and  fully  armed  with  rifle  and  tomahawk. 
Greenland's  gate  stood  wide  open,  some  active  members 
of  the  tribe  having  climbed  over  and  withdrawn  the 
bars,  thus  admitting  the  rest,  while  all  within  the  block- 
house were  asleep.  A  band  of  stem  old  warriors  had 
stationed  themselves  round  the  building,  with  their 
rifles  pointed  at  its  windows.  I  call  them  "rifles,"  as 
the  familiar  word  for  fire-arms  now-a-days,  but  in  truth 
they  were  ruder  and  "  smoothbore  "  weapons.  Beyond 
them  the  young  men  of  the  tribe  flourished  their  toma- 
hawks with  gestures  of  savage  fury ;  and  on  the  hill- 
side, just  above  the  stream,  another  group  were  busy 
kindling  a  fire. 

Constance  and  Hannah  flung  on  their  clothes,  and 
hurried  out  to  give  the  alarm  ;  but  the  men  were  all 
astir — indeed,  no  living  man  could  sleep  in  such  a  din, 
for  whoop  after  whoop  rose  from  without,  followed  by 
thundering  knocks  with  the  butt-ends  of  muskets  at  the 
door. 

"  It's  strong,"  said  Greenland,  "  and  will  stand  a  good 
deal  o'  cavin'.  What  brings  the  varmints  to  my  place, 
I  wonder  ?  I  never  had  a  quarrel  with  them,  and  their 
nearest  settlement  is  miles  away  on  the  borders  of  the 
Mohawk  country.  Howsomever  there's  mischief  in  their 
heads  when  they  open  their  throats  that  way  ;  but  I'm 
thankful  there's  two  rifles  here,  my  own  and  Vander- 
slock's.  I  wish  the  stock  of  powder  and  ball  was  bigger, 
but  it  ain't,  so  we  must  lose  nothing.  The  loopholes 
in  the  loft  will  give  us  the  best  aim.  I'm  a  pretty  good 
marksman  myself,  so  I'll  take  the  front  one.  Vander- 
slock's  a  good  shot— he'll  take  the  back,  I  know  ;  and 
Mr.  Quaker,  you  and  the  boy  could  blaze  away  with  the 
pistols  from  the  windows,  and  frighten  the  savages,  if 
you  did  no  more." 

"I  have  no  pistols,  friend,"  said  Jacob.  "I  hold  it 
contrary  to  a  Christian's  duty  to  carry  or  use  any 
weapons  of  the  kind,  for  if  his  Master  sees  good,  he  can 
deliver  him  from  all  danger,  and  if  not,  the  Lord's  will 
be  done.  Put  [  will  tell  thee  what  I  will  do  for  our 
common  defence,  which  is,  indeed,  the  safest  way,  seeing 
thy  munitions  of  war  are  but  scanty  •  I  will  parley  from 
this  window  with  the  chief  of  the  Indians,  for  I  know 
him  to  be  Main-rouge  a  raging  heathen  in  his  wrath,  but 
otherwise  just  and  reasonable  ;  since  thou  hast  no 
quarrel,  it  may  be  some  mistake  that  has  brought  thein 
here." 


Well,  ole  man,  it's  no  doubt  a  Christian  way  to  spend 
the  fag  end  o'  your  time,  and  there's  not  much  of  a 
better  chance  for  us  ;  but  while  you're  parleyin'  I'll  just 
get  ready  my  ritie.  Do  you  the  same,  Vacderslock  ;  and 
every  one  o'  you,  especially  the  ladies,  keep  well  awaj 
to  the  corners,  for  fear  o'  them  savages  firin'  straight  in 
when  he  opens  the  window." 

Undeterred  by  that  dangrer,  Jacob  opened  the  shuttei 
.of  a  small  unglazed  aperture  above  the  settle,  out  oi 
which  he  had  previously  taken  a  cautious  look,  and  said 
to  the  yelling  savages  in  a  quiet  tone,  "  Friends,  what  is 
your  business  here  ?"  Calm  courage  generally  com- 
mands the  respect  of  the  red  men.  Their  whoops 
ceased ;  their  ferocious  faces  turned  towards  Jacob. 
Some  of  them  pointed  their  rifles  at  him,  others  flourished 
their  tomahawks,  but  the  Quaker  did  not  shrink  ;  and  a 
man  of  larger  frame  than  most  of  the  Indian  race,  but  as 
gaunt  and  spare  as  they  commonly  are,  advanced  to 
parley  with  him.  His  buffalo  robe,  rich  in  its  rude  em- 
broidery, his  belt  made  of  silver  plates  and  scarlet 
leather,  and  the  number  of  weapons,  both  European  and 
Indian,  stuck  in  it,  the  superior  brilliancy  of  his  war- 

gaint,  and  the  peculiar  crown  of  feathers  with  which  his 
ead  was  decorated,  all  proclaimed  him  to  be  the  chief 
of  his  tribe,  the  redoubtable  Main-rouge. 

One  who  looked  on  that  Indian's  face  could  well  be- 
lieve Lieutenant  Gray's  account  of  him  ;  there  was  such 
a  look  of  iron  sternness  about  the  brow  and  mouth,  and 
such  concentrated  fire  in  the  deep-set  eyes.  Thick  as 
the  war-paint  was,  it  could  not  conceal  the  furrows 
which  a  hard  life,  or  hard  thoughts,  rather  than  time, 
had  made  there  ;  for  the  chief  was  still  upright,  active, 
and  sinewy  as  any  of  his  tribe." 

"  We  want  Major  Danby's  squaw,"  he  said,  after  a 
considerable  survey  of  Jacob. 

And  what  might  be  thy  business  with  her,  friend  ?" 
inquired  the  time-gaining  Quaker. 
"  Our  squaws  are  waiting  for  the  woman." 
The  haughty,  vindictive  malice  of  the  Indian's  look- 
and  the  yell  from  his  people  that  followed,  for  th^ 
moment  appalled  even  Jacob. 

"Major  Danby's  squaw  is  not  here,  and  we  know 
nothing  about  her,"  he  said.  "  We  are  travelers  from 
Boston,  who  have  lost  our  way,  and  taken  shelter  in  the 
block-house  for  the  night." 

"Do  you  keep  a  store  of  big  lies  ready  to  tell  Indians  ?" 
said  Main-rouge. 

"  I  am  one  of  Penn's  people,  friend. "  And  Jacob  made 
a  large  display  of  his  drab  coat.  "  Didst  thou  ever  know 
any  of  them  to  tell  the  Indian  lies  ? 

"  No  ;  but  let  me  see  the  woman  you  have  with  you," 
said  the  unconvinced  chief. 

It  was  now  plain  for  whom  the  party  were  mistaken 
by  the  vengeful  red  men ;  and  by  Jacob's  advice,  Jon- 
stance,  Hannah,  and  the  frau  at  once  stood  up  on  the 
settle,  where  their  faces  could  be  most  plainly  seen 
through  the  little  window.  The  Indians  crowded  io  the 
spot,  and  gazed  up  at  them,  but  a  general  head-shaking 
and  look  of  disappointment  announced  that  their  eager 
pursuit  was  foiled,  for  fortunately  neither  Constance  nor 
Hannah  in  the  least  resembled  Major  Danby's  squaw. 

The  next  moment  hoarse  voices  spoke  out  among  the 
Wampanoags.  They  were  evidently  suggesting  that  the 
woman  wanted  was  hidden  in  the  house,  fOx  every  eye 

flared  with  savage  indignation — every  hand  brandished 
atchet  or  rifle,  and  another  war-whoop  burst  from  all 
the  warriors  except  Main-rouge  himself.  He  stood 
gazing  on  Constance  with  such  fixed  earnestness,  that  in 
spite  of  her  resolution  not  to  seem  afraid,  the  girl 
trembled  in  every  limb. 
"  Whose  squaw  are  you  ?"  he  said  at  length. 
"I  am  nobody's  squaw;  I  am  not  married,  chief," 
said  poor  Constance. 

"Whose  daughter  are  you,  then?"  and  the  Indian 
came  close  up  to  the  window.  „ 
"I  am  the  daughter  of  Squire Delamere,  of  the  Elms," 
said  Constance.  ^  x 

"  The  great  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Hoosac  hills  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  The  same,"  she  said  ;  and  was  about  to  step  down 
vvrhen  the  Indian  made  an  urgent  sign  for  her  to  stay. 

"Listen;"  and  he  spoke  slowly.  "Twenty  winters 
ago,  when  I  was  with  Montcalm  and  his  people  among 
the  Great  Lakes,  and  all  the  warriors  of  our  tribe  were 
with  me,  the  Mohawks,  who  had  taken  up  the  hatchet 
for  the  Enelish,  fell  upon  our  settlement.   All  the  wo- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


301 


men  and  children  who  could  get  away  fled  to  the  borders 

of  Massachusetts,  the  land  that  was  once  our  own  ;  and 
my  wife  and  her  five  little  ones  wandered  as  far  as  the 
banks  of  the  Connecticut.  There  your  father  found  them 
^  shivering  under  a  tree  one  day,  when  the  snow  was  fall- 

ing fast.  He  knew  I  loved  the  French  and  hated  the 
English  ;  but  he  took  my  wife  and  children  home  to  his 
house,  kept  them  at  free  living,  and  suffered  none  of  his 
people  to  deal  unkindly  with  them,  till  I  and  my  war- 
riors came  back,  and  drove  the  Mohawks  out  of  our 
settlement.  Then  he  sent  them  safely  to  me,  loaded 
with  blankets  and  stuffs,  bread  and  white  man's  meat, 
and  guarded  by  his  men,  that  no  enemy  might  find  them 
by  the  way  ;  and  then  I  swore  that  if  ever  he  or  his  came 
to  want  or  extremity,  I  would  help  and  stand  by  them, 
though  they  had  killed  my  father.  Therefore  fear 
nothing ;  you  are  Delamere's  daughter— your  face  tells 
me  so,  and  Delamere's  daughter  is  mine." 

He  turned  and  spoke  in  their  own  language  to  the 
warriors,  who  had  by  this  time  silently  gathered  round 
him  ;  for  some  of  them  understood  English,  though  the 
greater  part  did  not. 

"My  noble  father,"  said  Constance,  while  the  tears 
sprang  to  her  eyes,  "from  how  many  voices  have  I 
heard  of  your  generous  deeds  !" 

"Yes,  my  daughter,"  said  the  Quaker;  "and  the 
bread  he  cast  on  those  wild  waters  so  long  ago  seems 
returning  this  day  to  benefit  not  only  his  child,  but,  it 
may  be,  our  whole  company," 

As  Jacob  spoke,  a  strong  odor  of  burning  wood  began 
to  fill  the  house  ;  there  was  a  crackling  sound  some- 
where above,  and  a  yell  of  triumph  came  from  the  hill- 
side. The  youths  who  kindled  the  fire  there  had  been 
amusing  themselves  unobserved  and  unchecked  all  the 
time  of  the  parley  by  flinging  blazing  brands  at  the  roof 
of  the  block-house.  Many  had  fallen  short,  but  the  aim 
was  at  last  successful.  Greenland  went  up  to  the  loft 
to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  rushed  down  with  the 
intelligence  that  the  roof  was  in  flames,  and  the  old  place 
would  burn  like  tinder.  With  that  announcement  he 
unbarred  the  door,  and  every  one  made  the  best  of  their 
way  out,  for  the  smoke  was  now  suffocating.  Green- 
land darted  back  for  his  rifle  and  family  Bible — there  was 
no  time  to  save  anything  else.  The  burning  roof  fell  in 
upon  the  loft,  the  loft  fell  into  the  rooms  below,  a  shower 
of  sparks  and  a  column  of  flame  went  up  to  the  morning 
sky,  and  the  comfortable,  substantial  block-house,  with 
all  its  owner's  treasured  chattels,  was  a  burning  mass 
that  must  soon  be  reduced  to  ashes.  The  sight  of  it 
woke  up  the  destructive  instincts  of  the  Indian  tribe, 
with  the  exception  of  Main-rouge  and  a  few  old  warriors 
who  stood  apart,  looking  on  the  scene  with  haughty  un- 
concern. The  entire  band  danced  round  the  blazing 
"building  with  the  most  frightful  yells  and  brandishing 
of  weapons,  which,  however,  they  did  not  turn  upon  the 
whites,  but  allowed  the  men  to  get  tho  horses  and  their 
traveling  gear  out  of  the  shed,  while  Constance  and 
Hannah,  at  a  sign  from  the  c  ief,  reti  safety  be- 

hind him  and  his  company.  The  frau  followed  their 
example,  but  nobody — not  even  Greenland,  who  knew 
the  surrounding  wilds — made  the  slightest  attempt  to 
escape,  for  they  knew  it  would  be  worse  than  useless. 
The  Indian  never  loses  an  opportunity  of  carrying  away 
captive  or  hostage  for  whom  ransom  may  be  exacted  or 
claims  enforced.  The  excited  plebeians  and  the  composed 
patricians  had  the  same  watchful  eye  upon  them. 

The  w^l;i  dance  went  on  for  some  time,  getting  more 
furiously  triumphant  at  every  crash  of  the  burning  walls, 
till  the  chief,  thinking  his  followers  had  been  suflflciently 
indulged  in  their  taste  for  mischief,  issued  his  m^-^'ching 
orders,  which  were  directly  obeyed. 

A  couple  of  powerful  Indians  disarmed  Vanderslock 
and  Greenland  of  their  rifles,  but  left  the  latter  his  Bible. 
"I  knew  it  was  the  only  thing  the  varmints  wouldn't 
take  from  me,  and  may-be  the  best  worth  savin',"  he 
said,  in  after  moralizing.  The  tribe  had  a  sort  of  re- 
spect for  the  book  he  carried  so  carefully,  supposing  it 
to  be  the  "white  man's  medicine,"  or  amulet,  and  by 
way  of  security,  passed  round  it,  under  Greenland's 
arm,  the  strong  bark  rope,  with  which  they  bound  his 
right  and  the  Dutchman's  left  together,  knowiug  that, 
attached  to  such  a  figure  as  Vanderslock,  it  was  not 
possible  for  the  active  woodsman  to  run  away.  Con- 
stance, Philip,  and  the  Quaker,  with  Hannah  behind 
him,  were  allowed  their  horses.  The  frau  got  posses- 
sion of  her  husband's  shaggy  steed,  and  rode  triumoh- 


ant  on  his  saddle  with  a  stout  basket  of  household  gooda 
before  her  ;  but  they  rode  in  single  file,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  red  man's  march.  There  was  always  an  Indian 
or  two  close  by  every  bridle,  and  thus  the  luckless  com- 
pany set  forth  from  the  Block-house  Hollow  across  the 
wild  and  wooded  hills  to  the  Wampanoag  settlement,  on 
the  borders  of  the  Mohawk  country. 

At  the  same  hour,  Caleb  Sewell  and  three  of  Jacob's 
men  set  out  on  their  backward  way  to  search  and  inquire 
for  the  missing  four.  The  rest  of  the  party,  though, 
like  them,  driven  aside  by  the  onward  rush  of  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys  and  the  blinding  hailstorm,  had  under 
Caleb's  guidance  regained  the  path,  and  proceeded  for 
some  distance  before  they  missed  their  companions. 
When  about  to  turn  and  seek  for  them,  the  report  of  a 
traveler  whom  they  chanced  to  meet,  and  who  had  seen 
persons  answering  to  their  description  far  ahead,  made 
them  push  on.  They  reached  Harmony  at  the  fall  of 
night,  but  found  that  their  friends  had  not  arrived  there, 
and  the  wagons  had  gone  forward.  The  men  in  charge 
of  them  having  heard  the  news  of  the  insurrection, 
thought  it  best  to  get  out  of  the  disturbed  province  as 
soon  as  they  could. 

Caleb  and  his  company  stayed  at  the  Quaker  village 
for  the  night,  the  rest  remained  there  all  the  next  day, 
while  he  and  his  three  assistants  rode  over  the  ground 
they  had  traversed  as  far  as  Bedford,  inquiring  in  every 
direction  for  the  lost  travellers.  No  certain  intelligence 
of  them  could  be  obtained,  but  from  vague  accounts 
which  they  had  of  some  such  people  being  seen  on  the 
public  road  and  at  village  inns,  the  searchers  concluded 
that  their  missing  ones  were  still  before  them  ;  and  after 
another  night's  rest  in  Harmony,  the  company  continued 
their  journey,  inquiring  and  advertising  for  the  four  at 
every  stage,  but  inquiring  and  advertising  in  vain,  for 
they  had  mistaken  the  wrong  path  for  the  right  one,  and 
in  traveling,  as  in  life,  such  mistakes  are  apt  to  have 
serious  consequences. 

CHAPTER  XIX. — LIFE  IN  AN  INDIAN  VILLAGE. 

In  those  days  the  province  of  New  York  had  two- 
trongly  contrasted  divisions.  Its  seaward  side,  in- 
habited by  the  descendants  of  Dutch,  French,  and  Eng- 
lish colonists,  was  the  seat  of  cultivation,  wealth,  and 
commerce,  rivalling  those  of  the  mother-country ;  but 
its  inland  and  largest  half  was  the  territory  of  the  Six 
Nations,  those  remnants  of  the  aboriginal  race  who  had 
sought  refuge  in  that  central  land  from  the  white  man's 
advance  on  north  and  south,  and  maintained  there  the 
rude  independence  and  primitive  fashions  of  their 
fathers. 

The  summer  tourist,  in  his  wanderings  among  the 
highlands  of  the  Upper  Hudson,  still  meets  with  many 
a  memorial  of  the  long-banished  people,  besides  the 
beautiful  river  that  bears  the  Mohawk's  name  ;  but  at 
the  time  of  our  story  every  tribe  had  its  own  settlement 
or  village.  That  of  the  Wampanoags  lay  nearest  to  the 
Massachusetts  frontier,  and  hither  Main-rouge  and  his 
followers  hastened  with  their  prizes. 

It  was  a  fatiguing  march  for  the  whites  and  their  poor 
horses,  hurried  through  the  rough  and  tangled  ways  of 
a  forest  land,  on  which  it  seemed  that  no  axe  had  been 
lifted — for  clearing  or  human  habitation  there  was  none  ; 
with  no  rest  allowed  but  a  short  time  at  noon,  on  a 
grassy  spot  where  a  living  spring  gleamed  and  bubbled 
up  at  the  root  of  a  giant  tree.  There  the  Indians  drank 
water  and  dozed  on  the  grass,  with  some  always  wide- 
awake and  keeping  watch  over  the  spoil.  Long  and 
very  quick  marches  are  the  fashion  with  most  barbarous 
races.  When  the  sun  began  to  decline,  they  were  all 
afoot  once  more,  and  through  the  cool,  clear  night  their 
silent  march  went  on,  for  Indians  rarely  speak  in  transit ; 
but  the  morning  was  well  advanced  before  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  settlement.  It  was  an  open  valley,  sur- 
rounded by  low  and  grassy  hills,  with  wood-crowned 
heights  beyond  them.  The  village  stood  in  its  centre, 
on  the  banks  of  a  winding  stream  ;  the  morning  sun  was 
shining  on  the  pleasant  hills,  on  the  low  roofs,  and  on 
the  laughing  waters  ;  and  as  they  descended  the  beaten 
path  that  led  from  the  uplands  to  the  valley,  the  whole 
scene  looked  so  pastoral  and  peaceful,  that  it  reminded 
Constance  of  the  shepherd  life  and  Arcadian  vales  of 
which  old  poets  sung. 

The  fair  fancy  was  quickly  dispelled.  Scarcely  had 
they  come  within  hearing  distance,  when  a  whoop,  more 
shrill  and  discordant  than  that  of  the  warriors  round  the 


302 


THE  G ROWING  WORLD. 


block-house,  burst  from  tlie  village,  and  out  of  it  came 
rashing  a  band  of  hags,  withered,  wizened,  and  wicked- 
looking  enough  for  witches  about  to  begin  some  venge- 
ful spell,  and  every  one  flourishing  a  birch-rod,  that 
might  have  met  the  requirements  of  any  of  the  old 
school  teachers,  by  whom  that  instrument  was  believed 
to  play  an  important  part  in  the  improvement  of  the 
youthful  mind.  These  were  the  ladies  said  to  be  in 
waiting  for  Mrs.  Major  Danby  ;  and  Jacob's  reflection  on 
the  bread  which  Delamere  had  cast  on  the  wild  waters 
was  soon  proved  to  be  true.  Indian  indignation  will 
vent  itself  on  the  first  of  the  offender's  race  it  can  reach  ; 
and  the  interesting  company  yelled  and  flourished  their 
birches  at  Constance  and  Hannah  in  a  style  which  made 
evident  that  one  white  woman  would  serve  their  turn  as 
well  as  another. 

Before  they  could  get  suflaciently  near  to  do  any 
damage,  the  chief  stopped  their  progress  with  an  im- 
perious gesture  and  some  words  of  command,  which  his 
warriors  seconded  by  each  addressing  his  liege  lady  in  a 
similar  manner ;  whereon  the  gentle  fair  ones,  looking 
considerably  disappointed,  but  without  a  word,  after  the 
fashion  of  Indian  women,  retired  to  their  domestic 
affairs,  and  Main-rouge  and  his  followers  entered  the 
village.  A  curious  sight  it  was  for  the  party  of  whites, 
now  relieved  from  apprehensions  of  immediate  danger, 
to  see  the  wigwams  of  which  it  was  composed,  low, 
brown  and  weather-stained,  half  tents,  half  houses, 
made  partly  of  timber  and  partly  of  prepared  skins,  with- 
out chimneys  or  glazed  windows,  the  smoke  making  its 
egress  by  a  hole  in  the  roof,  and  the  light  finding  en- 
trance by  open  slits  in  the  wall.  Yet,  for  the  require- 
ments of  Indian  life,  they  were  not  uncomfortable 
homes  ;  there  was  no  appearance  of  want  or  squalor 
about  them.  Robust  red  children  played  at  every  open 
door ;  women  were  busy  about  the  fires  within ;  savory 
odors  of  venison  and  wild  fowl  in  progress  of  cooking 

Cervaded  the  atmosphere  ;  all  round  the  village  a  broad 
elt  of  growing  corn,  with  scarcely  a  fence  or  landmark 
to  divide  the  fields,  gave  promise  that  bread  would  be 
plenty  among  them  before  the  next  fall ;  and  beyond  it, 
horses  and  cattle  in  considerable  numbers  grazed  on  the 
abundant  herbage  of  the  valley.  The  Wampanoags 
were  well-to-do,  according  to  their  wants  and  ways  ;  and 
looking  on  that  prosperous  though  secluded  settlement, 
one  might  have  guessed  how  things  went  with  tribes  of 
the  western  world  before  the  white  man's  foot,  and  all 
the  ills  which  that  ominous  "plant"  predicted,  were 
known  upon  the  soil.  ' 

*'  Welcome  home,  ray  daughter,"  said  the  chief,  as  he 
assisted  Constance  from  her  saddle  at  the  door  of  his 
own  wigwam,  with  courtesy  scarcely  to  be  expected  from 
an  old  warrior  of  the  red  race.  Welcome  home  ;  and 
fear  nothing,  you  or  your  friends,  for  neither  man  nor 
woman  shall  lift  a  hand  against  you  and  he  gallantly 
handed  her  in,  giving  Jacob  and  Hannah  a  sign  to  follow, 
and  by  a  similar  motion  committing  the  Vanderslocks 
and  Greenland  to  the  charge  of  some  of  his  followers, 
doubtless  known  to  be  trusty  and  discreet.  His  dwelling 
was  worthy  of  an  Indian  chief.  The  premises  properly 
consisted  of  three  wigwams,  the  principal  being  in  the 
centre,  and  the  inferior  one  on  each  side  of  it.  They 
were  for  the  accommodation  of  his  retinue.  Some  of 
them  were  hired  people,  but  the  greater  part  were  slaves 
—captives  taken  in  war  with  other  tribes — and  many  of 
them  sent  as  presents  to  him  by  friendly  chiefs  ;  but 
their  exact  number  his  white  prizes  never  knew. 

The  hired  men  did  his  hunting  business,  and  brought 
home  from  the  abundantly-stocked  woods,  venison,  bison 
meat,  and  wild  fowl  enough  to  supply  his  ample  house- 
hold ;  the  rest  did  all  manner  of  work  without  and  with- 
in doors,  and  being  slaves,  the  men  were  expected  to  do 
as  much  as  the  women,  with  which  exception  all  differ- 
ence between  the  faring  of  free  and  bond  man  ended. 

The  central  wigwam  was  the  private  residence  of  Main- 
rouge,  and  a  princely  mansion  of  the  kind  it  was,  con- 
sisting of  a  great  hall,  with  a  fireplace  at  the  upper  end, 
and  several  smaller  apartments  partitioned  off  on  either 
side  by  curtains  of  skin,  so  thick  and  well-secured  that 
they  formf.d  very  go^d  substitutes  for  our  lath  and 
plaster. 

That  hall  was  the  place  of  state,  of  council,  and  of 
feasting*  there  the  ehief  sat  in  Indian  splendor,  on  a 
low  log  settle,  covered  with  a  bearskin,  wearing  his 
embroidered  robe,  bis  wampum  belt,  a:: J  his  moccasins, 
coverf  d  with  beads  4nd  shells,  to  receive  visits  of  cere- 


mony from  the  chiefs  of  other  tribes  or  tlie  agents  of 
white  authorities,  to  give  judgment  in  cases  of  dispute 
or  accusation  among  his  people,  and  to  hold  high  festival 
in  celebration  of  some  glorious  victory  or  advantageous 
marriage. 

He  skt  there  now,  not  in  such  solemn  state,  but  with 
his  white  guests,  for  the  three  were  treated  as  such.  His 
attendants  spread  a  liberal  table  before  them.  It  was 
simply  a  board  supported  by  uprights  and  trestles,  but 
heaped  with  the  best  of  Indian  fare  ;  and  having  spread 
it,  they  retired  to  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  where 
they  squatted  on  the  floor  till  the  great  people  had 
finished,  and  then  shared  the  remnants  of  the  feast 
among  themselves.  The  red  man  does  nothing — at  least 
in  a  friendly  way — without  time  and  ceremony.  It  was 
not  till  they  had  eaten  the  morning  meal  together,  and 
he  had  made  them  a  short  speech,  setting  forth  how 
welcome  they  were  to  his  wigwam,  that  the  chief  in- 
quired of  Jacob  if  Hannah  was  his  squaw,  what  relation 
he  was  to  Squire  Delamere  and  his  daughter,  where  t!\e 
arty  were  going  when  they  rested  for  the  night  at  the 
lock-house.    This  was  the  opportunity  for  which  the 

Erudent  Quaker  had  waited.  Trading  with  the  Indiana 
ad  given  him  some  knowledge  of  their  character  al- 
ways, and  he  at  once  replied  to  the  chief's  questions, 
with  full  particulars  regarding  himself  and  his  com- 
panions. "  Thou  perceivest,"  he  added,  that  I  am  thus 
separated  from  my  wife  and  daughter,  my  friends  and 
servants,  not  to  speak  of  my  household  goods,  which 
were  sent  on  before  ;  that  Delamere's  daughter  and  the 
boy  Philip,  who  is  her  page,  and  Delamere's  house- 
keeper, this  honest  woman,  whose  name  is  Hannah 
Armstrong,  were  all  placed  under  my  charge  by  himself 
before  he  went  on  the  war-path,  because  of  the  loving 
friendship  that  was  between  us,  and  that  it  behoves  me 
to  guide  them  safely  to  Philadelphia,  and  keep  them  in 
my  house  there  supplied  with  all  things  necessary  till  he 
returns.  W^herefore  I  beseech  thee,  for  the  sake  of 
Delamere,  and  thy  remembrance  of  his  good  deeds 
done  to  thy  family,  to  agree  with  me  on  the  tefrms  of 
ransom  for  us  all,  and  be  sure  that  whatsoever  thou 
askest  in  reason  I  will  pay.  Let  some  of  thy  people 
accompany  us  to  the  borders  of  Pennsylvania — for  truly 
we  know  not  this  country — or  let  them  go  onward  with 
us  to  the  city  and  receive  the  ransom." 

"I  will  take  no  ransom  for  Delamere's  daughter  or 
Delamere's  friends  ;  he  took  none  for  my  wife  and  five 
children  when  I  was  on  the  war-path  against  his  people  ; 
they  shall  dwell  in  my  wigwams  and  share  my  venison 
till  such  times  as  I  can  send  them  with  fitting  guides  and 
guards  to  Philadelphia  ;  for  the  Six  Nations  are  disturbed 
concerning  what  side  they  should  take  in  the  di&pute 
between  King  George  and  the  people  of  the  land ;  other 
tribes  are  remembering  their  ancient  battles  and  enmities, 
and  the  Mingoes  have  already  taken  up  the  hatchet." 

They  all  thanked  him,  but  he  cut  their  acknowledge- 
ments short  with  the  stately  courtesy  of  an  Indian  chief, 
saying  to  Constance  in  particular :  "  You  are  young,  and 
think  only  of  the  present ;  but  I  remember  the  past,  and 
the  six  that  shivered  under  the  tree  in  the  falling  snow." 

"Are  they  all  with  you  yet,  chief?"  she  ventured  to 
say,  for  her  curiosity  on  the  point  had  been  roused  by 
seeing  an  old  dame,  as  withered  and  as  wizened  as  any 
of  the  ladies  with  the  birch,  superintending  things  in 
general  about  the  wigwam. 

"No,"  said  Main-rouge;  "they  are  all  in  the  spirit 
country;  the  wife  that  loved  me,  the  four  sons  that 
fought  by  mj  side,  and  the  daughter  that  was  the  light 
of  my  days.  I  kindled  the  night  fire  for  one  after  an- 
other, to  light  them  on  their  journey  to  the  happy 
hunting-ground ;  but  I  kindled  none  for  he:.  ;  she  died 
far  beyond  the  great  waters  ;  my  daughter  married  a 
Frenchman,  and  went  with  him  to  his  father's  land. 
They  made  much  of  her  there ;  she  had  all  things  rich 
and  fine  ;  but  in  their  great  towns  and  lofty  nouses  she 
pined  for  the  woods,  and  so  departed  early  on  that 
journey  which  all  the  living  must  take." 

Main-rouge — his  own  name  was  Masotes,  but  he 
dropped  it  for  the  more  distinguished  title — was  a  re- 
markable man  in  his  day. 

Like  the  famous  King  Philip,  whom  he  reckoned 
among  his  ancestors,  he  had  received  an  English  educa- 
tion, being  sent  to  New  York  for  that  purpose,  when 
very  young,  by  his  father.  The  old  chief  had  been 
always  friendly  to  the  English,  and  a  great  admirer  of 
their  arts  and  learning,  yet  his  son,  to  whom  such  oppor- 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


303 


lunities  of  acquiring  both  were  given,  not  only  returned 
to  Indian  life  and  habits,  but  tool?  the  French  side  m  the 
succeeding  war,  and  proved  faithful  to  the  cause  he  had 
adopted  even  when  it  was  ruined.  The  choice  had  been 
disastrous  to  himself  and  his  people,  yet  no  chief  had 
greater  authority  over  his  tribe,  or  was  held  in  higher 
respect  by  the  Six  Nations  for  wisdom,  valor,  and  faith- 
fulness to  covenant  or  treaty,  and  doubtless  he  woiAd 
have  honorably  kept  his  promise  to  the  three,  but  for 
one  of  those  temptations  of  family  interest  and  affection 
which  at  times  prove  too  strong  for  the  red  man  as  well 
as  for  the  white. 

He  kept  it  well.  In  the  mean  time,  had  Constance 
been  the  only  daughter  of  the  redoubtable  Red-hand,  she 
could  not  have  experienced  more  kindness  and  consider- 
ation. Tke  chief  himself,  having  some  remembrance 
of  the  attentions  to  which  white  ladies  were  a'-customed, 
would  gallantly  hand  her  to  a  seat  by  his  side  on  the 
bearskin-covered  settle,  and  divide  with  his  own  red 
hands  her  portion  of  the  best  with  which  his  board  was 
furnished.  Jacob  and  Hannah  were  scarcely  less  dis- 
tinguished in  the  wigwam.  Philip,  for  being  her  page, 
was  admitted  to  a  place  in  the  hall.  Greenland  and 
Vanderslock  were  unbound,  and  they,  together  with 
frau,  being  known  to  be  strangers  and  lumberers,  were 
made  free  of  the  inferior  dwellings  as  humble  but  wel- 
come guests.  The  little  company  thus  felt  themselves 
safe  among  the  savage  tribe,  with  whom  their  chief's 
word  was  law ;  and  though  much  dissatisfaction  had 
prevailed  in  the  village  because  his  expedition  furnished 
no  sacrifice  for  the  Indian  Nemesis,  yet  th«  whole  popu- 
lation, finding  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind  to  be  had, 
at  once  got  reconciled  to  the  strangers. 

They  were  making  themselves  at  home  in  the  new 
society,  where  it  was  evident  their  sojourn  might  be  for 
some  time,  when  one  morning  a  great  bustle  throughout 
^he  village,  and  shouts  not  unlike  the  war-whoop,  an- 
\iounced  some  distinguished  arrival.  Constance  looked 
out  among  the  rest,  and  saw  that  it  was  a  Mohawk 
chief,  with  an  ample  following  of  warriors  in  full 
array ;  but  that  chief  was  no  other  than  Kashutan,  the 
handsome  Indian  whom  she  had  once  mistaken  for 
Sydney  Archdale.  The  discovery  was  not  cheering 
under  present  circumstances.  Moreover,  she  perceived, 
at  the  same  instant,  that  the  young  Mohawk  had  caught 
sight  of  herself,  and  recognised  her,  too,  though  he  be- 
trayed no  sign  of  the  like  among  the  warriors.  Yet, 
when  the  ceremonious  greetings  with  which  Main-rouge 
and  his  people  welcomed  their  visitors  were  finished,  and 
the  most  distinguished  were  thronging  into  the  hall,  the 
old  chief  conducted  him  to  the  retired  corner  where  she 
had  taken  her  seat,  and  said,  "  This  is  my  nephew  ;  his 
name  is  Kashutan  ;  he  is  the  son  of  Shingis,  chief  of  the 
Puma  tribe  of  Mohawks,  whose  fame  is  known  to  the 
Six  Nations  and  all  the  pale  faces  in  this  land." 

Miss  Dalamere  dropped  a  deep  curtsey,  and  said  she 
was  happy  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman  so 
distinguished.  The  young  Mohawk  made  the  same 
graceful  bow  with  which  he  had  stepped  out  of  her  way 
in  Harbor  street,  and  said  some  words  which  his  uncle 
interpreted  to  mean  that  the  sight  of  her  face  was  as 
pleasant  to  him  as  the  sunshine  after  rain. 

"  These  are  his  warriors,"  continued  old  Red-hand, 
introducing  the  formidable  array  that  now  filled  the  hall, 
and  he  made  them  a  short  speech,  setting  forth,  as  Con- 
stance afterwards  learned,  her  father's  rank  and  wealth 
and  her  own  prospects  of  inheriting  his  large  estate. 

The  Mohawks  were  reckoned,  not  only  the  handsomest 
and  most  ferocious,  but  also  the  most  polite  of  the  Six 
Nations,  and  in  those  respects  all  their  tribes  were  said 
to  be  excelled  by  that  of  the  Puma,  or  American  tiger, 
the  special  patron  of  Kashutan  and  his  people,  for,  as 
the  knightly  orders  of  the  middle  ages  selected  their 
patrons  from  among  the  canonized,  the  clans  of  red  men 
found  theirs  among  the  wild  dwellers  of  their  native 
forests.  Moreover,  they  were  best  acquainted  with 
white  manners  and  customs,  having  been  the  faithful 
allies  of  the  English  for  almost  a  century,  and  constantly 
engaged  in  trade  with  their  merchants  or  agents.  The 
entire  company  did  reverence  to  the  squire's  daughter. 
It  might  have  been  observed  that  the  younger  braves 
bowed  much  the  lowest,  and  those  who  had  English 
enough  said,  "  Wish  the  missy  a  good  day  "  Constance 
made  the  best  acknowledgments  she  could  think  of,  and 
all  parties  seemed  satisfied  that  the  correct  thing  had 
been  done  ;  but  the  peculiar  etiquette  of  these  gentry  of 


the  wilderness  was  exemplified  when  the  chief  presented 
.lis  less  notable  guests,  including  their  familiar  acquaint- 
mce,  Jacob  Stoughton.  They  went  through  the  whole 
-ceremonial  of  introduction  with  as  much  solemn  formal- 
ity as  if  one  of  them  had  never  seen  the  Quaker  before  ; 
but  when  it  was  finished  Kashutan  and  several  of  his 
warriors  shook  hands  with  him  in  the  most  friendly 
manner;  and  some  of  them  inquired,  in  tolerable  Eng- 
lish, after  his  fellow-merchants,  with  whom  they  had 
traded  in  Boston. 

CHAPTER  XX. — THE  MOHAWK'S  WOOING. 

The  Mohawks  had  come  on  one  of  those  long  visits  of 
half-pleasure,  half-business,  which  the  braves  of  friendly 
tribes  are  apt  to  pay  to  each  other  in  critical  times. 
Councils  were  to  be  held  on  the  subject  of  which  side 
their  united  forces  should  lake  in  the  strife  which 
threatened  to  divide  the  American  continent.  There 
was  also  a  good  deal  of  hunting  and  feasting  to  be  done, 
the  former  necessarOy  preceding  the  latter,  as  so  large 
an  influx  of  guests  required  extra  provisions,  and  aU 
supplies  were  brought  from  the  woods.  Their  young 
chief  had  also  a  private  affair  to  transact  in  his  uncle's 
territory.  His  meeting  with  Constance  there  was  no 
doubt  unexpected.  While  the  braves  of  both  tribes 
were  preparing  to  set  forth  on  a  grand  hunt,  she  saw  him 
and  the  old  chief  in  earnest  consultation  behind  the  wig- 
wam, where  there  was  both  shade  and  space.  Main- 
rouge  appeared  to  be  hesitating  about  something  on 
which  his  nephew's  heart  was  set,  judging  from  the  per- 
suasive eagerness  of  the  young  man's  address ;  but  at 
length  it  seemed  that  the  uncle  was  won  over  to  his 
views,  and  the  matter  settled  between  them. 

The  braves  were  gone  a-hun ting  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  and  when  they  returned  towards  evening  well 
provided  with  game,  they  sat  smoking  in  groups  before 
every  wigwam,  while  the  squaws  prepared  the  feast. 
When  the  feast  had  been  spread  and  done  justice  to, 
and  pipes  and  talk  again  occupied  the  warriors  around 
the  evening  fires,  Constance  was  sitting  alone,  in  a  sort 
of  natural  arbor  formed  by  a  drooping  tree,  in  that 
same  shady  space  where  the  uncle  and  nephew  had  held 
their  conference.  The  chief's  people  had  constructed  a 
mossy  seat  for  her  there  ;  it  was  a"  more  pleasant  place 
of  retirement  than  her  own  small  chamber  in  the  warm 
season  which  had  now  set  in,  and  some  such  place  was 
requisite  for  a  white  lady  in  an  Indian  settlement  where 
no  drawing-room  society  could  be  expected.  She  sat 
there,  in  the  soft  and  scented  twilight  of  May,  thinking 
of  her  old  home  at  the  Elms,  of  her  father,  and  of  Syd- 
ney Archdale,  when  something  like  the  rustling  of  leaves 
made  her  look  up,  and  close  at  her  side  she  saw  the 
young  Mohawk  with  his  belt  full  of  kni-ves,  his  hatchet 
in  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  earnestly  bent  on  her.  It  was 
by  a  great  effort  of  prudence  that  Constance  kept  her 
seat  f  she  had  been  warned  by  both  Hannah  and  the 
Quaker  not  to  appear  frightened  at  any  extraordinary 
movements  on  the  part  of  the  Indians,  due  to  theii 
savage  instincts.  She  therefore  sat  still,  and  tried  to 
look  as  if  nothing  had  happened  ;  but  it  was  diflicult  to 
do  when  the  Mohawk  stepped  out  before  her  and  com- 
menced at  once  a  dance  and  a  song.  The  dance  was  at 
first  slow  and  monotonous,  and  the  song  low  and  plain- 
tive, as  if  it  told  some  sad  and  tender  tale  in  the  liquid 
words  of  his  Indian  tongue.  But  the  one  increased  in 
rapidity  and  the  other  in  volume,  till  the  dance  was  a 
succession  of  bounds  and  the  song  a  continuation  of 
whoops ;  while  at  at  the  same  time  Kashutan  pulled 
knife  after  knife  from  his  belt  and  flung  them  about  in 
the  most  furious  fashion  with  his  left  hand,  and  with  his 
right  flourished  the  hatchet  on  all  sides,  his  teeth  gnash- 
ing, and  his  eyes  glaring  like  miniature  furnaces ;  till 
poor  Constance,  believing  that  her  hour  was  come,  and 
too  much  terrified  to  attempt  to  escape — which,  indeed, 
would  have  been  useless — leant  back  on  the  seat  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  liands.  All  at  once,  however, 
the  Mohawk's  mood  changed,  he  let  his  hatchet  lall  at 
her  feet,  moved  backward  and  forward  with  a  step  that 
seemed  to  indicate  pain  or  trouble,  while  his  hand  was 
laid  alternately  on  his  breast  and  brow,  and  his  face  took 
an  expression  so  soft  and  sorrowful  that  Constance,  after 
seeing  its  previous  fury,  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes. 

With  that  look  his  motion  suddenly  ceased,  and  he 
stood  still  before  her  for  some  minutes,  as  if  expecting  a 
response  ;  then  he  seemed  to  conclude  that  his  perform- 
ance was  not  appreciated,  and,  lo;^king  disconcerted  *nd 


304 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ashamed,  Kashutan  turned  and  walked  away.  Not  know- 
ing what  to  make  out  of  it,  Constance  rose,  and  was 
walking  away  too,  but  in  a  different  direction ;  she 
thought  of  asking  Hannah's  opinion  on  the  subject, 
when  steps  approached,  and  the  old  chief  and  his  nephew 
i;vere  both  by  her  side. 

*'Is  my  daughter  afraid  of  her  Indian  brother?"  said 
Main-rouge,  handing  her  back  to  the  mossy  seat,  and 
taking  his  place  beside  her,  while  the  young  man  stood 
modestly  behind  them.  "  Is  the  pale-faced  woman,  who 
can  read  books  and  write  letters,  less  gifted  with  under- 
standing than  the  daughter  of  the  red  man,  whose  only 
school  was  the  hearth  of  the  wigwam  and  the  paths  of 
the  woods  ?" 

"  Father,"  said  Constance — she  had  learned  something 
of  his  own  style  by  this  time—**  it  is  not  possible  for  man 
or  woman  to  undertand  the  tongue  and  the  customs  to 
which  they  are  strangers." 

"  You  speak  truly,"  said  the  old  chief ;  "  yet  I  thought 
such  things  made  themselves  known  to  the  young  of 
every  race  and  language." 

It  presently  appeared  that  by  that  song  and  dance  his 
nephew  was  declaring  his  love  for  Delamere's  daughter. 
It  was  an  ancient  custom  of  the  Puma  tribe — Clovers  had 
employed  it  for  many  generations  to  set  forth  their  great 
and  strong  affection  ;  but  those  who  were  false-hearted 
or  but  faintly  moved  did  not  use  it,  lest  pining  sickness 
or  death  should  come  to  them  before  the  nearest  spring 
or  fall.  The  first  part  reveals  how  the  lover  is  subdued 
and  enslaved  by  the  maiden's  beauty  and  excellency; 
the  second  declares  the  valiant  deeds  he  will  do  for  her 
sake  against  the  enemies  of  her  people ;  and  the  third 
proclaims  that  if  his  love  is  not  returned,  he  will  live 
without  a  squaw  and  die  with  sorrow. 

Constance  had  never  before  heard  of  that  remarkable 
custom;  yet  there  are  many  such  among  the  Indian 
tribes.  Wanting  in  chivalry  as  the  red  man  must  ever 
appear  in  European  eyes,  and  degraded  as  the  condition 
of  the  red  woman  may  seem,  there  is  an  underlying  vein 
of  noble  sentiment  in  the  Indian  character,  for  both  their 
history  and  traditions  abound  with  instances  of  the  most 
romantic  love  and  the  most  devoted  friendship. 

Consider,  now,  my  daughter,"  continued  old  Red- 
hand,  "that  Kashutan  is  the  son  of  a  great  chief,  Shingis, 
the  most  famous  warrior  of  all  the  tribes  of  the  Mohawk. 
He  sought  my  sister  in  her  youth,  and  she  fled  with  him 
from  our  settlement ;  it  was  no  disgrace,  but  we  were 
angry  because  he  went  on  the  war-path  with  the  English, 
while  we  took  up  the  hatchet  for  the  French.  These 
things  are  past,  like  the  leaves  that  were  then  on  the 
trees  ;  my  sister  is  the  mother  of  Kashutan ;  Shingis  has 
gone  to  the  spirit  country,  and  has  left  him  a  great  in- 
heritance of  spoils  taken  in  war,  and  goods  purchased  in 
peace.  My  nephew  possesses  herds  of  cattle  and  horses 
and  companies  of  slaves ;  his  corn  fields  are  large  and 
fruitful  as  those  that  the  white  man  plough  ;  in  his  wig- 
wam are  stores  of  cloth  and  linen,  rum  and  gunpowder ; 
he  speaks  first  after  the  old  men  at  the  council  fire,  be- 
cause of  the  wisdom  that  is  known  to  be  in  his  youth ; 
and  when  he  takes  up  the  hatchet,  a  thousand  warriors 
will  follow  him  on  the  war-path.  Your  own  eyes  tell 
you  that  Kashutan  is  a  comely  brave.  Many  an  Indian 
maid  smiles  upon  him  when  he  sits  at  the  feast,  or  plays 
in  the  sports  of  the  young  men ;  the  daughters  of  re- 
nowned chiefs  in  all  our  settlements  would  be  well 
pleased  to  dwell  in  his  wigwam,  but  he  seeks  only  the 
white  man's  daughter." 

From  the  day  of  their  meeting  in  Harbor  Street,  Con- 
stance had  an  inkling  of  the  young  chief's  sentiments 
regarding  herself,  but  she  was  not  prepared  for  the  suit 
so  directly  made  by  both  nephew  and  uncle.  Of  course 
it  was  highly  flattering  to  a  young  lady's  pride  to  have 
the  love  dance  of  the  Puma  tribe — which  ensured  death  or 
sickness  to  the  faint  or  false-hearted  wooer— performed 
before  her  by  a  gentleman  with  a  following  of  a  thous- 
and yrarriors,  and  his  uncle,  the  redoubted  chief  of  the 
Wampanoags,  to  plead  his  cause  in  her  native  tongue  ; 
but  in  her  present  position  it  was  highly  dangerous  too. 
She  was  no  coquette  by  nature  or  education,  and  yet  her 
woman's  wit  suggested,  as  the  only  safe  course,  a  tem- 
porizing policy  which  would  not  drive  the  wild  wooer  to 
despair,  for  the  brandishing  of  his  hatchet  was  still  in 
her  memory.  So,  with  as  much  self-possession  as  she 
could  assume,  Constance  set  forth  what  high  respect  she 
had  for  the  son  of  the  famous  Shingis,  how  much  she 
felt  complimented  by  his  choice  of  her  as  a  equaw,  and 


how  unworthy  of  that  exalted  position,  and  unfit  to 
fulfill  its  duties,  she  was  as  a  white  woman. 

"  You  know,  father,  the  customs  of  my  race  are  differ- 
ent from  those  of  the  red  people,"  she  said,  "  and  your 
nephew  must  know  the  same.  Hands  like  mine  would 
be  useless  in  his  wigwam  ;  I  can  neither  cook  venison, 
tan  skins,  nor  hoe  corn.  Many  an  Indian  maid,  who  can 
do  all  these  things,  whose  ways  and  language  are  his 
own,  would,  I  am  sure,  be  proud  to  call  such  a  hand- 
some and  distinguished  chief  her  husband." 

Here  the  young  Mohawk's  impatience  getting  the  bet- 
ter of  his  modesty,  made  him  demand  of  his  uncle  the 
meaning  of  her  words,  whereon  Main-rouge  invited  him 
to  come  forward,  interpreted  what  Constance  had  said, 
and  translated  Kashutan's  reply.  It  was  to  the  effect 
that  he  would  never  expect  from  her  the  usual  accom- 
plishments of  Indian  married  ladies  ;  that  his  mother 
would  manage  the  affairs  of  wigwam  and  corn-field,  and 
superintend  the  labors  of  his  hired  people  and  slaves  ;, 
that  his  followers  should  wait  upon  Delamere's  daughter, 
and  she  should  have  everything  that  white  ladies  were 
accustomed  to  ;  that  himself  should  behave  to  her  like  a 
white  squire,  only  that  he  believed  some  of  them  did  not 
keep  the  promises  they  made  to  their  squaws,  but  he 
would  ;  and  his  uncle  endorsed  the  declaration  by  assur- 
ing Constance  that  Kashutan  always  kept  his  word  as 
became  an  Indian  chief,  and  that  he  had  learned  how  to 
behave  to  white  ladies  from  a  young  squire  who  spoke 
the  Mohawk  tongue,  and  often  visited  the  tribe  in  his 
father's  days. 

"I  have  talked  with  him,-"  said  the  old  chief ;  "he 
had  more  wisdom  than  the  Great  Spirit  allows  to  most  of 
the  pale  faces,  and  was  handsome,  too,  for  one  of  his 
race,  having  some  resemblance  to  my  nephew,  for  the 
squire  was  about  his  years.  His  name  was  Archdale ; 
ho  knew  your  father  and  his  house ;  his  own  kindred 
dwelt  somewhere  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut.  Have 
you  ever  heard  of  them,  my  daughter?" 

Constance  knew  he  was  speaking  of  Sydney  ;  she  re- 
collected that  the  latter  had  taken  refuge  among  the 
Mohawks  when  the  Government  search  after  him  was  hot 
and  the  captain  first  came  to  the  Elms.  She  recalled  the 
bunch  of  wild-wood  flowers  he  had  once  left  on  her 
window-sill ;  the  guise  in  which  she  had  seen  him  last, 
and  his  resemblance  to  Redhand's  nephew.  He  was  a 
colonel  now,  at  the  head  of  a  militia  regiment  raised  in 
her  native  place,  and  in  a  great  measure  consisting  of 
the  tenantry  on  her  father's  estate,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
plantation ;  and  there  by  her  side  stood  the  man  she  had 
mistaken  for  him,  the  Indian  chief  whom  he  had  in- 
structed on  the  devoirs  expected  by  white  ladies,  and 
who  was  bent  with  all  the  resolution  of  his  red  nature  on 
taking  his  place  in  her  good  graces.  Main-rouge  had 
asked  the  question  in  all  sincerity,  and  with  no  suspicion 
of  the  bond  that  had  been  between  them  ;  yet  it  was  a 
minute  or  two  before  she  could  answer  with  sufficient 
composure  :  **I  knew  them  well ;  they  were  neighbors 
to  my  father,  and  had  as  good  an  estate  as  his  own." 

Some  Indian  words  passed  between  the  old  chief  and 
his  nephew.  The  latter  seemed  to  make  an  eager  in- 
quiry, and  the  former  turned  to  Constance.  *'Doyou 
know  if  the  young  man  is  there  still  ?  Kashutan  would 
fain  hear  of  him,  for  indeed  they  were  friends." 

"  I  have  not  been  in  that  part  of  the  country  for  a  long 
time ;  but  when  I  was  living  in  Boston  with  my  friends 
who  are  here  now,  I  was  told  that  he  was  raising  a  regi- 
ment of  militia  for  the  defence  of  the  province."  Na 
girl  of  her  years  could  have  spoken  more  judiciously, 
though  it  was  somewhat  at  hazard.  The  answer  ap- 
peared to  satisfy  the  chiefs,  old  and  young ;  but,  urged 
by  his  nephew.  Main-rouge  returned  to  the  main  subject. 

"  Kashutan  has  laid  open  his  mind  to  you  in  the  sacred 
love-dance  of  his  tribe,  and  also  by  my  tongue,"  he  said. 
"  What  answer  does  my  daughter  give  to  her  red  brother, 
that  his  hunting  may  not  be  uncertain  and  his  dreams 
troubled?" 

**  I  pray  you,  father,  consider  that  I  am  young  and  a 
stranger  to  both  my  Indian  brother  and  his  people  ;  and 
also  that  it  is  not  customary,  nor  thought  prudent  among 
us,  for  a  maiden  to  declare  her  mind  at  once.  Give  me 
time  to  think  over  the  matter,  for  it  is  of  great  import- 
ance to  me.  Besides,  my  father  has  not  been  consulted ; 
and  you,  wise  chief,  know  that  neither  among  the  Indians 
nor  the  pale-faces  is  it  thought  right  for  a  daughter- ta 
m\ke  any  such  contract  without  her  father's  knowledge 
.and  consent." 


THE  MAIDEN  AND  NATURE. 


THE  GROIVING  l^FORLD. 


307 


Once  more  the  uncle  and  nephew  talked  in  their  own 
tongue,  and  then  old  Redhand  said  :  "  Your  father  could 
have  no  objection  to  the  son  of  Shingis,  who  is  above 
any  white  squire  he  could  choose  for  you ;  but  he  will 
Dot  trespass  on  the  customs  of  your  people.  Take  time, 
as  the  white  women  do,  to  try  the  truth  and  constancy  of 
their  lovers.  My  nephew  will  not  be  found  wanting  to 
you  in  anything.  But  they  have  lighted  the  council-fire, 
and  the  dews  of  night  are  falling ;  and  rising  quickly, 
he  took  Constance  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  the  wig- 
wam. 

Like  the  supreme  court  of  ancient  Athens,  the  Indian 
council  holds  its  sittings  by  night.  The  council-fire  was 
lighted  in  the  midst  of  an  open  space  at  the  end  of  the 
village,  set  round  with  trees  which  their  fathers  had 
planted  ;  for  all  summer  assemblies  were  held  there  ever 
since  the  Wampanoags  settled  in  the  valley.  The  digni- 
taries of  both  tribes  sat  round  the  fire  on  logs ;  behind 
them  the  common  braves  stood  in  a  double  circle  ;  but 
the  general  public,  including  boys  and  squaws,  were 
rigidly  barred  out,  and  they  spent  the  time  in  domestic 
Industry,  quarrels,  and  sports,  which  kept  the  whole 
grillage  astir  while  the  council  lasted. 

While  all  were  thus  occupied,  Constance  took  the  op- 
portunity to  inform  Hannah  of  the  Mohawk's  proposal, 
in  hopes  that  the  good  woman's  knowledge  of  Indian 
iife  and  character  might  enable  her  to  give  practical  ad- 
vice as  to  the  best  mode  of  staving  off  the  intended 
honor.  She  found  the  Quakeress  seated  in  a  corner  of 
the  deserted  hall,  reading  Greenland's  Bible  by  the  light 
of  a  pine  torch. 

At  the  first  revelation,  Hannah  looked  frightened  for 
a  minute,  and  then  said,  with  her  usual  calmness,  "  Child, 
It  is  a  perilous  business,  and  one  which  may  prove,  even 
to  thy  youth,  the  dangers  that  follow  upon  outward  fair- 
,aess  which  so  many  covet.  I  cannot  advise  thee  to  any- 
thing better  than  that  which  thou  hast  done.  To  gain 
time  is  the  only  safe  course.  Help  may  come  to  us  by 
the  bands  of  backwoodsmen  who  will  now  be  marching 
-  eastward  to  aid  the  people  of  Massachusetts.  At  any 
rate,  put  thy  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  he  will  open  a  way  of 
€scape  before  thee.  By  his  good  providence,  I  hope 
friend  Greenland  is  by  this  time  safe  out  of  the  Indian 
country.  He  slipped  away  two  days  ago,  and  does  not 
j^et  seem  to  be  missed.  He  is  well  accustomed  to  journey 
in  the  wilderness,  and  prayed  me  to  go  with  him.  I  think 
these  woods  inspire  men  with  vain  notions  of  earthly 
affection;  but  I  would  not  venture  it,  or  leave  friend 
Jacob  and  thee  behind,  he  left  me  his  Bible  in  token  of 
remembrance,  and  promised  if  he  could  find  his  way  to 
Philadelphia,  to  make  knoAvn  our  case  to  friend  Caleb 
and  Rachel,  who  are  no  doubt  there,  and  will  take  every 
lawful  means  to  free  us  from  the  hands  of  these  forest 
Philistines.  Therefore,  child,  keep  a  good  heart ;  but 
we  that  remain  here  had  need  to  take  care,  and  seem  to 
know  nothing  of  the  matter,  for  if  they  thought  we  were 
taking  any  measures  to  frustrate  their  design,  or  get  thee 
out  of  their  tents  of  Kedar,  our  lives  would  not  be  «afe 
for  a  day." 

CHAPTER  XXI.— A  SUORT  WAT  WITH  A  RIVAL. 

As  gaining  time  was  the  best  course  which  she  cou/d 
think  of,  or  her  friend  advise,  Constance  resolved  to 
persevere  in  it.  To  some  extent  that  was  not  diflHcult. 
The  article  is  of  little  value  in  savage  life,  except  in 
striking  down  an  enemy  on  the  war-path.  The  Indian 
is  never  in  a  hurry  ;  and  Redhand  and  his  nephew  kept 
their  promise  not  to  trespass  on  the  customs  of  her 
.people.  Both  were  bent  on  the  match,  nevertheless  • 
the  white  squire's  daughter,  with  her  fair  face  and 
ample  prospects,  was  not  to  be  let  slip  through  their 
fingers.  They  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  her  father 
and  friends  in  MassacUusetts  would  scarcely  consider 
the  son  of  Shingis  an  eligible  alliance,  notwithstanding 
the  number  of  scalps  his  sire  had  taken. 

Main-rouge  was  too  well  versed  in  the  white  man's 
fashions  and  opinions  to  be  mistaken  on  that  subject. 
He  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind  to  get  the  business 
done  before  any  intelligence  of  it  could  reach  them,  and 
took  his  measures  accordingly.  A  watch,  such  as 
Indians  alone  could  keep,  was  set  upon  all  the  white 
people  in  his  dominion  ;  warriors,  squaws,  even  children 
took  note  of  all  their  movements,  though  escape,  with- 
out guides,  and  unacquainted  with  the  surrounding 
wilds  as  they  were,  could  only  present  the  chances  of 
flymg  from  hardships  in  the  wilderness,  or  falling  into 


worse  bands  among  the  native  tribes.  When  Jacob 
ventured  to  remind  him  of  his  promise  to  send  them  all 
safe  to  Philadelphia  for  Delamere's  sake,  the  statesman 
of  the  woods  replied  with  a  look  that  prevented  further 
applications  on  that  score:  "Has  the  son  of  Penn  so 
little  patience  or  good  manners  that  he  cannot  wait  for 
his  red  father's  leisure  from  entertaining  guests  and 
holding  councils  on  weighty  affairs  ?" 

At  the  same  time,  the  old  chief  took  every  opportunity 
to  plead  his  nephew's  cause  with  Constance,  which  his 
powers  of  speaking  English  enabled  him  to  do  better 
tlian  most  red  men.  lie  assured  her,  over  and  over 
again,  that  Kashutan  would  be  a  white  husband  to  her  ; 
that  all  his  kin,  including  the  old  squaw,  his  mother, 
would  be  white  relations  to  her  also  ;  that  her  marriage 
should  be  according  to  the  laws  of  her  people,  cele- 
brated by  a  frontier  justice  with  whom  he  was  ac- 
quainted ;  and  described  with  great  unction  the  succeed- 
ing ceremonies,  festal  and  serious,  which  should  take 
place  in  his  own  and  Kashutan's  territory,  from  those 
performed  by  the  sorcerers  to  ensure  the  happiness  of 
the  wedded  pair,  to  the  bridal  feast  held  in  his  own  wig- 
wam (for  was  she  not  his  daughter  ?),  and  the  still  more 
magnificent  festivities  with  which  the  young  chief's 
mother  would  welcome  her  home. 

At  times  the  old  Masates,  who  had  been  educated 
among  the  merchants  of  New  York,  would  commend 
the  Indian  life  to  her  choice  as  so  much  happier  than 
that  of  the  white  people. 

"The  years  of  the  pale  faces,"  he  said,  "are  worn 
away  in  toil ;  they  hew  down  the  woods  and  make  com 
lands  more  than  they  want  for  bread ;  they  build  towns 
and  villages  that  cannot  be  moved,  and  strange  diseases 
fall  upon  the  inhabitants  and  wither  their  youth ;  they 
set  up  forges  and  factories,  schools  and  stores,  and  these 
prove  houses  of  bondage  and  labor  to  them  and  to  theu* 
children.  The  Indian  dwells  in  the  woods  and  rejoices 
in  his  freedom.  The  passing  seasons  find  him  strong  as 
the  trees,  till  his  time  to  depart  for  the  spirit  country  is 
come.  He  goes  forth  to  hunt  in  the  freshness  of  the 
morning,  and  returns  laden  with  venison  and  game 
enough  to  spread  a  feast  in  his  wigwam.  Then  he 
smokes  with  his  friends  by  the  winter  fire,  or  rests  in  the 
summer  shade." 

"  But  your  squaws  work  continually,"  said  Constance. 

"True,  my  daughter,"  replied  the  Indian  moralist; 
"  and  it  is  best  they  should  ;  without  work  our  squaws 
would  be  taking  foolish  whims  and  causing  mischief,  as 
many  of  the  white  women  do.  Had  Major  Danby's 
squaw  been  dressing  skins  or  hoeing  corn,  our  tribe  had 
not  lost  the  daughter  of  their  former  chief,  nor  got  occa- 
sion of  wrath  against  her.  But  the  Great  Spirit  has  ap- 
pointed that  every  race  should  follow  the  fashions  of 
life  most  fit  for  them,  so  the  red  and  pale  faces  differ  in 
customs  as  well  as  in  color." 

However  approved  of  by  kith  and  kin,  courtship  is  an 
affair  of  great  secrecy  among  the  Indian  tribes,  no  doubt 
the  secret  adds  to  the  romance,  and  the  wooer's  part  in 
the  play  ill  accords  with  the  red  man's  idea  of  masculine 
dignity. 

While  his  uncle  thus  sapped  and  mined  the  approaches 
to  his  chosen  lady's  heart,  Kashutan  paid  her  no  public 
attentions  ;  but  he  was  daily  sending  gifts  of  furs  and 
feathers,  Indian  ornaments,  some  of  them  of  beautiful 
workmanship,  strings  of  uncommonly  large  beads  and 
bright-colored  pebbles,  such  as  Constance  had  never 
seen  before.  Curious  enough,  those  offerings  to  her 
shrine  were  generally  transmitted  by  the  hands  of  Philip, 
exa(*ly  as  Sydney  Archdale's  presents  and  messages 
used  to  be,  and  quite  as  carefully  hidden  from  all  prying 
eyes  as  the  latter  were  from  the  notice  of  her  father. 
Kashutan  had  taken  the  boy,  in  a  manner,  under  his  pro- 
tection, as,  indeed,  did  most  of  the  warriors,  for  Philip's 
good  nature  and  activity  recommended  him  to  their 
favor ;  but  the  chief  had  specially  enlisted  him  in  his 
service  by  the  bestowment  of  a  buffalo  robe  and  an  Eng- 
lish fowling-piece;  so  the  page  carried  not  only  his 
presents,  but  his  praises,  to  Constance.  "  Indeed,  miss, 
he  is  a  fine  man — a  gentleman,  I  may  say,  and  not  so 
very  copper-colored  after  all ;  it's  a  pity  he  can't  speak 
English  to  tell  you  his  mind,  for  I  am  sure  he  is  far 
more  in  love  with  you  than  ever  Mr.  Sydney  was,  -with 
his  goings  on  about  Liberty  and  Minute  Men." 

To  consign  the  nephew  of  Main-rouge  to  despair  would 
not  have  been  a  safe  course  for  a  lady  in  her  position  ; 
80  the  lover's  gifts  were  graciously  accepted,  and  his 


3o8 


THE  GROWING  PVORLD. 


praises  heard  with  scarcely  a  rebuke  to  the  gained-over 
Philip. 

There  was  much  truth  in  them  ;  it  was  an  honest  and 
devoted  love  that  made  the  noble  young  Mohawk,  in 
Bpite  of  the  difference  of  race,  language,  and  manners, 
her  unredeemable  bondsman.  He  would  steal  round 
the  wigwam  when  there  was  no  observer  near,  to  catchi, 
a  glimpse  of  all  in  her  room  through  the  slit  in  its  wall, 
which  served  for  a  window ;  he  would  stand  in  some 
hidden  comer  from  which  she  could  be  seen,  gazing  upon 
her  as  long  as  he  was  unnoticed  by  brave  or  squaw  ;  and 
at  such  times  the  chief  of  the  Puma  tribe  had  a  look  so 
Bad  and  tender,  that  Constance  wished  from  her  heart 
he  had  fixed  his  affections  on  some  Indian  maid  who 
could  give  him  in  return  a  love  that  had  not  been  lavished 
away  like  her  own. 

By  chance  she  discovered  that  there  was  one  in  the 
village  to  whom  that  wish  was  at  least  friendly.  As  the 
time  of  the  Mohawk's  visit  wore  on  with  hunts,  feasts, 
and  councils — nights  through  which  the  whole  village 
were  awake,  and  days  which  the  entire  community  slept 
away — Constance  observed  among  the  unmarried  girls 
(there  were  none  but  girls  unmarried  there),  who  sat  in 
groups  under  convenient  trees,  watching  the  evening 
sports  of  the  young  men,  or  danced  in  circles  on  the 
open  ground,  while  the  youthful  warriors  stood  contem- 
plating their  performance,  one  called  Osuna.  She  had  a 
large  share  of  the  beauty  which  passes  from  the  Indian 
woman  with  early  youth ;  a  tall,  slender,  and  finely^ 
moulded  figure  ;  a  clear  though  brown  complexion  ;  the 
features  of  her  race,  softened  till  they  became  almost 
classical,  and  an  abundant  growth  of  dark  and  lustrous 
hair.  Osuna  had  many  admirers ;  feathers  and  beads 
were  thrown  to  her  in  the  dancing  circle,  as  boquets  are 
flung  to  favorite  performers  on  the  stage,  but  she  never 
stooped  to  pick  them  up  as  the  rest  did— a  certain  sign 
that  none  of  the  braves  who  threw  them  had  found  favor 
in  her  eyes.  Constance  had  by  this  time  got  in  some 
degree  acquainted  with  the  daughters  of  the  tribe  ;  they 
paid  her  great  respect  as  the  adopted  daughter  of  the 
much-reverenced  Redhand ;  admired  her  dress,  though 
it  was  well-worn  homespun,  and  imitated  her  style  ol 
braiding  and  ornamenting  with  wild  flowers  the  hair  that 
was  still  more  abundant  and  beautiful  than  their  own. 
But  Osuna  kept  aloof  from  the  fair  stranger.  Some- 
times Constance  thought  she  looked  askance  at  her,  too. 
till  one  day,  after  Kashutan  had  taken  along  gazing  turn, 
and  gone  his  way,  Constance  stepped  out  to  the  little 
arbor  where  his  love-dance  had  been  performed,  and  to 
her  astonishment  saw  Osuna  sitting  on  the  ground  behind 
the  stooping  tree,  and  weeping  bitterly. 

The  griefs  of  others  found  a  ready  sympathizer  in  Dela- 
mere's  daughter ;  her  father's  generous  mind  had  de- 
scended to  her  gentler  nature.  She  stole  round  to  the 
Indian  girl,  sat  down  beside  her,  and  made  every  sign  of 
cheer  and  comfort  she  could  think  of,  having  no  other 
language  that  Osuna  could  understand. 

At  first  the  Indian  girl  looked  surprised,  and  inclined 
to  be  angry,  then  she  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  handker- 
chief Constance  offered  her,  and  finally  fixed  them  on  a 
necklace  of  large  beads  and  beautiful  pebbles — Kashu- 
tan's  latest  gift,  which  his  fair  one  chanced  to  be  wear- 
ing. Osuna  looked  at  the  necklace  so  long  and  admir- 
ingl.y  that  Constance  imagined  the  nearer  inspection  of  it 
might  console  her  for  the  time  ;  and  taking  it  from  her 
own  neck,  she  was  about  to  point  out  its  beauties,  when 
the  Indian  girl,  before  she  was  aware,  snatched  the  shin- 
ing string  from  her  hand,  thrust  it  under  the  folds  of  her 
own  cotton  robe,  which  were  tightly  gathered  round  her 
breast,  sprang  up,  and  ran  away. 

Constance  never  again  saw  the  necklace,  but  from  that 
day  Osuna  was  her  particular  friend  ;  she  brought  her 
wild  flowers  and  berries  from  the  woods,  wild  birds' 
eggs  roasted  in  the  hot  ashes,  and  fresh  fish  caught  by 
herself  in  the  streams.  While  the  married  ladies  and 
slaves  do  all  the  work,  the  Indian  maids  are  not  expected 
to  do  anything  but  dress  and  amuse  themselves ;  like 
the  nuns  of  Italy  in  former  days,  they  enjoy  all  the  pleas- 
ures of  life  before  they  take  the  vows.  Thus,  Osuna 
had  ample  time  to  show  her  friendship  to  the  white 
woman,  and  Constance  being  naturally  interested  took 
the  first  opportunity  to  learn  something  regarding  her 
new  friend  from  the  only  person  with  whom  she  could 
converse,  Kashutan's  uncle. 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  the  chief  who  led  the  tribe 
when  I  left  them,"  he  said ;    a  man  wise  in  the  council 


and  valliant  on  the  war-path.  He  was  not  of  my  descent^ 
but  his  fathers  had  been  chiefs  on  the  banks  of  the  Con- 
necticut, and  the  braves  made  choice  of  him  in  my  stead. 
The  thing  happened  in  this  way :  When  the  French  lost 
their  strong  places  and  trading  ports,  my  warriors  said, 
'  We  will  go  with  them  no  longer,  but  be  brothers  to  the 
English,  for  they  will  give  us  rum ;'  then  I  flung  my  speech 
belt  in  their  faces,  and  said,  *I  will  not  be  the  chief  of 
false  men,'  and  went  far  west,  where  I  lived  hunting 
with  Boone  and  his  people  for  many  a  year,  and  Osuna's 
father  led  the  Wampanoags.  When  he  was  called  to  the 
spirit  land,  and  left  no  son,  the  warriors  sent  messengers 
to  me,  saying,  *The  hatchet  is  about  to  be  liftedbetween 
King  George  and  the  pale  faces  here  ;  come  and  lead  us 
again,  and  we  will  take  what  side  you  think  best  on  the 
war-path.'    So  I  came." 

"  Osuna  is  of  good  descent,  then,"  said  Constance. 

" She  is,"  said  Redhand  ;  "her  mother  found  a  brave 
warrior  to  bring  her  home  venison:  and  so  might  Osuna, 
but  her  dream  is  of  my  nephew,  Kashutan." 

"Well,  father,"  said  Constance — she  understood  now 
why  the  Indian  girl  sat  weeping  on  the  ground,  and  hid 
away  the  necklace — "would  she  not  make  him  a  more 
fitting  squaw  than  the  daughter  of  a  stranger  ?  " 

"  She  would,  my  daughter  ;  his  mother  and  his  people 
think  so.  But  we  cannot  say  to  the  stream  that  flows  to 
the  sunset,  turn,  and  go  the  way  of  the  morning,  for 
that  is  the  better  course  ;  no  more  can  we  say  to  the 
heart  of  the  youth  or  the  maiden,  turn  from  yonder 
stranger,  and  go  to  such  and  such  of  thine  own  kindred, 
for  they  are  a  better  choice.  Besides,"  continued  the 
old  chief,  and  his  face  darkened  almost  to  a  frown,  "  my 
daughter  would  not  surely  cast  away  from  herself  such 
a  noble  and  honorable  match  as  the  Chief  of  the  Mo- 
hawks ?  for  such  my  nephew  shall  be  when  he  has  chosen 
his  side  and  gone  forth  on  the  war-path." 

Constance  said  no  more  on  that  subject ;  but  the  luck- 
less love  of  the  Indian  girl  took  hold  on  her  imagina- 
tion, and  enlisted  her  sympathies,  the  more  because  her 
own  young  dream  had  been  so  strangely  crossed.  She 
admired  Osuna's  generosity  of  mind,  that  could  take  into 
friendship  a  successful,  though  unwilling,  rival.  It  is 
the  reflection  of  our  own  characters  that  we  are  apt  to 
see  in  others.  The  real  deceiver  is  generally  within,  and 
so  it  was  with  Constance.  But  there  came  a  day  that 
showed  her  the  true  state  of  the  case. 

The  village  was  particularly  quiet  one  forenoon  ;  the 
chiefs  and  their  braves  had  gone  on  a  grand  hunt ;  the 
squaws  were  more  than  usually  busy  preparing  for  a 
feast  which  was  to  take  place  on  their  return.  Hannah 
was  assisting  those  of  the  chief's  household.  She  had 
become  popular  among  them,  on  account  of  her  domes- 
tic skill.  Jacob  and  the  Vanderslocks  were  with  the 
men  who  kept  the  cattle  in  the  wild  meadows  of  the 
valley ;  Philip  had  been  allowed  to  go  with  the  hunt ; 
and  Constance  sat  alone  under  the  stooping  tree,  weav- 
ing a  basket  of  fine  osiers  and  porcupine  quills,  an  art 
which  she  had  learned  from  the  Indian  girls.  It  was  a 
beautiful  bright  day  of  early  summer — the  days  of  June 
had  come  by  this  time — and  Osuna  tripped  up  to  her, 
looking  almost  as  bright,  with  a  wild  rose  of  uncommon' 
size  and  sweetness  in  her  hand. 

As  Constance  admired  and  praised  the  lovely  flower,, 
the  Indian  girl  gave  her  to  understand  by  signs,  of  which 
Osuma  was  a  perfect  mistress,  that  she  knew  a  place 
where  such  roses  grew  in  abundance,  and  wild  straw- 
berries could  be  gathered  b>  thousands,  at  the  same 
time  offering  to  show  Constance  the  spot  if  she  would 
accompany  her.  Such  a  trip  was  quite  to  the  New  Eng- 
land girl's  mind.  She  laid  aside  her  basket,  and  fol- 
lowed Osuna  with  as  light  a  step  as  her  own.  The  latter 
made  a  sort  of  circuit  round  the  back  of  the  village, 
evidently  avoiding  the  observation  of  its  inhabitants, 
till  at  some  distance  beyond  the  last  wigwam  and  the 
place  of  the  council-fire,  they  suddenly  came  on  a  bend 
of  the  stream  which  wound  through  both  village  and 
valley.  Here,  in  the  shade  of  overhanging  willows,  was 
moored  a  small  and  highly  ornamented  canoe,  in  which 
Constance  had  seen  the  Indian  girl  paddling  up  and 
down  stream  on  her  fishing  expeditions.  Osuna  signed 
to  her  to  step  in,  and  without  fear  or  misgiving  in  step- 
ped Constance,  seating  herself  so  as  to  preserve  the  bal- 
ance of  the  light  vessel,  and  her  companion,  with  an  ap- 
proving smile  at  her  dexterity,  unmoored  the  canoe  and 
paddled  away.  The  current  was  with  them.  Though 
smooth  it  was  a  rapid  one.,  and  the  white  girl  was  not 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


309 


aware  of  the  speed  they  were  making.  The  country 
around  was  unknown  to  her,  but  the  course  of  that 
stream  was  from  one  scene  of  beauty  to  another.  Now 
it  swept  round  the  base  of  a  wooded  hill,  a  thick  forest 
on  one  side,  and  opposite  it  wide  prairie  lands,  where 
3ight  failed  in  the  distance  ;  then  it  murmured  through 
a  narrow  glen,  where  the  boughs  met  overhead,  and 

f)lants  laden  with  summer  blooms  bent  to  the  water  be- 
ow ;  and  anon  emerged  on  a  glassy  dell,  open  to  sun 
and  sky  in  the  center,  and  on  either  side  shaded  by  old, 
majestic  trees. 

Not  even  on  the  windings  of  her  own  Connecticut, 
where  Sydney  rowed  and  steered  the  boat  long  ago  in 
their  happy  playtime,  before  questions  of  government 
and  taxation  had  divided  their  people  and  their  paths, 
did  Constance  rejoice  more  in  the  sweetness  of  summer 
and  the  loveliness  of  nature.  The  strange  birds,  the  wild 
flowers  for  which  she  had  no  name,  and  the  landscape  so 
fair  and  free  in  sunshine  or  in  shade,  all  delighted  the 
girl  who  had  lived  so  long  in  restraint  and  fear  among 
the  wigwams. 

Osuna  seemed  to  enjoy  the  voyage  as  much  as  her 
companion.  They  made  known  their  pleasure  to  each 
other  by  signs  so  expressive  that  speech  was  hardly 
needful,  and  all  went  pleasantly  till  they  reached  the 
end  of  one  of  those  green  and  quiet  dells,  sunny  in  the 
middle  and  shady  on  either  side.  There  the  stream 
Aumed  sharply  down  a  steep  so  thickly  wooded  that  its 
course  seemed  to  be  lost  in  the  darkness.  Osuna  paused 
at  a  safe  distance  above  the  descent,  where  a  little  creek 
indentedthe  sloping  bank,  and  pointed  out  to  Constance 
a  tnicket  but  a  few  steps  removed,  in  which  the  prom- 
ised roses  grew  in  clusters,  making  her  at  the  same  time 
a  sign  to  land  and  gather  them,  while  she  kept  the  canoe 
from  floating  down  the  stream.  It  was  but  a  moment's 
work  for  the  active  girl.  Constance  reached  the  thicket 
and  gathered  some  splendid  clusters ;  but  turning  to 
wave  them  in  triumph  to  her  companion,  she  saw  Osuna 
paddling  up  stream  at  a  rate  which  made  sign  or  call 
alike  hopeless.  In  her  desperation  she  ran  down  to  the 
water's  edge,  crying,  "Osuna  !  Osuna  I  "  but  the  Indian 
girl  never  looked  back.  In  another  minute  the  canoe 
was  lost  to  signt  behind  the  overhanging  trees,  and  Con- 
was  left  alone  in  the  trackless  wild. 

CHAPTER  XXII. — FRIENDS  FOUND  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  cruel  treachery  of  her  pretended  friend  was  now 
apparent.  Osuna  had  deliberately  laid  and  carried  out 
a  plan  for  getting  rid  of  her  unsuspecting  rival.  Over- 
whelmed by  the  terrors  and  prospect,  Constance  sat,  or 
rather  sank  down  on  the  grassy  bank.  What  would  be- 
come of  her  without  guide  or  guard  in  the  unknown 
wilderness,  the  haunt  of  wild  beasts,  and  men  scarcely 
less  savage  ?  But  a  few  minutes'  thought  restored  her 
native  courage  ;  help  might  be  nearer  at  hand  than  she 
was  aware  of;  the  summer  day  was  still  shining  around 
her,  and  she  had  the  surest  Protector  above. 

Commending  herself  to  the  care  of  that  best  and 
wisest  Guardian,  Constance  rose  and  looked  around  her 
down  the  wooded  steep,  where  the  stream  was  lost  in 
the  darkness  of  interlacing  boughs,  up  the  dell  where 
Osuna  and  her  canoe  had  disappeared.  It  might  be 
possible  to  reach  the  Indian  settlement  by  following  the 
windings  of  the  stream  in  that  direction  ;  but  the  dis- 
tance was  great,  the  banks  they  had  passed  afforded  in 
many  places  but  perilous  footing,  and  the  night  must 
fall  before  she  got  half  way,  for  the  declining  sun  told 
her  it  was  already  far  in  the  afternoon.  Besides,  any 
chance  of  reaching  the  confines  of  civilization  would  be 
more  to  her  mind  than  going  back  to  the  clutches  of  old 
Redhand  and  his  nephew. 

To  get  a  clearer  prospect,  she  climbed  a  rugged  cliff 
that  towered  above  the  thicket.  From  its  summit  Con- 
stance saw  a  wide  expanse  of  hill  and  dale,  but  all 
densely  wooded,  silent,  and  solitary. 

She  descended,  and  walked  about  in  every  direction 
where  an  opening  between  the  trees  presented  itself,  in 
hopes  of  finding  some  beaten  path  or  sign  of  human 
habitation  ;  but  nothing  of  the  kind  could  she  see.  At 
last,  exhausted  in  strength  and  spirits,  hungry,  and 
footsore,  Constance  sat  down  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree ;  the  sunset  was  flushing  the  forest  with  its  rosy 
light ;  the  wild  birds  were  flying  home  to  their  nests, 
and  she  trembled  at  the  thought  of  the  night  coming 
down  on  her  unsheltered  head,  when  a  sound  came 
through  the  silence  of  the  woods  like  the  tramp  of  lieaj^ 


feet.  It  seemed  passing  close  behind  a  clump  of  tall 
beeches  on  her  right  hand.  She  darted  through  the 
trees  and  underwood  that  blocked  her  way,  but  paused 
for  a  moment  as  she  came  near  and  looked  out  from  the 
deep  shadow.  There  was  a  bridle-path  leading  down  a 
hillside,  a  train  of  men  and  pack-horses  rapidly  descend- 
ing, and  a  voice  above  singing  a  verse  that  frequent 
hearing  had  made  familiar  to  her  ears  in  the  pleasant 
grounds  of  the  Elms. 

"I'm  far  away  this  bleesed  day, 
And  ne'er  may  flee  the  shore, 
Agra  machree,  sweet  liberty. 
Poor  Ireland  asthor." 

Constance  lived  to  hear  the  cannon  thunder  and  the 
bells  ring  out  the  proclamation  of  peace  and  freedom  to 
her  native  land.  But  no  sound  ever  delighted  her  ears 
more  than  that  voice  and  song,  for  they  were  those  of 
her  father's  best  man,  honest,  faithful  Denis  Dargan. 
Moving  up  a  little,  she  could  see  that  he  had  stopped 
behind  the  rest  to  adjust  the  load  of  one  of  the  two 
horses  he  had  in  charge,  and  half  wild  with  joy  the 
young  girl  stepped  out  before  him,  exclaiming,  *'0h, 
Denis  !  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Protect  us  I  is  it  seein'  ghosts  for  my  sins  I  am  ? 
Miss  Constance,  darlin',  where  did  you  come  from  ?" 
cried  Denis,  letting  rope  and  pack  fall  in  his  astonish- 
ment. 

"It's  a  long  story,  Denis,  and  will  take  time  to  tell ; 
but  I  am  very  tired  and  nearly  starved  with  wandering 
about  in  these  woods.  Could  you  give  me  a  lift  on  one 
of  these  horses,  and  a  morsel  of  bread  of  any  sort,  and 
let  me  go  with  you  wherever  you  are  going,  for  I  know 
you  will  see  me  safe?" 

"  It's  proud  I  would  be  to  do  more  nor  that  for  any 
lady ;  an'  layin'  down  my  life  wouldn't  be  too  much  for 
your  father's  daughter.  Here,  darlin',"  and  Denis  took 
out  of  the  knapsack  at  his  back  a  neatly  put-up  luncheon 
of  corn-cake  and  cheese.  "  Jist  thry  that  while  I  make 
a  salt  for  you  between  the  packs  on  this  baist,  because, 
you  see,  he's  the  quietest,  an'  we  must  get  on." 

By  means  of  his  own  great-coat,  which  had  been 
bundled  on  the  knapsack,  as  he  said,  "  for  fear  of  cowld 
among  the  hills,"  and  a  judicious  arrangement  of  the 
packs,  Denis  made  a  very  good  substitute  for  a  lady's 
saddle,  and  helped  Constance  into  it,  declaring  that  sh^ 
would  sit  there  like  a  queen,  and  set  forward  to  join  his 
company,  who  were  by  this  time  some  way  in  advance. 
The  heiress  of  the  Elms  discussed  his  welcome  present, 
washed  it  down  with  a  draught  of  cider  from  Dargan's 
wooden  flask— the  Spartan  sauce  is  a  great  improver  of 
the  most  common  fare  ;  then  she  briefly  related  the  mis- 
fortunes that  had  befallen  her  company  and  herself  on 
their  way  to  Pennsylvania,  and  the  treacherous  act  of 
the  Indian  girl  by  which  she  had  been  left  alone  in  the 
forest. 

"  Oh,  the  deceitful  sarpent,"  cried  Denis  ;  "  shure  she 
must  have  had  the  heart  of  a  say  monsther  to  forge  such 
a  plot  agin  a  girl  like  you  ;  but  never  mind.  Miss  Con- 
stance, you're  safe  from  the  wild  baists  o'  the  wildher- 
ness,  and  the  hands  o'  thim  rid  haithens  that  isn't  much 
betther." 

"  True  Denis  ;  but  what  a  mercy  it  was  I  met  with 
you.  And  what  province  is  this  we  are  in  ?"  said  Con- 
stance. 

"  It's  Massachusetts,  miss,  as  far  as  they  can  agree 
about  the  boundaries.  We'll  soon  be  in  the  Christian 
parts  o'  the  coun thry,  but  not  near  the  Elms  at  all,  be- 
caise  this  is  the  New  York  side,  an'  it's  on  the  Connec- 
ticut quarther.  Howsomever,  it  don't  signify,  seein'  the 
place  is  confiscated,"  said  the  best  man  with  a  sigh. 

"Confiscated,  Denis?"  It  was  sad  intelligence  re- 
garding her  old  home  for  the  squire's  daughter.  "  Was 
that  the  reason  you  left  my  father's  house  ?" 

"  I  didn't  leave  it  til]  they  exhorted  me,  miss." 

"Denis,  how  did  they  do  that?"  inquired  the  gir*. 
considerably  puzzled. 

"Well,  miss,  they  pult  me  out  by  the  neck,"  re- 
sponded Dargan.  "You  see  it  was  this  way.  We  wer« 
ail  at  paice  and  quietness,  whin  one  night  a  chap  com* 
through  the  counthry  wid  a  dhrum,  telling  them  all 
about  the  fight  at  Lexington,  and  how  the  pathriot  army 
was  besaiging  Boston,  an'  bad  luck  to  the  man  that 
didn't  get  pitchforks  an'  guns  an'  set  off  to  help  them, 
lavin'  nobody  at  home  but  the  woman  an'  myself.  We 
would  have  got  on  like  the  flowers  o'  May  widout 
i 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


them,  miss,  but  in  less  nor  a  fortnight,  there  comes  a 
thundherin'  rap  like  a  battherin'  ram  at  the  door  one 
mornin',  an'  in  comes  an  ould  sinner  wid  a  paper  that  he 
said  was  his  commission  from  the  Continintal  Congress, 
an'  fell  on  readin'  it.  In  coarse  I  could  make  neither 
head  nor  tail  o'  the  mainin',  but  the  upshot  was  that  he 
was  to  sind  the  women  to  their  frinds,  an'  me  about  my 
business,  an'  keep  possession  o'  the  place  for  the  sarvice 
o'  the  province,  becaise  Squire  Delamere  was  an  enemy 
to  his  counthry.  There  was  no  sayin'  agin'  him,  he  had 
a  gang  o'  thim  Green  Mountain  Boys,  wid  Hiram  Hard- 
head prophesyin'  black  and  blue,  the  Isaist !  an'  he's  not 
a  baist  neither,  for  he  wouldn't  let  them  put  me  in  the 
Connecticut  for  layin'  the  rough  side  o'  my  tongue  to 
them.  'Let  him  go,'  says  he,  'he's  thrue  to  his  em- 
3r  an'  it's  not  his  fault  that  Delamere's  such  a  Tory.' 
'^ell,  that  brought  them  to  a  bit,  and  at  last,  for 
dacency's  sake,  they  consinted  to  let  me  take  the 
smallest  wagon  an'  put  the  thrunksthat  Mrs.  Armstrong 
locked  up  your  fine  clothes  in,  wid  the  most  o'  the 
masther's  books  an'  fancy  things,  inside  of  it.  You  secr 
miss,  I  intended  to  take  them  straight  to  you  in  Phila 
delphy,  but  misfortune  never  come  single,  I  was  getting 
along  Springfield  Road  ;  the  whole  counthry  was  quite 
round  me,  the  men  bein'  all  at  the  besaigin',  an'  the 
women — the  darlins  ! — frightened  at  bein'  left  by  them- 
selves, not  a  sowl  was  to  be  seen,  an'  I  was  singin'  to 
myself  the  ould  song  you  heard  me  at,  when  out  of  a 
wood  leaps  a  company  o'  king's  soldiers,  and  one  o' 
them,  layin'  his  hand  on  the  wagon,  while  the  rest  got 
hould  o'  the  horses,  cries, '  We  saize  this  for  his  majesty's 
sarvice.'  *  Murther !'  says  I :  '  what  does  the  king  want 
wid  a  lady's  ruffles  an'  tuckers?'  'It's  no  matther,' 
says  he  ;  'them  thrunks  must  be  examined  ;  maybe  they 
contain  conthraband  o'  war ;  an'  you  may  think  your- 
self well  off  that  you're  not  hanged  on  that  big  tree  for 
threason,'  says  he,  pointin'  till  a  moighty  fine  oak. 
'  Why  ?'  says  I ;  *  what  did  I  commit  ?'  '  You  sung  about 
liberty,'  says  he?  'an'  that's  counted  threason  in  the 
ould  counthry.'  'Is  it?'  says  I;  and  wid  that  I  snaps 
up  the  bit  of  a  fowling-piece  I  had  on  the  top  of  the 
wagon  an'  linds  him  such  a  crack  wid  the  stock  of  it  as 
he'll  remimber  while  he  has  a  skull.  In  coorse,  they  all 
chased  me,  an'  I  run  for  me  life  ;  but  when  I  got  clain 
out  o'  their  reach,  say  I  to  myself,  '  Since  that's  the 
chat,  I'll  be  as  big  a  pathriot  as  any  o'  them.'  So  I  went 
sthraight  to  the  camp  before  Boston  an'  'listed  in  Col. 
Archdale's  militia.  Miss  Constance,  that's  a  moighty 
fine  rigiment,  and  has  the  rail  moral  of  a  commander  ! 
Thaddy  Magrory's  a  captain  in  it ;  you'll  remimber  him, 
miss,  runnin'  Hiram  Hardhead  out  o'  the  Elms.  It's  in 
his  company  I  sarve  ;  but,  you  see,  ammunition  is  scarce 
in  the  pathriot  army,  an'  the  colonel  found  out  there 
was  a  stock  of  it  laid  up  in  a  small  f orthress  on  the  New 
York  frontier  called  Cumberland  Station,  wid  nobody 
but  an  ould  major  an'  some  rusty  sodgers  to  guard  it,  so 
he  sint  Thaddy  and  us  up  to  fetch  it  to  the  camp.  Says 
he,  '  Be  civil  to  the  ould  major,  for  he  niver  did  harm  or 
oppression.'  Oh  !  Miss  Constance,  he's  a  rail  good 
young  man.  So  we  went  up  an'  tuck  the  forthress  ;  the 
major  surrindered  like  an  ould  jewel  to  purvent  the 
diffusion  of  blood.  Between  ourselves,  him  an'  the 
sodgers  was  shakin'  in  their  shoes  for  fear  o'  the  Indians, 
on  account  of  some  offince  his  lady  give  the  haithen 
so  wis.  nowsomever,  sne's  iivin' safe  down  yondher  in 
Prospect  House,  an'  Thaddy 's  bringin'  the  major  down 
wid  him  undher  promise  not  to  bear  arms  agin  the 
pathriots.  The  sodgers  promised  the  same,  and  the 
most  o'  them  slipped  away  to  squat  on  the  frontier. 
Keep  up  your  heart,  miss,  for  here  we  are  in  sight  of  the 
Dutch  settlement  called  New  Haarlem." 

The  night  had  fallen  now,  and  the  lights  of  the  Dutch 
village  were  a  welcome  sight  to  Constance.  It  was  the 
first  outpost  of  civilization  on  that  side  of  the  frontier, 
its  farms  and  homesteads  indenting  the  forest  as  the 
bays  of  the  ocean  indent  the  shore.  There  they  found 
the  rest  of  the  company  halting  at  the  village  inn,  which 
was  kept  by  a  sturdy  couple  of  the  Vanderslock  type, 
the  only  people  who  could  speak  English  in  the  settle- 
ment ;  and  they  agreed  to  accommodate  the  young  lady 
in  their  parlor,  the  one  place  of  rest  they  had  for  genteel 
travelers. 

"  Don't  be  throubled  about  the  payment,  darlin','* 
Bald  Denis,  "  neither  the  ould  sinner  at  the  Elms  nor  the 
thieves  of  king's  sodgers  got  my  money  that  I  saved  in 
your  father's  sarvice  ;  I  have  it  all  here  in  the  foot  of  a 


tJilk  stockin'  that  my  mother  was  married  in — at  laist, 
they  tould  me  so  ;"  and  he  pulled  out  the  relic,  which 
had  rather  a  weighty  appearance,  and  thrust  in  into 
Constance's  hand. 

"I  must  borrow  some  of  it,  Denis,"  she  said,  trying  to 
keep  back  the  grateful  tears  which  the  generosity  of  the 
noble  fellow  brought  into  her  eyes. 

"  Keep  it  all,  my  darlin',  it's  your  own  to  the  last 
farthin',  only  just  take  care  o'  the  stockin',  it's  the  only 
keepsake  I  have  o'  the  ould  counthry  and  thim  that 
wint  down  to  the  deep  say.  But  I  must  find  some 
betther  frinds  for  you  ;"  and  off  went  Dargan. 

In  a  minute  or  two  he  returned,  bringing  with  him 
Captain  Magrory  and  Major  Danby.  The  latter,  a  gal- 
lant old  veteran  whose  days  of  active  service  seemed  at 
their  close,  introduced  himself  to  Miss  Delamere  in  the 
complimentary  style  of  the  day — regretted  that  he  could 
not  place  a  chariot,  or  even  a  suitable  horse,  at  her  dis- 
posal, but  humbly  hoped  that  when  they  reached  Pros- 
pect House  she  would  allow  him  the  honor  of  intro- 
ducing her  to  Mrs.  Danby,  who  would  be  delighted  to 
ireceive  as  a  guest  a  lady  of  her  merit  and  family. 

Constance  made  the  best  acknowledgements  she  could 
think  of ;  indeed,  the  invitation  which  honest  Denis  had 
secured  for  her  was  a  real  kindness  under  the  circum- 
stances, for  her  aunt  had  left  Springfield  at  the  beginning 
of  the  insurrection,  and  the  young  girl  knew  not  where 
to  find  even  a  temporary  home  in  her  native  province. 
Magrory  had  ably  seconded  Denis's  well-judged  applica- 
tion to  the  major.  Being  captain  of  the  capturing  com- 
pany, his  words  had  weight,  though  the  like  was  little 
needed  with  Danby's  good  nature.  He  stood  aside  till 
all  the  compliments  were  paid  and  responded  to,  and 
then  said  he  was  sorry  Miss  Delamere  had  been  so  much 
put  about,  and  advised  her  to  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  she 
could,  for  they  must  start  early  in  the  morning. 

Constance  took  his  advice ;  but  it  seemed  scarcely  an 
hour  to  the  tired  girl  till  Denis  was  knocking  at  her 
room-door  in  the  first  gray  light,  and  calling  upon  her  to 
rise  and  go  with  him. 

The  whole  company  was  soon  on  the  road  again,  and 
going  at  a  gallop,  for  now  their  way  led  through  the 
farms  and  villages  of  long-settled  and  cultivated  Massa- 
chusetts. But  there  was  not  a  man  to  be  seen  in  the 
meadows  or  cornfields,  and  the  women  and  children, 
who  were  doing  what  they  could  there,  paused  in  their 
work  and  looked  anxiously  after  them  as  they  passed. 

At  length  the  neighborhood  of  Boston  was  reached  ; 
and  what  a  different  scene  presented  itself.  Along  the 
public  roads,  bye-ways,  and  lanes  trooped  maids  and 
matrons,  boys  and  girls,  some  with  carts,  some  with 
pack-horses,  and  some  with  baskets  on  their  own  sturdy 
arms,  bearing  provisions  to  friends  and  kinsmen  who 
had  no  other  commissariat  to  depend  on.  For  miles  all 
round  the  landward  side  of  the  beleaguered  town 
stretched  the  camp  of  the  New  England  men,  some 
quartered  in  tents,  some  in  huts,  and  some  in  temporary 
sheds  that  served  for  barracks,  clothed  in  the  homespun 
cotton  which  formed  the  summer  dress  of  the  country 
people,  armed  mostly  with  fowling-pieces  or  hunting 
rifles,  and  officered  by  their  neighbors  of  more  or  less 
experience  in  military  affairs.  That  rustic  rout,  as  the 
British  authorities  called  them,  had  for  two  months 
hemmed  in  five  thousand  of  England's  best  troops,  and 
were  ready  to  meet  five  thousand  more  who  had  lately 
arrived  by  sea. 

It  was  noon  before  Captain  Magrory's  company 
reached  Prospect  HUl— a  height  some  two  miles  west  of 
Boston,  which  was  afterwards  fortified,  and  has  become 
historical  as  the  spot  from  which  Washington  surveyed 
not  only  the  American  camp,  but  the  British  garrison, 
for  camp  and  town  lay  like  a  map  spread  out  below.  At 
the  time  of  our  story  there  were  no  buildings  on  the  hill 
but  one  solitary  and  singular-looking  dwelling,  which 
stood  near  its  summit,  and  was  hence  called  Prospect 
House.  It  had  been  erected  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century  by  an  emigrant  from  England,  who 
got  an  ill-repute  for  magical  practices,  chiefly  on  account 
of  a  particular  apartment,  built  like  a  turret  on  the  roof, 
and  having  more  than  the  usual  supply  of  windows,  but 
later  times  discovered  him  to  have  been  an  amateur 
astronomer,  and  the  turret-room  his  private  observatory. 
Though  not  exactly  ruinous,  it  was  a  decayed,  neglected 
place ;  few  tenants  cared  to  remain  long  in  a  situation 
so  exposed  to  winter  storms  and  summer  sun ;  and  in 
the  changes  that  have  passed  over  the  neighborhood,  the 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  311 


aetonomer's  house  has  disappeared  long  ago ;  hut  as 
Magrory's  company  neared  the  foot  of  the  hill,  Major 
Danby  came  up  to  Constance,  and  said,  "Miss  Dela- 
mere,  here  are  our  quarters  for  the  present ;  I  am  sorry 
we  have  no  better  home  to  offer  you ;"  and  he  would 
have  handed  her  from  between  the  packs  with  stately 
courtesy,  but  Denis  anticipated  him. 

"  Shure,  you'll  be  kind  to  the  young  lady,  major— you 
an'  the  missus,  bein'  rail  ginthry  yourselves— an'  her 
father,  the  squire,  will  niver  forget  it.  Isn't  he  the  moral 
of  a  king  officer  ?  Good-bye,  Miss  Constance,  darlin'  1 
take  care  o'  yourself,  an'  the  Lord  take  care  o'  ye  too  ; 
I'll  come  an'  see  you  as  soon  as  I  can,  but  there's  hot 
work  before  us  now  ;"  and  away  galloped  Dargan  after 
his  captain  and  company  ^while  the  major  and  Constance 
turned  up  to  Prospect  House,  and  out  of  its  door  to 
meet  them  came  Lieutenant  Gray. 

"Miss  Delamere,  it  is  an  unexpected  pleasure  to  see 
you  here,"  he  said.  "  I  wish,  for  your  sake,  the  neigh- 
borhood was  more  peaceable ;  but  things  never  go  as 
one  wishes.  Major  Danby,  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  in  my 
own  care  ;  you  must  know  I  am  a  prisoner  on  parole  to 
these  American  worthies  ;  the  scoundrels  I  had  for  a 
company  in  a  guard-house  on  the  Lexington  road,  one 
of  old  Gage's  inventions,  deserted  me  at  the  first  brush." 

"  The  chances  of  war,  my  dear  fellow  1"  and  the  major 
returned  his  hearty  shake-hands.  "The  chances  of  war 
have  come  to  us  both  ;  but,  between  ourselves,  I  was 
not  grieved  to  give  up  my  garrison  in  yon  ill-starred 
station,  and  come  down  here  to  present  our  fair  friend 
to  Mrs.  Danby." 

"Mrs.  Danby  is  gone  to  Watertown,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. "She  heard  there  were  Indians  coming  to  the 
American  camp  on  some  business,  and  thought  it  better 
to  get  out  of  their  way." 

"Oh,  yes  ;  she  got  into  a  scrape  with  a  wild  lot  up 
yonder.  Mrs.  Danby  does  get  into  scrapes  sometimes," 
eaid  the  major ;  "  but,  sir,  she  is  a  wonderful  woman  for 
teaching  the  ignorant,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  So  I  understand,"  and  the  lieutenant  tried  hard  to 
suppress  a  smile.  "But  she  started  for  Wateitown 
early  yesterday  morning,  taking  her  two  maids  with  her, 
60  I  am  alone  in  the  house.  But  they  say  we  gentlemen 
on  parole  will  all  have  to  go  to  Watertown  when  George 
Washington  comes  to  put  things  in  regulation.  Ho*f- 
ever,  there  is  no  moving  just  now.  Major,  you  are  in 
time  to  see  a  sharp  action,  as  I  think  it  will  be  ;  so  are 
you,  Miss  Delamere,  if  you  don't  faint  or  go  off  in 
hysterics." 

"  I  am  a  soldier's  daughter,  sir,  and  will  not  trouble 
you  with  anything  of  the  kind,  said  the  high-spirited 
girl. 

"  Bravo !  Wouldn't  the  squire  be  proud  to  hear  that ! 
Come  along,  then,  there  never  was  a  position  for  seeing 
like  the  turret-room  of  this  house.  I  have  two  famous 
glasses,  and  one  of  them  is  at  your  service,  my  girl." 
And  the  lieutenant  led  the  way  into  the  solitary  house, 
and  up  the  narrow  stair,  to  the  star-gazer's  room  on  its 
roof. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. — A  TERRIBLE  OUTLOOK. 

Till  she  stood  at  one  of  the  windows  of  that  elevated 
apartment,  her  clear  young  sight  supplemented  by  the 
obliging  lieutenant's  glass,  Constance  had  no  idea  of  the 
scene  that  awaited  her.  There  lay  the  scattered  camp 
of  the  Americans  ;  there  stood  the  now  fortified  town  of 
Boston ;  and  there  England's  ships  of  war  rode  at  the 
mouth  of  Charles  river.  But  from  the  city  roofs  and  the 
country  hill-tops,  from  every  ship's  rigging  and  summit 
around  the  harbor,  people  were  looking  away  to  the 
heights  above  Charlestown.  Her  schooldays  in  Boston, 
and  recent  sojourn  with  the  Quaker  family  there,  had 
made  her  well  acquainted  with  the  almost  united  ridges 
of  Breed's  and  Bunker's  Hill ;  grass-grown  steeps,  the 
pasture-ground  of  sheep  and  cattle,  they  had  been  in 
other  summer  times  ;  but  now  the  highest  summit  was 
crowned  with  that  roofless  fortress  which  military  men 
call  a  redoubt ;  and  on  the  slope  below  a  strong  breast- 
work gave  token  of  expected  attack  and  defence.  The 
lieutenant's  glass  was  scarcely  requisite  to  let  her  see 
that  the  redoubt  was  filled,  and  the  breastwork  lined, 
with  men,  all  provincials,  wearing  the  country  clothes 
in  which  they  had  worked  in  farms,  mills,  and  forges, 
and  carrying  the  arms  which  they  had  been  accustomed 
to  use  in  winter  hunts  and  summer  shooting-matches. 

**  Wasn't  that  a  surprise  for  old  Gage  this  morning  P" 


said  Lieutenant  Gray.  The  two  old  soldiers  had  takea 
up  their  position  at  a  window  which  commanded  the 
best  view  of  the  heights,  as  a  couple  of  connoisseurs 
might  take  the  best  light  by  which  to  criticise  a  painting, 
^or  the  most  convenient  box  from  which  to  witness  the 
performance  of  a  new  drama,  and  it  was  divided  from 
the  one  at  which  Constance  stood  by  a  fixed  screen,  or 
half-partition,  which  had  somehow  served  the  ends  of 
the  astronomer  in  his  day  ;  so  that  she  was  out  of  their 
sight,  though  near  enough  to  hear  every  word  that 
passed  between  them.  "  The  fellows  managed  it  all  in 
the  course  of  last  night.  I  knew  there  was  something 
to  come  off  when  I  saw  them  having  prayers  by  lantern* 
light  on  Cambridge  Green.  These  Americans  do  hold 
on  to  the  religion,  major." 

"  Well,  Gray,  it's  not  such  a  bad  thing  to  hold  by, 
though  in  my  youth  we  thought  it  fit  for  nobody  but 
parsons  or  Methodists.  But  they  are  all  countrymen  ; 
do  you  think  they  will  stand  any  time  ?"  said  Danby. 

"I  don't  know,'*  said  the  lieutenant.  *'  There  are  men 
among  them  whom  you  and  I  have  seen  doing  good 
service  in  the  French  war.  There  is  Prescott,  command- 
ing in  the  redoubt— I  can  recognize  him  at  this  distance  ; 
and  there  is  old  Israel  Putnam,  who  had  such  an  escape 
from  your  lady's  friends,  the  Indians,  twenty  years  ago, 
riding  about  in  his  shirt-sleeves;  and,  I  do  believe,  there 
is  the  minister,  M'Clintock,  who  used  to  preach  to  the 
Massachusetts  volunteers,  exhorting  and  praying  with 
them  every  one.  There  are  some  red-hot  young  rascals, 
too,  at  the  breastwork.  Those  forward  men  are  Arch- 
dale's  militia.  Their  colonel — they  take  his  name,  you 
see — is  a  regular  firebrand  for  the  American  cause.  You 
remember  his  father  and  Captain  Delamere — what  brave 
soldiers  and  true  friends  they  were ;  fine  fellows  at  the 
mess-table,  too,  for  New  England  men.  One  could 
never  have  believed  they  would  turn  against  each  other 
and  take  different  sides,  but  they  have,  nevertheless, 
and  young  Archdale,  who  was  courting  Delamere's 
daughter,  the  girl  you  have  in  escort — what  a  good  thing 
she  has  gone  away  before  I  began  chattering — is  going 
to  marry  a  Quaker's  heiress,  to  help  his  militia  raising, 
I  suppose.  There  he  is,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  a 
brave  boy,  I'll  warrant.  But  look,  we  shall  see  if  they 
can  stand  now." 

As  he  spoke,  the  thunder  of  cannon  from  the  ships, 
and  a  double  line  of  barges  faintly  seen  through  the 
smoke,  announced  that  British  troops  had  crossed  over 
from  Boston,  and  were  landing  under  cover  of  the  fire. 

At  the  same  time  bodies  of  provincials  came  up  the 
hills  from  Medf ord  to  reinforce  the  defenders.  By-and« 
by  more  barges  and  more  troops  were  seen  landing  at 
Moulton's  Point ;  the  cannonade  continued  till  the  earth 
seemed  shaken,  and  the  heavens  darkened,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant and  the  major  calmly  speculated  on  where  the 
attack  should  begin,  and  whether  the  breastwork  or  the 
redoubt  should  be  first  carried. 

At  last  the  thunder  ceased  for  u  moment,  the  summer 
breeze  rolled  back  the  heavy  curtain  of  sulphurous 
smoke,  and  then,  in  all  the  pomp  of  brilliant  uniforms, 
gleaming  arms,  and  flying  colors.  King  George's  men 
advanced  in  two  divisions,  one  against  the  breastwork, 
and  one  against  the  redoubt. 

"  Howe  means  to  carry  that  position,"  cried  the  lieu- 
tenant, as  he  saw  the  first  come  on ;  "  old  Stark,  with 
his  Hampshire  men,  and  young  Archdale,  with  his 
militia,  can't  hold  it  long ;  for,  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
part  of  that  breastwork  is  made  of  rail-fences  and  new- 
mown  hay.  Don't  the  Grenadiers  come  up  in  splendid 
style  ?  They  are  not  all  from  England,  though.  There's 
Delamere's  regiment,  the  Royal  Canadians ;  they  have 
made  him  a  colonel  for  his  services  in  the  fortifying  ol 
Boston,  and  no  man  deserves  promotion  better,  a  soldier 
and  a  gentleman,  every  inch  of  him  ;  there  now,  I  think 
I  see  him.  It  would  be  a  sad  thing  if  he  and  his  old 
friend's  son  should  come  to  close  quarters  this  day." 

Constance  heard  no  more.  She  had  tried  to  see 
Sydney,  and  tried  to  see  her  father,  but  neither  the 
glass,  nor  the  position  she  had,  were  as  good  as  those  of 
the  lieutenant.  From  the  roofs  of  Boston,  and  the  sum- 
mits of  surrounding  hills,  thousands  were  looking  out 
for  the  issues  of  that  battle,  and  many  had  near  rela- 
tions engaged  in  it,  but  few  had  a  stake  so  heavy  as  her 
own.  The  love  of  her  childhood,  and  the  chosen  of  her 
youth,  her  father,  and  her  first  love — ^in  spite  of  the 
probabilities  regarding  the  Quaker's  heiress,  Constance 
knew  he  would  be  the  last  love  too — each  bent  to  con- 


312 


THE  GROIVING  fVORLD. 


qtier  or  die  on  a  different  side,  and  likely  to  meet  that 
day  in  mortal  combat  I  The  lieutenant's  words  smote 
her  ear  and  heart  more  heavily  than  the  thunder  of  the 
cannon.  Unseen  in  that  hidden  comer,  she  sank  "upon 
her  knees  and  prayed  without  speech  or  voice  (for  the 
girl  could  find  none)  that  whatever  else  was  determined 
concerning  them,  neither  might  be  permitted  to  shed 
the  other's  blood. 


side-table  and  an  old-fashioned,  crazy  settee,  which 
might  have  been  the  boast  of  some  aspiring  colonist  in 
former  times.  On  its  hard  cushions  Constance  lay 
down,  and,  in  spite  of  her  strange  surroundings,  fell  fast 
asleep,  while  the  old  and  much-fatigued  major  forgot 
his  cares  on  a  dismantled  bedstead  in  another  apart- 
ment, and  Lieutenant  Gray  went  out  to  gather  news  and 
^  forage  for  the  party,  as  his  negro  servant  Pompey  was 

Agam  the  roar  of  cannon,  but  followed  this  tmie  by  a  nowhere  to  be  found, 
volley  of  musketry,  made  the  hills  resound ;  the  redoubt     Two  hours  later,  the  lieutenant  having  returned  from 
and  the  breastwork  were  at  once  attacked  and  defended  his  mission,  softly  opened  the  door  and  looked  in  upon 
with  equal  bravery.   From  that  small  window  Constance  i  ^er  but  Constance  never  woke. 

saw,  as  the  rolling  billows  of  smoke  allowed  her,  Biitish  <<'poor  child  I"  said  the  brave  old  soldier ;  "the  day 
regiments  whose  colors  were  inscribed  with  many  aljias  been  trying  to  her :"  and,  turning  from  the  room, 
victory  over  the  first  armies  of  Europe,  recoil  from  the  fee  brought  the  only  blanket  to  be  found  in  the  house 
deadly  fire  of  the  provincial  marksmen,  and  fall  like  and  gently  spread  it  over  the  sleeping  girl ;  then  he 
com  before  the  reaper's  sickle.  Twice  the  attack  was  broughthershare— the  very  best  of  the  coarse  provisions 
renewed,  and  twice  the  assailants  were  driven  back  with  he  had  been  able  to  obtain— placed  it  on  the  table  b 
a  slaughter  so  fearful  that  even  British  courage  failed,  her  side,  and  saying,  "The  Lord  keep  you  and  us  all 


and  a  general  retreat  seemed  inevitable. 

"Would  you  have  believed  that,  major?"  cried  the 
lieutenant ;  but  his  expressions  of  astonishment  were 
cut  short  by  the  noise  of  bursting  bombshells  ;  and  up 
from  the  thickly-clustered  houses  of  Charlestown  rose  9, 
broad,  red  column  of  flame,  followed  by  another  and 
another,  till  the  oldest  town  in  the  New  England 


I" 

quietly  closed  the  door  and  retired  to  his  own  rest  on  an 
old  sofa  in  the  astronomer's  library. 

Constance  slept  on  for  hours  the  dreamless  sleep  of 
the  weary,  which  fell  on  thousands  that  summer  night 
in  the  tent-studded  country  and  the  leaguered  town; 
but  the  heavy  sleep  grew  lighter  as  the  early  day  crept 
"in  through  the  scantily-curtained  windows.    A  sound 


provinces,  with  all  its  timber  dwellings,  stores,  and  somewhere  in  the  room  woke  her  up  at  once,  and,  look 


churches,  was  in  one  wide  blaze,  and  a  body  of  sharps 
shooters,  on  whose  account  the  shells  were  thrown,  re- 
tired from  it  in  good  order. 

Removed  as  the  three  in  Prospect  House  were  from 
the  scene  of  actual  danger,  the  glare  of  the  burning 


ing  up,  she  saw  what  in  the  dim  light,  and  with  the 
terrible  impressions  of  the  preceding  day  fresh  in  her 
memory,  the  girl  took  to  be  a  spectre. 

In  the  open  doorway  stood  a  tall  figure  with  long 
white  hair,  and  dressed  in  an  antiquated  fashion.  But 


town  and  the  roar  of  the  battle  were  so  appalling  that  the  i^e  next  moment  she  knew  it  to  be  an  earthly  man  with- 
two  old  oflBcers  laid  down  their  glasses,  and  Constance  out  a  coat,  and  wearing  a  long  waistcoat  and  loose 
crouched  in  the  corner  and  covered  her  face  with  her  I  buckskin  continuations,  which  took  a  remarkable  re- 
hands.  When  she  looked  out  again  it  was  to  see  the 'semblance  to  the  doublet  and  hose  of  long  departed 
provincials  driven  from  the  redoubt;  in  military  phrase,  times.   His  hair,  as  we  have  said,  was  white— bleached 


tt  was  carried  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  for  the  ammu< 
nition  of  the  marksmen  had  failed. 

The  defenders  of  the  breastwork  stood  fast  for  some 
time,  but  at  length  she  saw  them  also  give  way  before 
the  British  steel,  and  msh  in  a  headlong  route  down 
Bunker's  Hill ;  yet  there  was  one  body  of  men  that  kept 
the  field  longest  and  last,  disputing  the  ground  by 
inches,  and  covering  the  retreat  of  their  companions  in 
arms. 

"See  yonder  1"  cried  the  lieutenant,  "Archdale's 
militia  are  doing  service  I  would  not  have  given  them 
credit  for — saving  the  skins  of  all  the  rest  in  that  fashion. 
They  must  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  young  firebrand 
at  their  head,  for  I  have  heard  that  few  of  them  were 
ever  in  action  before.  See  in  what  good  order  they  re- 
tire," he  added,  as  those  last  disputants  of  the  hard- 
fought  field  tumed  down  the  hill  under  a  furious  can- 
nonade from  ships  and  batteries,  and  were  lost  to  sigbt 
in  its  smoke. 

"  The  king's  troops  have  won  the  ground,  but,  I  fear, 
at  a  terrible  price,"  said  the  major. 

"Yes,  sir,'^  said  the  lieutenant,  "they  have  won  the 
ground,  but  the  provincials  have  this  day  won  a  military 
reputation  that  will  henceforth  make  them  our  equals  ii^ 
every  soldier's  reckoning." 

By  degrees  the  cannonade  ceased ;  the  blazing  towD 
fell  in  heaps  of  smouldering  rains  ;  the  provincials  re- 
treated to  Cambridge,  the  British  remained  in  possession 
of  the  heights,  and  the  summer  evening  came  down  oi) 
those  grassy  hills  now  strewn  with  more  than  fifteen 
hundred  slain,  two-thirds  of  whom  wore  the  Britisb 
uniform. 

Distance  from  the  scene  of  action  spared  poor  Con- 
stance the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  battle-field  when  the 
fight  was  done,  with  which  her  companions  on  the  out- 
look were  but  too  familiar.  A  terrible  uncertainty  as  to 
what  might  have  befallen  her  father  or  Sydney  pressed 
heavily  on  her  mind;  but  the  girl  was  worn  out,  as 
overwrought  youth  is  apt  to  be,  and,  silently  stealing 
from  her  post  behind  the  screen,  that  her  involuntary 
eavesdropping  might  not  be  suspected,  she  made  her 
way  to  one  of  the  rooms  below,  which  had  been  the 
astronomer's  best  parlor. 

There  was  little  furniture  in  Prospect  House.  Mrs. 
Danby  and  her  two  maids  had  taken  with  them  every- 
thing that  was  conveniently  portable,  and  nothing  re- 


by  sun  and  wind,  it  seemed,  as  well  as  by  years.  His 
face  had  a  hardy,  resolute  look,  like  that  of  one  familiar 
with  hardship  and  danger,  but  there  was  nothing  sin- 
ister or  dishonest  in  it ;  and  Constance,  who  had  sprung 
to  her  feet  before  she  had  half  made  these  observations, 
felt  completely  reassured  when  he  said,  in  a  deep  but 
kindly  tone,  "  Is  there  nobody  in  the  house  but  you, 
child  ?" 

"  Tes,  sur ;  there  are  two  British  oflicers."  The  plaitt 
truth  came  always  uppermost  with  that  girl. 

"  Two  British  oflficers  ?  What  are  their  names  ?" 

"Lieutenant  Gray  and  Major  Danby,  sir." 

"  He  that  Magrory's  men  brought  down  from  Cumber 
land  Station  ?" 

"  The  same,  sir." 

"  Well,  there's  no  harm  in  him ;  and  he  has  got  a 
handsome  girl  for  his  daughter,"  said  the  stranger,  with 
a  fatherly  sort  of  smile. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  Squire  Delamere's  daughter  ;  they  call 
him  colonel  now,"  cried  Constance,  in  her  simplicity 
and  eagerness.  "  Can  you  tell  me  if  he  is  safe,  or  did 
anything  happen  to  him  in  the  battle  ?" 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of,  child ;  but  we  and  the 
British  get  little  news  of  each  other's  happenings.  Yet 
now  that  you  remind  me  of  it,  1  heard  Colonel  Archdale, 
just  before  he  started  to  let  the  Philadelphia  folks  hear 
of  our  good  fight,  telling  one  of  his  militia,  who,  it 
seems,  had  been  in  the  squire's  employment,  and  was  a 
bit  concerned  about  him,  that  Delamere  has  gone  back 
to  Boston  for  reinforcements  without  a  scratch,  after  all 
the  damage  he  did  us  at  the  breastwork." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  for  telling  me  that."  Constance 
could  say  no  more  for  great  joy  and  thankfulness.  Her 
father,  and  Sydney,  too,  were  safe.  Her  prayers  con- 
cerning them  had  been  heard,  and  her  fears  were  over 
for  the  time.  ,  , 

"  I  am  glad  I  had  to  tell  you,  child,"  and  the  stranger's 
hard  face  grew  sadly  softened.  "  There  is  many  a  wife 
and  daughter,  sister  and  sweetheart,  seeking  for  such 
news  of  their  own,  that  lie  yonder  on  the  heights.  That 
is  the  worst  part  of  our  hot  dispute  with  England.  The 
Lord  forgive  them  who  urged  it  to  this  issue.  Your 
father  was  a  worthy  gentleman,  and  is  a  good  soldier ;  I 
am  sorry  he  has  sided  with  the  enemies  of  his  country.' 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,  too,  sir,  but  I  can't  help  it,"  said 
Constance. 


mained  but  what  a  timid  or  careless  tenant  had  left  be-1  «  No  you  can't,  my  girl,  and  that  is  well  spoken,  too. 
bind  when  hastily  quitting  it  on  the  first  formation  of  gi-f  i  bave  something  else  to  say.  You  can't  stay  here, 
Uip  American  camp.   The  parlor  contained  only  a  small        or  your  friends.   We  are  going  to  fortify  the  hill* 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


313 


rfchls  house  must  form  part  of  tlie  works,  and  the  British 
will  very  probably  try  to  dislodge  us.  Get  off  as  quickly 
as  you  can.  Are  you  in  safe  hands,  child  ?"  and  he 
looked  her  in  the  face  as  an  anxious  relative  might  have 
^one. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  ;  Lieutenant  Gray  is  my  father's  friend, 
and  Major  Danby  is  a  friend  of  his.  They  are  both 
.good  men,  and  I  am  going  with  th«m  to  Watertown  to 
stay  with  the  major's  lady  tUl  some  better  arrangement 
can  be  made,"  said  Constance. 

"  They  should  have  been  in  Watertown  yesterday. 
With  the  rest  of  the  olHcers  on  parole.  Tell  them  to 
start  at  once,  and  nobody  will  be  the  wiser.  As  you  are 
with  them,  and  we  have  no  horses  for  a  lady's  riding, 
I'll  get  somebody  to  lend  a  cart.  These  times  don't 
admit  of  much  finery,  but  give  them  my  compliments, 
to  make  quick  and  quiet  work  of  it.  My  name  is  Israel 
Putnam.    Good  morning  ;  and  the  Lord  bless  you  !" 

He  was  gone  the  next  moment,  for  that  white-haired 
man  retained  in  a  great  measure  the  activity  of  his 
youth.    Constance  ran  to  the  outer  door  to  get  another 
flight  of  him.   The  name  he  had  given  was  known  to  her ' 
as  that  of  one  of  the  several  captains  elected  by  their 
own  troops,  and  commanding  with  independent  author- 
ity each  his  own  division  of  the  American  camp.   It  was 
itnown  throughout  the  provinces,  and  is  still  known  in 
the  history  of  his  time,  as  that  of  a  veteran  patriot  who 
spent  his  youth  in  defending  his  country's  frontiers,  and 
his  age  in  defending  its  liberties — a  rustic  Cincinnatus, 
Who  left  his  plough  to  serve  his  land  and  people,  and  ■ 
merged  in  that  se»-vice  every  personal  consideration  ;  ■ 
and  a  man  who,  despite  a  rugged  life  and  eccentric 
manners,  was  honored  by  his  contemporaries,  and  is 
revered  by  their  posterity.   The  provincials  almost  gave  1 
the  credit  of  the  "  good  fight,"  by  which  they  gained  j 
a  preatiye  of  more  account  than  victory,  to  Israel  Putnam,  \ 
because  he  had  advised  and  carried  out  the  fortifications  1 
on  the  heights  above  Charlestown ;   and  his  second  l 
achievement  in  that  campaign  was  allowed  to  be  the  i 
fortifying  of  Prospect  Hill.   As  his  custom  was,  he  had  ' 
come  alone  to  survey  the  ground  while  friends  and  1 
enemies  were  yet  asleep,  found  the  door  of  Prospect  1 
House  unbarred,  through  the  general  oversight  of  its 
weary  inmates,  and  thus  interviewed  Constance  at  that  < 
unusual  hour,  and  gave  her  and  her  traveling  com-  ' 
panions  notice  to  quit.  1 

I  < 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— DANBY  LODGE.  j 

The  political  state  of  the  American  provinces  in  the  1 
year  preceding  the  Declaration  of  Independence  has  ( 
-scarcely  its  parallel  in  the  history  of  any  other  country.  1 
While  the  New  England  troops  were  successfully  fight-  ' 
ing  his  Britannic  Majesty's  forces,  and  taking  possession  1 
of  his  Majesty's  forts  and  stores  in  every  direction —  1 
while  the  Continental  Congress  were  commissioning  ' 
their  officers,  and  making  arrangements  to  increase  their  ^ 
military  resources— public  men  from  Maine  to  Georgia  ] 
talked  of  allegiance  to  the  British  crown,  and  indis-  3 
■soluble  connection  with  the  British  Kingdom.  Governors  ] 
With  royal  letters  patent  from  England,  and  commanders  1 
Appointed  by  the  congress  in  Philadelphia,  came  at  each  ^ 
other's  heels ;  the  municipalities  through  whose  ter-  ] 
ritories  they  passed  paid  them  equal  honors,  and  lived 
in  dread  of  their  simultaneous  arrivals— a  contingency  ' 
which  would  have  been  embarrassing,  but  either  by  i 
good  chance  or  good  guiding,  it  never  happened.  The  < 
governors  exhorted  the  people  to  repent  of  their  dis-  ^ 
loyalty  ;  the  commanders  advised  them  to  stand  fast  for 
their  rights  and  liberties,  and  the  latter  counsel  was  1 
generally  accepted  ;  but  the  old  colonial  attachment  to  J 
the  mother-country,  the  well-spring  of  their  laws  and  ' 
language,  learning  and  religion,  in  whose  history  and  ] 
traditions  they  had  to  seek  the  origin  of  their  own,  had  ' 
still  a  hold  on  provincial  hearts  which  it  required 
months  of  relentless  hostility  on  the  part  of  the  British  1 
•Government  to  loose  and  break  away.  j 

In  the  meantime  those  contending  influences  produced  ( 
a  state  of  things  that  was  remarkably  diversified.  Bos-  j 
ton  and  its  vicinity  was  the  theatre  of  open  war ;  but  be- 
yond that  every  district,  and  almost  every  township,  did  < 
that  which  was  right  in  its  own  eyes.  While  one  was  '< 
filled  with  burning  zeal  for  the  patriot  cause,  so  that  ' 
none  of  the  Tory  persuasion  could  find  rest  for  the  sole  < 
of  his  foot  within  its  bounds,  another  went  quietly  1 
about  its  business,  living  and  letting  live  with  regard  to  1 
principles  or  parties.  The  village  of  Watertown  belonged  t 


to  the  latter  description  ;  there  was  not  a  more  peaceable 
place  on  Massachusetts  Bay. 

Danby  Lodge  was  an  imposing  title  for  the  neat 
frame  cottage  standing  in  a  small  garden  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  village,  at  which,  according  to  observant 
neighbors,  *Hwo  old  Britishers  and  a  handsome  young 
miss"  arrived  on  the  day  after  Bunker's  Hill.  The  time 
and  circumstances  might  have  excited  some  demon- 
strations of  feeling,  but  Mrs.  Major  Danby  received  them 
with  the  most  genteel  composure.  She  looked  like  one 
of  those  "severe  English  ladies"  with  whom  French 
mothers  are  in  the  habit  of  frightening  their  refractory 
children— tall,  muscular,  and  gaunt  in  frame  and  face  ; 
no  iDeauty,  indeed,  yet  gifted  with  a  commanding 
presence,  and  a  look  of  good  birth  and  breeding  which 
beauty  cannot  always  confer. 

Further  acquaintance  proved  that  Mrs.  Danby  was 
coldly  proper  to  the  back-bone  society  as  it  existed  in 
England  being  her  high  court  of  appeal  for  all  causes 
temporal  and  spiritual ;  that  she  was  inclined  to  stand 
on  her  social  dignity,  but  ready  to  reckon  pence  with 
'any  tradesman  ;  and  though  her  highly  practical  views 
were  disturbed  by  no  gleam  of  sentiment  or  fiight  of 
imagination,  yet  the  lady  had  one  hobby,  which  was  a 
consideration  to  all  who  came  within  her  reach.  It  was 
the  same  which  she  had  ridden  with  such  woeful  con- 
sequences at  Cumberland  Station,  an  unresting  ambition 
to  train,  drill,  correct,  and  set  people  right  on  every 
possible  subject.  If  they  were  young,  so  much  greater 
was  the  scope  for  her  energy ,  if  they  were  old,  she 
could  still  find  room  for  improvement. 

In  short,  Mrs.  Danby  had  missed  her  destiny  in  not 
being  a  charity  schoolmistress,  and  yet  was  not  a  bad 
sort  of  woman  as  the  world  went.  She  seemed  really 
glad  to  see  her  old  husband  safe  and  well ;  had  a  friendly 
greeting  for  his  ancient  acquaintance.  Lieutenant  Gray  ; 
and  when  Miss  Delamere  had  been  presented  in  due 
form,  she  gave  her  a  kindly  welcome  to  Danby  Lodge, 
and  a  pressing  invitation  to  make  it  her  home  till  those 
"misguided  creatures  before  Boston  were  brought  to 
reason,"  and  loyal  gentlemen  like  her  father  could  re- 
turn to  their  mansions  and  estates  in  peace. 

The  invitation  was  gratefully  acknowledged  and  ac- 
cepted, and  Constance  became  one  of  the  Danby  family. 
Lieutenant  Gray  found  quarters  for  himself  in  a  neigh- 
boring cottage,  for  the  lodge  had  no  room  for  more  than 
one  visitor.  Many  of  the  British  officers  similarly 
situated  in  Watertown  were  his  old  friends,  most  of 
them  were  acquainted  with  the  major,  and  all  took  early 
opportunities  to  get  introduced  to  Mrs.  Danby!  From 
the  day  on  which  the  major  had  endowed  her  with  his 
wordly  goods,  that  excellent  lady  had  kept  fast  hold  of 
them  and  her  own  too,  in  times  of  triumph  or  of  tribula- 
tion. Losing  anything  was  out  of  the  question  with  her. 
Moreover,  she  managed  financial  matters  as  it  would  be 
well  for  nations  that  most  ministers  could  do  ;  and  thus 
her  spouse  had  a  comfortable  home  in  the  days  of 
his  involuntary  captivity.  Her  house  was  a  capital 
place  for  those  lonely  and  luckless  men  to  while  away 
their  idle  time  in.  The  seniors  found  cards  and  con- 
versation there,  the  juniors  a  young  lady  to  buzz  and 
hover  about. 

Mrs.  Danby  found  them  all  ready,  if  not  willing,  sub- 
jects for  her  schooling  powers,  and  did  governess  duty 
to  such  an  extent  that  Lieutenant  Gray  was  heard  by  his 
confidential  friends,  though  he  acknowledged  it  was 
wrong,  to  wish  the  Indians  had  got  her. 

As  might  be  expected,  Constance  got  a  large  share  of 
the  tutelage.  Besides  being  grounded  in  all  that  was 
required  from  "a  girl  of  family  in  England,"  she  had  to 
work  samplers  in  the  rococo  pattern,  and  learn  to 
perform  on  the  harpsichord  such  choice  pieces  as  the 
"  Destruction  of  Tyre,"  and  the  "  Coronation  of  Cupid." 

Naturally  gentle,  good-humored,  and  given  to  please, 
the  yoke  did  not  press  so  heavily  on  Delamere 's  daughter 
as  it  would  have  done  on  some  girls,  and  its  weight  was 
considerably  ameliorated  by  certain  views  which  Mra 
Danby  had  in  the  back-ground  regarding  her  guest. 

Soon  after  her  own  instalment  in  the  lodge,  Constance 
observed  that  the  major's  lady  received  and  dispatched 
a  good  many  letters  by  the  Tory  runner  who  did  postal 
business  between  the  scattered  Royalists  of  Massa- 
chusetts and  their  friends  in  New  York,  which  city  had 
become  a  surer  refuge  of  Tories  than  Boston,  and  had, 
moreover,  the  advantage  of  not  being  beleaguered  by 
the  New  England  army.    The  subject  of  tlie  correfi- 


314 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


pondence  sTie  neither  knew  nor  cared  to  eruess  at.  ^*It 
IS  about  money  matters,  and  what  the  British  Govern- 
ment ought  to  do  for  the  major,"  thought  the  simple 
girl.  But  from  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting,  Con- 
stance had  been  puzzled  by  something  in  Mrs.  Danby's 
look  which  seemed  familiar  to  her  memory.  She  had 
seen  the  lady  before,  or  somebody  very  like  her,  but 
when  or  where  Constance  could  not  imagine,  till  one' 
day,  as  Mrs.  Danby  was  sealing  one  of  her  numerous 
letters  at  her  own  writing-table  in  a  corner  of  the 
drawing-room,  she  happened  to  drop  the  seal,  which 
rolled  to  her  visitor's  feet,  and  Constance,  stooping 
to  pick  it  up,  saw  engraved  thereon  the  very  crest  which 
Captain  Devereux  used  to  employ  on  his  frequent  notes 
to  her  father. 

You  know  that  crest,  my  dear?"  said  the  keen- 
sighted  lady.  "  Ah  !  and  let  me  tell  you  I  have  a  right 
to  use  it,  though  my  father  was  only  a  commoner — 
Captain  Gridley  Bacon,  second  brother  of  Barnes  Bacon, 
Esq.,  of  Hogsfleld  Hall,  County  Hants.  My  mother  was 
Lady  Cecilia  Devereux,  eldest  sister  of  the  present  Vis- 
count Lavenham.  Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  quite  true  ;"  and 
Mrs.  Danby  endeavored  to  look  arch.  I  believe  you 
are  acquainted  with  my  cousin — nay,  don't  blush" — 
poor  Constance  was  only  looking  thunderstruck;  "the 
best  bred  girl  in  this  or  any  other  country  need  not  be 
ashamed  of  a  preference  for  Cecil  Talbot  Devereux, 
heir-apparent  to  the  Lavenham  title  and  estate.  My 
dear,  he  has  not  forgotten  you  ;  Cecil  is  not  one  of  those 
fickle  men  whose  love  is  cooled  by  absence  and  frozen 
by  misfortune.  No,  though  your  prospects  are  not  what 
they  once  were — I  mean  the  present,  of  course — his 
heart  is  as  true  to  you  as  the  needle  to  the  pole.  Shall 
I  tell  you  a  secret  ?  My  cousin  is  in  New  York,  and  will 
be  here  soon." 

Constance  never  knew  how  she  looked  on  hearing 
that  announcement,  and,  fortunately,  her  hostess  had 
no  time  to  observe,  for  the  trusty  runner  gave  his  signal 
knock  at  the  street  door,  and  she  ran  out  with  her  letter, 
ine  revelation  was  not  more  unexpected  than  alarming 
to  the  solitary  girl.  How  was  she  to  stave  off  the  cap- 
tain's suit  in  the  house  of  his  energetic  cousin,  who  was 
manifestly  bent  on  furthering  the  match  with  all  her 
might  ?  Had  she  known  in  time  the  meaning  of  that 
familiar  look  in  Mrs.  Danby's  face,  she  would  have  en- 
deavored to  join  the  Quaker  family  in  Philadelphia,  not- 
withstanding the  difficulties  of  the  journey,  or  found 
a  home  in  the  poorest  hut  in  the  province  rather  than 
in  Danby  Lodge.  Poor  Constance  had  yet  to  learn  that 
people  never  know  in  time  the  things  which  most 
concern  them,  and  also  that  one  dreaded  evil  is  at 
times  superseded  by  a  greater,  of  which  we  had  no 
fear. 

Her  principal  inducement  to  take  up  her  abode  in 
Watertown  was  the  hope  of  somehow  or  other  finding 
means  to  communicate  with  her  father,  or  at  least  get 
frequent  intelligence  of  him.  That  hope  had  hitherto 
beun  fruitless ;  she  had  thought  of  many  a  scheme  for 
the  purpose,  but  could  carry  none  of  them  into  effect. 
Almost  two  months  had  passed  away,  and  she  had 
heard  nothing  of  the  squire  except  what  Israel  Putnam 
t  old  her  in  Prospect  House. 

Since  then  General  Washington  had  arrived  from 
Pennsylvania  and  taken  command  of  the  New  England 
army  by  appointment  of  the  Continental  Congress. 
Under  his  authority  the  discipline  of  the  camp  had  be- 
come more  strict  and  regular,  and  the  leaguer  of  Boston 
more  rigorous.  It  was  the  general's  object  either  to 
force  the  British  garrison  out  to  an  action  in  the  open 
field,  or  oblige  them  to  abandon  the  city  by  stress  of 
famine,  and  sail  away  in  the  ships  of  war  which  still 
commanded  the  bay.  The  popular  saying  was  that 
nobody  could  get  out  or  in  of  Old  Tremont,  and  the 
country  people  as  well  as  the  army  applauded  Washing- 
ton's policy,  for  the  provincial  mind  had  been  much  em- 
bittered by  the  burning  of  Charlestown,  and  the  de- 
struction of  some  small  but  thrmng  towns  along  the 
coast,  by  the  ships  of  his  Britannic  Majesty.  How  was 
the  royalist  colonel's  daughter  to  get  news  of  him  under 
such  circumstances  ?  and  how  was  Constance  Delamere, 
situated  as  she  was,  to  avoid  or  bring  to  naught  the 
matrimonial  intentions  of  Lord  Havenham's  nephew  ? 

She  was  revolving  in  her  mind  plans  of  escape  over 
one  of  the  obligatory  samplers  on  the  second  morning 
after  Mrs.  Danby's  disclosure,  when  a  cart,  driven  by  a 
(inxmirvmsux  whom  shc  knew  to  be  one  oi  her  father's 


tenants— but  he  had  on  the  uniform  of  Archdale's 
militia,  namely,  a  red  hunting-shirt  and  a  black  leather 
belt — came  close  up  to  the  garden-gate,  and  out  of  it 
slowly  and  painfully  crept  the  once  strong  and  active 
Denis  Dargan.  The  poor  fellow's  coat  hung  loose  upon 
him  ;  his  right  arm  was  in  a  sling  ;  the  shoulder  above 
was  covered  with  straps  and  bandages  ;  and  he  walked 
with  difficulty  and  the  help  of  a  stick.  Before  he  had 
got  fairly  into  the  garden  Constance  was  by  his  side. 
*'Ohl  Denis,  what  has  happened  to  you?"  she  cried. 
"  Lean  on  me,  and  let  me  help  you  into  the  house." 

No,  miss,  thank  you  ;  I'm  not  that  far  gone ;  don't 
be  alarmed.  It  was  a  Bunker's  Hill  chance,  you  see,  when 
we  were  coverin'  the  rethrait,  which  everybody  says 
was  the  gallantest  thing  done  in  this  campaign,  though 
it's  not  for  me  to  brag  about,  in  course.  A  spent  cannon- 
ball  nearly  smatched  my  shoulder :  an'  nobody  knows 
what  would  have  become  o'  me,  for  the  boys  were  all 
flyin' — as  well  they  might — but  our  colonel,  Masther 
Sydney — I'll  niver  get  over  callin'  him  that — got  me  up 
on  his  back  wid  one  powerful  lift,  and  niver  stopped 
nor  stayed  till  he  had  me  safe  in  Cambridge.  May  it  be 
remimbered  till  him  here  an'  hereafther,  amin  !  But, 
iniss,  it  was  not  that  I  come  to  tell  you,"  and  Denis  sat 
silent  for  a  minute  on  the  garden  seat  to  which  Con- 
stance had  led  him. 

"  What  was  it  then,  Denis?"  A  sudden  fear  fell  on 
the  girl's  heart.      Is  my  father  well  ?" 

"He's  not  just  well ;  but  don't  be  frightened,  miss," 
eaid  Dargan. 

"  Tell  me  the  worst  at  once,  Denis."  Her  words 
came  quick  and  low. 

I  will,  miss,  fori  know  you're  a  sensible  young  lady, 
and  won't  give  way.  Your  father  is  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  the  Americans,  and  sore  wounded,  too,  but 
likely  to  recover ;  the  docthor  himself  tould  me  this 
mornin'.  But  that's  not  the  whole  story.  You  see  the 
squire  got  word  in  a  letther  that  come  till  him  by  say 
from  the  Quaker's  people,  wherever  they  are,  that  one 
Greenland,  a  wondherful  name  it  is,  had  brought  them 
hews  that  you  were  among  the  Indians  (in  course  the 
man  didn't  know  that  Providence  had  relaised  you, 
miss),  an'  General  Gage  wanted  a  message  tuck  till  Sir 
John  Johnson,  a  great  man  in  thim  quarthers ;  so  your 
father,  bein'  as  brave  as  any  lion,  an'  wantin'  to  look 
afther  his  little  girl,  undhertuck  the  business,  wid  only 
three  to  bear  him  company.  They  were  volunteers,  I 
was  tould.  Becaisethe  sarvice  was  desperate,  the  gineral 
would  bid  nobody  go,  an'  the  squire  led  them  out  safe 
past  sentinels  an'  batlieries,  till  the  end  o'  the  camp  at 
Eoxborough.  There  the  Americans  got  sight  an'  fell  on 
them  ;  it  was  numbers  agin  a  few :  but  the  squire 
fought  like  the  ould  boy — I  main  like  Hecthor  in  the 
wars  o'  Throy,  miss.  One  of  his  men  was  shot,  an'  the 
other  two  run  away,  bad  luck  to  them  1  but  he  set  his 
back  agin  a  wall  that  was  convanient,  an'  did  such  tar- 
rible  work  wid  his  sword,  that  sorra  a  one  o'  them  durst 
come  near  him  till  some  spalpeen  shot  him  in  the  chist 
wid  his  pistol.  Then  the  noble  gintleman,  seein'  he 
could  fight  no  more,  and  must  be  tuck  prisoner,  pulls 
out  the  letther  he  was  inthrusted  wid,  an'  before  they 
could  get  hould  of  it,  tears  it  all  to  bits  and  scatters 
them  about ;  but,  nevertheless,  they  gathered  up  the 
bits,  and  made  out  o'  them  that  he  was  goin'  to  set  the 
red  haithen  savages  on  to  waste  an'  burn  their  frontier 
towns  and  settlements.  In  course  it's  false,  every  word  ;. 
but  the  holy  saints  and  the  twelve  apostles  wouldn't  get 
it  out  o'  their  heads,  Gineral  Washington  an'  all,  an' 
they  have  him  in  Concord  jaU  undher  a  strong  guard, 
an'  talk  of  sindin'  him,  as  soon  as  he  can  be  moved,  to 
Ticonderoga  for  safe  keepin'.  It's  a  dhreary,  wathery 
place  on  that  big  lake,  miss,  an'  will  do  the  squire  no 
good,  so  the  docther  said  to  me  this  mornin'  ;  he's  a 
very  sinsible  man— was  at  college  wid  the  squire,  it 
seems— an'  don't  believe  a  word  o'  the  story  agin  him. 
'  Denis,'  says  he,  '  he  might  live  longer  than  any  of  us, 
but  his  lungs  are  affected,  for  the  shot  has  touched 
them,  an'  if  they  sind  him  to  that  f  orthress  he'U  mver 
come  out  of  it,  that's  my  opinion ;'  "  and  the  faithful 
fellow  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  "  I  was  m  the 
hospital,  miss,  when  it  all  happened,"  he  resumed,  in  a 
minute  or  two,  an'  heard  nothin'  about  it  till  three  days 
ago,  when  Captain  Magrory,  an'  some  men  of  his  com- 
pany who  had  been  in  Roxborough,  came  to  see  me,  an 
bein'  throubled  in  my  mind,  I  got  Robin  Magee  there— 
we  were  always  friendly,  becaise,  you  see,  his  grand- 


SPRING— GATHEEING  VIOLETS. 


M"  :>r  ^.r;, 


t 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


317 


father  came  from  Ballymacarrot— to  fetch  me  here  In 
the  cart,  for  he  knowed  where  you  were  to  be  heard  of, 
and  1  thought  that  if  you  could  get  some  nait  spaking 
gintleman  that  had  the  rights  o'  the  story  to  lay  it 
sthraight  before  Glneral  Washington,  he  might  see  that 
the  squire  was  blamed  in  the  wrong,  an'  deal  more  mar- 
cifully  wid  him."  ,^  . 

"  I  will  go  and  speak  to  General  Washington,  myself," 
said  Constance,  looking  bravely  up,  though  her  cheeks 
were  pale  and  her  eyes  wet  with  tears.  "  Nobody  knows 
my  father's  mind  and  motives  better  than  I  do.  It  was 
for  my  sake  he  got  into  this  sad  state  and  false  accusa- 
tion, and  I  will  go  anywhere,  or  speak  to  anybody,  on 
his  behalf." 

A  group  had  gathered  round  them  by  this  time,  con- 
sisting of  Lieutenant  Gray— who  had  dropped  in  as 
usual— the  major,  and  Mrs.  Danby.  "  My  dear  1"  cried 
the  schooling  lady,  •* don't  talk  of  such  a  thing;  a  girl 
of  your  family  and  appearance  going  to  a  camp  of 
rebels  to  speak  to  their  so-called  general !  The  idea  is 
not  to  be  entertained  for  a  moment." 

"Axin'  your  ladyship's  pardon,"  said  poor  Denis, 
"there's  no  danger  before  any  lady  in  the  American 
camp.  It's  not  cursin'  an'  swearin',  or  doin'  worse, 
maybe,  like  the  king's  sodgers  they  have  in  hand  there, 
but  behavin'  thimselves  all  the  week,  an'  readin'  their 
Bibles  on  Sunday.  Miss  Delamere  would  be  as  safe 
among  the  dacent  min  at  Cambridge  as  iver  she  was  in 
her  father's  house  at  the  Elms  ;  an'  as  for  the  gineral, 
there's  not  a  bigger  Christian  in  all  New  England  !" 

"You  are  right,  my  lad,"  said  the  lieutenant ;  "  there 
,  is  no  danger ;  and  in  my  mind.  Miss  Delamere  would  be 
the  very  best  advocate  her  father  could  have  with  a 
soldier  and  gentleman  like  George  Washington,  for  such 
1  know  him  to  be,  though  he  commands  against  the 
1  king.  Keep  up  your  heart,  my  girl ;  you  will  get  the 
Isquire  out  of  his  fix  if  anybody  can,  and  I'll  be  your  es- 
icort  to  headquarters  in  spite  of  our  orders  not  to  leave 
)W;itertown,  if  they  send  me  to  Northampton  jail  for  it 
among  the  other  gentlemen  who  have  to  pay  for  old 
Gage's  dealings  with  American  offiers  in  Boston" 

"I  say  it  is  entirely  against  the  rules  of  propriety," 
cried  Mrs.  Danby,  but  as  she  spoke  they  heard  the 
clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  quiet  street,  and  Captain 
Devereux,  followed  by  his  negro  servant,  Paul,  alighted 
at  the  garden  gate. 

CHAPTER  XXV. — k.  MEMORABLE  INTERVIEW. 

Most  people  have  their  times  of  appearing  to  advan- 
tage, and  this  was  one  of  them  with  Captain  Devereux. 
Well  dressed,  distinguished-looking,  and  in  high-feather, 
as  he  used  to  come  to  the  Elms,  he  came  to  Danby 
Lodge ;  but  his  first  sight  of  the  group  in  the  garden 
showed  him  that  something  serious  had  happened,  and 
his  greetings  were  accordingly  subdued  and  grave. 
Constance  had  seen  him  last  under  peculiar  circum- 
etances — to  wit,  being  removed  from  her  father's  house 
by  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  ;  but  the  news  brought  by 
Denis  had  banished  every  other  recollection,  and  Mrs. 
Danby  lost  no  time  in  making  her  cousin  acquainted 
"With  it.  The  oldest  and  most  sincere  friend  could  not 
have  expressed  more  concern  for  the  squire,  or  sym- 
pathy with  his  daughter,  than  Devereux  did.  "  If  I  had 
got  but  a  whisper  of  the  occurrence,"  he  said,  "  instead 
of  coming  overland  from  New  York,  I  should  have  gone 
to  Boston  by  sea,  and  used  all  my  influence  with  General 
Gage  to  make  him  send  a  dispatch  to  that  man  Washing- 
ton, distinctly  denying  the  charge  against  my  friend 
Delamere,  which,  indeed,  involves  himself." 

"  Excuse  me,  captain,"  said  Lieutenant  Gray  ;  "that 
might  have  been  a  friend's  duty;  but  I  doubt  if  it  would 
serve  the  purpose ,  Gage  has  denied  so  many  things 
which  they  know  to  be  true,  that  neither  Washington 
nor  one  of  his  army  would  believe  him  ;  but  the  young 
lady  here,  who  has  just  escaped  from  the  Indians,  can 
show  a  good  and  sufficient  reason  for  her  father's  in- 
tended journey  to  their  settlement,  and  his  attempt  to 
secure  the  influence  of  Sir  John  Johnson  in  his  favor." 

"  Cecil,  don't  you  think  it  would  be  highly  improper 
for  Miss  Delamere  to  venture  on  taking  such  a  step  ?" 
said  the  major's  lady. 

Devereux  knew  the  character  of  the  New  England 
troops  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  there  was  no  venture 
in  tUe  case.  The  high  moral  and  religious  tone  of 
Washington's  army  before  Boston  was  known  through- 
out the  American  provinces,  and  is  still  vouched  for  by 


contemporary  correspondence.  Yet  he  made  no  reply, 
but  seemed  to  hesitate  about  something,  till  Dargar> 
said  to  Constance,  "If  our  colonel,  Masther  Sydney^ 
was  to  the  fore,  miss,  it's  himself  that  would  befrind  you 
and  stand  up  for  the  squire ;  but  he's  gone  on  a  depre- 
dation " — a  deputation  the  honest  fellow  meant — "  till 
the  Continental  Congress  consarning  ammunition  ;  shure 
it  was  the  want  of  it  that  proved  our  overthrow  at 
Bunker's  Hill." 

"  A  lady  like  Miss  Delamere  can  never  want  friends," 
said  the  captain.  That  simple  speech  had  turned  the 
scale.  "I  admire  her  noble  resolution  to  plead  her 
father's  cause  before  the  rebel  chief  ;  not  even  a  rebel's 
heart  could  be  proof  against  the  pleading  of  such  lips  ; 
and  I  trust  she  will  allow  me  the  honor  of  being  her 
escort  to  his  quarters." 

"Thank  you,  captain;  it  is  very  kind  of  you,"  said 
Constance  ;  "  for  I  am  determined  to  go  at  once  ;"  but 
she  took  an  opportunity  afterwards  to  whisper  to  Lieu- 
tenant Gray,  "  You  will  keep  your  promise  and  go  with 
me,  too  ?"  and  the  gallant  old  officer  responded,  "That  I 
will,  my  girl." 

Her  private  impressions  of  Devereux  had  never  been 
In  his  favor  ;  neither  prudence  nor  civility  would  permit 
the  refusal  of  his  escort ;  but  she  preferred  that  of  the 
honest  lieutenant.  Yet  Constance  acknowledged  to  her- 
self that  the  captain's  behavior  in  that  day  of  trouble 
was  sensible,  kindly,  and  engaging  beyond  his  wont  in 
happier  times.  He  assisted  Denis  into  the  house  to  get 
rest  and  refreshment,  while  the  militiaman  went  to  see 
a  friend  of  his  in  the  neighborhood. 

He  prevented  Mrs.  Danby  from  lecturing  Denis  on  the 
great  sin  of  fighting  against  King  George,  which  she 
was  quite  prepared  to  do,  by  saying,  "  My  dear  cousin, 
we  have  other  matters  to  think  of,  and  this  is  not  a  time 
to  enter  on  such  subjects." 

He  made  no  opposition  to  Lieutenant  Gray  being  of  the 
party,  though  the  risk  the  latter  must  thereby  run  might 
have  furnished  him  with  an  excuse  ;  neither  did  he  ap- 
pear to  think  of  any  risk  in  his  own  case  from  the  recog- 
nition of  the  Green  Mountain  Boys.  Indeed,  the  three 
were  not  likely  to  attract  hostile  attention ;  there  was 
not  a  scrap  of  uniform  of  British  wear  among  them. 
The  captain  wore  a  civilian's  dress,  similar  to  that  in 
which  Constance  had  first  seen  him  on  the  road  below 
Mount  Holyoke.  The  lieutenant  might  have  passed  for 
a  countryman.  The  girl  whose  brocades  and  laces  had 
roused  the  wrath  of  so  many  ladies  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut,  was  now  clad  in  the  plainest  of  homespun, 
with  no  ornament  but  that  of  her  own  rare  and  distin- 
guished beauty.  A  country  car,  which  ran  between 
Watertown  and  Cambridge,  accommodated  her  and  the 
lieutenant.  Devereux  rode  his  own  horse,  and  left  his 
negro  servant  behind  by  way  of  making  a  less  imposing 
appearance 

In  the  peaceful  years  of  the  land,  when  Boston  was 
full  of  bustle  and  business,  the  adjacent  town  of  Cam- 
bridge, though  far  below  its  present  proportions,  was  a 
place  of  learned  leisure  and  genteel  retirement.  Emi- 
grants of  good  descent  and  education  who  settled  there 
in  the  colonising  time  had  given  it  the  name  of  their 
alma-mater  in  the  old  country.  It  was  the  university 
town  of  Massachusetts,  where  letters,  science,  and  art 
were  cultivated  to  a  degree  not  yet  attained  in  any  other 

Sart  of  the  American  continent.  The  amenities  of  social 
fe  were  not  less  cultivated  there  ;  on  every  side  of  the 
town  rose  stately  mansions,  the  homes  of  rich  landed 
proprietors,  whose  families  lived  in  such  good  neighbor- 
hood that  they  were  accustomed  to  assemble  and  make 
merry  at  each  other's  houses,  by  turns,  the  year  round. 

Now,  the  central  division  of  the  New  England  army 
was  encamped  at  Cambridge.  The  college  was  closed^ 
for  professors  and  students  had  alike  deserted  its  class- 
rooms for  their  country's  service.  The  rich  proprietors, 
being  royalists  to  a  man,  had  fled  for  refuge  to  Boston 
or  New  York.  The  Congress  had  confiscated  their  man- 
sions; those  fair  and  pleasant  homes  were  turned  to 
military  uses ;  and  one  of  them,  which  still  stands  where 
the  Watertown  road  leads  into  Cambridge,  was  the  head' 
quarters  of  General  Washington. 

At  a  short  distance  from  that  house  stood  a  road-side 
inn,  where  a  widow  and  her  two  boys  carried  on  busi- 
ness, undisturbed  by  the  vicinity  of  the  sober  camp 
There  the  car  left  its  passengers,  and  the  captain  his 
horse,  while  the  small  company  proceeded  on  foot. 
They  were  now  within  the  American  lines  i  rows  of 


3i8 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


white  tents  covered  the  fields  around  them,  and  stretched 
along  the  outskirts  of  the  town  ;  men,  seemingly  with- 
out number,  sat  in  groups  under  their  shadow,  or  that  of 
convenient  trees  and  hedgerows,  for  the  quiet  of  the 
eummer  afternoon  had  fallen  on  country  and  camp. 

Many  looked  at,  but  none  challenged  the  strangers,  it 
was  on  Boston  and  the  bay  that  the  New  England  men 
kept  watch ;  the  landward  side  was  all  their  own,  and 
therefore  unguarded,  that  country  friends  and  kinsfolk 
might  be  free  to  come  and  go.  Their  progress  met  with 
no  interruption  till,  as  they  turned  towards  the  entrance 
of  the  mansion,  the  lieutenant  said  to  Constance, 
friend  of  mine  here — he  is  a  freemason,  like  myself,  and 
was  formerly  in  my  regiment,  but  '  sloped,'  as  they  say 
—has  just  given  me  a  sign  that  I  had  better  keep  out  of 
sight ;  so,  by  your  leave,  I'll  wait  here  ;"  and  with  the 
instinct  of  an  old  soldier,  he  took  up  his  position,  snuff- 
box in  hand,  in  the  shade  of  a  wild  vine  that  hung  over 
the  lawn  fence  in  a  leafy  curtain,  through  which  the 
lieutenant  could  see  without  being  seen. 

The  captain  made  no  observation,  he  had  become  un- 
accountably silent  since  they  entered  the  camp,  and 
walked  by  his  companion's  side  without  looking  to  right 
or  left.  Constance  passed  on ;  her  beautiful  face  and 
downcast  eyes,  shaded  by  the  broad  brim  of  her  rustic 
hat,  and  her  mind  so  absorbed  by  what  she  should  say 
to  the  general  on  her  father's  behalf,  that  she  did  not 
eee  two  gentlemen  who  had  just  arrived  and  stood  under 
a  tree  opposite  the  mansion  gate,  each  holding  the  bridle 
of  his  horse  as  if  waiting  there  for  friends  or  attendants. 

A  sudden  exclamation  from  one  of  them  made  her 
look  up — it  was  in  French,  and  only  half  heard,  but  the 
mingled  horror  and  astonishment  expressed  by  the 
stranger's  face  caught  her  attention  even  at  that  mo- 
ment, and  what  was  her  own  amazement  to  find  that 
Captain  Devereux  had  disappeared  from  her  side,  and 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  There  was  no  time  to  wonder 
or  wait  for  him  ;  the  single  sentinel  at  the  gate,  who  had 
been  one  of  her  father's  tenants,  and  probably  guessed 
her  business,  opened  it  before  her.  She  must  face  the 
general  alone,  but  Constance  would  have  faced  a  dragon 
for  her  father's  sake.  There  was  another  sentinel  at  the 
front  door ;  he  was  one  of  Captain  Magrory's  men,  and 
made  way  for  her  as  the  door  stood  open.  All  was  quiet 
within  ;  there  were  no  lounging  attendants,  no  passing 
orderlies,  and  Constance  could  see  nobody ;  till,  on 
entering  a  room  on  the  ground  floor,  to  which  she 
thought  the  sentinel  had  pointed,  an  oflBcer  in  a  neat 
undress  looked  up  from  a  small  table  at  which  he  was 
writing.  That  officer  conld  not  be  described  as  either 
young  or  old  ;  he  was  a  man  in  the  early  noon  of  life, 
more  robust  than  handsome,  with  a  quiet,  serious  look, 
and  yet  of  a  commanding  presence.  At  the  first  sight  of 
Constance  he  seemed  sBghtly  startled,  and  before  she 
had  time  to  speak,  said,  *^Is  your  name  Lee  ?"  j 

The  question  appeared  to  spring  from  a  sudden  im- 
pulse ;  but  as  the  girl  answered,  *'No,  sir  ;  my  name  is 
Constance  Delamere,  and  I  have  come  here  to  speak 
with  General  Washington,  if  possible ;  will  you  be  good 
enough  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find  him  ?"  his  startled 
look  changed  to  one  that  was  almost  stern. 

''You  are  speaking  to  General  Washington,  young 
lady,"  he  said.    "  What  is  your  business  with  me  ?" 

Constance  did  not  know  that,  like  many  a  winner  and 
wearer  of  the  laurel,  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  New 
England  army  had  been  in  his  early  youth  disappointed 
in  an  attempt  on  the  m;v'*tle  by  a  Virginian  girl,  who 
married  a  much  less  notable  man  named  Lee,  and  had 
then  grown-up  sons  and  daughters. 

"It  is.  General,"  she  answered,  with  a  respectful 
curtsey  and  as  much  composure  as  it  was  in  her  power 
to  preserve,  "  to  appeal  to  your  justice  and  generosity 
on  behalf  of  my  father,  who  is  now  a  prisoner  in  your 
hands,  and  falsely  accused  of  an  intention  to  stir  up  the 
Mohawks,  and  other  Indian  tribes,  against  the  people  of 
this  province." 

"How  can  you  prove  that  the  accusation  is  false, 
young  lady  ?"  His  severe  and  penetrating  glance  almost 
unnerved  her  ;  but  her  father's  cause  was  at  stake. 

"  I  can  prove  that  Colonel  Delamere  was  boimd  for 
the  Indian  country  to  search  for  his  only  child — my  un- 
lucky self,"  she  said ;  and  proceeded  with  a  brief  state- 
ment of  her  own  and  her  fellow-travelers'  captivity 
among  the  Wampanoags,  her  unlooked-for  escape,  her 
inability  to  communicate  with  her  father,  and  his  conse- 


quent belief  in  the  intelligence  of  her  being  a  captiv« 
Btill. 

The  general  listened  calmly,  but  his  stern  look  never 
altered  as  he  said,  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  your  tale  is 
true;  but  the  man  who  went  to  search  for  his  daughter 
among  the  Indians  also  carried  a  letter  from  General 
Gage  to  Sir  John  Johnson,  whose  motives  and  intentions 
we  have  good  reason  to  suspect.  Miss  Deiamere,  I  re- 
spect the  courage  and  affection  which  have  brought  you 
thus  alone  to  plead  your  father's  cause  with  me  ;  but  the 
duty  I  owe  to  my  country,  to  its  cause,  and  I  may  say 
the  cause  of  humanity,  will  not  permit  me  to  overlook 
the  atrocious  attempt  to  let  savage  tribes,  with  all  their 
cruel  instincts,  loose  upon  our  frontier  towns  and 
villages." 

"General,"  said  Constance,  and  the  spirit  of  her  race 
flashed  in  her  eye  and  cheek,  "my  father  never  had 
Buch  an  intention.  I  have  heard  him,  both  in  private 
and  in  public,  denounce  the  employment  of  Indians  in 
the  French  war,  in  which  you  know  he  served  with 
honor,  as  a  monstrous  iniquity,  disgraceful  alike  to 
Christianity  and  civilization  ;  and  I  am  sure  he  would  be 
the  bearer  of  no  despatch  on  such  a  subject  for  General 
Gage  or  anybody  else." 

"  Why,  then,  did  he  tear  it  in  fragments,  young  lady  ?" 
and  the  stem  face  relaxed  ;  but  it  was  with  a  smile  of 
scorn. 

"  Because  my  father  would  not  suffer  the  private 
letter,  with  which  he  was  entrusted  by  a  friend,  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies."  But  as  Constance 
spoke,  somebody  entered  behind  her,  and  the  next 
moment  General  Washington  was  shaking  hands  with 
Mr.  Archdale. 

It  was  known  throughout  the  provinces  that  apolitical 
friendship  at  least  existed  between  the  general  and  the 
Massachusetts  delegate. 

Un warped  by  personal  ambition  or  provincial  preja 
dice,  Archdale's  clear  and  calm  judgment  found  in  tht> 
Virginian  officer,  whom  some  of  his  countrymen  were 
disposed  to  undervalue  because  not  of  New  England 
birth,  the  fittest  man  to  command  the  patriot  army  ;  and 
it  was  said  his  speech  had  turned  the  scale  in  Washing- 
ton's favor  when  the  question  of  the  appointment  wa* 
debated  in  Congress. 

His  entrance  "brought  a  doubtful  hope  to  Constance, 
Could  he  be  induced  to  use  his  influence  for  her  father's 
help  ?  Would  he  remember  the  early  friendship,  or  only 
the  later  quarrel  ?   But  her  mind  was  soon  relieved. 

"  Constance,  my  girl,"  said  Archdale,  taking  her  by 
both  hands  in  the  old  familiar  fashion,  "you  have  had 
more  than  your  own  share  of  troubles  and  trials  since  I 
saw  you  last ;  the  young  meet  with  them  in  these  times 
as  well  as  the  old ;  but  you  and  I  have  met  here  on  one 
errand.  General,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, "you  will  excuse  my  want  of  cere- 
mony, but  having  seen  Miss  Delamere  come  to  your 
quarters,  and  guessing  on  what  business,  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  let  you  know  that  the  young  lady  had  a  claim 
on  your  consideration  of  which  you  might  not  be  aware. 
My  friend  Dr.  Joseph  Warren,  whose  fall  at  Bunker  Hill 
his  country  laments  with  me,  could  find  no  available 
messenger  when  General  Gage  had  shut  up  Boston 
Gates,  but  this  young  lady  having  permission  to  pass  out 
with  her  friends,  conveyed  his  letter  to  the  proper  hands 
at  her  own  risk  and  peril,  and  thus  saved  our  stores  at 
Concord  and  our  patriots  at  Lexington." 

"It  was  a  piece  of  good  service  done  to  your  country, 
my  girl."  The  stern  look  had  passed  from  the  general's 
face,  and  he  smiled  kindly  on  her  now. 

"Set  it  down  to  my  father's  account,  it  will  help  to 
balance  the  charge  against  him,"  said  Constance.  "  Mr. 
Archdale,  you  can  say,  from  years  of  intimate  acquain- 
tance with  him,  if  such  a  charge  could  be  true." 

"  I  am  persuaded  it  is  not ;  the  whole  affair  is  a  mis- 
take, arising  from  circumstantial  evidence,  which  is 
never  to  be  entirely  trusted.  I  could  pledge  my  life  and 
fortune  for  Delamere,  that  he  would  not  be  a  party  to 
any  transaction  of  the  kind.  For  justice  sake.  General, 
get  me  a  safe  conduct,  and  I  will  go  to  Boston  and  try  to 
get  the  truth  out  of  Gage." 

"  Tou  would  have  a  difficult  task,  Mr.  Archdale,"  said 
Washington,  "but  the  case  shall  be  carefully  investi- 
gated; fortuitous  circumstances  have  made  innocent 
men  appear  guilty  before  now  ;  in  the  meantime.  Miss 
Delamere,  have  no  fears  for  your  father." 

"  Let  me  go  to  him,  General,"  said  poor  Constance* 


THE  CROWING  WORLD. 


319 


"he  has  no  child  on  earth  but  me,  and  none  of  his  rela- 
tions care  for  him  now.  Let  me  go  ;  I  am  sure  I  could 
be  of  use  to  him.  I  will  give  no  trouble  to  any  of  your 
people,  and  put  up  with  any  place  so  as  I  can  stay  with 
my  father." 

"  You  shall  go,  and  stay.  I  will  write  an  order  to  that 
effect  directly ;  in  the  midst  of  ill-luck  and  worse  guid- 
ing, Providence  has  been  kind  to  Delamere  in  giving 
him  such  a  daughter."  Was  it  the  remembrance  of  his 
step-daughter,  Mary  Curtis,  and  her  early  death,  that 
made  the  general  draw  a  half-sigh  as  he  spoke  ?  But  in 
a  minute  or  two  more  he  had  written  his  commands  to 
the  Governor  of  Concord  jail  on  a  slip  of  paper,  which 
he  handed  to  Constance,  saying,  "  There,  my  girl,  go  and 
see  your  father," 

That  slip  of  paper  is  still  preserved  by  the  descen- 
dants of  Constance  Delamere  as  one  of  their  family  heir- 
looms, and  a  fair  and  fitting  memorial  of  the  great  man 
who  wrote  that  kindly  order  while  yet  on  the  threshold 
of  his  fame.  "  I  cannot  thank  you  sufficiently  for  this, 
General,  but  I  will  remember  you  in  my  prayers  ;"  and 
the  unlucky  squire's  daughter  dashed  away  some  tears 
that  would  have  fallen. 

"  Do  so.  Miss  Delamere  ;  there  is  no  safeguard  for  a 
soldier  or  a  man  lilie  the  prayer  of  a  good  and  pious 
woman,"  said  Washington. 

"  Well  spoken,  General,  and  better  done.  I  regard 
this  order  of  yours  as  a  personal  favor.  Come.  Con- 
stance," and  Archdale  drew  her  arm  within  his,  "I  will 
see  you  safe  on  your  way  to  Concord." 

As  they  emerged  from  the  general's  quarters,  Lieu- 
tenant Gray  came  out  of  his  covert  to  meet  them,  his 
honest  heart  rejoiced  at  the  success  of  Miss  Delamere's 
mission.  "  Keep  up  your  heart,  my  girl,"  he  said ; 
"things  will  be  all  right  with  you  and  your  father  yet ; 
but  since  you  are  in  safe  hands,  I  must  get  back  to 
Watertown  and  tell  Mrs.  Danby.  By  the  way,  I  will  tell 
her  how  her  precious  cousin  acted.  She  is  the  right 
woman  to  take  him  to  task." 

Mr.  Archdale  waited  till  the  lieutenant  was  out  of 
hearing,  and  then  said,  "  Constance,  I  cannot  go  with 
you  to  Concord,  I  have  important  business  to  transact 
with  General  Washington  ;  however,  there  is  a  friend  of 
Jacob  Stoughton,  a  good  trusty  Quaker,  who  lives  there, 
and  has  been  here  to  see  his  three  sons  ;  they  were  not 
of  his  opinion,  and  would  take  up  arms  ;  he  is  setting 
out  for  home  in  half  an  hour,  and  will  take  you  with  him 
as  kindly  as  I  could  do  ;  but  before  we  part,  tell  me,  do 
you  wish  to  wait  for  the  captain,  or  can  you  guess  why 
he  left  you  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  Mr.  Archdale,  and  I  don't  vrant  to  wait  for 
him,"  said  Constance. 

Well,  then,  listen.  You  saw  two  gentlemen  stand- 
ing with  their  horses  under  the  opposite  trees  as  you 
were  about  to  enter  the  general's  gate.  One  of  them 
was  my  colleague  in  this  mission  of  mine,  and  the  other 
was  Count  de  Valencourt,  a  French  nobleman  who,  like 
many  of  his  generous  people,  has  fallen  in  love  with 
liberty,  and  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  fight  for  her  and  us. 
He  has  served  with  distinction  in  his  country's  army, 
and  is  a  man  of  earnest  and  steadfast  mind,  unlike  the 
volatile  character  which  we  English-speaking  men  are 
apt  to  impute  to  his  nationality.  This  I  can  vouch  for, 
though  the  count  is  more  intimate  with  my  son  Sydney 
than  with  me  ;  their  minds  come  nearer,  notwithstand- 
ing the  differenr^^e  of  their  years.  I  was  further  in  the 
shade  v/hen  you  and  the  captain  passed.  Perhaps  you 
did  not  sec  me,  but  I  saw  De  Valencourt  looking  your 
way,  and  thought  it  was  your  face  that  took  the  French- 
man's eye  ,  but  when  I  caught  sight  of  his,  it  told  me  a 
different  tale,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  captain 
darted  away  down  yonder  lane  between  the  high  hedge- 
rows. You  entered  the  general's  gate,  and  I  was  about 
to  follow,  when  the  count  stopped  me,  and  said  in  an 
undertone,  *  Do  you  know  that  gentleman  who  has  just 
left  the  lady,  or  can  you  tell  me  his  name  ?'  I  told  him 
as  far  as  I  knew,  which  happens  to  be  little,  about  the 
captain.  'Devereux,'  he  said,  'the  nephew  of  an  Eng- 
lish peer?  Did  he  ever  go  by  any  other  name,  or  was 
he  brought  up  in  the  West  Indies  ?'  *  Not  to  my  knowl- 
edge, but  you  must  remember  he  is  a  stranger  to  me,'  I 
said.  '  Well,  his  face  is  not  strange  to  my  memory  ;  it 
cannot  be  the  same,  but  never  did  I  see  one  so  like  that 
of  a  man  whom  I  have  grevious  cause  to  recollect,  and 
for  whom  I  have  sought  over  Europe  in  vain.  You  will 
pardon  my  questions,  Monsieur  ArchdUe.  and  I  commit 


the  subject  to  your  discretion,'  said  the  count.  I  told 
him  it  was  safe  with  me,  but  I  tell  the  story  to  you  now, 
Constance,  and  I  ask  you  to  tell  it  to  your  father,  that  is 
when  he  is  strong,  and  fit  to  converse  about  such 
matters  ;  and  will  tell  him  also  what  I  cannot  in  person, 
lest  it  would  seem  intruding  on  his  days  of  misfortune, 
that  Kalph  Archdale  is  as  truly  his  friend  now  as  wlien 
he  mounted  the  breach  by  his  side  at  Fort  Duquesne  ?" 

The  old  gaol  of  Concord  was  built  in  times  when 
"  witches  and  sorcerers,  Quakers  and  Anabaptists,"  were 
expected  to  be  among  its  inmates  ;  and  its  cells,  low, 
damp,  and  almost  dark,  were  characteristic  of  the  penaJ 
arrangements  of  that  period.  In  one  of  them,  the  most 
comfortable  and  best  furnished  within  the  prison  walls, 
beside  a  low  bed,  screened  by  a  coarse  curtain,  where  a 
solitary  candle  flared  and  flickered  as  the  night  breeze 
crept  in  through  a  small,  grated  window  near  the  ceiling, 
Constance  Delamere  sat  late  in  the  evening  of  the  same 
day  in  which  she  had  the  interview  with  General  Wash- 
ington, In  compliance  with  the  general's  orders,  the 
prison  authorities  had  not  only  admitted  her,  but  made 
every  possible  arrangement  for  her  accommodation. 
She  had  spoken  with  Dr.  Adams,  a  wise,  good  man,  as 
well  befits  his  profession,  and  a  member  of  the  family 
so  highly  distinguished  in  the  Revolution  and  snbsequent 
history  of  the  United  States.  He  had  been  her  father's 
class-fellow  at  Harvard  College,  and  from  a  kindly  re- 
membrance of  that  early  acquaintance,  did  his  best  to 
serve  Delamere  professionally  and  otherwise.  His  re- 
port was  much  the  same  as  that  which  Dargan  had  given 
her ;  there  w^as  no  immediate  danger,  but  under  the 
most  favorable  circumstancss  it  would  be  a  long  time 
before  her  father  was  the  man  he  had  been,  and  he 
warned  her  that  in  rest  and  quiet  was  the  only  hope  foi 
him  now. 

She  had  stolen  in  and  got  the  first  look  of  him  asleep 
on  his  prison  bed.  How  pale  and  pinched  his  face 
looked,  how  the  furrows  seemed  to  have  deepened  in 
his  brow,  and  the  grey  thickened  in  his  hair,  since  she 
saw  him  last.  They  left  her  there  alone,  and  she  sat 
down  by  the  bedside  and  wept  sore  and  silently  ;  but  the 
girl  was  spent,  sleep  came  upon  her  in  the  midst  of  hei 
sorrow,  and,  with  the  tears  yet  upon  her  cheeks,  she 
lenned  back  in  her  chair  and  forgot  for  some  time  the 
troubles  and  tr'als  that  beset  her  young  life. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. — GATHERED  AGAIN. 

The  sound  of  her  own  name  woke  her  up  suddenly  ;  i!, 
was  to  see  her  father  holding  back  the  curtain  with  one 
hand,  while  he  partially  raised  himself  in  bed  with  the 
other,  and  gazed  on  her  with  a  look  so  strange  that  she 
felt  almost  frightened.  "Dear  father,  it  is  I  come  to 
stay  with  you,"  she  said,  rising  and  throwing  her  arms 
about  his  neck — the  doctor  had  told  her  that  Delamere 
was  now  aware  of  her  safe  return  to  civilized  ten-itories. 

"  God  be  praised,  it  is  you,  my  child  !  But  you  looked 
so  like  her  sitting  there,  that  for  the  first  moment  I 
thought  it  was  your  mother  come  back  to  see  me  in  my 
lonely  latter  days  ;"  and  he  kissed  and  clasped  her  with 
the  old  unchanged  affection. 

"Dear  father,"  said  Constance,  "it  was  through  me 
that  you  got  into  this  sad  state  ;  that  is  the  only  thing 
that  grieves  me,  for  I  know  things  will  be  well  with  us 
yet." 

"No,  child;  it  was  through  misfortune.  I  am  not 
what  is  called  a  lucky  man— maybe  I  am  not  of  the 
materials  that  lucky  men  are  made  from.  But  since  you 
have  come  back  to  me  safe  and  well,  I  care  for  nofhins: 
—except  the  black  charge  they  have  got  up  against  me 
from  the  fragments  of  Gage's  letter  ;  but  I  have  prayed 
to  the  Searcher  of  hearts  that  my  innocence  in  that 
matter  might  be  made  clear,  and  I  have  a  hope  that  my 
prayer  will  be  granted,"  said  Delamere. 

His  fortitude  under  suffering  and  misfortune  was  as 
great  as  his  courage  in  the  battle-field,  and  his  dausrhter 
had  the  same  spirit.  "  I  am  sure  it  will,  father,"  she 
said,  "For  the  Lord  is  just.  Let  us  trust  in  Him,  and 
all  will  be  well  with  us  yet.  But  I  must  not  talk  too 
much  ;  let  me  read  to  you,  father." 

"  Do,  child  ;  read  some  of  the  old  psalms  in  my  own 
Bible  there,  it  is  all  the  property  I  have  now,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  familiar  volume  on  a  shelf  hard  by," 

Constance  read  to  him  psalm  after  psalm,  till  he  fell 
asleep  again,  with  his  hand  clasping  hers.  But  from 
that  hour  Delamere's  recovery,  though  slow,  was  cer- 
tahi.    Dr.  Adams  said  it  was  owing  in  a  great  measure 


320 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


to  the  cheering  and  helpful  company  of  his  daughter, 
and  well  the  doctor  might  think  so.  Constance  exerted 
herself  as  woman,  young  or  old,  under  the  impulse  of 
strong  affection  will,  to  brighten  up  and  comfort  her 
father's  days  of  being  sick  and  in  prison.  She  read  to 
him,  she  sang  to  him,  she  did  kindly  offices  within  and 
errands  without  their  gloomy  residence,  for  her  steps 
were  free  to  come  and  go,  and  the  worst  of  the  "jail 
birds,"  as  the  other  inhabitants  were  designated,  showed 
her  that  respect  and  deference  which  discreet  and  duti- 
ful conduct  commands  in  almost  any  society.  As  Dela- 
mere's  recovery  progressed,  she  entertained  him  with 
her  adventures  and  difficulties  among  the  Wampanoags, 
old  Red-hand's  scheme  for  her  settlement  in  life,  and 
Kashutan's  courtship,  not  forgetting  how  her  escape  had 
been  brought  about  by  the  cunning  of  her  treacherous 
rival.  Osuna. 

"Ah!  Constance,"  the  squu-e  would  say,  while  he 
wondered  and  laughed  over  the  narrative,  "  that  face  of 
yours  has  been  a  cause  of  confusion  to  men,  both  red  and 
white,  and  of  peril  to  yourself,  my  girl.  Thanks  be  to 
Him  who  brought  you  safe  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
savage  tribe  and  the  wilds  of  the  pathless  wilderness  !" 

Constance  did  not  yet  think  it  wise  to  tell  him  of  the 
incident  at  Washington's  headquarters — the  captain's 
strange  conduct,  and  Archdale's  tale  regarding  it— 
though  her  own  mind  often  reverted  to  the  subject, 
without  being  able  to  guess  at  an  explanation.  Deve- 
reux  she  neither  saw  nor  heard  of  ;  perhaps  the  constant 
communication  between  the  American  camp  and  Con- 
cord might  be  the  cause  of  his  non-appearance,  if  he  had 
anybody  in  the  former  quarter  to  fear  ;  but  Lieutenant 
Gray,  in  a  stolen  visit  he  made  to  inquire  how  thinge 
went  with  them  in  the  uncoveted  home,  told  her  that  the 
captain  had  not  appeared  in  Watertown  either  ;  and  his 
cousin,  after  waiting  for  him  in  much  the  same  spirit 
that  the  squaws  waited  for  her  in  the  Indian  village, 
transferred  her  indignation  to  Constance  for  having  so 
far  forgotten  the  rules  of  propriety  as  to  enter  the  gate 
of  a  common  jail  on  any  pretext  whatever. 

In  the  meantime,  better  news  reached  the  squire  and 
his  daughter.  Mr.  Archdale  obtained  a  safe  conduct, 
proceeded  to  Boston,  and  received  from  General  Gage  a 
statement  under  his  own  hand,  that  Delamere's  journey 
to  the  Indian  country  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  design 
suspected,  and  that  the  letter  he  had  torn  from  an  im- 
pulse of  honor  over  nice  was  a  private  one,  regarding 
some  land  within  Sir  John  Johnson's  grant,  on  which  the 
general  had  a  claim  that  he  naturally  wished  to  settle 
before  his  recall  to  England,  which  was  then  pending. 
Officers  of  high  character  and  rank,  both  in  the  British 
garrison  and  the  American  camp,  came  forward  as  vol- 
untary witnesses  for  the  accused  colonel ;  in  short,  like 
many  a  hasty  condemnation,  when  men's  minds  get  cool 
and  quiet  enough  to  sift  the  matter,  the  public  sentence 
agcix^ou  Delamere  was  reversed.  The  Coamander-in- 
chief  wrote  to  inform  him  of  the  fact,  with  courteous 
expressions  of  regret  that  circumstances  over  which 
neither  party  had  the  least  control  should  have  placed  a 
man  of  undoubted  worth  and  honor  in  so  false  a  light ; 
and  gave  liberal  permission  to  reside  where  he  pleased 
within  the  territories  of  the  Continental  Congress  simply 
on  his  parole. 

"  That  is  handsome  of  Washington,  after  all  the  rebels 
and  worse  I  have  called  him  in  my  time,"  said  Dela- 
mere. "  Between  ourselves,  Constance,  I  doubt  if  I  waf 
not  wrong  in  going  so  far  against  my  countrymen  ;  but 
nobody  but  my  own  girl  shall  hear  me  say  so  now. 
The  old  Tory  repents  when  the  luck  has  gone  against 
him — that  is  what  the  Massachusetts  people  would  say ; 
and  I  won't  stay  in  the  province  a  day  longer  than  I  can 
help  it,  to  be  made  a  '  use  of  warning '  by  all  their 
preachers  and  prophets,  from  Livingstone  down  to  Hiram 
Hardhead.  In  the  meantime  we  must  get  out  of  this 
place ;  I  don't  much  regard  it  myself ;  it  is  not  the 
prison,  but  the  cause  of  his  being  there,  that  should 
trouble  a  man  ;  but  it  is  sad  quarters  for  you,  child." 

They  removed  accordingly  to  quiet,  respectable  lodg- 
ings, which  Dr.  Adams  found  for  them,  till  the  squire 
should  be  strong  enough  to  travel  farther  and  find  a  loca- 
tion more  to  his  mind  than  the  Whiggish  town  of  Con- 
cord. They  had  not  been  long  settled  there,  when,  going 
forth  one  morning  on  some  domestic  errands  to  a  store 
near  the  Lexington  road,  Constance  saw  coming  on  to 
meet  her,  with  something  like  the  stalwart  step  of 
former  times,  the  faithful  Denis  Dargan.   A  good  con;. 


stitution  and  a  temperate  life  had  stood  the  young  man»& 
friends  ;  he  was  almost  himself  again,  and  came  forward 
with,  "Miss  Constance,  darlin',  I  was  comin'  to  see  you 
sacretly  in  a  manner,  tliiukin'  it  would  be  agin  the 
squire's  mind  to  hear  tell  of  me  at  all,  becaise  I'm  on 
the  American  side.  Praise  and  thanks  that  his  good  in- 
tintions  is  made  as  clear  as  the  sun,  an'  that  I'm  growin' 
as  strong  as  a  bullock  ;  howsomever,  they  have  given 
me  leave  of  absence  to  see  my  ould  f rinds  about  the 
Elms  and  the  Plantation,  and  stay  wid  thim  that  makes 
me  most  welcome  for  awhile  ;  then  if  I'm  able  to  do  my 
duty  as  a  sodjer,  I'll  come  back  to  Masther  Sydney's 
regiment,  an'  help  to  thurn  the  Britishers  clane  out  o* 
Boston. 

Th  ey  stood  and  talked  for  a  few  minutes,  with  kind 
inquiries  and  good  wishes  on  both  sides.  Constance 
sent  friendly  messages  to  the  old  servants  of  the  family, 
including  the  steadfast-minded  maid,  Martha,  whom 
Dargan  hinted  he  was  sure  to  see  ;  though  the  Elms  was 
in  strangers'  hands,  they  all  lived  in  its  neighborhood 
still.  Denis  prayed  over  and  over  again  "that  every 
blissin'  might  attind  her  and  the  squire  ;  but  there's 
Robin  Magee  screechin'  for  me,"  he  added,  as  a  voice  of 
no  ordinary  power  pealed  over  the  quiet  road.  "  I'm 
goin'  home  wid  him,  you  see  ;  Masther  Sydney '11  write 
to  me  when  he  comes  back  from  the  depredation.  Oh, 
isn't  he  the  consamed  man  about  all  that  has  happened ! 
Comin',  Robin,  comin' ;  farewell,  Miss  Constance* 
darlin' ;"  and,  with  a  kindly  shake-hands,  the  ex-best 
man  sped  away  to  his  impatient  friend. 

Constance  hastened  homeward.  She  did  not  care  to- 
leave  her  father  long  alone  in  his  present  state  ;  but 
when  scarcely  half  way,  it  seemed  that  somebody  was 
running  after  her.  The  cry  of  "  Miss  Constance  !"  made 
her  turn  quickly,  and  it  was  to  grasp  the  two  out- 
stretched hands  of  her  faithful  page,  Philip. 

"  I  thought  I  should  never  see  you  again  ;  but  here  I 
am  at  last,"  he  cried,  out  of  breath  with  running,  but 
ready  to  dance  for  joy.  "  Hannah  Armstrong  is  coming 
up  with  a  friend  of  Mr.  Stoughton's,  who  lives  here.  He 
says  he  brought  you  home  to  the  squire,  and  he  was 
bringing  us  too,  but  I  got  a  glimpse  of  you  parting  with 
Dargan,  and  started  off  to  come  up  with  you  first." 

"  Oh,  Philip,  how  glad  I  am— how  glad  my  father  will 
be  to  see  you  and  Hannah,  though  things  are  far  changed 
with  us,"  said  Constance;  "but  how  did  you  get  away 
from  the  Indians  ?  I  had  terrible  fears  of  what  might 
happen  to  you  all  when  they  missed  me." 

"  Well,  Miss  Constance,  we  should  have  been  in  a 
pickle" — and  Philip  took  the  marketing-basket  off  her 
arm,  placed  it  on  his  own,  and  marched  on  by  her  side, 
in  the  fashion  of  former  times — "  but  it  was  all  mader 
out.  A  hunter  of  Kashutan's  tribe  saw,  from  one  of  the 
high  hill-tops,  Osuna  leaving  you  on  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  and  another  brought  word  next  morning  that 
you  had  gone  with  the  Massachusetts  men  who  took 
Cumberland  station.  That  set  our  hearts  at  rest,  and 
Isaved  our  skins  too.  Old  Red-hand  has  a  sort  of  justice 
in  him,  and  said  directly  we  were  not  to  blame.  I  don't 
know  what  he  would  have  done  to  Osuna,  but  she  fled 
in  time,  nobody  knew  where.  However,  he  held  a  pal- 
aver round  the  council -fire  the  same  evening,  and  con- 
demned her  never  to  get  a  husband,  which,  it  seems,  iS' 
the  greatest  punishment  for  Indian  ladies  who  can't  be 
got  at  with  the  tomahawk  ;  but  Kashutan  !  oh,  Miss- 
Constance,  wasn't  he  wild  I  He  said  nothing,  in  the 
Indian  manner,  but  I  thought  his  looks  would  have 
burned  the  village,  and  I  kept  well  out  of  his  sight  till- 
we  were  released." 

" How  did  that  happen,  Philip?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Greenland  carried  the  news  of  where- 
we  were  to  them  in  Philadelphia  ;  and  Mr.  Sewell,  know- 
ing he  could  do  nothing  for  us  himself,  spoke  to  Colonel 
Archdale,  who  was  there  at  the  time.  Mr.  Sydney,  you 
know,  he  is  a  great  man  now,  and  got  the  Congress  to 
send  a  deputation,  and  him  at  the  head  of  it,  to  get  ub- 
out  of  the  clutches  of  the  Indians,  and  gain  them  over 
not  to  side  with  the  Britishers,  but  stay  at  peace  in  their 
own  country.  I  don't  think  Mr.  Sydney  got  that  done- 
to  his  mind :  but  they  made  him  wonderful  welcome. 
Old  Red-hand  released  us  all  at  the  first  asking,  anct 
r  Kashutan  made  a  grand  feast.  1  think  he  would  have 
made  something  else  for  Mr.  Sydney,  if  he  had  known* 
what  had  been  between  him  and  you.'* 
"  That  is  all  over,  PhUip." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


321 


"Not  with  Mr.  Sydney,  mies?  He  took  me  aside  and 
questioned  me  so  particularly  how  you  looked,  how  the 
Indians  behaved  to  you,  and  if  ever  you  spoke  of  him. 
Oh,  wasn't  he  the  disappointed  man  when  I  said  no ! 
He  loves  you  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Miss  Constance  ; 
but  I  would  rather  have  Kashutan,  he's  a  fine  man,  and 
a  dead  shot,  and  gave  me  so  many  nice  thino:s,"  said 
Philip.  "  Howsoever,  Mr.  Sydney  got  us  released  ;  and 
glad  enough  we  were  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Indians.* 
Mr.  Stoughton  went  back  with  him  and  the  deputation 
to  Philadelphia,  and  Hannah  and  I,  knowing  in  what 
direction  you  went,  came  down  to  Cambridge  with  Mr. 
Bewell.  He  says  he  is  going  to  fight  for  the  right  of  the 
land  in  Washington's  army;  but  when  we  got  there  we 
heard  all  about  the  squire's  misfortune.  Weren't  we 
both  sorry  that  the  like  should  happen  !  But  I  persuaded 
Hannah  it  was  best  to  go  to  him  and  you  at  once,  and 
here  she  comes." 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  Delamere's  lodgings  by 
this  time.  As  Philip  spoke  a  wagon  drove  up  to  it ;  out 
of  tlie  wagon  stepped  Hannah  Armstrong,  and  it  would 
have  been  difiicult  to  say  which  of  the  four  was  most  re- 
joiced at  the  meeting  which  took  place  the  next  moment 
in  the  parlor  within. 

"I  magnify  the  goodness  of  Providence,  who  hath 
given  me  to  see  thy  face  again,  friend  Delamere,"  said 
the  worthy  Quakeress,  when  the  first  greetings  were 
over. 

"  His  goodness  is  always  beyond  our  deservings, 
Hannah.  I,  also,  am  thankful  to  see  you  safe  and  well; 
but  mine  is  a  poor  place  for  you  now,"  said  the  squire. 

"Friend,  it  was  not  for  thy  place,  but  for  thine  own 
and  thy  daughter's  sake,  and  chiefly  in  hopes  of  being 
of  some  service  to  thee,  that  I  came  so  far  to  seek  thee 
out,"  said  Hannah.  Worldly  things  short  of  actual 
want,  which  for  many  reasons  thou  needst  not  fear, 
should  cost  a  Christian  little  thought.  They  come  and 
go  with  the  chances  of  time,  and  fall  equally  to  the  share 
of  the  good  or  the  evil.  I  have  made  some  savings  in 
thy  service,  which,  if  need  be,  I  hope  thou  wilt  do  me 
the  great  favor  to  consider  as  ttiy  own. 

CHAPTER  XXVII— -THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END, 

Wlnle  Boston  was  garrisoned  by  British  troops,  and 
beleaguered  by  New  England  men,  while  the  bridges  ofi 
New  York  were  one  week  thronged  by  the  inhabitants  of 
Whiggish  proclivities,  flying  from  an  expected  invabioq 
ot  Hmg  Ueorge's  forces,  and  the  next  with  Tory' 
refugees  in  dread  of  a  provincial  insurrection,  the 
City  of  Philadelphia  remained  in  peace  and  quiet,  as 
if  the  spirit  of  its  Quaker  founders  had  become  the 
genius  of  the  place.  The  business  of  the  Revolution 
was  done  there  without  disturbance  or  demonstra- 
tion. Tlie  Continental  Congress,  an  assembly  of 
delegates  from  every  American  province,  to  whom 
their  countrymen  had  entrusted  the  destinies  of  the 
land,  civil  and  military,  and  among  whom  there  were 
names  tliat  are  famous  to  all  time,  sat  in  the  old 
court-house,  with  doors  closed  against  the  public, 
kept  up  a  constant  correspondence  with  the  camp  be- 
fore Boston,  and  opened  their  deliberations  everv 
morning  with  prayer  by  some  esteemed  minister  of 
the  town,  whatever  might  be  his  church  or  denomi- 
nation. Men  seemed  to  think  more  calmly  and  soberly 
tliere  than  in  otlier  towns;  disputes  were  seldom 
heard  of;  but  the  great  majority  of  the  citizens  were 
staunch  Whigs,  and  though  an  influx  of  the  Tory 
l^ersuasion  had  lately  taken  place,  they  were  chiefly 
of  the  subdued  order— families  Avho  came  for  peace 
and  safety's  sake,  or  men  who  somehow  liad  had 
enough  of  standing  up  for  King  George  and  his  Par-  : 
I  lament.  "  i 


*The  remnant  of  the  Six  Nations,  who  occupied  the  irrcater  I 
part  of  the  State  of  New  York  at  the  time  of  this  tale  and 
amons  them  powerful  Ojibeways  and  the  once-dreaded  tribe  of 
Mohawks,  are  now  settled  on  reserved  lands  on  the  British  [ 
side  of  Lake  Ontario.    Many  have  adopted  the  habits  of  ci\il- i 
Ized  life;  many  have  also  received  the  truths  of  the  Gospel: 
schools  and  churches  are  rising  in  their  villages;  and  the 
hereditary  chief  of  the  Ojibeways,  whose  Indian  name  was  | 
.  hurder  Cloud  hunter  (Pahtahquahong),  is  now  known  as  the  • 
Eev.  Henry  Chase,  a  Christian  minister  and  missionary  anion?;  ■ 
^is  nation. 


Their  neighbors  were  at  a  loss  under  whicli 

division  to  reckon  the  inuiatos  of  a  small 
but  comfortable  looking  woodc.'u  house  with 
flower-beds  enclosed  by  a  green  paling  in  front,  and 
with  a  vegetable  garden  in  the  rear,  standing  at  the 
end  of  Chestnut  street,  where  cornfields  and  meadows 
occupied  the  level  land  between  the  livers,  SchuylftiH 
and  Delaware,  which  the  city  has  long  since  covered  m 
its  growth  of  a  hundred  years. 

In  that  house  resided  Squire  or  Colonel  Delamere  and 
his  daughter,  Philip,  Hannah  Armstrong,  a  negro  girJ 
hired  by  way  of  help — and  in  the  intervals  of  peddling, 
Hannah's  second  husband.  Green  Crossland— for  the 
courtship  begun  in  the  blockhouse  of  the  wild  valley 
had  properly  culminated  in  a  marriage  celebrated  after 
the  fashion  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 

It  was  a  humble  homo  compared  with  the  family  man- 
sion at  the  Elms,  but  it  suited  Delamere's  altered  for- 
tunes. "  We  are  poor  folks,  and  must  not  be  particular 
now,"  he  said.  Poor,  indeed,  they  would  have  been, 
but  the  Continental  Congress,  chiefly  through  the  repre- 
sentations which  Mr.  Archdale  made  without  his  know- 
ledge, allowed  him  an  income  out  of  his  confiscated  estate, 
small,  but  sufficient  to  ward  off  want  or  dependence,  and 
they  were  things  equally  dreaded  by  the  squire.  He  had 
chosen  to  remove  thus  far  from  his  own  New  England 
because  it  seemed  easier  to  spend  his  invalid,  impover- 
ished days  where  reflecting  neighbors  could  not  com- 
ment on  the  fact  that  pride  had  got  a  fall.  Strangership 
is  rather  an  advantage  in  times  of  reduction;  nobody  in 
their  vicinity  knew  the  Delameres  except  Jacob  Stough- 
ton and  his  family;  and  they  were  now  gathered  together 
again,  all  but  Caleb  Sewell,  and  living  in  a  pleasant  place 
called  "Vinelands,"  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
small  "wooden  house.  Their  friendship  for  the  Dela^ 
meres  took  no  chill  from  misfortune.  Had  the  squire 
been  on  the  height  of  his  worldly  prosperity  and  mili- 
tary promotion  they  could  not  have  interested  them- 
selves more  about  his  settlement  at  Philadelphia. 

Susanna  had  the  warmest  welcome  of  all  for  Con- 
stance; yet  at  their  first  meeting  it  was  evident  that  the 
removal  to  Pennsylvania  had  done  all  that  was  expected 
from  it  for  her ;  the  slender  frame  had  grown  thinner, 
the  statuesque  face  more  colorless  and  wan,  and  there 
was  a  perceptible  increase  of  the  weary  look  in  her  soft 
blue  eyes. 

They  met  with  the  friendship  of  their  Boston  days,  but 
could  not  be  so  much  together  now.  Susanna  could 
venture  out  only  in  fine  weather,  and  Constance  would 
not  leave  her  father  to  fret  alone.  His  occupation,  civil 
and  military,  was  gone ;  the  weather  concerned  him  as 
much  as  it  did  Susanna  now.  He  had  no  friend  to  visil 
him  except  Jacob  Stoughton,  who,  knowing  he  was  the 
only  one,  made  it  a  point  to  drop  in  almost  every  day  : 
and  it  was  wondeful  what  cheer  and  solace  the  once 
hot-brained  squire  found  in  the  converse  of  the  sobei 
Quaker. 

Laid  aside  from  the  pursuits  of  active  life,  with  much 
time  and  more  cause  for  thought  and  reflection,  Dela* 
mere  was  growing  a  wiser  man  and  a  less  zealous  parti 
san.  He  had  settled  in  the  outskirts  of  Philadelphia  at 
the  beginning  of  Winter,  and  as  it  w^ore  away,  and  the 
Spring  of  another  year  came  on,  great  changes  toolf 
place  in  public  alTairs.  The  British  troops  had  beer, 
driven  out  of  Boston  to  the  ships,  in  which  they  sailec 
away  with  a  following  of  fifteen  hundred  Tories. 
Washington  and  his  New  England  army  took  posses- 
sion of  New  York;  flourishing  towns  and  thriving 
ports  along  the  Atlantic  coast  were  destroyed  bv 
British  cruisers  and  privateers,  and  people  were 
everywhere  heard  to  say  that  a  total  separation  from 
England  was  the  only  course  left  to  the  American 
provinces. 

How  would  such  sayings  have  stirred  up  Dela- 
mere's wrath  but  one  short  year  ago,  yet  now  he  dis- 
cussed them  and  the  circumstances  which  occasioned 
them  so  calmly  that  honest  Jacob,  who  valued  the 
blessing  of  the  peacemakers  more  than  the  success  of 
political  parties,  began  to  think  of  effecting  a  recon- 
ciliation between  him  and  Archdale;  but  that  was  to  be 
brought  about  in  a  different  manner,  and  the  Stough- 
ton's  had  a  subject  of  sad  concern  at  home.  The  bal- 
ance-weight of  their  prosperous  fortunes  and  domes- 


322 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


tic  tranquility  was  to  see  the  young*  branch  of  their 
wedded  life  withering  before  their  age.  The  fatal  foe  of 
their  race,  which  had  followed  the  English  colonists 
to  the  western  shore  of  the  Atlantic,  insidious,  deceit- 
ful consumption,  had  fixed  on  their  only  child  with  its 
usual  alternations  of  recovery  and  relapse,  which 
make  friends  and  kindred  hope  to  the  last.  They 
that  die  early  escape  much;  we  know  it  by  looking 
back  on  the  years  of  our  own  journey  since  the  grave- 
grasb  grew  between  us  and  them.  Yet  there  is  no 
mourning  like  that  for  the  death  of  the  young ;  their 
memory  is  blessed,  but  our  hopes  die  with  them,  and 
with  some  our  hearts  die  also. 

The  weather  was  fine,  for  the  glorious  Summer  of 
Pennsylvania  had  come,  and  the  bloom  of  the  year 
brightened  all  the  land ;  but  Susanna  could  not  venture 
out,  she  had  caught  a  cold,  her  mother  thought,  and 
Constance  went  to  see  her  one  afternoon,  promising  to 
return  at  the  evening's  fall,  the  time  when  her  father 
would  miss  her  most.  She  found  the  young  Quakeress 
shut  up  in  her  own  comfortable  room,  where  the  sun 
shone  in  with  softened  ray  through  a  double  screen  of 
flowers  and  curtains,  while  all  the  neighbors  sat  with 
open  doors  and  windows,  but  Susanna  received  her  with 
the  old  smile  of  welcome.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  thee," 
she  said,  "to  come  and  see  me  this  afternoon,  for  my 
mother  had  to  attend  a  meeting  of  our  society,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  feel  dull  and  lonely." 

They  sat  and  talked  as  they  used  to  do  in  Harbor 
street,  when  Susanna  marked  the  linen  ;  now  her  pale, 
thin  hands  lay  idle  on  her  lap,  and  the  book  she  had 
grown  tired  of  reading  lay  before  her  on  the  table,  "  Tell 
me,  Constance,"  she  said,  after  kind  inquiries  for  the 
Squire,  for  Hannah,  for  Phillip,  and  for  Greenland,  with 
whom  she  had  got  acquainted  since  his  coming  to  Phila- 
delphia, "  dost  thou  know  if  Sydney  Archdale  will  soon 
come  here  again?  he  comes  and  goes,  as  he  told  us  him- 
self, on  business  between  General  Washington  and  the 
Congress,  but  he  has  not  been  here  since  the  time  he 
went  to  the  Indian  country  and  released  my  father;  and 
now  that  the  army  is  in  New  York,  which  is  so  much 
nearer  than  Boston,  I  thought  we  should  see  him  of- 
tener." 

I  can  tell  you  nothing  about  him,"  said  Constance ; 
"it  is  a  long  time  since  he  gave  up  visiting  us,  and  we 
are  scarcely  worth  visiting  now,  I  suppose  ;  but  you 
should  know  most  about  his  comings  and  goings,  Su- 
sanna. I  heard  in  Massachusetts  that  you  and  Sydney 
were  engaged  ;"  and  she  looked  steadfastly  down  on  the 
carpet. 

"  Then,  Constance,  you  heard  what  was  not  true  ;  and 
somehow  my  mind  told  me  you  had  heard  the  like,  be- 
cause of  his  comings  to  our  house  ;  that  was  why  I  spoke 
k)  you  of  him,  Coastance  dear,  to  let  you  know  the 
truth  and  leave  no  shadow  on  your  heart  when  I  am 
gone.  Sydney  Archdale  saved  my  life,  and  always  acted 
like  a  friend  to  me  and  my  family,  but  he  never  spoke  of 
love  or  marriage  ;  he  never  cared  for  me  in  that  way, 
Constance ;  and  now  I  am  glad  he  did  not.  The  love 
of  a  true,  brave  manlike  him  might  have  made  me  fall 
away  from  our  society,  and  so  grieve  my  father  and 
mother.  We  have  reason  to  pray,  '■  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,'  and,  in  great  mercy,  I  have  not  been  led. 
More  than  that,  Constance,  it  might  have  made  me  cling 
to  the  earth  and  be  unwilling  to  go.  Now,  when  my 
Father  above  is  calling  me  to  his  better  kingdom,  I  have 
nothing  to  leave  or  lament  except  my  father  and  mother, 
and  the  Lord  will  comfort  them.  Sometimes  I  think  of 
Caleb  Sewell,  too.  My  mind  never  inclined  to  him,  but 
he  asked  me  often,  and  especially  before  he  went  with 
Sydney  to  the  Indian  country.  '  Susanna,'  he  said  one 
day  when  we  were  alone,  *  I  know  the  New  England 
men  have  right  on  their  side,  and  I  hold  it  no  wrong  to 
take  up  arms  for  a  good  cause ;  but  if  you  will  be  my 
wife  I  will  not  go  to  the  army,  because  it  is  against  your 
father's  mind,  but  stay  at  home  and  be  a  peaceable  mer- 
chant and  a  good  husband  to  you.'  I  knew  then  that  the 
time  of  my  departure  was  drawing  near,  and  told  him 
so,  but  he  would  not  believe  it,  and  pressed  me  to  say 
honestly  if  I  preferred  Sydney  Archdale  to  him  ;  and  I 
said,  *  Friend  Caleb,  that  was  once  the  case,  but  all  such 
thoughts  are  passing  from  me,  for  am  going  the  way  of 
all  the  earth  ;'  and  he  left  me  seemingly  in  great  sorrow, 
and  I  have  never  seen  him  since," 

There  was  no  flush  on  Susanna's  pale  cheek  now:  >^^-^ 


spoke  in  the  shadow  of  the  hereafter,  and  her  speech 
and  look  brought  the  certainty  of  her  early  death  so 
home  to  Constance  that  she  could  find  no  word  of  cheer 
or  hopefulness,  but  sat  by  her  side  and  wcDt  sore, 

"Don't grieve  so,  my  friend  ;"  and  Susanna  took  her 
by  the  hand ;  "you  will  think  it  well  with  me  in  aftei 
years,  when  you  are  deep  in  the  troubles  of  life,  maybe, 
as  I  have  heard  old  people  speak  of  their  friends  who 
died  young.  There  is  a  better  life  than  this,  Constance ; 
set  your  heart  and  hopes  on  it,  and  not  on  the  things  of 
this  poor  and  passing  world.  Yet  there  is  one  thing  I 
would  fain  say  to  you  ;  Sydney  Archdale  loves  you,  and 
you  love  him.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  know  that — may- 
be, it  is  .evealed  to  me.  Do  not  grieve  your  father  for 
the  young  man's  sake,  but  do  not  marry  that  king's  oflftcer 
for  all  his  rank  and  grandeur,  seeing  you  love  him  not, 
for  thcl  is  the  worst  of  perjury ;"  but  Susanna  stopped 
short,  as  her  mother,  just  returned  from  the  meeting, 
stopped  into  the  room. 

Constance  made  a  great  effort  to  recover  her  com- 
posure and  speak  cheerfully  to  Mrs.  Stoughton.  The 
poor  mother  and  father,  too,  were  cheated  into  hope  by 
the  fitful  disease,  and  their  gentle  daughter  would  not 
gainsay  the  fond  expectations  that  comforted  them  for 
the  time ;  but  as  her  friend  rose  to  go  she  whispered, 
"  Come  and  see  me  as  often  as  you  can,  for  my  stay  here 
will  not  be  long." 

Sad  at  heart,  Constance  took  her  homeward  way.  It 
led  along  the  bank  of  the  Delaware  ;  streets  and  wharfs 
now  occupy  the  ground  ;  but  then  there  was  no  building 
for  more  than  a  mile,  except  a  cottage  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  Vinelands,  close  by  a  ferry,  between  New 
Jersey  and  Pennsylvania,  and  inhabited  by  the  ferryman 
and  his  wife.  Constance  had  some  acquaintance  with 
the  pair ;  they  had  come  from  her  native  place,  and  for- 
merly kept  a  ferry  on  the  Connecticut ;  but  as  she  paused 
to  speak  to  the  wife,  who  stood  at  the  door  and  kindly 
inquired  for  her  father,  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
woman  who  sat  on  the  rustic  bench  outside  appropriated 
to  travelers  waiting  for  the  ferry. 

Large,  gaunt,  and  dark-complexioned,  her  dress  was 
of  foreign  fashion,  and  had  once  been  good,  but  was 
now  worn  and  shabby.  Her  face  was  foreign,  too — of 
the  Spanish  type,  it  seemed,  and  might  have  been  hand- 
some some  time  m  her  day ;  but  was  prematurely  old 
and  wrinkled,  and  had,  morever,  that  strange,  out-of- 
the-world  look  which  people  get  by  long  seclusion  from 
society  in  prisons,  convents,  or  lunatic  asylums.  Con- 
stance was  too  little  acquainted  with  life  to  know  the 
meaning  of  that  peculiar  expression,  and  the  woeful  his- 
tory it  suggested  ;  but  she  felt  frightened  by  it,  the  more 
so  that  the  black  eyes  of  the  strange-looking  woman  cast 
fierce  and  furtive  glances  at  her  from  under  a  pair  of 
almost  shaggy  brows.  That  feeling,  and  the  fast  falling 
shades  of  twilight,  made  her  hasten  along  the  lonely 
road  ;  but  she  had  scarcely  got  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  ferry-house,  when  quick  steps  behind  made  her  look 
round,  and  there  was  the  strange-looking  woman.  Con- 
stance stepped  aside  to  let  her  pass  ;  but  instead  of  doing 
so  she  seized  the  girl's  arm,  and  said,  in  a  loud  whisper, 
"  Where  is  he?  tell  me  this  minute." 

"  Who  ?"  said  Constance,  terribly  frightened,  but  try- 
ing to  keep  calm  and  collected. 

"Who,  indeed!"  cried  the  woman,  with  a  satirical 
laugh  ;  "  you  know  very  well  who  I  mean — Cecil  Deve- 
reux  ;  he  is  somewhere  hereabouts,  and  I  will  find  him, 
fori  am  his  lawful  wife— I  am,  and  you  need  not  think 
to  marry  him.  If  you  and  your  father  knew  what  I  do,  you 
would  not  be  so  ready  for  the  business  ;"  and  she  laugbad 
louder  than  before,  "But  that's  no  matter;  I  am  his 
wife.  He  spent  my  jointure  and  got  my  son  kidnapped 
—poor,  poor  Philip  ! — ay,  and  he  put  me  in  the  mad- 
house the  old  nuns  keep  over  yonder  in  Lima  ;  but  I  got 
out  you  see  ;  they  didn't  care  to  keep  me  any  longer 
when  he  sent  them  no  money,  But  I  will  have  my  hus- 
band. Where  is  he,  I  say  ?"  and  her  clutch  grew  tighter; 
but  pure  terror  gave  the  girl  strength  ;  with  one  desper- 
ate effort  she  freed  herself,  and  fied  along  the  road. 

"  Do  you  think  to  get  rid  of  me  that  way  ?"  cried  the 
woman ;  "  I'll  stop  your  progress  and  your  marriage  too, 
senora  ;"  and  as  Constance  glanced  behind,  she  saw  her 
pull  a  long  dagger-like  knife  from  under  her  cloak  and 
come  scouring  after. 

Her  threat  would  have  been  executed ;  for  quickly  as 
the  girl  ran  she  was  on  the  point  of  overtaking  her, 
when  a  sound  of  hoofs  and  shouts  rose  on  the  road 


^SAFTAIN   DEYKRRUX   MAKES   A   VISIT   IN  STATE. 


1 


V 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  325 


behind  them.  A  party  of  four  horsemen  rode  up  at  full 
speed  :  one  of  them  springing  from  his  saddle,  dashed  in 
between  the  uplifted  knife  and  the  intended  victim  ;  and 
Constance,  faint  with  fright  and  terror,  would  have 
fallen  to  the  ground,  but  for  the  supporting  arms  of 
•Sydney  Archdale.  *^Fear  nothing,  Constance  ;  I  will 
defend  you  with  my  life,"  he  cried,  bearing  her  back  a 
few  paces,  and  at  the  same  time  warding  off  a  thrust 
which  the  frantic  woman  made  at  him ;  but  in  making 
it  her  foot  slipped  on  a  loose  stone  and  she  fell  heavily 
to  the  ground,  which  the  next  moment  was  dyed  with 
blood ;  for  the  sharp  point  of  the  knife  had  turned  up  in 
the  fall  and  pierced  deep  into  her  right  side. 

The  rest  of  the  party  had  come  up  by  this  time  ;  they 
consisted  of  Caleb  Sewell,  the  French  Count  de  Valen- 
court,  and  Dr.  Adams.  The  latter's  professional  eye 
took  in  the  situation  at  once.  With  the  help  of  the 
other  two  he  raised  the  woman  from  the  ground  ;  her 
fury  was  gone,  for  she  was  almost  insensible  from  pain 
and  loss  of  blood.  The  doctor  drew  the  knife  from  her 
side,  bound  up  the  wound  with  a  large  handkerchief 
which  he  happened  to  have  about  him,  and  said,  *'  Gen- 
tlemen, we  must  get  her  to  the  nearest  hospital  as 
quickly  as  possible  ;  it  is  her  only  chance  for  life,  if  any 
chance  there  be." 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. — K  DARK  SECRET  REVEALED. 

Constance  saw  and  heard  no  more,  for  Sydney  led  her 
away  from  the  shocking  scene  to  where  the  road  was 
skirted  by  a  grassy  bank. 

"  Sit  down  here  and  rest  for  a  minute,"  he  said;  "you 
have  been  overwrought,  Constance.  Lean  on  my  shoul- 
der as  you  used  to  do  when  you  were  tired  in  our  long 
rambles  through  Holyoke  woods." 

Oh,  Sydney,  you  have  saved  my  life  this  day."  She 
leaned  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  threw  his  arm  round  her 
as  in  the  old  familiar  times.  How  much  had  happened 
since  they  parted! 

"Thank  Providence  that  I  came  in  time.  But  take 
breath,  and  tell  me  who  is  that  woman,  and  why  did  she 
attack  you?"  said  Sydney. 

Constance  related  the  whole  transaction  as  it  occurred. 

"  Cecil  Devereux — his  lawful  wife?"  repeated  the  young 
man.  "  The  woman  is  mad,  of  course;  nothing  but  mad- 
ness could  have  made  her  fall  on  you.  But,  Constance, 
there  is  truth  in  her  wild  sayings.  Lieutenant  Gray, 
who  knows  a  good  deal  of  the  captain's  history,  told  me 
as  much  at  the  door  of  his  own  hut  beside  Fort  Frederick; 
and  if  that  unhappy  woman  lives,  it  may  be  possible  to 
prove  it  yet.  But  now  tell  me  one  thing — honestly,  Con- 
stance, and  before  the  Ever-present,,  who  alone  can  hear 
and  judge  between  us;  is  it  true  what  the  lieutenant  told 
me  Mrs.  Danby  gives  out — that  you  have  been  engagedto 
Devereux  for  some  time,  and  they  are  all  coming  here 
shortly  to  celebrate  the  wedding?" 

"  Mrs.  Danby  has  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  have  a  right 
to  speak  well  of  her,"  said  Constance  ;  but  that  tale  is 
false,  whoever  tells  it.  There  never  was  an  engagement 
between  me  and  Captain  Devereux,  and  there  never  will 
be  while  I  keep  my  senses.  He  proi)osed  for  me,  and  my 
father  was  inclined  to  the  match;  but  I  never  encouraged 
him— I  never  liked  him,  Sydney." 

"  It  takes  a  burden  off  my  heart  to  hear  you  say  so ;" 
said  Sydney,  immensely  relieved,  "for  I  was  foolish 
enough  to  believe  the  report,  because  it  seemed  to  come 
from  such  well-informed  quarters  ;  and  that,  together 
with  the  promise  I  made  to  my  father  kept  me  from  try- 
ing to  meet  you  as  I  might  have  done  many  a  time. 
Maybe  I  am  not  keeping  the  said  promise  now  ;  but  you 
once  made  a  sort  of  engagement  with  one  Sydney  Arch- 
dale  when  he  washidingin  the  Holyoke  Woods  ;  I  know  it 
depended  on  your  father's  consent;  but  are  you  inclined 
to  keep  it  still,  Constance  ?" 

•'■  I  am,  Sydney;  but  only  on  the  same  condition.  I 
would  not  vex  my  father  in  the  time  of  his  prosperity, 
and  far  less  would  I  do  so  now  in  his  poor  unlucky  days. 
Indeed,  I  partly  expected  you  had  forgotten  all  about  it, 
now  that  you  are  a  colonel  in  the  patriot  army,  and  we 
poor  confiscated  Tories."  But  the  girl's  look  did  not 
mean  what  she  said,  and  young  Archdale  knew  it. 

If  you  were  ten  times  confiscated  and  twenty  times  To- 
ries I  should  think  myself  fortunate— ay,  if  they  put  me 
in  the  place  of  General  Washington,  which  Providence 
forefend,  for  the  country  would  make  a  poor  change — 
provided  you  would  keep  that  old  woodland  engage- 


ment, and  wait  to  see  what  time  would  do  for  us  in  thb 

way  of  altering  your  father's  views." 

"  Well,  there  is  my  hand  upon  it,"  said  Constance. 

He  took  the  small  white  hand  she  offered,  pressed  and 
kissed  it,  and  vowed  and  ])rotested,  after  the  manner  of 
lovers  in  their  fervid  folly,  as  an  old  bachelor  would 
say,  till  Constance  noticed  that  it  was  getting  dark,  and 
started  up  with,  "  What  a  shame  it  is  for  me  to  leave  my 

Eoor  father  so  long  alone ;  for  charity's  sake  let  me  go^ 
ydney." 

"  I'll  see  you  home,"  he  said  ;  "fori  know  the  way 
to  your  house  ;  if  it  were  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains 
I  should  find  it ;  and  never  fear,  your  father  shall  not  see 
me;  I  would  not  give  him  cause  of  vexation  any  more 
than  yourself." 

Sydney  kept  his  word,  and  took  leave  of  her  at  a  turn 
of  the  road,  which,  though  close  to  the  house,  could  not 
be  seen  from  it  for  intervening  trees.  There  were  plans 
and  promises  of  future  meetings  between  them ;  but  when 
Constance  reached  the  garden  gate,  there  stood  the  squire 
anxiously  looking  out  for  her.  "  Come  into  the  parlor, 
child  ;  I  have  news  for  you,"  he  said.  She  followed  him; 
aud  after  carefully  closing  the  door  he  handed  her  an 
open  letter.  "The  Tory  runner  brought  me  that  an  hour 
ago.  Read  it  for  yourself  and  let  me  know  what  you 
think  of  it." 

The  girl's  heart  failed  her  at  the  first  glance  over  that 
epistle;  it  was  from  Cecil  Talbot  Devereux,  and  set  forth 
that  through  circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  con- 
trol, and  which  he  would  fully  explain  on  the  first  op- 
portunity, had  prevented  him  paying  his  respects  to  Squire 
Delamere  and  his  charming  daughter  for  a  considerable 
time,  yet  his  friendship  for  the  one  and  love  for  the  other 
had  undergone  no  change;  and  having,  by  the  sudden  de- 
cease of  his  uncle,  succeeded  to  the  family  estate  and  ti- 
tle, he  was  on  his  way,  and  would  probably  arrive  early 
in  the  following  evening,  to  lay  them  both,  together  with 
his  heart,  "  at  the  feet  of  the  beautiful — the  incompar- 
able Miss  Delamere." 

The  captain  added  that  he  had  heard  with  deep  regret 
how,  in  common  with  many  loyal  subjects,  the  squire 
had  been  involved  in  misfortune  by  the  temporary  tri- 
umph of  rebellion;  but  if  he  would  consent  to  accompany 
him  "and  might  not  one  say  his  bride  ?"  to  England, 
the  Lavenham  family  had  influence  enough  to  obtain  a 
•government  appointment  adequate  to  his  losses  for  the 
royal  cause,  till  law  and  order  should  be  established  in 
the  American  provinces,  aad  he  could  return  to  his  pat- 
rimony of  the  Elms. 

"  There's  what  I  call  a  true  lover,"  said  Delamere, 
looking  more  gratified  than  anybody  had  seen  him  look 
for  many  a  day  ;  "In  haste  to  press  his  suit  when  he  has 
come  to  title  and  estate,  and  we  have  come  to  poverty. 
Constance,  my  girl,  that  is  not  the  way  of  the  world." 

"  It  is  not,  father,"  said  Constance,  collecting  herself 
as  well  as  she  could ;  but  there  are  tales  about  the  cap- 
tain which  you  ought  to  hear,  and  one  of  them  I  should 
have  told  you  long  ago — maybe  you'll  be  angry  with  me 
but  I  feared  it  would  annoy  you,  and  you  had  trouble 
enough  at  the  time." 

"I  will  not  be  angry,  my  child;  come  here  and  sit  be- 
side me,  and  tell  me  whatever  it  is." 

She  sat  down  by  her  father's  side,  and  gave  him  a  cleai 
but  quiet  account  of  the  captain's  strange  conduct  on 
the  day  of  her  interview  with  Washinglon  ;  what  Mr. 
Archdale  had  told  her  on  the  subject,  and  the  kind 
message  he  sent  to  him.  Then  she  narrated  her  adven- 
ture that  evening  with  the  frantic  woman  who  said  she 
was  Devereux's  wife,  and  brought  so  many  charges 
against  him ;  how  Sydney  Archdale  had  saved  her  life 
at  the  risk  of  his  own ;  and  what  he  said  about  the 
woman's  words  being  true.  But  Constance  did  not  tell 
what  else  he  said,  nor  what  she  said  herself  while  they 
sat  on  the  grassy  bank. 

When  the  heat  of  its  midsummer  afternoon  was  get- 
ting tempered  by  the  evening  breeze,  and  the  first  flush 
of  sunset  was  tinging  the  western  sky,  the  inhabitants 
of  the  small  houses  which  formed  a  straggling  hamlet  at 
the  country  end  of  Chestnut  street  were  surprised  to  see 
a  gentleman,  riding  in  high  state  and  fashion,  with  gold- 
laced  coat,  hat  of  the  newest  cock,  and  two  liveried 
;ervants  behind  him,  alight  at  the  house  with  green 
palings  and  flower-beds  in  front. 

It  was  Cecil  Talbot  Devereux,  Viscount  Lavenham 
coming  in  the  certain  hope  to  woo  Delamere's  daughter 
successfully  at  last.   The  good  and  beautiful  girl  had 


326 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


charmed  him  from  the  first  introduction.  He  loved  her 
with  all  the  heart  that  remained  to  him  in  the  lees  of  an 
evil  life.  Moreover,  there  was  a  distant  prospect  of  the 
Elms  afforded  to  him  and  his  family,  through  the  put- 
ting down  of  the  rebellion,  which  all  their  class  con- 
fidently expected.  In  short,  circumstances  on  all  sides 
seemed  in  his  favor.  One  would  have  known  by  the 
man's  look  and  bearing  that  he  believed  his  star  to  be  in 
the  ascendant ;  but  "  the  feet  of  Nemesis  are  shod 
with  wool,"  says  the  classic  proverb. 

At  the  time  when  the  new-made  viscount  rode  up  to 
the  house  with  the  green  palings,  a  group  of  four — Dr. 
Adams,  Caleb  Sewell,  Count  de  Valencourt,  and 
Sydney  Archdale— stood  speaking  low  and  earnestly  in 
the  accident  ward  of  the  old  hospital  of  Philadelphia, 
which  was  said  to  owe  Its  foundation  to  William  Penn, 
but  has  been  long  ago  superseded  by  a  structure  more 
in  accordance  with  the  dimensions  and  appearance  of 
the  modern  city.  Their  meeting  there  was  casual, 
though  on  the  same  subject.  Each  had  come  to  inquire 
after  the  poor  insane  woman,  whose  fall  on  her  own 
knife  they  had  witnessed  on  the  preceding  day ;  but  Dr. 
Adams  had  been  at  the  hospital  some  time  before  the 
others.  His  business  in  the  neighborhood  was  to  see 
Susanna  Stoughton.  He  had  made  the  journey  from 
Massachusetts  at  the  request  of  her  father  and  mother, 
but  naturally  took  an  interest  in  the  case  which  had  oc- 
curred before  his  eyes,  and  his  professional  reputation 
made  him  in  a  manner  free  of  every  medical  institution. 

''She  has  fallen  into  a  state  of  unconsciousness,"  he 
said,  in  reply  to  a  question  from  Sydney  Archdale,  ''and 
may  never  recover,  for,  as  I  understand  the  symptoms, 
she  has  not  many  hours  to  live." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?"  cried  a  voice  which  startled 
them  all.  The  woman  had  partially  raised  herself  in  the 
bed,  and  was  looking  from  one  to  another  of  the  four, 
as  if  to  recognise  them. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  she  repeated,  in  a  sharper 
tone.  The  fire  of  insanity  had  passed  from  her  eyes 
and  given  place  to  a  look  of  mingled  fear  and  anxiety. 

Life  and  death  are  in  the  hand  of  God,"  said  the 
doctor  ;  "  but  if  you  have  any  wordly  affairs  to  settle,  I 
advise  you  to  do  so  without  delay." 

I  have  no  affairs — Devereux  has  left  me  none,"  said 
the  woman;  "but  I  have  something  to  tell  which  I 
cannot  die  with  on  my  mind.  Is  there  anybody  here 
that  knows  Squire  Delamere  ?" 

"  We  are  all  friends  of  Squire  Delamere,"  said  Sydney 
Archdale ;  "  and  whatever  you  tell  us  shall  certainly  be 
told  to  him." 

"  You  are  the  young  man  that  saved  his  daughter 
from  me — God  bless  you  for  that.  I  am  glad  I  did  not 
do  it  now  ;  and  she  so  kind  to  my  son,  Philip.  Poor 
boy,  to  think  of  him  serving  strangers  ;  and  his  father's 
property — all  that  Devereux  couldn't  spend  and  destroy 
of  it — remaining  for  him  in  Jamaica.  Will  anybody  go 
and  tell  him  that  he  is  the  rightful  heir  ?  But  listen,  I 
>.ave  more  than  that  to  say,"  and  she  looked  fixedly  at 
Sydney.  "If  you  are  his  friend,  go  and  tell  Squire 
D'^lamere  that  the  man  he  thinks  a  grand  match  for  his 
daughter  is  the  murderer  of  his  son.  I  followed  him 
from  his  lodgings  in  the  back  street,  and  saw  him  do  the 
deed  in  the  garden  of  the  old  inn  at  Versailles  ;  and  aU 
the  city  knew  why  it  was  done.  He  called  himself 
Courtney  Percival  then,  and  pretended  to  be  a  West 
Indian.  I  don't  know  if  I  will  be  forgiven  for  keeping 
it  so  long,  but  I  have  told  it  now.  He  won't  get  marry- 
ing her  when  I  am  gone,"  and  the  woman  fell  back  with 
something  between  a  laugh  and  a  moan. 

"  Let  us  go  at  once,  and  tell  the  squire,"  said  Sydney ; 
"  perhaps  he  may  get  here  in  time  to  hear  the  tale  from 
her  own  lips  and  inquire  into  the  truth  of  it." 

"  It  is  true,  every  word,' '  said  De  "Valencourt,  who 
had  been  standing  with  folded  arms  and  downcast  eyes 
while  the  woman  spoke.  "I  recognised  the  assassin  in 
the  midst  of  the  American  camp,  after  searching  every 
town  in  Europe  for  him  in  vain ;  and  I  will  search  every 
town  in  America — aye,  every  British  garrison,  if  that  be 
possible,  and  bring  him  to  justice  with  my  own  hand, 
wherever  I  may  find  him,  for  I  am  the  man  whose  un- 
guarded youth  young  Delamere  protected  from  his  rob- 
bery at  the  hazard  table,  and  in  revenge  was  foully 
murdered  by  the  villain." 

CHAPTER  XXIX, — JUSTIOB  AT  LAST. 

Constance  had  slipped  away  to  her  own  room  to  prepare  her 
mind  for  the  approaching  ordeal.  She  had  that  evening  to  re- 


fuse (leflniteTy  the  Lavenham  coronet,  and  permanently  dis- 
appoint her  father;  there  was  no  alternative  to  be  thought  of, 
and  old  Red-hand's  wigwam,  with  Kashutan  haunting  its  cor- 
ners, would  have  been,  for  the  moment  at  least,  a  welcome  re- 
treat from  the  whole  business.  She  sat  at  the  window,  leaning 
her  head  on  her  hand ;  the  lingering  light  of  the  summer  day 
still  made  objects  plainly  visible,  but  she  did  not  see,  because 
the  same  trees  which  concealed  Sydney  and  herself  on  the  pre- 
vious evening,  now  hid  from  her  view  him  and  his  two  com- 

B anions.  They  had  hastened  to  the  house  to  make  known  to 
•elamere  the  dying  woman's  disclosures,  but  paused  there  to 
take  counsel.  None  of  them  imagined  that  the  man  whose 
lonj^-hidden  crime  they  came  to  reveal  was  v.aen  sitting  in  the 
squire's  parlor ;  yet  the  two  most  forward  men  in  facing  steel 
or  cannon  found  their  courage  fail  them. 

"  I  cannot  enter  the  house  of  a  gentleman  to  whom  I  have 
caused  the  loss  of  his  only  son,  and  I  a  stranger  to  him,"  said 
De  Valencourt ;  "  you  are  his  friends ;  go  in  and  tell  him  the 
woman's  tale.  I  will  remain  at  hand,  and  be  ready  to  give  my 
evidence  if  necessary." 

"It  looks  rather  cowardly,"  said  Sydney,  "but  I  confess 
myself  half  afraid  to  face  the  squire  with  this  news;  he  has  a 
ptiff  preiudice  against  me,  and  will  say  at  the  first  brush  that 
it  is  an  invented  ©alumny." 

"  Your  scruples  are  honest,  friends,"  said  Caleb  Sewell ;  "I, 
who  have  no  reason  for  any  such,  will  inform  Delamere,  seeing 
that,  as  the  case  stands,  it  is  needful  he  should  know  at  once.'' 
Viscount  Lavenham  had  responded  to  the  squire's  cordial 
greetings,  and  inquired  for  Miss  Delamere  in  terms  of  more 
than  usual  compliment ;  he  had  expressed  his  deep  regret  for 
the  squire's  mishaps  in  person  and  property,  and  his  firm  be- 
lief, founded  on  the  best  information,  that  the  wrongs  of  all 
loyal  subjects  would  be  amply  redressed  within  the  year ;  and 
was  opening  his  own  particular  business  with,  "  In  the  mean- 
cime  let  me  hope,  now  that  I  have  succeeded  to  my  family 
estate  and  title—"  when  Philip  looked  in  at  the  door. 

"There is  a  gentleman  outside  who  wishes  to  speak  with 
you  squire ;  he  will  not  come  in,  because  I  said  you  had  com- 
pany; but,"  the  boy  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "I  know  it  is  Mr. 
Sewell." 

"How  is  this,  friend  Caleb,  that  you  will  not  come  in,  and  it 
is  such  a  time  since  we  have  met?"  said  Delamere,  stepping 
out  and  offering  his  hand  to  the  military  merchant. 

"  Friend  Delamere,"  said  Caleb,  as  he  took  it  with  the  kindly 
^asp  of  former  days,  "  I  would  not  be  hasty  in  speaking  of 
a  grevious  matter,  but  these  times  admit  of  no  ceremony  in 
oreaking  bad  news.  I  have  come  to  tell  thee  that  the  man  to 
whom  thou  intendest  giving  thy  daughter  in  marriage  was  the 
slayer  of  thy  son." 

Stunned  and  stupefied,  Delamere  staggered  back  against  the 
■wall,  and  stared  on  the  speaker  without  uttering  a  word, 
while  Devereux,  who  had  heard  all  that  passed  through  the 
open  door,  darted  between  the  two,  and  out  of  the  house,  ex 
•claiming,  ''It  is  a  false,  malicious  slander ;  I  will  prove  it." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Sydney  Archdale,  stepping  forward  to  bar 
ais  retreat,  "for  your  poor  wife,  now  dying,  has  confessed 
that  she  saw  the  deed  done." 

"  False  or  true,"  cried  Devereux,  the  criminal  ruffian  within 
aim  breaking  through  the  thin  coat  of  high-life  polish,  "  you 
shall  never  get  Constance;"  and  he  rushed  upon  Sydney  with 
his  drawn  hanger.  The  young  man  happened  to  be  unarmed 
at  the  time,  yet  he  stood  his  ground,  determined  to  close  with 
him ;  but  before  Sydney  could  try  that  desperate  chance,  De 
Valencourt  had  stepped  from  behind  the  garden-gate.  His 
sword  was  drawn  in  a  moment,  and  he  rushed  forward  to 
strike  down  the  assassin's  arm.  But  Devereux,  furious  as  the 
truth  dawned  upon  him,  sprang  forward,  caught  the  blow, 
and  fell  severely  wounded.  He  reeled  and  fell  almost  at  the 
threshold  of  the  man  whose  noon  of  life  he  had  darkened  with 
■euch  a  heavy  cloud  of  sorrow. 

Constance  flew  downstairs  at  the  tumult,  and  saw  her  father 
(Etill  standing  against  the  wall.  The  color  left  her  face  at  the 
sight  of  his;  but  somebody  came  between  them,  took  each 
'by  the  arm  and  led  them  into  the  parlor,  and  then  they  saw  it 
was  Mr.  Archdale. 

"  This  is  kind  of  you,  Archdale,  I  have  behaved  ill  to  3  ou 
and  your  son,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it ;  that  is  all  I  can  say,  for 
ray  mind  is  confused.  May  the  Lord  help  me  I"  said  the 
equire,  sitting  down  beside  his  daughter. 

"  Any  man  would  be  confused  in  your  circumstances.  As  for 
the  past,  never  mind  it,  we  ,re  all  liable  to  mistakes  and  mis- 
understandings, my  friend.  I  was  passing  your  house,  saw 
what  occurred,  and  came  to  see  if  1  could  be  of  any  use  to 

^°'^Well,  that  was  kind;  but  are  yon  sure  what  Caleb  Sewell 
said  to  me  was  true  ?"  said  the  poor  bewildered  squire. 

"Caleb  Sewell  would  speak  nothing  but  the  truth,  as  far  ae 
his  knowledge  went,"  said  Archdale  "  I  do  not  perfectly 
understand  the  case  myself,  but  probably  Sydney  can  explain 
it ;  and  if  vou  will  allow  him,  he  will  do  so  by-and-by, 

Constance  would  ask  no  questions  that  might  further  con- 
fuse her  father,  and  the  three  sat  almost  in  silence  till  a  low 
voice  spoke  at  the  parlor  door.  Nobody  would  have  thought 
it  was  the  colonel  of  one  of  the  best  regiments  in  Washing- 
iou'sarmy  who  asked  in  such  gentle  and  modest  tones  if  he 
alight  come  in.  ,    ,  1. 

'^Come  in  and  welcome,  S;ydney  1  I  wish  you  had  never  been 
I  stranger  in  my  house,"  said  Delamere. 

"  Syfiiey  came,  sat  down  at  his  other  siAe,  and  reheareea  to 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


327 


them  all  the  particulars  already  related,  adding  that  De  Yalen- 
court  had  beeu  arrested  by  the  legal  anthoriiiee;  but  himself 
and  Caleb  Sewell,  having  become  security  for  his  appearance 
at  the  inquest,  he  was  allowed  to  go  at  large.  The  young  man 
also  Informed  them  that,  on  inquiring  at  the  hospital,  he  had 
learned  the  unlucky  woman  was  gone  from  this  world.  Ex- 
cept a  few  words  in  response  to  the  prayer  which  Dr.  Adams 
offered  up  for  her  departing  soul,  she  had  never  spoken  after 
her  statement  regarding  Devereux.  It  soon  became  apparent 
that  Devereux  himself  would  not  long  survive  her.  He  had 
not  strength  to  stand  against  the  consequences  of  his  wound, 
and  succumbed  in  a  few  days. 

When  the  first  shock  was  over,  it  was  surprising  how  calmly 
Delamere  heard  and  spoke  of  the  fearful  discovery,  though  in 
all  his  after-days  it  was  observed  that  he  avoided  the  subject 
as  far  as  possible,  and  the  only  reflection  he  ever  made  upon  it 
was,  Men  might  learn  from  my  experience  that  the  ways  of 
Providence  are  wiser  than  our  wishes,  for  into  what  an  abyss 
would  the  fulfillment  of  mine  have  plunged  me  and  my 
child !" 

As  the  family  were  strangers  in  Philadelphia,  the  private 
history  of  their  case  remained  unknown  to  the  public,  though 
It  was  generally  believed  that  the  rivalry  for  the  hand  of 
Delamere's  fair  daughter  had  prompted  the  Englishman's  at- 
tack on  Colonel  Archdale.  The  attack  furnished  the  best  and 
safest  plea  for  De  Valencourt.  It  was  proved  by  all  the  wit- 
nesses on  the  inquest  that  he  had  stepped  forward  in  defence 
of  his  unarmed  friend,  and  on  a  subsequent  trial  he  was  ac- 
quitted by  a  verdict  of  justifiable  homicide. 

The  Dauby8,on  their  j  ourney  to  assist  at  the  expected  marriage, 
arrived  in  time  to  take  charge  of  their  cousin's  funeral,  and 
themselves  carried  the  news  of  his  fate  to  England,  whither 
Major  Danby  was  allowed  to  return  in  consideration  of  his 
asje  and  state  of  health.  The  entire  connection  there  at  first 
blazoned  the  tale  of  the  murder  of  a  British  nobleman  by 
American  rebels ;  but  De  Valencourt's  letters  to  his  friends  in 
Versailles,  where  the  assassination  of  young  Delamere  was  yet 
remembered,  cast  such  a  light  on  the  subject,  that  they  were 
fain  to  hush  it  up,  and  the  records  of  the  period  say  that  the 
last  Viscount  Lavenham  fell  in  a  duel  w'ith  an  American  officer, 
leaving  no  issue,  and  thus  the  title  became  extinct. 

The  legal  authorities  exonerated  De  Valencourt  from  all 
blame,  after  a  searching  inquiry  into  all  the  circumstances  of 
Devereux's  death.  This  inquiry  came  to  an  end  near  the  noon 
of  a  glorious  July  day.  On  the  same  day  the  town  of  Phila- 
delphia evidently  looked  for  some  great  event. 

For  days  past  the  people  had  been  gathering  in  from  the 
/arms  and  villages  beyond  the  Schuylkill,  from  the  New  Jersey 
town  on  the  other  side  of  the  Delaware,  from  the  hill  hamlets 
on  the  north,  and  the  hackwood  townships  on  the  frontiers 
of  New  York. 

Something  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  in  Philadelphia  which 
the  Delameres'  own  troubles  prevented  them  from  knowing, 
though  it  was  known  to  all  the  land  beside. 

They  had  not  seen  Mr.  Archdale  for  some  time.   The  Con- 
tinental Congreas,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  had  been  sitting 
with  closed  doors  day  and  night,  it  was  said,  in  deep  debate 
but  toward  its  place  of  assembly  the  living  stream  from  every 
Plreet  was  tending,  and  they  went  with  the  tide. 

The  old  court-house  of  Philadelphia,  which  still  forms  an 
Integral  part  of  that  historic  block  of  buildings  known  as  the 
State  House,  and  fronting  on  Chestnut  street,  then  fronted  on 
the  green,  or  common,  an  enclosure  which,  for  almoet  a  cen- 
turv,  has  been  named  Independence  Square.  When  the  squire 
and  his  company  reached  it,  the  crowd  there  had  become  so 
dense  that  further  progress  in  any  direction  was  impossible, 
and  they  remained  fixed  as  the  rest.  The  air  was  filled  with  a 
hum  of  subdued  voices,  but  everj;  eye  turned  to  the  court- 
house. Its  doors  were  fast  closed  till  the  clock  of  the  nearest 
church  struck  twelve ;  then  a  sonorous  bell  rang  out  along 
and  solemn  peal.  The  bell  is  treasured  among  the  heirlooms 
of  the  land,  and  still  bears  the  inscription,  "Proclaim  liberty 
throughout  all  the  land  unto  all  the  inhabitants  thereof."  As 
Its  tolling  ceased,  the  doors  of  the  court-house  slowly  opened, 
aad  Mr.  Archdale  appeared  on  the  steps,  with  a  parchment  in 
his  hand.  A  dead  silence  fell  on  the  gathered  thousands, 
while  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice,  which  all  could  hear  and  none 
mistake,  he  read  to  them  one  of  themost  important  documents 
of  modern  history,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  of  the 
thirteen  United  States  of  North  America,  signed  by  their 
chosen  representatives  in  the  Continental  Congress.  The 
dead  silence  continued  till  Archdale  had  read  the  last  words: 
"and  for  the  support  of  this  declaration,  with  a  fiim  reliance 
on  Divine  Providence  we  mutually  pledge  to  each  other  our 
lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  sacred  honor."  Then  the  outburst 
of  a  people's  approbation,  shout  after  shout,  rent  the  summer 
air,  and  was  re-echoed  by  the  streets  and  squares  around. 

In  another  moment  the  multitude  began  to  move,  the  mem- 
bers of  Congress  had  already  made  their  way  out  of  the  court- 
bouse,  and  Archdale  was  shaking  hands  with  Delamere. 

"I  never  thought  to  hear  that,  Archdale,"  said  the  squire. 

"I  never  thought  to  read  it  once,  but  Providence  conducts 
the  steps  of  nations,  as  well  as  those  of  individuals,  to  goals 
they  little  dream  of,  my  friend. 

*'Wen,  Archdale,  you  had  always  a  deeper  insight  into 
things  than  I,  and  my  days  of  meddling  with  politics  are 
over."  Here  Delamere  perceived  that  his  friend  had  caught 
eight  of  something  which  seemed  as  much  to  his  mind  as  the 
"Declaration :  and  following  the  direction  of  his  look,  he  saw 


Sydney  and  Constance  arm-and-arm.  their  eyes  sparkling  with 
the  same  patriotic  fire.  See  her  safe  through  the  crowd,  my 
boy,"  he  said. 

"Let  me  see  her  safe  through  life,  sir,"  said  Sydney,  coming 
close  to  him;  there  has  been  an  agreement  between  her  and 
me  to  that  effect  for  many  a  day,  but  she  always  made  it  de- 
pend on  your  consen.." 

"You  have  it,  Sydney,"  said  Delamere;  "Constance  is  a 
good  daughter,  and  you  are  a  good  son  ;  may  the  future  make 
up  for  the  past  to  us  nil." 

i  Constance  Delamere  became  Mrs  Colonel  Archdale,  by  a 
very  quiet  and  unostentatious  wedding.  She  lived  to  prove, 
by  her  own  example,  that  the  loving  and  dutiful  daughter  Is 
likely  to  make  a  clevoted  wife. 

Sydney  served  with  valor  and  distinction  throughout  tne 
War  of  Independence. 

The  daughter  of  Jacob  and  Rachel  Stoughton  had  gone  from 
them  also,  but  it  was  on  the  retumless  journey. 

Caleb  Sewell  was  with  them  at  the  time,  but  soon  after  re- 
joined Washington's  army,  and  never  returned,  for  in  a  gal- 
lant attempt  to  rally  his  regiment  he  fell  in  the  disastrous 
battle  of  Germantown. 

At  the  end  of  the  war  the  Elms  was  restored  to  him,  chieBy 
on  account  of  the  distinguished  services  of  his  son-in-law,  and 
he  returned  to  his  patrimonial  mansion  a  wiser  if  lees  loyal 
man.  Denis  Dargan  returned  to  his  ancient  place  of  best  man. 
With  him,  by  way  of  assistant  and  successor  to  Hannah,  who 
had  now  Greenland  to  manage  as  well  as  Delamere's  house, 
came  Martha,  once  the  steadfast-minded  maid;  but  she  had 
been  Mrs.  Dargan  for  some  years. 

Philip  sold  his  West  Indian  inheritance,  and  with  the  pro- 
ceeds bought  a  farm  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  partly 
on  account  of  a  New  England  lady  of  color,  whom  he  wooed 
and  won,  and  partly  on  account  of  the  lady  whose  page  he  had 
been,  and  whom  he  occasionally  called  Miss  Constance  when 
she  was  training  up  her  sons  in  the  way  they  should  go. 

Lieutenant  Gray  married  his  old  sweet-heart,  who  had  been 
left  a  widow,  and  settled  near  the  Elms. 

Of  Count  De  Valencourt  nothing  is  known,  except  that  after 
serving  the  cause  he  had  adopted  in  field  and  fortress,  and 
seeing  the  sword  of  France  finally  turn  the  scale  in  favor  of 
America,  he  returned  with  Lafayette  and  other  soldiers  of 
liberty  to  set  up  her  standard  in  his  native  land. 

The  time  of  peace  and  prosperity  which  succeeded  the  War 
of  Independence  brought  its  blessing  to  the  Elms ;  the  two 
squires  who  had  differed  so  far  concerning  the  way  that  led  :o 
it,  lived  to  rejoice  in  their  country's  advance. 

The  united  descendants  of  the  Bedfordshire  knights,  Sydney 
and  Constance,  in  their  turn  grew  old  and  grey  before  the 
scythe  and  sand-glass;  but  the  winters  had  no  frost  for  the 
fond  and  faithful  love  that  linked  their  hearts  together,  and 
that  had  been  so  sorely  tried  in  their  time. 


The  Road  to  Fortune. 

How  to  get  on  in  life,  and  secure  a  competency,  is  the  great 
Struggle  of  the  masses.  The  world  abounds  In  old  proverbs 
purporting  to  make  the  matter  as  "  clear  as  the  road  to  mill," 
yet  very  often  they  come  as  wide  as  possible  from  the  mark. 
A  man  may  "rise  with  the  lark"  and  "work  like  a  beaver," 
and  "  take  care  of  the  pence,"  yet  never  have  the  pounds  to 
take  care  of.  He  may,  by  dint  of  scraping  and  saving  and 
pinching,  until  life  is  as  dry  as  a  chip,  amass  a  little  hoard, 
which  is  worse  than  poverty  with  a  noble  manhood.  But  it  ia 
not  these  things  that  make  a  man  rich,  as  the  world  commonly 
goes.  It  is  being  the  right  man  in  the  right  place.  Look  out 
for  the  main  chance  to  make  an  honest  dollar,  and  then  im- 
prove the  fleeting  moment.  A  lad  once  had  a  chance  to  buy 
some  village  lots  in  the  outskirts  of  a  large  manufacturing 
town.  The  price  was  the  same  as  that  of  a  good  suit  of 
clothes.  The  lots  were  covered  with  scrub  oak,  and  did  not 
look  very  inviting,  while  the  handsome  suit  was  very  attrac- 
tive. Very  naturally  he  chose  the  latter,  but  he  looked  on 
with  very  regretful  feelings  a  few  years  later,  when  he  saw  the 
ground  broken  on  those  lots  for  a  railroad  depot,  and  knew  that 
a  sum  had  been  paid  for  them  sufiicient  to  build  and  furnish  a 
handsome  house. 

Steady  industry,  combined  with  a  wide  awake,  intelligent 
observacion  of  all  that  goes  on  in  the  world  about  him,  is  the 
\best  capital  for  success  a  man  can  have— ignorant  drudgery 
about  the  poorest.  1  know  a  man  who  with  his  large  famUy 
delve  like  slaves  for  sixteen  hours  a  day,  and  yet,  through  his 
dollish  ignorance,  has  squandered  eleven  thousand  dollars, 
and  is  living  now  on  a  rented  farm.  He  is  bequeathing  the 
same  cheerless,  forfeitless  legacy  to  his  children.  Give  your 
children  the  beet  education  in  your  power.  Keep  them  %vide 
awake  and  intelligent  with  regard  to  the  world  in  which  they 
jive,  and  you  have  given  them  a  fair  start  in  life.  If  they  do 
not  succeed,  they  cannot  reproach  your  memory  for  the  failure 


328 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Right  royally  he  took  the  place 

That  was  of  old  his  wont, 
And  with  a  neigh,  that  seemed  to  say 

Above  that  battle's  brunt, 
•'How  can  the  Twenty-Second  charge 

If  I  am  not  in  front?" 

Like  statues  we  stood  rooted  there 

And  gazed  a  little  space. 
Above  the  floating  mane  we  missed 

The  dear  familiar  face; 
But  we  saw  Bay  Billy's  eye  of  fire 

And  it  gave  us  hearts  of  grace. 

No  bugle  call  could  rouse  us  all 
As  that  brave  sight  had  done- 
Down  all  the  battered  line  we  felt 

A  lightning  impulse  run; 
Up,  up  the  hill  we  followed  Bill, 
And  captured  every  gun. 

And  when  upon  the  conquered  height 
Died  out  the  battle's  hum. 

Vainly  mid  living  and  the  dead 
We  sought  our  hero  dumb; 


THE  WAR  HORSE,  "BAY  BILLY." 

A  veteran's  story. 

You  may  talk  of  horses  of  renown, 

What  Goldsmith  Maid  has  done. 
How  Dexter  cut  the  seconds  down, 

And  Fellowcraft's  great  run. 
Would  you  hear  about  a  horse  that  once 

A  mighty  battle  won? 

'Twas  the  last  fight  at  Fredericksburg— 

Perhaps  the  day  you  reck— 
Our  boys,  the  Twenty-Second  Maine, 

Kept  Early's  men  in  check. 
Just  where  Wade  Hampton  boomed  away, 

The  fight  went  neck  and  neck. 

Eight  stoutly  did  we  hold  the  wing 

'Gainst  odds  increasing  still; 
Five  several  stubborn  times  we  charged 

The  battery  on  the  hill. 
And  five  times  beaten  back,  reformed, 

And  kept  our  column  still. 

At  last  from  out  the  centre  fight 

Spurred  up  a  General's  Aid, 
"That  battery  must  silenced  be!" 

He  cried,  as  past  he  sped. 
Our  Colonel  simply  touched  his  cap. 

And  then  with  measured  tread. 

To  lead  the  crouching  line  once  more 

The  grand  old  fellow  came, 
No  wounded  man  but  raised  his  head 

And  strove  to  gasp  his  name; 
And  those  who  could  not  speak  nor  stir, 

"God  blessed  him"  just  the  same. 

For  he  was  all  the  world  to  us, 

That  hero  gray  and  grim. 
Right  well  he  knew  that  fearful  slope 

We'd  climb  with  none  but  him. 
Though  while  his  white  head  led  the  way 

We'd  charge  hell's  portals  in. 

This  time  we  were  not  half  way  up 

When  'midst  the  storm  of  shell. 
Our  leader  with  his  sword  upraised, 

Beneath  our  bay 'nets  fell; 
And  as  we  bore  him  back,  the  foe 

Set  up  a  fearful  yell. 

Our  hearts  went  with  him;  back  we  swept, 

And  when  the  bugle  said, 
"Up,  charge  again!"  no  man  was  there 

But  hung  his  dogged  head; 
"We've  no  one  left  to  lead  us  now," 

The  sullen  soldiers  said. 

Just  then,  before  the  laggard  line, 

The  Colonel's  horse  we  spied. 
Bay  Billy  with  his  trappings  on. 

His  nostrils  swelling  wide, 
As  though  still  on  his  gallant  back 

The  master  sat  astride. 


To  win  that  day  had  come. 

And  then  the  dusk  and  dew  of  night 

Fell  softly  o'er  the  plain. 
As  though  o'er  man's  dread  work  of  death 

The  angels  wept  again. 
And  drew  night's  curtain  gently  round 

A  thousand  beds  of  pain. 

All  night  the  surgeon's  torches  went 

The  ghastly  rows  between; 
All  night  with  solemn  step  I  paced 

The  torn  and  bloody  green; 
But  all  who  fought  in  the  big  war 

Such  fearful  sights  have  se!^en. 

At  last  the  morning  broke.   The  lark 

Sang  in  the  merry  skies. 
As  if  to  e'en  the  sleepers  there 

It  bade  awake  and  rise! 
Though  iiaught  but  that  last  trump  of  all 

Could  ope  their  heavy  eyes. 

And  then  once  more  with  banners  gay 
Stretched  out  the  long  brigade; 

Trimly  upon  the  furrowed  field 
The  troops  stood  on  parade; 

And  bravely  'mid  the  ranks  were  closed 
The  gaps  the  fight  had  made. 

Not  half  the  Twenty-Second's  men 
Were  in  their  place  that  morn, 

And  Corporal  Dick,  who  yester-noon 
Stood  six  brave  fellows  on, 

Now  touched  my  elbow  in  the  ranks, 
For  all  between  were  gone. 

Ah!  who  forgets  that  dreary  hour 

When,  as  with  misty  eyes. 
To  call  the  old  familiar  roll 

The  solemn  Sergeant  tries. 
One  feels  the  thumping  of  the  heart 

When  no  prompt  voice  replies. 

And  as  in  falt'ring  tone  and  slow 
The  last  few  names  were  said, 

Across  the  field  some  missing  horse 
Came  up  with  weary  tread; 

It  caught  the  Sergeant's  eye,  and  quick 
Bay  Billy's  name  he  read, 

Yes!  there  the  old  bay  hero  stood. 

All  safe  from  battle's  harms; 
And  ere  an  order  could  be  heard, 

Or  the  bugle's  quick  alarms, 
Down  all  the  front  from  end  to  end 

The  troops  presented  arms. 

Not  all  the  shoulder  straps  on  earth 
Could  still  that  mighty  cheer, 

And  ever  from  that  famous  day 
When  rang  the  roll-call  clear, 

Bay  Billy's  name  was  read,  and  then 
The  whole  line  answered  "Here!" 


Vert  Perplexing.— A  man  bought  a  horse.  It  "wak 
the  first  one  he  ever  owned.  He  saw  in  a  newspaper 
thatsa  side-window  in  a  stable  makes  a  horse's  eye  weak 
on  that  side  ;  a  window  in  front  hurts  his  eyes  by  t^ie 
^lare ;  a  window  behind  makes  him  squint-eyed ;  a 
window  on  a  diagonal  line  makes  him  shy  when  he 
travels ;  a  stable  without  a  window  makes  him  blin<L 
He  sold  the  horse. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


329 


LIFE  IN  A  WATER-DROP. 

The  sun  is  reflected  in  tbe  ocean  as  in  the  water  drop, 
and  in  both  are  called  into  existence  beings  the  most 
varied  in  size  and  form.  We  admire  the  myriads  of 
ereatures  which  inhabit  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  from 
the  monstrous  whale  to  the  tiniest  specimen  of  the  finny 
tribe.  Their  chequered  existence  and  efforts  ;  their 
flgihting-,  ^strivin^  and  disporting ;  their  pains  and 


or  the  smallest  creature,  in  that  which  seems  in  itself 
too  small  to  contain  any  living  object  ;  the  breath  of 
our  moutli  is  strong  enough  to  agitate  it,  and  a  few  rays 
of  the  sun  are  sufficient  to  convert  it  into  vapor. 
But  we  place  this  drop  of  water  beneath  two  clean 
squares  of  glass,  beneath  the  microscope,  and,  lo 
what  life  suddenly  presents  itself  ;  we  scarcely  trust 
our  senses.  The  little  drop  has  expanded  into  a 
large  plain  ;  wonderful  shapes  rush  backwards  and 
forwards,  drawing  towards  and  repulsing  each  other, 


WHAT  I  FIND  IN  A  DROP  OF  WATER. 


pleasures  ;  their  various  and  wonderful  construction  ; 
the  mode  and  manner  of  their  subsistence,  all  fill  us 
with  wonder,  and  we  are  awe-inspired  while  contem- 
plating  the  infinite  and  manifold  capacity  with  which 
the  Creating  Power  has  stored  the  depths  of  the 
waters.  But  if  the  size,  the  power,  and  the  variety 
of  the  denizens  of  the  deep  excite  our  admiration, 
how  much  more  do  we  find  ourselves  carried  away 
by  that  feeling,  while  looking  into  the  water  drop  ? 
•  Clear  and  transparent  it  lies  before  us  ;  vainly  oui 
eye  endeavors  to  discover  the  least  evidence  of  life 


or  resting  placlaly  and  rocking  themselves,  as  A  they 
were  cradled  on  the  waves  of  an  extensive  sea. 
These  are  no  delusions  ;  they  are  real  living  creatures, 
for  they  play  with  each  other,  they  rush  violently 
upon  one  another,  they  whirl  round  each  other,  they 
free  and  propel  themselves,  and  run  from  one  place 
in  order  to  renew  the  same  game  with  some  other 
little  creature,  or  madly  they  precipitate  themselves 
upon  one  another,  combat  and  struggle  until  the  one 
conquers  and  the  Dther  is  subdued ;  or  care- 
lessly    thev    swim,  side    by    side,  until  playful 


330 


aess  or  rapacity  is  awakened  anew.  One  sees 
Li^at  these  little  creatures,  which  the  sharpest  eye  cannot 
detect  without  the  aid  of  the  microscope,  are  susceptible 
of  enjoyment  and  pain  ;  in  them  lives  an  instinct  which 
induces  them  to  seek  and  enables  them  to  find  susten- 
ance, which  points  out  and  leads  them  to  avoid  and 
escape  the  enemy  stronger  than  themselves.  Here  one 
tumbles  about  in  mad  career,  it  stretches  out  its  feelers, 
beats  about  with  its  tail,  tears  its  fellows,  and  is  as 
frolicsome  as  if  perfectly  happy.  It  is  gay,  cheerful, 
hops  and  dances,  rocks  and  bends  about  upon  the  little 
waves  of  the  water  drop. 

There  is  another  creature  ;  it  does  not  swim  about— 
remains  upon  the  spot — but  it  contracts  itself  convul- 
sively, and  then  stretches  itself  palpitatingly  out  again.t 
Who  could  not  detect  in  these  motions  the  throes  ofl 
agony  ?  and  so  it  is  ;  for  only  just  now  it  had  freed  itself \ 
from  the  jaws  of  a  strong  enemy.  The  utmost  power 
has  it  exerted  in  order  to  get  away ;  but  he  must  have 
had  a  tight  hold,  severely  wounded  it,  for  only  a  few 
more  throes,  each  becoming  weaker  and  more  faint,  it 
draws  itself  together,  stretches  out  its  whole  length 
once  more,  and  sinks  slowly  to  the  bottom.  It  was  a 
death  struggle — it  has  expired. 

On  one  spot  a  great  creature  lies,  apparently  quiet  and 
indifferent.  A  smaller  one  passes  carelessly  by,  and 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  the  first  dashes  upon  it.  Vainly 
does  the  weaker  seek  to  escape  its  more  powerful 
enemy ;  he  has  already  caught  it,  embraces  it— the  throes 
of  the  vanquished  cease— it  has  become  a  prey. 

This  is  only  a  general  glance  at  the  life  in  a  water 
drop ;  but  how  great  does  it  even  show  the  small ;  how 
wondrously  does  everything  shape  itself  within  that  of 
which  we  had  formerly  not  the  least  conception.  These 
are  creatures  which  nature  nowhere  presents  to  the  eye 
upon  an  enlarged  scale,  so  marvelous,  odd,  and  also 
again  so  beautiful,  so  merry  and  happy  in  their  whole 
life  and  movements ;  and  although  defective,  and  in 
some  respects  only  one  step  removed  from  vegetable 
life,  they  are  yet  animated  and  possessed  of  will  and 
power.  It  would  be  impossible  here  to  give  a  descrip- 
tion of  all,  or  even  a  great  part  of  the  ephemerous 
world  in  all  its  varied  aspects ;  but  we  propose  to  take 
a  nearer  survey  of  some  at  least,  in  order  to  display 
the  life  in  a  single  drop  of  water  taken  from  a  pond. 
Slowly  and  gracefully  through  the  floods  of  this  small 
drop  of  water,  comes  glidingly,  swimming  along,  the 
little  swan  animalcule,  turning  and  twisting  its  long, 
pliant  neck,  swaying  itself  comfortably,  and  moving  in 
every  direction,  sucking  whatever  nourishment  or  prey 
that  may  present  itself.  This  animalcule  has  its  name 
from  its  likeness  to  the  swan  ;  it  carries  its  neck  just  as 
proudly  and  arched,  only  the  head  is  wanting,  for  at  the 
end  there  is  a  wide  opening  mouth,  surrounded  byinnur 
merable  beam-like  lashes.  The  entire  little  creature  is 
transparent,  and  it  seems  impossible  that  any  species 
of  nutriment  could  possibly  pass  through  the 
tliin  throat,  for  even  water  seems  too  coarse  and 
material  for  this  small  tube  ;  but  scarcely  does  one  of 
the  variously  formed  monads  which  exist  in  all 
waters,  and  of  which  many  thousands  could  move 
and  ^freely  tumble  about  in  the  hollow  of  a  poppy 
seed,  approach  its  mouth,  ere  it  gulps  them  down  ; 
we  Jsee  them  gliding  through  the  throat,  and  see 
the  green,  gray  or  wliite  monad  ^laying  in  the  little, 
but  for  this  animalcule,  great  stomach.  This  monad 
is  itself  an  animalcule,  a  living  atom  ;  and  possibly, 
a  still  smaller  animalcule  serves  for  its  nourishment; 
bat  the  human  eye  has  not  yet  penetrated  thus  far; 
possibly  it  may  never  do  so,  for  the  Creator  has  .hid- 
den from  the  material  vision  of  man  the  limits  of 
His  creating  power,  alike  in  the  infinitely  great  as  in- 
finitesimally  small. 

Whirling  along  comes  swimming  by  the  side  of 
the  swan  animalcule  the  Bell.  Here  nature  has  still 
retained  a  form  out  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  for  the 
body  of  this  animalcule  is  similar  to  the  bell-shaped 
blossom  of  a  May-flower,  fastened  to  a  long  stem  ; 
this  stem,  through  which  passes  a  spiral-formed 
vein,  a  fine  dark  tube,  is  easily  moveable ;  it  closes 
itself,  screw-like,  together  and  stretches  itself  out 
again  ;  this  is  the  tail  of  the  bell  animalcule  :  at  the 


end  there  is  a  little  knot,  and  soon  this  knot  becomes- 
attached  to  the  bottom,  or  to  a  blade  of  grass,  to  a 
piece  of  wood,  and  the  little  animalcule  is  like  a  ship 
at  anchor  in  a  bay  or  harbor  ;  its  tail  extends  and 
turns  itself,  and  the  body  of  the  animalcule, 
the  little  bell,  whose  opening  is  at  the  top, 
begins  to  turn  round  and  round,  and  this  move- 
ment is  so  quick  and  ^^owerful,  that  it  creates, 
even  in  the  billows  of  the  water  drop,  a  whirlpool, 
which  keeps  going  round  wilder  and  more  violently 
it  grows  to  a  Charybdis,  which  none  of  the  little  monads 
who  are  caught  within  it  can  escape ;  the  whirlpool  ie 
too  fierce,  they  get  drawn  into  it  and  find  a  grave  in  the 
jaws  of  the  beU  animalcule.  The  bell  closes  its  tail, 
rolls  together,  but  soon  it  stretches  itself  out  again  ;  the 
bell  whirls,  the  whirlpool  goes  round,  and  in  it  many  a 
quiet  and  thoughtless  passing  monad  is  drawn  down. 
But  the  bell  animalcule  is  also  about  meeting  its  punish- 
ment ;  again  it  whirls  its  bell  violently,  the  tail  breaks 
from  the  body  and  the  bell  floats  without  control  hither 
and  thither  on  the  waves  of  the  water  drop  ;  but  it 
knows  how  to  help  itself — nature  has  provided  for  such 
a  catastrophe  in  its  creation.  The  bell  sinks  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  soon  the  missing  tail  grows  again,  and  if  death 
even  comes,  nature  has  been  so  liberal  in  the  creation  of  this 
little  world — new  life  and  new  creatures  arise  so  quickly  out  of 
those  which  have  passed  away,  and  so  great  is  their  number, 
that  the  death  of  one  is  less  than  a  drop  in  the  ocean,  or  » 
grain  of  sand  in  the  Desert  of  Sahara. 

The  lives  of  innumerable  animalcules  pass  away  as  a  breath, 
but  they  rise  into  existence  in  equally  infinite  numbers.  The 
animalcules  multiply  in  every  variety  of  way,  but  the  most, 
curious  is  that  of  dividing,  and  out  of  the  severed  parts  new 
animalcules  are  formed,  which,  in  a  few  hours,  again  divide 
themselves  into  parts,  forming  new  creatures,  and  this  process 
of  increase  proceeds  to  infinity.  Numbers  alone  are  able  in 
some  measure  to  give  an  idea  of  this  infinite  increasing  power. 
An  animalcule  requires  for  its  parting  process  about  five 
hours,  after  which  time  the  new  creatures  stand  then  perfect, 
and  these  again  require  the  same  time  for  their  increase.  At 
this  rate  of  increase  one  single  animalcule  would,  by  the  pro- 
cess of  separation,  be  increased  to  half  a  million  in  four  days,, 
and  after  a  month  it  would  be  inconceivable  where  this  innu- 
merable quantity  of  animalcules,  which  are  singly  imper- 
ceptible to  the  naked  eye,  can  possibly  be  placed.  But  nature 
has  limited  even  this  vast  increasing  power,  and  she  freely 
sacrifices  millions  in  order  to  preserve  their  species  always  iu 
their  proper  quantities.  What  are,  compared  with  these  num- 
bers, the  quantities  of  herrings,  sprats,  and  other  fish  which 
crowd  the  seas  in  such  mighty  masses?  They  vanish  into 
nothingness. 

The  chief  among  these  animalcules  which  increase  by  means 
of  separation,  is  the  Weapon,  which  has  a  species  of  dagger- 
like bristles  at  the  back,  and  also  a  more  pliable  description, 
similarly  formed,  all  round  the  mouth,  which  serve  as  feelers. 
Their  movement  is  peculiar,  slow,  almost  floating;  they  pro- 
ceed forward,  then  they  shrink  backward,  and  quickly 
return  again  in  order  to  proceed  anew  on  their  path.  This 
animalcule  pushes,  when  the  parting  processes  commences,  at 
first  a  few  little  pieces  from  his  side,  then  follow  others,  and 
soon  the  whole  is  divided  into  equal  halves,  which  form  them- 
selves into  new  animalcules,  and  after  a  few  hours,  begin  to 
separate  themselves  also. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  animalcules  which  we  discov- 
er, with  the  aid  of  the  microscope,  is  the  Ship.  Like  a  little 
glass  ship  which  has  lost  in  a  storm  its  masts  and  sails,  its 
ropes  and  riggings,  does  it  proceed,  quietly  swimming  through 
the  little  waves;  it  is  clear  and  transparent,  like  an  enchanted 
little  craft— a  delicate  fairy  palace;  we  see  in  both  sides  the 
ribs  of  the  ship,  which  the  carpenter  has  fitted  into  the  keel; 
we  see  the  deck,  and  in  it  three  holes,  or  light  points,  in  which 
the  masts  were  raised;  it  must  have  been  a  three-masted  ship. 
But  the  ship's  crew,  the  sailors,  are  wanting;  nor  is  there  a 
rudder  which  propels  or  regulates  the  vessel's  course;  the 
motive  power  which  produces  the  progress  of  this  tiny  little 
craft  is  a  mystery.  Has  nature  in  this  curious  animalcule 
copied  the  invention  of  man's  hand?  Was  this  little  creature 
the  minute  model  after  which  man  has  constructed  the  ship  in 
which  he  crosses  seas  and  oceans?  Nature  is  always  original 
in  her  creations;  she  had  already  created  the  same  little  ani- 
malcule for  hundred  thousands  of  years,  if  hypothesis  on 
which  geologists  base  thei  r  calculations  as  to  the  time  it  takes 
to  accomplish  certain  results  be  correct;  we  believe  that  these 
data  are  generally  unreliable,  and  therefore  we  simply  say, 
that  these  little  creatures  have  existed  from  the  beginning  of 
the  formation  of  some  of  the  most  important  strata,  which 
must  have  occupied  a  sufficiently  long  time  in  their  formation 
to  have  been,  at  least,  in  existence  antecedent  to  the  first 
building  of  ships.  These  animalcules  are  to  be  found  in,  and 
indeed  form  no  inconsiderate  part  of  all  coal  and  chalk  forma- 
tions. But  it  can,  on  the  other  hand,  not  be  said  that  the  ani- 
malcule was  the  minute  model  after  which  man  built  before  the 
microscope  enabled  man  to  discover  the  invisible  world  of  the 
.diminutive. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


331 


Another  peculiar  animalcule  is  the  SicUe,  which  resembles 
very  much  the  Turkish  crescent.  Even  in  its  ways  has  tliis 
finely  beaded  animalcule,  which,  throughout  its  lengtli,  is  coa- 
etructed  of  little  globules,  regularly  joining  each  other  and 
divided  across  the  middle  by  a  larger  globule  than  the  rest, 
like  a  row  of  pearls,  i^omething  characteristic  of  the  believers 
of  the  crescent,  for  it  exhibits  the  same  fatal  repose;  it  is 
equally  absorbed  in  itself,  for  it  can  lie  a  long  time  at  the  bot- 
tom without  motion;  occasionally  it  raises  its  sickle,  but  ex- 
hausted it  allows  it  to  drop  ai^ain  immediately,  and  relapses 
into  its  former  quiet  state.  On  both  ends  of  this  animalcule 
there  are  a  few  red  grains,  sometimes  more,  at  others  less, 
which  now  keep  moving  and  then  again  remain  motionless, 
whose  signilication  is  as  yet  rather  undetermined. 

Besides  these  various  creatures  which  are  grouped  in  the 
little  world  of  a  water  drop,  there  are  many  more  larger  and 
smaller;  most  of  them,  however,  are  only  occasionally  met 
with,  and  only  few  others  have  the  grace  and  beauty  in  their 
appearance  and  motions  which  distinguish  those  we  have  nien- 
tK)ned.  Amongst  the  larger  species  we  are  struck  first  by  the 
Trumpet  and  the  Bullet  animalcules.  The  first  is  like  a  trumpet 
or  cornucopia;  in  its  interior  there  are  a  number  of  dark  spots 
and  a  row  of  globules,  like  a  string  of  beads;  about  its  mouth 
are  bristle-like  threads.  The  bullet  animalcule  is  round, 
covered  as  with  a  net,  and  also  trimmed  around  with  a  fine 
row  of  r.air;  in  the  interior  there  are  always  to  be  seen  several 
Bmaller  oullets.  But  when  we  observe  the  whole  closer,  we 
find  that  it  is  not  a  single  creature,  but  a  group  of  thousands  of 
smaller  double-trunked  animalcules,  which  combine  in  the  for- 
mation of  this  greater  one,  and  thus  form  a  numerous  isolated 
lamily. 

Repulsive,  unpleasant  creatures  also  present  themselves  in  a 
drop  of  water,  which  afliect  us  unpleasantly  in  their  nature, 
their  motions,  and  their  form.  Thus  there  is  a  species  of 
Chameiion  amongst  the  animalcules  which  can  expand  and 
contract  its  body  into  the  most  curious  shapes;  now  it 
elongates  itself,  stretching  its  members  in  the  most  opposite 
directions  with  a  slow  expanding  motion;  now  it  draws  itself 
up  in  a  heap,  and  when  another  animalcule  approaches, 
il"  stretches  out  its  arms,  embraces,  entwines  it,  and,  as  it  were, 
erivelops  it,  until  it  dies  in  its  grasp. 

We  have  not  space  to  follow  out  the  life  in  a  water  drop  to 
its  various  specialities  and  curiosities,  and  it  is  impossible, 
under  any  circumstances,  entirely  to  exhaust  the  subject. 
Tlie  more  one  looks  into  it  the  greater  the  wonders  which 
present  themselves;  the  more  nature  discloses  herself  in  her 
hitherto  unknown  powers,  the  more  does  she  appear  to  us  so 
wonderfully  great  in  miniature. 

The  life  in  a  water  drop  which  we  have  here  exhibited,  is 
indeerl,  not  to  be  found  in  every  water;  but  it  is  seen  in  ponds, 
swamps,  and  generally  in  all  waters  in  which  animal  and  fossil 
matter  is  in  the  act  of  decomposition;  cooked,  distilled  or 
rain  water  contain  no  animalcules,  but  only  a  few  days  are  re- 
qriiired,  if  left  in  the  open  air,  for  the  formation  of  living 
things  within  it;  it  begins  to  move,  to  live— but  whence  do 
they  come?  What  produces  these  little  animalcules?  Has  the 
a.\r  conveyed  to  the  water  the  matter  necessary  for  their  forma- 
tion?  It  is  possible. 

How  all  this  is  accomplished  man  will,  probably,  never  dis- 
cover; but  the  lesson  conveyed  in  the  foregoing  facts,  rightly 
appreciated,  opens  a  vast  field  of  speculation  in  exhibiting  the 
liilinity  of  the  Creator's  power;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  the 
pride  of  many  of  those  who  occupy  themselves  in  tracing  the 
laws  of  nature  leads  them  to  overlook  the  Creator  in  creation, 
ma  the  great  design  is  lost  sight  of  in  the  contemplation  of 
minute  laws  and  detailed  i)rocess. 

G-ambling. 

BY  "prof." 

Gambling  is  said  to  have  been  invented  by  the  Lydians 
when  under  the  pressure  of  great  famine ;  to  divert 
t>»emselves  from  their  sufferings  they  contrived  dice, 
b'xlls,  tables,  etc.  "More  likely,"  says  a  learned  cen- 
sor,    the  passage  ought  to  be  otherwise  translated: 

The  Lydians,  having  combined  dice,  balls  and  tables, 
and  invented  gaming,  were  reduced  to  great  famine  and 
to  extreme  sufferings.'  "  In  plain  truth,  while  engaged 
In  this  practice,  they  could  think  of  nothing  else  ;  their 
property,  their  farms,  their  looms,  their  nets,  their  es- 
tablishments of  Industry  were  all  lying  waste;  their 
time  and  talents  were  all  absorbed  in  this  intoxicating 
pursuit.  ® 

At  what  period  gaming  was  introduced  into  England, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  determine;  but  there  are  few 
countries  where  it  is  carried  on  to  greater  extent.  Mon- 
taigne seems  to  have  been  well  aware  of  the  evils  of 
ganamg,  and  gives  us  the  reason  why  he  relinquished  it : 
'  I  used"  said  he,  "to  like,  formerly,  games  of  chance 
with  cards  and  dice  ;  but  of  that  folly  1  have  long  been 
cured,  merely  because  I  found  that  whatever  good  coun- 
tenance I  put  on  when  I  lost.  ^  lid  not  feel  my  vexa- 
tion the  less."  More  than  tha',we  have  seen  the  best 
of  friends  sit  down  to  a  gaming  table,  in  perfect  good 


humor,  but  rise  up  from  it  enemies  for  life.  Who  can 
describe  the  abandonment  too  frequently  attendant  on 
this  destructive  practice  ;  the  friendship  of  such  men  is 
a  confederacy  in  vice  ;  and  that  they  cannot  depend  on 
each  other  has  been  exemplified  by  its  fatal  conse- 
quences— its  deteriorating  influence  upon  the  temper 
and  disposition,  as  well  as  the  pecuniary  affairs — its 
false  effects,  in  short,  both  to  the  unhappy  individual 
who  is  cursed  with  the  propensity  and  to  society  in 
general.  Connecting  cause  with  effect,  it  leads  to  mis- 
ery and  ruin  ;  even  to  robbery  and  murder. 

"In  gaming,"  Judge  Blackstone  says,  "several  par- 
ties engage  to  cast  lots  to  determine  upon  whom  the 
ruin  shall  at  present  fall,  that  the  rest  may  be  saved  a 
little  longer. "  Taken  in  any  light  this  is  an  offence  of 
the  most  alarming  nature  ;  tending,  by  necessary  conse- 
quence, to  promote  idleness,  theft  and  debauchery 
among  the  lower  classes  ;  and  among  persons  of  a  supe- 
rior rank  it  has  frequently  been  attended  with  the 
sudden  ruin  and  desolation  of  ancient  and  opulent  fami- 
lies, an  abandonment  to  every  principle  of  honor  and 
virtue,  and  too  often  has  ended  in  self-murder.    To  this 

Eassion  of  gambling  every  valuable  consideration  has 
een  made  a  sacrifice ;  and  it  is  a  passion  that  has  la- 
mentably prevailed  in  our  own  country,  and  which  we 
seem  to  have  derived  from  the  ancient  Germans,  who, 
according  to  the  account  given  of  them  by  Tacitus,  were 
bewitched  with  the  spirit  of  play  to  a  most  exorbitant 
degree.  "They  addict  themselves,"  says  he,  "to  dice 
(which  is  wonderful)  when  sober,  and  as  a  serious  em- 
ployment, with  such  a  mad  desire  of  winning  or  losing, 
that,  when  stripped  of  everything  else,  they  will  stake 
at  last  their  liberty,  and  then  their  very  selves.  The 
loser  goes  into  a  voluntary  slavery,  and  though  younger 
and  stronger  than  his  antagonist,  suffers  himself  to  be 
bound  and  sold.  And  this  perseverance  in  so  bad  a 
cause  they  call  the  point  of  honor." 

Father  le  Compte,  in  his  "  Travels  to  China,"  says, 
"  Gaming  is  equally  prohibited  among  the  common  peo- 
ple and  mandarins  ;  and  yet  this  does  not  hinder  their 
playing,  and  frequently  losing  all  they  have — their  lands, 
houses,  children,  and  even  their  wives,  which  are  all 
sometimes  laid  on  a  single  card,"  Shakespeare  says: 
"  Keep  a  gamester  from  the  dice,  and  a  good  student 
from  his  book,  and  it  is  wonderful."  Lord  Bacon  says : 
"  a  gamester,  the  greater  the  master  he  is  in  his  art,  the 
worse  man  he  is."  And  Addison  says  :  "  Could  we  look 
into  the  mind  of  a  common  gamester,  we  should  see  it 
full  of  nothing  but  trumps  and  matedores  ;  his  slumbers 
are  haunted  with  kings,  queens  and  knaves." 

To  those  who  play  cards  and  other  games  as  an  inno- 
cent amusement,  we  may  trace  the  most  aggravated  in- 
juries resulting  from  gambling.  It  is  there  that  young 
men  of  talent,  education  and  wealth  take  the  degree  of 
entered  apprentice.  The  example  of  men  in  high  life, 
men  in  public  stations  and  responsible  offices,  has  a 
powerful  and  corrupting  influence  on  society,  and  does 
much  to  increase  the  evil,  and  forw^ard  as  well  as  sanc- 
tion the  high-handed  robbery  of  fine  dressed  black  legs. 
The  gambling  hells  in  our  cities,  tolerated  and  patron- 
ized, are  a  disgrace  to  any  nation  bearing  a  Christian 
name,  and  woiQd  be  banished  from  a  Pagan  community. 
Gambling  assumes  a  great  variety  of  forms,  from  the 
flipping  of  a  cent  in  the  bar  room  for  a  glass  of  whiskey, 
up  to  the  splendidly  furnished  faro  bank  room,  where 
men  lose  thousands  of  dollars. 

A  Beautiful  Allegory. 

Mr.  Crittenden,  of  Kentucky,  was  once  engaged  in 
defending  a  man  who  had  been  indicted  for  a  capital 
offense.  After  an  elaborate  and  pow^erful  argument,  he 
closed  his  effort  with  the  following  beautiful  and  strik- 

^"heiFG(xl  in  his  eternal  council  conceived  the  thought 
of  man's  creation.  He  called  to  Him  the  three  great  min- 
isters who  wait  constantly  upon  the  throne — Justice, 
Truth  and  Mercy — and  addressed  them :  "Shall  we  make 
man?"  then  said  Justice,  "Oh,  God^  make  him  not,  for 
he  will  trample  upon  thy  law\"  Truth  answers  also, 
"Oh,  God,  make  him  not,  for  he  will  pollute  thy  sanctu- 
aries." But  Mercy  dropped  upon  her  knees,  looking  up 
through  her  tears,  and  exclaimed,  "Oh,  God,  make  him 
— I  will  watch  over  him  through  all  the  dark  paths  which 
he  may  have  to  tread."  Then  God  made  man,  and  said 
to  him,  "Oh,  man,  thou  art  the  child  of  Mercy,  go  and 
deal  with  thy  brother." 


332 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD, 


Tact. 

Steam,  as  it  rushes  out  of  the  escape  pipe,  makes  a  great 
noise  and  whizzing,  but  it  accomplishes  nothing.  It  is  only 
when  the  mighty  power  is  rightly  confined  and  applied,  that  it 
puts  in  motion  the  giant  arms  of  the  ponderous  engine.  The 
same  truth  holds  good  as  regards  the  use  of  mental  faculties 
and  physical  endowments.  Unless  their  eiForts  are  dii'ected 
with  judicious  care  and  thoughtfulness,  they  will  produce 
little  elFect,  and  only  present  a  deplorable  picture  of  w^asted 
strength.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  very  busy,  and  very 
weary,  and  very  noisy,  without  having  any  permanent  result 
or  good  to  show  for  it.  The  doing  of  the  right  thing  at  the 
right  moment,  is  what  renders  the  use  of  our  powers  effective. 
This  makes  knowledge,  enthusiasm,  love,  work  together  for 
the  accomplishment  of  a  definite  purpose,  in  a  manner  that  is 
in  harmony  with  the  laws  of  human  nature  and  temperament. 
It  will  be  found  that  the  difference  which  makes  the  resultant 
of  work,  as  performed  by  individuals  in  like  circumstances 
and  equal  opportunities,  depends  very  much  upon  the  way 
they  have  applied  their  strength.  We  often  speak  of  "  tact " 
as  a  happy  trait  and  special  endowment,  and  no  doubt  some 
are  gifted  in  this  direction  above  others,  but  it  is  also  a  grace 
which  can  be  sought  and  cultivated.  There  is  something  to 
be  done  besides  kindling  the  fires  and  generating  the  steam. 
If  it  is  not  made  obediently  to  do  the  service  required  of  it,  it 
becomes  a  puff  of  vapor  or  shatters  the  iron  casement  which 
confines  it  into  a  thousand  fragments.  Tact  is  the  engineer 
that  works  the  lever,  and  with  sense,  forethought  and  skill, 
sends  the  train  thundering  along  the  track,  and  checks  its 
speed  so  that  a  child  might  outrun  it.  All  our  gifts  and  ser- 
vice will  be  sometime  needed  but  not  always  in  a  certain  way 
or  measure.  Tact  calls  for  a  loving  heart  and  a  clear  under- 
standing. The  one  will  by  a  responsive  chord  catch  the  temper 
and  the  need  of  those  about  us,  the  other  will  give  the  fitting 
word  and  correct  appreciation  of  time  and  place. 

Years  ago  when  it  was  the  custom  for  young  men  who  were 
preparing  for  the  ministry  to  pursue  a  course  of  theological 
study  under  the  personal  direction  of  distinguished  clergymen, 
there  came  to  the  study  of  the  famous  Dr.  Bellamy  a  young 
minister  who  had  graduated  under  his  care  and  who  sought  the 
advice  of  his  teacher  in  view  of  the  lack  of  success  which  fol- 
lowed his  labors.  The  doctor  had  learned  that  his  young  friend 
had  made  himself  offensive  by  undue  severity  of  speech  and 
action,  and  when  he  was  asked  to  explain  the  reason  why  no 
one  was  converted  under  his  ministrations,  he  said,  "Why, 
the  reason  is  obvious  enough ;  and  if  you  will  correct  your 
error,  go  and  learn  wisdom  of  the  fisherman.  He  does  not  go 
boisterously  to  work,  as  if  he  expected  to  bring  the  fish  to  his 
hook  by  giving  them  a  regular  scourging  beforehand  ;  but  he 
casts  in  his  line  silently,  and  waits  patiently  for  a  bite ;  and, 
whenever  a  fish  comes  to  his  hook,  he  is  watchful  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  right  moment  for  drawing  it  up ;  and  he  is  thank- 
ful if  he  gets  a  few,  and  perseveres  in  the  hope  of  getting 
more.  If  you  would  adopt  this  same  course  as  a  fisher  of  men, 
you  would  have  less  reason  to  complain  of  the  want  of  success. 

The  advice  of  the  venerable  teacher  should  be  remembered 
by  Christians  who  desire  to  make  the  best  of  their  powers. 
There  is  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way  of  doing  everything,  and 
happy  is  that  servant  who  possesses  that  tact  which  makes 
feach  act  and  word  tell  for  good.  "Words  fitly  spoken  are  like 
apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver." 

A  Sure  Trust. 

We  need  not  go  back  to  old  records  for  proofs  of  God's  daily, 
fatherly  care  Over  his  children.  Instances  occur  hourly  in  the 
lives  of  the  men  and  women  with  whom  we  live  and  move, 
in  which  he  providentially  supplies  their  needs,  when  all  help 
seems  to  be  cut  off. 

A  gentleman  in  Boston  a  few  days  ago  was  in  great  destitu- 
tion, and  had  not  the  means  of  procuring  a  meal  for  his  family. 
No  one  of  his  associates  dreamed  of  his  needs,  and  he  was  as 
sensitive  as  you  would  be  about  making  them  known.  But 
he  felt  that  God's  eye  saw  all,  and  that  his  infinite  heart  of 
love  had  compassion  upon  him.  He  knew  too  that  the  Avealth 
of  the  world  was  his;  that  his  resources  were  boundless. 
So  he  went  away  and  prayed  that  he  would  send  him  help.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  received  a  letter  enclosing  ten  dollars, 
but  there  was  no  clue  to  the  sender.  He  knew  that  whatever 
hand  he  sent  it  by,  the  money  came  from  the  Lord.  He  could 


move  hearts  as  easily  as  he  could  worlds.  "Blessed  is  the 
man  who  trusteth  in  him  !" 

A  lady  I  verj'  well  knew,  was  lef  t  a  widow  with  three  chil- 
dren to  educate.  By  the  hardest  she  educated  them  all  well, 
and  fitted  them  for  high  positions  of  usefulness.  Atone  time 
she  was  in  great  straits  for  a  sum  of  money  which  should  pay 
a  board  bill  for  her  son  at  college.  The  amount  was  thirty 
dollars,  and  was  due  to  a  widow  like  herself,  who  greatly 
needed  it.  She  prayed  long  and  earnestly,  but  no  help  came, 
and  in  distress  she  covered  her  face  with  her  apron  that  her 
little  girl  should  not  see  her  agitation.  Just  then  the  child 
came  in  holding  something  very  daintly  with  her  apron. 

"Mamma,  a  boy  gave  me  this  piece  of  paper,"  she  said, 
"  and  then  ran  &way.  It  was  so  dirty  I  would  not  take  it  in 
my  fingers." 

The  mother  opened  the  paper  and  found  exactly  thirty 
dollars.  There  was  no  signature,  and  it  said  within;  "You 
need  not  seek  to  know  who  sent  this,  for  you  will  never 
know." 

She  had  told  her  necessities  to  none  but  God,  and  though 
she  did  try  hard  to  find  out  the  donor,  she  never  got  a  clue  to 
it.   

Real  Merit  Will  Win. 

History  furnishes  no  example  of  anything  but  merit  winning 
in  the  end.  Bubbles  float  easily  and  lightly  upon  the  air,  and 
sparkle  very  beautifully  in  the  sunlight,  but  they  float  but  'or 
a  moment,  and  then  burst  and  are  forgotten.  Society  has  its 
bubbles,  business  circles  have  their  bubbles,  the  church  has 
it  btibbles,  life  is  full  of  bubbles,  but  their  fate  is  the  fate  of 
the  bubble  in  the  air.  Occasionally  a  Fisk  bursts  upon  the 
community,  dazzles  for  a  day,  and  then  dies  and  is  forgotten 
—leaving  the  record  of  a  life  that  no  sensible  man  or  boy 
would  wish  to  imitate.  There  is  no  real  merit  in  such  a  life- 
nothing  that  the  world  wishes  to  tie  to  or  remember. 

The  only  life  that  is  a  success  is  the  one  made  up  of  actions 
which  are  the  fruit  of  pure  motive  and  the  highest  sense  of 
duty  to  ourselves,  our  fellows  and  our  Creator.  Such  motives 
ard  such  deeds  make  character  that  will  stand  all  the  storms 
of  temptation  and  evil  that  may  ever  beat  upon  life's  pathway 
and  will  win  the  approbation  of  every  soul  whose  good  opinion 
is  worth  anything.  There  is  no  meteoric  glitter  about  such  a 
life— it  is  the  constant,  modest  twinkling  of  the  star.  It  de- 
velops as  the  grain  in  the  field  develops,  and  not  as  the  mu'=th- 
room  gi-o\ys.  It  quietly  bears  its  magnificent  harvest  of  good, 
and  is  often  so  modest  as  scarcely  to  be  noticed  until  it  has 
been  clouded  in  death.  The  very  best  lives  that  have  ever 
left  their  impress  upon  the  world  have  been  so  modest  that 
they  were  scarcely  noticed  until  they  had  set,  and  then  the 
brilliant  effect  was  as  glorious  and  attractive  as  a  horizon 
painted  by  a  setting  sun.  The  work  of  life  is  to  do  good,  and 
no  good  was  ever  done  that  was  ever  lost;  it  is  always  as  last- 
ing as  eternity.  If  men  would  be  successful  they  must  be 
something,  and  appear  to  be  something. 

Sensible  men  feel  as  a  friend  of  ours  expressed  himself  a 
few  days  since.  He  is  the  father  of  a  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished daughter,  who  was  betrothed  to  a  young  man  of 
character  and  some  supposed  wealth.  Before  the  wedding  day 
arrived,  however,  the  young  man,  without  any  fault  of  his, 
was  overtaken  by  misfortune,  and  he  was  forced  into  bank- 
ruptcy, and  left  without  means.  He  went  immediately  to  the 
father  of  the  young  lady,  ard  offered  to  releasa  the  lady  from 
her  engagement.  "  So  far  as  1  am  concerned,"  gaid  the  father, 
"  you  can  go  right  along ;  I  did  not  give  you  my  daughter  be^ 
cause  I  thought  you  had  money  ;"  and  sometime  after  he  gav« 
the  reason  of  this  decision  to  some  of  his  neighbors,  who  wer< 
expressing  surprise  that  he  should  have  consented  to  th< 
alliance  under  the  circumstances.  He  said:  "Gentlemen,  \\ 
is  not  every  day  that  a  man  gets  a  son-in-law  who  does  not 
drink,  who  is  not  profane,  and  who  is  honorable,  upright  and 
industrious.  1  have  such  a  one,  and  as  long  as  he  remains  a» 
he  is  now.  he  can  share  with  me  my  last  dollar." 

It  was  character  that  won  here,  and  although  many  fathers 
would  I  ot  have  had  the  courage  to  act  as  sensibly,  in  their  in- 
most heart  they  would  despise  themselves  for  not  doing  it. 
The  world  a  mires  merit,  and  despises  hollow  glitter,  and  every 
time  it  neglects  to  act  in  accordance  with  its  real  feelings,  it 
feels  that  It  la  a  traitor  to  itself  and  the  best  good  of  society. 


The  United  States  pays  nearly  three  times  as  much 
in  pensions  as  Great  Britain. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


333 


Sunstroke. 

This  dangerous  malady  is  caused  by  excessive  heat.  When 
a  very  hot  term  has  set  In  we  may  usually  begin  to  look  for 
it  on  the  second  or  third  days  of  the  term— it  rarely  occurs  on 
the  first.  A  kind  of  "murkey"  condition  of  the  atmosphere 
is  regarded  as  favorable  to  bringing  on  sunstroke. 

There  are  also  conditions  that  predispose  persons  to  sun- 
stroke, as  loss  of  sleep,  trouble,  excitement,  close  sleeping 
rooms,  and  the  excessive  use  of  stimulants.  The  attack  is 
most  liable  to  be  made  between  the  hours  of  11  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  4  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  not  unfrcquently 
comes  on  with  great  suddenness,  striking  the  patient  down 
with  little  or  no  warning.  The  first  symptoms,  when  expe- 
rienced, are  a  severe  pain  in  the  head,  blurred  vision,  dizziness, 
excessive  sickness  at  the  stomach,  and  soon  uuconsciousness. 
In  very  severe  attacks  the  patient  feels  only  a  sharp  pain  in 
the  head  and  at  once  becomes  unconscious.  Pulse  full  and 
hard  at  first,  but  finally  very  feeble. 

When  a  person  has  been  attacked  with  sunstroke,  remove 
him  at  once  to  the  nearest  shady  and  cool  place,  and  send  with 
all  possible  haste  for  a  physician.  Do  not  wait  to  take  him 
home  or  to  a  hospital.  Until  the  physician  arrives  do  all  you 
can  for  him — there  is  no  time  to  spare.  Loosen  his  clothes, 
give  him  all  the  cooi  air  you  can,  and  apply  cold  water  to  the 
head.  Let  him  lie  on  his  back  with  the  head  a  little  elevated. 
Apply  mustard  plasters  to  the  calves  of  the  legs.  Rub  the 
upper  part  of  the  body  with  the  hands  wet  in  cold  water. 

If  no  physician  can  be  had  speedily,  bathe  the  feet  and  if 
convenient  give  an  injection  of  warm  water. 

It  is  always  easier  to  prevent  sunstroke  than  to  cure  it,  so 
the  person  exposed  to  the  hot  sun  should  be  ever  on  his 
guard.  He  should  try  to  so  manage  it  as  to  have  a  cool  sleep- 
ing room.  He  should  avoid  loss  of  sleep  and  all  unnecessary 
fatigue.  His  clothing  should  be  thin.  While  working  in  the 
sun  he  should  wear  a  light  hat  of  a  light  color— never  black. 
It  would  be  well  to  fill  the  crown  of  it  with  green  leaves;  or 
where  these  are  not  convenient,  with  a  damp  cloth.  Do  not 
check  perspiration.  Drink  cold  water  moderately,  but  not 
to  excess.  When  much  fatigued,  rest.  If  you  have  in  the 
morning  a  feeling  of  dizziness,  headache  or  exhaustion,  cease 
working  in  the  sun  immediately,  if  the  sun  is  very  hot.  Better 
rest  in  the  shade  that  day,  for  the  symptoms  are  favorable  for 
sunstroke,  and  exposure  might  bring  on  an  attack. 

Of  course  it  will  be  understood  that  this  applies  only  to 
extremely  hot  weathei- — there  is  not  much  danger  of  sunstroke 
in  ordinary  summer  weather.  The  temperature  must  go  up  to 
a  hundred  in  the  shade  to  make  it  really  dangerous.  And  that 
■^plains  why  there  are  so  few  sunstrokes  in  the  Gulf  States 
-the  temperature  very  rarely  goes  to  a  hundred. 

The  Art  of  Thinking  to  a  Purpose. 

A  distinguished  prisoner  of  war,  of  large  mental  resources, 
being  allowed  to  choose  his  employment  while  in  confinement, 
selected  one  so  simple  as  to  require  neither  skill  nor  thought, 
assigning  as  a  reason  that,  though  his  hands  would  be  occu- 
pied by  compulsion,  his  mind  at  least  would  continue  his  own 
and  remain  in  freedom.  We  all  have  some  of  such  work,  and 
many  have  much.  Now,  if  we  had  learn,ed  to  employ  this  time 
in  clear  and  consecutive  thought— if  our  will  could  control  our 
reflections,  directing  them  in  definite  channels,  and  aiming  to 
reach  some  well  defined  conclusions— we  can  hardly  compute 
how  great  an  efiect  would  be  produced  in  strengthening  oar 
mental  powers,  in  maturing  our  judgment,  in  bringing  us  to 
the  knowledge  and  appreciation  of  truth,  and  tius  of  increas- 
ing our  solid  happiness  and  our  permanent  value  to  the  com- 
munity. 

The  best  exercise  of  every  faculty  is  the  chief  road  to  true 
enjoyment,  and  no  one  who  has  once  tasted  the  pleasures  of 
thinking  to  a  purpose  will  ever  willingly  allow  his  mind  to 
dissipate  in  wandering  thoughts  and  day  dreams.  Neither  is 
such  discipline  so  difficult  as  some  imagine.  If  begun  in 
early  life,  by  awakening  the  childish  interest  in  what  is  seen 
and  heard,  alluring  the  mind  to  reflection  by  question  and  an- 
swer, and  accustoming  the  thoughts  to  dwell  for  short 
periods,  but  intently,  upon  familiar  subjects,  it  will  become 
pleasant  exercise,  and  gradually  grow  into  the  tenor  of  the 
mind.  What  we  truly  will  to  do  is  already  half  accomplished ; 
and  the  watch  thus  placed  over  the  thoughts  will,  o£  itself, 
reduce  to  order  and  regularity  much  that  is  now  chaos  and. 


confusion.  It  Is  by  no  means  necessary  that  the  subjects  thus 
mentally  discussed  should  be  remote  or  abstract.  On  the  con- 
trary, let  them  be  matters  familiar  to  our  minds  and  agn  eablo 
to  our  tastes.  Let  the  memory  please  ns  with  pictures  of  tiic 
past,  and  the  i«iagination  revel  in  beauty  of  scene  or  heroism 
of  deed.  Let  the  business  man  revolve  the  scheme  which  be 
longs  to  execute,  and  the  philosoper  meditate  on  the  prinri- 
ples  of  life.  But  whatever  be  the  subject,  let  the  though cs 
pursue  it  with  a  consistent  progress  that  shall  eventuate  in 
some  real  benefit  to  the  mind.  

Only  One  Moment. 

In  a  New  York  popular  down-town  restaurant  there  was  a 
waiter  who  had  an  unpleasant  habit  of  saying  "  One  mo- 
ment." Otherwise  he  was  a  good-natured,  aflable  man,  who 
did  his  work  well,  but  he  was  unable  to  break  himself  of  his 
one  failing.  If,  while  he  was  wiping  a  knife  or  a  spoon,  a  cus- 
tomer asked  him  for  the  salt,  he  would  say,  "'One  moment," 
finish  the  knife,  and  then  hand  the  salt. 

If  he  was  polishing  glasses  and  a  gentleman  who  had  a  cup 
of  cofi'ee  beside  him  asked  for  the  sugar,  the  waiter  would  not 
set  the  glass  down,  serve  the  guest,  and  then  resume  his  labor, 
but  "one  moment,"  and  the  sugar  afterward.  If  the  customer 
failed  to  see  it  in  that  light  and  repeated  his  request,  the  wait- 
er would  give  his  napkin  a  deprecatory  flourish  and  impart  to 
his  reply  a  slight  accent  of  reproach,  "O-one  mo-ment,  sir." 

The  waiter  came  over  to  Jersey  to  visit  some  friends,  and 
after  a  day  of  innocent  hilarity  he  returned  to  the  railroad 
station  from  which  he  was  to  embark  for  home.  While  wait- 
ing for  the  train  he  strolled  out  on  the  track  and  stood  looking 
down  the  long  perspective  of  the  road.  He  did  not  observe  an 
express  train  that  was  booming  down  from  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, but  he  heard  the  warning  voice  of  a  man  on  the  platform 
shouting  : 

"  Get  off  the  track !   Get  off  the  track  !  " 

"  One  moment,  sir  I  "  was  the  involuntary  reply,  and  he  tar- 
ried for  an  instant  to  straighten  a  kink  in  his  watch  chain  ; 
but  the  express  train  was  in  a  hurry,  and  in  one  moment  he 
had  gone  where  moments  are  as  years.  

Getting  on  in  Life. 

Among  the  different  kinds  of  ability  which  it  is  possible  for 
a  man  to  possess,  we  are  inclined  to  rank  as  highest  that 
peculiar,  nameless,  almost  indescribable  talent  which  enables 
its  possessor  to  successfully  get  on  in  the  world.  Every  one 
knows  what  is  meant  by  ^his  fortunate  intellectual  possession, 
but  very  many,  if  not  all,  would  be  more  or  less  puzzled  to 
accurately  analyze  or  describe  it.  It  is  not,  we  fancy,  so  much 
any  one  single  endowment  that  is  thus  designated,  as  it  is  a 
singularly  happy  combination  of  traits  and  qualities,  relating 
to  both  mind  and  heart.  But  whatever  it  is,  or  may  be,  in 
itself,  it  certainly  is  a  very  valuable  mental  condition  or  attain- 
ment. 

Human  ability  in  general  can  be  divided  into  a  number  of 
kinds  which  legitimately  receive  their  own  distinctive  and 
proper  names.  For  example,  there  is  the  speculative  or  philo- 
sophical ability  to  recollect;  ability  to  think  long  and  con- 
nectedly upon  abstract  truth  or  propositions;  the  ability  to 
investigate  and  discuss  intelligently  the  higher  range  of  ques- 
ii^ns  and  topics  in  physical,  mental  and  moral  science.  Then 
luere  is  the  poetical  talent ;  the  power  to  see  visions  of  beauty 
and  phases  of  truth  in  the  scenes  and  events  of  ordinary  life, 
and  the  power  to  express  these  in  easy,  flowing  and  melodious 
rhymes.  Then  there  is  the  executive  talent;  the  power  to 
manage  well  large  and  critical  enterprises ;  the  power  of  hand- 
ling men  and  facts  ;  the  power  to  carrj'  a  scheme  or  purpose  or 
plan  into  immediate  or  telling  effect;  the  power  to  "run 
things  "  generally,  or  make  them  "go."  Then  again  there  is 
the  ingenious,  inventive  talent ;  the  capacity  for  making  dis- 
coveries in  science,  mechanics  and  the  useful  arts  ;  the  power 
which  makes  a  man  fertile  in  expedients  and  leads  him  to  con- 
trive all  sorts  of  articles  for  ornament  or  use,  or  for  both  com- 
bined. Then  there  is  the  ability  to  write,  which  all  authors 
and  editors  are  supposed  to  have ;  the  ability  to  sing,  play  and 
compose,  which  is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  musicians; 
Hio ability  to  imitate  and  personify,  which  belongs  especially 
to  actors;  together  with  a  hundred  other  kinds  which  we  will 
not  now  attempt  to  enumerate.  But  this  peculiar  talent  for 
getting  on  in  life,  is  not  any  one  of  these  mentioned,  but  is 
rather  a  mixture  of  a  little  of  each  and  all  of  them. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


THE  IVY  WALL. 

BY  SARAH  DOUDNEY. 

There  is  a  door  in  the  ivy  wall 

That  opens  toward  the  west, 
And  the  burning  rays  of  the  sunset  fall 

On  the  face  I  love  the  best ! 
This  is  the  picture— and  long  ago 

I  know  that  it  passed  away, 
But  the  green  leaves  shine  and  the  old  bricks  glow 

In  memory's  light  to-day. 

'Twas  sweet  to  wait  by  the  ivy  wall, 

When  the  long  day's  toil  was  o'er, 
Till  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  soft  footfall, 

And  her  hand  unclosed  the  door; 
The  shadows  trembled,  the  lights  were  red, 

And  the  world  seemed  miles  away. 
And  the  ivy-whisperings  over  her  head 

Still  sing  in  my  ears  to-day. 

A  row  of  houses  showy  and  tall 

Stand  up  where  the  ivy  grew 
On  the  crumbling  bricks  of  the  dear  old  wall, 

So  the  old  gives  place  to  new! 
And  the  face,  ah  well,  'twas  long  ago, 

And  the  world  will  claim  its  own; 
But  I  dream  my  dream,  and  the  red  lights  gleam. 

As  I  go  my  way  alone. 


Odors. 

What  is  an  odor  ?  Is  it  something  which  differs  from 
every  thmg  else  in  itself,  or  which  only  produces  different 
effects,  according  to  the  organ  of  sense  whereon  it  im- 
pinges. Experiments  serve  to  show  that  while  various 
bodies  send  forth  odors,  as  a  wood  fire  does  sparks,  yet 
there  is  a  close  connection  betAveen  smell  and  taste. 
.  we  close  our  eyes  and  hoM  our  nose,  all  the  finer 
Kinds  of  flavor  will  be  impetceptible.  There  are  four 
primitive  tastes,— sweet,  sour,  salt  and  bitter,— and  if 
the  mucous  membrane  of  the  nose  is  congested,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  cold  in  the  head,  or  if  we  close  our  nostrils,  it 
is  only  these  foui  .  istes  that  we  can  distinguish.  The 
more  delicate  fiavoi>'  ire  altogether  lost  to  us.  A  man  of 
taste  must  have  a  good  nose. 

It  appears,  then,  that  we  taste  in  part  with  our  organ 
of  scent  as  we  hear  in  part  with  our  mouths,  and  it  is 
precisely  the  same  thing  as  the  odor  we  perceive  by  our 
olfactories. 

Moisture  is  necessary  also  alike  to  odors  and  flavors. 
The  secretions  of  the  nose  are  for  the  purpose  of  receiv- 
ing the  odorous  particles  floating  through  the  air,  and 
tJje  saliva  in  the  rooutj)  is  part  of  the  anparatus  for  taste;, 


Odoroup  bodies,  like  some  over-populated  countries,  are 
continual 7  sending  off  emigrants  in  all  directions, 
especially  by  water.  These  substances,  when  placed  in 
water,  act  on  those  molecules  of  the  liquid  they  touch, 
and  repel  them  more  or  less,  thus  producing  a  vacuum 
around  them.  It  is  by  a  sort  of  circulatory  motion  that 
they  accomplish  this — in  the  case  of  a  people,  we  should 
call  it  a  revolution — which  is  especially  observable  in 
camphor. 

The  effect  of  water  in  intensifying  odors  is  seeii  in  the 
fragrance  of  a  flower-bed  after  a  shower,  or  i.i  the  early 
morning,  when  the  dew  is  still  on  the  ground. 

It  is  wonderful  what  a  self-dispensing  power  many 
odors  possess.  We  may  well  speak  of  strong  smells,  for 
they  fly  long  distances  without  getting  tired,  and  pene- 
trate through  pretty  solid  obstacles.  Ambergris  thrown 
up  on  the  shore  of  the  sea  emits  odor  to  a  great  distance, 
and  thus,  as  it  were,  sends  out  invitations  to  those  who 
are  seeking  it.  Wells  of  petroleum  oil  give  notice  of 
their  existence,  as  we  might  expect,  several  miles 
around. 

Sailors  say  they  can  tell  when  they  are  approaching 
the  shore  of  Spain  long  before  they  can  see  it,  by  the 
scent  of  rosemary,  which  mast  be  a  very  pleasant  wel- 
come. We  have  all  heard  of  the  spicy  breezes  "  ol 
Ceylon,  from  Bishop  Heber's  Missionary  Hymn. 

Musk  perfumes  a  whole  room  for  years,  and  what  is 
!  most  remarkable,  at  the  end  of  that  time  it  does  not  ap- 
pear to  have  lost  any  weight.  One  man  kept  a  mass  of 
papers  for  forty  years  perfumed  by  a  single  grain  of 
amber,  and  then  calculated  that  each  inch  of  the  paper 
i  was  saturated  with  one  two-and-a-half  millionth  of  a 
grain  of  the  odorous  substance. 

A  Frenchman  has  proposed  a  theory  of  harmony  in 
odors  as  well  as  in  sounds.  He  thinks  that  there  is  a 
music  of  perfumes,  some  agreeing  among  themselves, 
others  being  discordant. 

Thus  he  declares  that  almond,  vanilla,  heliotrope  and 
clematis  form  together  a  harmonic  chord  or  octave,  and 
so  on  with  others. 

But  there  is  no  uniformity  in  the  olfactory  sensations 
of  people,  as  there  is  in  their  distinctions  between  sound 
•and  music.  The  same  thing  smells  differently  to  differ- 
ent persons,  and  consequently  no  rule  of  scent-harmony 
can  be  laid  down. 

Among  the  Orientals  asaf  oedtida  and  valerian,  the  odor 
-of  which  is  disgusting  to  most  of  us,  are  prized  for  their 
agreeable  scent.  The  smell  of  the  sandal-wood,  which 
makes  it  a  favorite  in  China  and  India,  is  just  on  the 
border-line  among  us,  between  pleasant  and  unpleasant. 
Some  persons  rather  like  it  and  some  find  it  offensive. 
There  is  an  instance  on  record  of  a  girl  who  liked  the 
musty  smell  of  old  books,  and  of  a  lawyer  to  whom  the 
fragrance  of  a  dung-hill  was  quite  a  treat. 

These  latter  cases  may,  perhaps,  be  classified  under 
delusions  of  the  nose,  which  are  common  among  insane 
people. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  sense  of  smell  can  be  great- 
ly cultivated,  and  that  it  is  naturally  very  acute  in  some 
persons  and  species  of  animals.  It  was  not  imagination 
:  on  the  part  of  a  lady  that  she  could  foretell  storms  by  a 
sulphurous  odor  in  the  air,  since  she  actually  did  foretell 
them. 

Among  the  ancients,  perfumes  were  used  very  exten- 
sively, not  only  in  private  life,  but  in  religious  service. 
It  was  supposed  that  odorous  burnt  sacrifices  pleased 
the  gods,  who  were  always  highly  perfumed  themselves, 
and  might  indeed  be  recognized  by  their  fragrance.  The 
awning  which  shielded  the  sptctators  from  the  sun  in 
the  amphitheatre  at  the  Roman  games,  was  saturated 
with  scented  water,  which  dripped  on  the  heads  of  those 
below.  The  Roman  eagles  were  always  anointed  with 
perfume  before  battle. 

In  later  times  perfumes  have  been  very  much  in  vogue, 
though  now  too  much  scent  is  regarded  as  a  sign  of  vul- 
garity. Mar'ame  Talbea,  coming  from  a  bath  of  straw- 
berry and  raspberry  juice,  used  to  be  gently  rubbed  Avith 
sponges  of  perfumed  milk.  Napoleon  I.  was  in  the 
habit  of  pouring  eau-de-cologne  over  his  head  and 
shoulders  every  mioming. 

All  pleasure  must  be  bought  at  the  expense  of  pain ;  the 
difference  between  false  pleasure  and  true  is  just  this  :  for  the 
true,  the  price  is  paid  before  you  enjoy  it ;  for  the  false,  after 
ward. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


335 


Olefiant  G-as. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Olefiant  ffas  is  a  colorless,  inflammable  gas  which 
burns  with  a  bright,  yellow  flame,  but  possesses  no 
«mell  It  is  one  of  the  products  of  the  distillation  of 
coal,  when  that  operation  is  performed  in  the  manufae- 
ture'of  "  illuminating  gas."       ,        .  ,  , 

v;  more  convenient  method  of  obtaming  it,  however, 
Zrx.  one  attended  with  better  results,  is  the  followmg 

^^Procure  a  glass  flask  capable  of  holding  about  one 
and  a-half  quarts.  In  it  make,  very  cautiously,  a  mix- 
ture of  two  fluid  ounces  of  concentrated  sulphuric  acid, 
and  one  of  spirits  of  wine.  When  the  heat  produced  by 
the  mixture  has  subsided,  connect  the  top  of  the  flask 
by  means  of  caout-chouc  tubing,  with  a  small  glass  tube 
dipping  into  a  glass  jar  containing  water.  To  the 
stopper  of  the  latter,  a  bent  glass  tube  must  be  arranged 
60  as  to  dip  in  the  jar,  care  being  taken  to  prevent  its 
touching  the  water.  The  other  end  of  the  bent  tube  is 
to  be  connected  with  a  jar  for  holding  the  gas. 

After  the  connections  have  been  made,  the  mixture 
Will  soon  darken,  and  olefiant  gas  be  given  off;  the 
latter  will  pass  through  the  tubing  to  the  water,  which 
acts  as  a  purifier,  and  thence  to  the  gas  jar. 

Olefiant  gas,  though  it  possesses  its  own  character- 
istics as  a  chemical  element,  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as 
Buch,  its  use  being  confined  chiefly  to  analytical  pur- 
poses. Its  name  is  generally  believed  to  have  been 
derived  from  the  aflSnity  it  possesses  for  chlorine.  When 
the  latter  is  brought  into  contact  with  it,  a  combination 
takes  place,  the  result  being  an  oily-looking  fluid,  which 
on  account  of  having  been  first  discovered  by  the 
"Chemist's  Association"  of  Holland,  received  there- 
from the  name  of  Butch  liquid. 

The  following  experiment  will  illustrate  the  manner 
of  preparing  the  latter  :  Obtain  a  bottle  of  a  quart  capa- 
city, and  another  of  two  quarts.  Fill  the  former  with 
chlorine  gas,  and  half-fill  the  latter  with  olefiant  gas. 
Then  procure  a  deep  porcelain  dish  of  suflBcient  depth 
to  enable  the  bottle  to  be  inverted  therein.  FiU  the 
the  dish  with  water,  and  invert  undei-  the  water,  the 
chlorine  bottle  in  the  olefiant  gas.  These  gases  will 
rapidly  decrease  in  proportions,  and  soon  form  an  oily 
liquid  which  will  sink  to  the  bottom  of  the  dish,  where 
it  may  be  collected  by  carefully  drawing  otf  the  water 
from  above  it.  Purify  the  Dutch  liquid  so  obtained,  by 
shaking  it  in  a  bottle  of  sodium  carbonate,  and  then 
pour  it  on  a  saucer.  It  will  be  found  to  possess  the 
agreeable  odor  of  chloroform. 


A  Mouse-Catching  Baby. 

A  correspondent  writing  from  Erie,  Penn.,  says  :  "A 
singular  phenomenon  is  just  now  creating  a  sensation  a 
few  miles  south  of  this  city,  in  the  shape  of  a  mouse- 
catching  infant,  surpassing  in  expertness  the  agility  of 
the  best  canine  or  feline  mouser  in  the  country.  The 
report  of  this  singular  freak  of  nature  reached  me  so 
well  authenticated  that  I  concluded  to  gratify  my  curi- 
osity and  possibly  be  sold,  as  I  had  often  been.  But  to 
my  surprise,  the  facts  turned  out  more  remarkable  than 
the  report  presented,  and  the  most  astonishing  natural 
wonder  I  ever  witnessed.  The  little  girl  is  a  trifle  over 
a  year  old,  and  can  but  just  begin  to  ran  about  the 
house  and  yard.  The  moment  she  wakes  and  gets  out 
of  her  crib  she  goes  to  the  old  kitchen  fire-place,  which 
is  infested  with  a  species  of  small  house-mice,  and  sits 
down  by  a  hole  in  the  corner,  very  much  like  a  cat,  with 
her  eyes  intently  fixed  on  the  burrow.  She  sometimes 
occupies  this  position  for  an  hour  without  moving,  till  a 
mouse  makes  his  appearance,  when  by  a  sudden  start, 
apparently  without  any  effort,  she  seizes  her  victim  by 
the  neck.  As  soon  as  her  prize  is  secured  she  seems  to 
be  electrified  with  joy,  and  trembles  from  head  to  foot, 
uttering  a  kind  of  wild  murmur  or  growl,  resembling  the 
half-snarl  of  a  wildcat.  On  arriving  at  the  house,  and 
making  known  the  object  of  my  visit,  the  mother  ex- 
pressed her  willingness  to  give  me  an  exhibition  on  the 
strange  peculiarity  of  the  baby,  providing  I  would  pro- 
mise not  to  make  their  names  public,  as  she  seemed  to 
dread  the  notoriety  already  given  to  the  affair.  1,  of 
course,  made  the  required  promise,  and  had  the  privilege 
of  witnessing  with  my  own  eyes  a  performance  so  won- 
derful and  novel  that  I  can  never  forget  the  impression 


it  made.  The  babe  was  asleep  when  I  arrived,  and  on 
awakening  she  started  at  once  on  her  strange  mission. 
She  is  a  beautiful  little  blonde,  of  delicate  features  and 
bright,  blue  eyes,  and  her  hair  lies  all  over  her  head  in 
exquisitely-formed  golden  curls,  about  the  circle  of  a 
dime.  There  is  nothing  unusual  about  the  countenance 
of  the  child,  or  different  from  that  of  any  pretty-featured 
baby  except  while  stalking  her  game.  Then  her  eyes 
become  glistening  and  fixed,  sparkling  like  gems,  and 
her  face  and  hands  turn  pale  as  wax,  while  she  appears 
to  hear  or  notice  nothing  going  on  around  her,  but  keeps 
her  eyes  steadily  centred  on  the  burrow  whence  she  ex- 
pected her  game  to  sally  forth.  The  mother,  an  older 
sister  of  the  child,  and  myself  sat  in  a  semi-circle  around 
her,  silent  as  if  in  a  spiritual  seance  waiting  for  the  signal 
of  departed  spirits.  Had  no  mouse  made  his  appear- 
ance, the  sight  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten — the 
deathly-pale  face  of  that  motionless  child,  and  the 
riveted,  sparkling  eyes  concentrated  for  thirty  minutes 
on  that  mouse-hole  in  the  brick  hearth.  During  that 
half  hour  we  neither  moved  nor  spoke  above  a  whisper, 
when  suddenly,  like  the  springing  of  a  trap,  tne  little 
thing's  hand  went  down  on  the  hearth,  followed  by  the 
fine  squeak  of  the  mouse,  and  that  strange,  low  growl, 
and  the  singular  tremor  of  the  body  of  the  child  I  As 
usual,  she  held  the  mouse  by  the  neck,  in  her  right 
hand,  while  it  squirmed  desperately  to  get  away.  She 
then  pressed  it  up  against  her  bosom,  and  felt  of  it 
gently  and  softly  with  the  other  hand  ;  then  would  dex- 
terously change  hands,  carefully  keeping  her  grip  on 
the  neck  to  avoid  its  bite,  though  her  mother  told  me 
she  had  been  frequently  bitten  ;  and  while  sensitive  to 
pain  and  crying  at  the  least  ordinary  hurt,  she  never  was 
seen  to  wince  or  show  the  least  pain  from  the  bite  of  a 
mouse.  I  examined  her  fingers  and  found  them  scarred 
in  many  places  where  she  had  been  bitten.  I  tried  to 
realize  how  the  feat  had  been  accomplished,  but  it  was 
done  so  suddenly  there  was  no  time  to  analyze  it.  Yet  I 
was  assured  by  the  family,  who  had  taken  frequent  ob- 
servations, that  the  mouse  when  once  out  of  its  hole 
seems  to  become  charmed  or  magnetized,  and  has  no 
power,  or  at  least  shows  no  disposition  to  escape  till 
caught,  when  it  is  too  late.  If  any  one  approaches  the 
child  to  take  the  mouse  away  from  her,  she  will  utter  a 
shrill  scream  and  then  try  to  conceal  her  prize  by  put- 
ting it  into  her  mouth. 

"1  have  heard  of  snake  and  bird  charming  children, 
but  I  guess  this  is  the  first  mouse-catching  baby  yet  de- 
veloped. I  wonder  how  Darwin  would  explain  this  ab- 
normal instinct  by  the  laws  of  evolution  and  natural 
selection."  

A  Mother's  Song. 

A  few  years  ago  a  company  of  Indians  were  captured 
on  the  Western  frontier.  Among  them  were  a  number 
of  stolen  children  who  had  been  with  the  savages  for 
years.  Word  was  sent  throughout  the  region,  inviting 
all  who  had  lost  children  to  come  and  see  if  among  the 
little  captives  they  could  recognize  their  own.  A  long 
way  off  was  a  woman  who  had  been  robbed  of  her  dar- 
lings— a  boy  and  a  girl.  With  mingled  hope  and  fear  shg 
came  ;  with  throbbing  heart  she  approached  the  group. 
They  wsre  ctrange  to  her.  She  came  nearer,  and  with 
eyes  tiled  with  mother-love  peered  into  their  faces,  ona; 
after  another,  but  there  was  nothing  in  any  that  shg 
could  claim  ;  nor  was  there  anything  in  her  to  light  up 
their  cold  faces.  With  the  dull  pain  of  despair  at  her 
heart  she  was  turning  away,  when  she  paused,  choked 
back  the  tears,  and  in  soft,  clear  notes,  began  a  simplj 
song  she  used  to  sing  her  little  ones  of  Jesus  and  heaven. 
Not  a  line  was  completed  before  a  boy  and  girl  sprang 
from  the  group,  exclaiming  Mamma  I  mamma!"  and 
she  folded  her  lost  ones  to  her  bosom.  So  lives  a  mo 
ther's  early  influence  in  the  hearts  of  her  children. 

An  Economical  Telegram. 

Recently  a  telegraph  clerk  in  France  refused  to  trans^ 
mit  a  message  in  these  words  :  "  Third  Epistle  of  John, 
verses  13  and  14,"  under  the  law  which  forbids  the  trans- 
mission of  despatches  not  written  in  plain  language. 
Reference  to  the  text  indicates  that  the  despatch  wa3 
merely  an  economy  of  words  :  "  I  have  many  things  to 
write,  but  I  wlH  not  with  ink  and  pen  write  unto  thee ; 
but  I  trast  I  shall  shortly  see  thee,  and  we  shall  speak 
face  to  face." 


336 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD, 


In  London  in  1665. 

BY  JAMES  K.  rORSTER. 

In  the  Vestry  books  of  St.  Botolph's,  Aldgate,  before 
the  burials  of  1665,  there  is  written,  by  some  apparently 
coeval  hand,  *'This  was  the  year  of  the  great  visita- 
tion." The  vicar  or  parish  clerk  by  whom  this  entry 
was  made,  evidently  wished  to  remind  posterity  of  the 
cause  of  so  many  deaths,  that  the  year  of  the  Great 
Plague  might  never  be  forgotten.  The  sights  of  London 
in  1665  must  have  been  such  as  could  be  realized  only 
by  those  who  saw  them. 

Is  this  lamentation  never  to  end  ?  "  exclaimed  Mar- 
tha Steadman,  as  she  came  into  Houndsditch  one  morn- 
ing and  saw  the  multitude  of  dead  bodies  carried  into 
the  churchyard  of  St.  Botolph's,  Aldgate.  Martha  lived 
in  Whitechapel,  and  faithfully  attended  the  sick  wher- 
ever there  was  any  hope  of  recovery.  This  morning  she 
was  hastening  to  a  physician  in  Aldersgate,  for  a  fresh 
supply  of  medicines,  and  all  the  way  her  mind  was  oc- 
cupied with  solemn  thoughts  of  the  dire  calamity  that 
had  overtaken  the  city.  Martha  returned  by  Fenchurch 
street.  She  had  not  seen  a  human  being  since  she  left 
the  doctor's,  except  a  shivering  woman  standing  in  a 
corner  at  the  Exchange,  and  a  man  tending  a  fire  that 
was  kept  continually  burning  at  Austin  Friars.  As  she 
approached  Aldgate  she  heard  a  voice  spealdng  in  ac- 
cents of  terror,  and  followed  by  moans  of  lamentations 
from  people  in  deep  distress.  On  turning  into  Aldgate 
she  saw  the  people  from  whom  the  noise  proceeded. 
The  street  was  filled,  some  standing,  others  sitting  on 
benches,  and  others  lying  on  the  ground,  as  if  smitten 
by  the  terrible  disease. 

What  is  it  ? "  Martha  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  interro- 
gation mixed  with  wonder,  as  she  came  into  the  presence 
of  the  nearest  person  of  the  group. 

"  The  day  of  the  Lord  is  come,"  said  an  old  man  with 
a  tremulous  voice. 

"Oh !"  cried  a  young  woman  at  the  same  time,  "this 
is  a  day  of  wrath,  of  tribulation  and  anguish.  The  Lord 
is  come  to  execute  judgment  in  the  earth." 

"Truly,"  said  Martha,  "there  is  a  harvest  of  wicked- 
ness ;"  yet  she  avoided  the  contagion  of  excitement, 
for,  though  a  devout  woman,  she  was  no  enthusiast. 

"The  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand,"  was  thundered 
forth  by  a  voice  so  powerful,  and  yet  so  terrible,  that  ail 
other  sounds  died  away  in  silence  before  the  words  were 
fully  uttered.  It  was  the  voice  of  Solomon  Eagle.  Mar- 
tha lifted  her  eyes  and  saw  in  the  midst  of  the  people  a 
man  stripped  of  clothing,  but  girded  round  the  loius, 
and  carrying  burning  coals  on  his  head.  "The  day  of 
the  Lord  is  at  hand,"  he  cried  again.  "Vengeance  is  lo 
be  executed  on  the  children  of  men.  The  smoke  of 
their  iniquities  has  gone  up  to  heaven,  and  the  vials  of 
God's  wrath  are  being  poured  out  on  the  earth."  Sud- 
denly there  was  a  shriek  uttered  by  several  women  be- 
hind the  preacher.  A  corpse  was  being  carried  to  the 
churchyard,  and  the  sight  of  the  torch  that  preceded  it, 
though  now  a  familiar  sight,  raised  a  panic  among  some 
women  already  overcome  with  terror.  "Weep  and  howl," 
shouted  Solomon,  "for  the  desolations  of  the  earth. 
The  land  mourneth  in  the  day  of  trouble  and  rebuke. 
Hushed  is  the  voice  of  revelry,  and  silent  the  drunkard's 
song.  The  earth  is  being  consumed  by  the  breath  of  the 
Almighty.  Repent  and  turn  from  your  iniquities,  that 
the  arm  of  vengeance  may  be  stayed,  and  that  God  may 
yet  have  mercy  upon  us." 

Martha  Steadman  proceeded  through  Aldgate  towards 
her  house  in  Whitechapel.  She  had  not  time  to  listen 
longer  to  Solomon  Eagle's  terrible  denunciations  of 
Divine  wrath.  With  some  difficulty  she  managed  to 
press  through  the  people,  and  it  was  enough  for  her 
sympathetic  nature  to  pass  by  so  many  suiferers,  but  the 
enthusiasm  of  Solomon  Eagle  seemed  to  make  many 
lorget  the  awfulness  of  their  condition.  The  thought 
even  that  they  were  suffering  judgment  was  occupation 
for  their  minds ;  and  if  it  brought  moments  of  terror, 
these  were  followed  by  a  sense  that  after  all  they  were 
in  the  hands  of  a  God  who,  in  the  midst  of  wrath,  re- 
members mercy.  Martha  Steadman  had  got  to  the  outer 
circle  of  the  congregation  before  she  spoke  to  any  one. 
She  was  bent  on  getting  home,  with  all  her  might,  when 
her  attention  was  arrested  by  a  pale-faced  man  standing 
in  a  door- way,  but  scarcely  able  to  sustain  himself  on  his 
feet.  The  plague-spot  was  on  him,  and  a  terrible  dread 
1.  .  .  overw-aehued  him.    He  was  uttering  the  words  of 


Job,  "Have  mercy  upon  me.  O  ye  my  friends.  Havft 
pity  upon  me,  for  the  hand  of  God  hath  touched  me." 

"Take  a  draught  from  this  bottle,"  said  Martha,  pro- 
ducing the  medicine.  The  man  drank  it  greedily;  but 
there  was  a  plague-spot  on  his  mind  as  well  as  on  his 
body. 

"Wrath!  wrath!  wrath!"  he  repeated,  with  all  the 
energy  Le  was  able  to  command. 

"Wrath,  indeed,"  said  Martha;  "but  the  preacher 
whom  you  have  just  heard  is  an  enthusiast.  God  has. 
indeed,  cause  to  be  angry  with  us,  and  we  should  learo 
lessons  by  His  judgments.  He  will  yet  give  us  t^jTb  lo. 
repentance." 

"Enthusiast  or  no  enthusiast,"  said  the  man,  "he 
speaks  the  truth.  My  sins  have  found  me  out,  and  the 
wrath  of  God  is  revealed  against  all  unrighteousness." 

"  Have  you  no  home  ?  "  asked  Martha. 

"Alas  !"  said  the  man,  "I  have  not.  My  house  is  in 
the  next  street,  and  there  lie  dead  in  it  the  bodies  of  my 
wife  and  four  children.  I  stood  by  them  all  as  they 
died,  and  when  the  last  departed  I  came  forth  to  wandc  f 
in  the  streets.  Just  at  that  moment  the  man  passed, 
and  I  heard  his  voice  saying  that  judgment  had  begun, 
for  the  great  day  of  wraih  was  come.  I  thought  of  my 
sins,  and  terror  took  hold  upon  me." 

"  But  with  Him  there  is  mercy  and  forgiveness." 

"  Not  for  me,"  answered  the  plague-stricken  man. 
"My  sins  are  greater  than  I  can  bear;  the  punishment  i&' 
heavy,  but  it  is  just." 

Martha,  by  a  few  words,  gained  his  confidence.  He 
was  able  to  drag  himself  along  the  street  till  they  reached 
her  house.  She  took  him  in,  and  left  him  resting  on  a 
chair  till  she  went  to  see  the  sufferers  for  whom  she  had 
bxought  the  medicine.  She  spent  but  little  time  by  the 
way.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  was  back  to  see  the 
stranrer.  He  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep.  She  sat 
down  by  his  side  and  began  to  conjecture  what  could  be 
the  h^jtory  of  a  man  who  felt  so  terribly  the  arrows  of 
the  jj^lmighty.  As  he  slept  he  seemed  to  dream.  His 
lips  quivered  as  if  he  spoke.  At  last  he  uttered  a  groan, 
whicl:  was  followed  by  the  exclamation,  "My  sins  !  my 
ins ! " 

"  Can  you  find  no  peace  ?"  said  Martha. 

"Peace  ! "  he  answered,  still  half  asleep  and  scarcely 
onscious  of  more  than  that  he  heard  a  voice.  The 
«rord  was  uttered  involuntarily,  as  if  for  a  moment  he- 
had  taken  the  name  for  the  thing  itself.  Then  coming 
out  of  his  sleep  and  looking  Martha  in  the  face,  he  ex- 
claimed, "There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the 
wicked." 

"  But  it  is  written,"  Martha  answered,  "if  the  wicked, 
man  turn  away  from  his  wickedness  and  doeth  that 
which  is  lawful  and  right,  he  shall  save  his  soul  alive." 

"  Good  woman,"  said  the  man,  "  you  have  taken  com- 
passion upon  me,  but  I  am  at  the  gates  of  hell,  and 
must  soon  go  down  to  the  grave.  But  little  that  I  do 
now  can  be  of  any  avail.  I  have  a  secret  to  reveal,  and 
until  it  is  revealed  rest  is  impossible.  I  have  been 
robber,  and  judgment  pursues  me  without  mercy." 

"The  dying  thief  was  a  robber,"  interposed  Martha. 

"But  I  have  added  treachery  to  robbery,"  said  the 
man,  "and  I  was  a  Christian  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 
No  one  that  knew  me  would  have  suspected  me  of  such 
a  crime  as  I  have  committed.  I  shall  reveal  it  to  you.  I 
was  in  a  good  situation  with  a  merchant  in  Lombard 
street  when  the  plague  began.  My  employer  fled  to  the 
country,  but  gave  me  a  year's  wages  until  his  return.  I 
might  have  gone  to  the  country  too.  Had  I  done  so,  J 
would  have  saved  the  lives  of  my  family,  and  this  still 
more  terrible  plague  on  my  soul.  But  the  clergyman  at 
whose  church  I  worshipped  also  determined  to  leave 
the  city.  My  employer  was  his  banker,  and  the  clergy- 
man was  a  trusted  friend  of  my  employer's,  and  knew 
where  the  money  was  concealed.  He  told  me  in  what 
room  I  could  find  it,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  get  to  the 
room.  That  was  easy,  as  I  was  familiar  with  the  house. 
I  found  the  treasure,  and  took,  as  I  was  required  to  do, 
two  hundred  pounds.  With  this  in  my  possession  1 
began  to  think  how  easily  I  might  keep  it :  *  London  is 
deserted,  and  those  who  remain  in  it  are  too  busy  to 
trouble  themselves  about  me.  By  the  time  the  plague 
is  gone,  all  who  know  anything  of  this  money  will  pro- 
bably be  in  another  world.'  And  so  I  kept  the  money 
I  know  not  what  became  of  the  good  minister,  for  hv, 
was  indeed  a  good  man.  His  words  come  often  to  my 
memory,  and  but  for  them  I  might  never  have  felt  the 
^ansi-'.  of  remorse." 


337 


Martha  became  deeply  interested,  and  begged  to  know 
the  sick  man's  name.  ^       ^  t  ii 

"Mv  name,"  he  answered,  "is  Joseph  Jacomb. 

"  What  I"  said  Martha,  "Mr.  Jacomb  that  was  mana- 
ger to  Mr.  Bates  of  Lombard  street?" 

"The  same,"  he  answered,  with  a  faltering  tongue, 
"  and  our  good  minister  was  Mr.  Steadman  of  St.  Mar- 

Martha  Steadman  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  was  silent. 
The  sick  man  fell  back  fainting  in  his  chair.  She  rose 
to  help  him  and,  by  means  of  a  cordial,  he  was  soon  re- 
stored to  consciousness.  -,      n  • 

"lam  dying,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  hell  is  opening 
before  me  " 

"  That  is  but  your  imagination,"  said  Martha  ;  "while 
there  is  life  there  is  hope,  and  it  was  said,  emphatically, 
of  Christ,  'This  Man  receiveth  sinners.'  "  _ 

"Oh,  that  God  would  forgive  me  !"  the  sick  man  ex- 
claimed. Then,  raising  his  eyes  once  more,  he  said, 
"  Would  that  I  could  ask  Mr.  Steadman's  forgiveness, 
and  restore  him  his  treasure  !" 

"  Mr.  Steadman,"  said  Martha  calmly,  "is  gone  to  the 
bosom  of  God.  He  was  unable  to  leave  the  city  for 
want  of  money,  and  was  carried  off  by  the  plague." 

The  sick  man  groaned  deeply. 

"But,"  continued  Martha,  "lam  his  widow,  and  1 
forgive  you,  Mr.  Jacomb  ;  God  has  provided  for  me  as 
He  provides  for  the  ravens,  and  I  am  content  to  rest  on 
His  promise,  that  bread  shall  be  given  and  water  shall 
be  sure.  A  thousand  have  fallen  on  my  right  hand,  and 
ten  thousand  on  my  left,  but  the  pestilence  that  walketh 
in  darkness  has  not  come  nigh  me." 

"  It  is  enough,"  said  the  sick  man,  and  with  an  effort 
he  was  able  to  take  from  his  pocket  the  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  give  them  to  Martha.  '  Now  I  know,"  he 
continued,  "that  verily  there  is  a  God  that  judgeth  the 
earth." 

The  effort  exhausted  his  strength.  He  fell  back  in 
the  chair.  Martha  clasped  his  hands  in  hers  and  asked 
him,  "  Are  you  at  peace  ?"  He  breathed  his  last  as  he 
repeated  faintly  Martha's  word— Peace. 


The  Black  Death. 


The  Skm. 

The  skin  is  the  outer  covering  for  the  body,  and 
protects  the  deeper  tissues.  It  is  also  ah  excreting  and 
ibsorbing  organ,  consisting  of  two  layers,  called  the 
lerma,  or  true  skin,  and  the  epidermis,  or  scarf-skin.  In 
.he  true  skin,  which  lies  beneath  the  scarf-skin,  are 
3mbedded  the  sweat-glands,  hair-follicles,  fat^glands, 
nerves,  bloodvessels  and  lymphatic  glands.  The  scarf- 
skin  forms  simply  a  defensive  covering  to  the  true  skin 
beneath.  It  is  marked  by  a  network  of  furrows  crossing 
each  other,  of  various  size,  being  largest  in  the  flextures 
of  the  joints.  Immediately  between  the  scarf-skin  and 
the  true  skin  is  what  is  called  the  pigment  layer ;  this 
contains  the  cells  which  give  to  the  individual  his  com- 
plexion, whether  black  or  yellow,  brunette  or  blonde. 
In  the  true  skin  are  also  the  papilUe,  which  are  very 
important  little  structures.  They  are  little  eminences, 
and  form  the  principal  part  of  the  organ  of  touch  ;  they 
are  about  1-100  of  an  inch  high,  and  about  1-250  of  an 
inch  broad  at  their  base.  Very  sensitive  to  the  touch 
are  they,  and  especially  numerous  in  the  palms  of  the 
hands  and  the  fingers,  and  the  soles  of  the  feet,  the  lips 
and  tongue. 

The  hair  follicle  is  the  habitation  of  a  hair,  which  it 
nourishes  and  protects.  The  fat  glands  are  very  ne- 
cessary organs  to  the  skin,  containing  the  oily  substances 
which  lubricate  and  soften  the  skin.  They  are  most 
abundant  on  the  scalp,  face,  nose,  mouth  and  external 
ear ;  but  wholly  wanting  in  the  palms  of  the  hands  and 
soles  of  the  feet.  The  largest  fat  gland  is  found  in  the 
eyelid,  called  the  Meibomian  Gland. 

The  sweat  glands  are  the  organs  by  which  a  large 
portion  of  the  watery  and  gaseous  materials  are  ex- 
creted by  the  skin.  They  exist  in  every  part  of  the 
skin.  In  some  parts  they  average  nearly  3.000  to  the 
square  inch,  presenting  on  the  whole  an  evaporating  sur- 
face to  the  body  of  about  two  miles  and  a  half. 

The  skin  everywhere  is  richly  supplied  with  blood 
vessels  and  nerves,  which  give  to  it  nourishment  and 
sensitiveness. 

Because  of  the  intricate  and  wise  construction  of  the 
skin,  therefore,  it  stands  to  reason  that  ^very  individual 
should  be  very  careful  how  the  skin  is  treated.  It  will 
bear  much  abuse,  but  sooner  or  later  the  health  will 
suffer  in  consequence.  The  entire  body  needs  to  be 
rubbed  and  brushed  daily,  and  washed  two  or  three 


BY  J.  J.  WORTENDTKE.   

Happily,  most  of  those  terrible  diseases  of  ancient  { ti^^es  "a  'weekrin  "order  "to''  facilitate  excretion  and  ab 


times,  such  as  the  Bible  leprosy,  the  "black  death 
"red  plague,"  and  "black  tongue,"  are  no  longer  known 
among  men.   The  last  is  thus  recorded  : 

The  first  appearance  in  Europe  of  this  unparalleled 
disease  was  at  Constantinople,  in  1347,  whither  it  was 
brought  from  the  northern  coasts  of  the  Black  Sea.  In 
January,  1348,  it  appeared  in  Germany  and  England ; 
but  it  did  not  break  out  in  that  country  until  August, 
and  it  then  advanced  so  slowly  that  a  period  of  three 
months  elapsed  before  it  reached  London.  The  north 
of  Europe  was  attacked  in  1349,  but  the  pestilence  did 
not  reach  Russia  till  1351.  It  was  highly  contagious, 
and,  as  Hecker  says,  "  the  pestilential  breath  of  the 
sick  who  spat  blood  caused  a  terrible  contagion  far  and 
near ;  for  even  the  vicinity  of  those  who  had  fallen  Ul 
of  the  plague  was  certain  death,  so  that  parents  aban- 
doned their  infected  children,  and  all  the  ties  of  kindred 
were  dissolved."  The  symptoms  of  this  frightful  dis- 
ease were  principally  inflammatory  boils  and  swellings 
of  the  glands,  "such  as  break  out  in  other  febrile  dis- 
eases," and  patches  all  over  the  skin,  whence  it  was 
called  the  black  death."  The  disease  was  also  accom- 
panied by  spitting  or  vomiting  of  blood,  and  those  who 
were  thus  affected  sometimes  died  immediately,  but 
never  lived  more  than  two  days.  Toward  the  end  of 
the  plague  many  lives  were  saved  by  opening  the  boils. 
The  mortality  caused  by  this  pestilence  and  its  effects 
have  now  to  be  adverted  to.  The  population  of  England 
and  Wales  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century 
may  probably  have  been  about  three  or  four  millions,  and 
of  these  there  is  but  little  doubt  that  more  than  one- 
half  died  of  the  pestilence.  Parliament  was  from  time 
to  time  prorogued,  and  proclamations  issued  bearing 
witness  to  its  direful  and  increasing  prevalence.  On 
the  Ist  of  January,  1349,  Parliament  was  prorogued  on 
account  of  the  plague  having  broken  out  in  Westminster. 
On  the  18th  of  June,  1350,  an  important  regulation  rel- 


sorption.  A  person  whose  whole  body  is  well  curried 
daily  is  seldom  ill  with  bad  liver,  or  headache  or  indiges- 
tion, or  sleeplessness ;  and  he  is  always  running  over 
with  good  cheer  and  genial  friendship  ;  nor  will  chapped 
hands  and  face  (the  unwelcome  guests  of  cold  weather) 
give  him  much  cause  for  grief.  Two  miles  and  a  half 
of  pores  to  clean  daily  seems  a  great  undertaking,  but  it 
pays  better  than  to  fee  the  doctor  or  undertaker,  "  " 
once  in  a  lifetime,  because  neglecting  to  do  so. 


The 


Lamartine's  Marriage. 

story  of  the  marriage  of  Lamartine,  the  great 


French  poet  and  statesman,  is  one  of  romantic  interest. 
The  lady  was  of  an  English  family  named  Birch,  and 
very  wealthy.  She  first  fell  in  love  with  the  poet  from 
reading  his  "  Meditations  Poetiques."  She  was  slightly 
past  the  bloom  of  youth,  but  still  young  and  fair.  She 
read  and  re-read  the  "  Meditations,"  and  nursed  the  ten- 
der sentiment  in  secret.  At  length  she  saw  Lamartine 
in  Genoa,  and  her  love  became  a  part  of  her  life.  Not 
long  after  this  she  was  made  acquainted  with  the  fact 
that  the  poet  was  suffering  even  to  unhappiness  from 
the  embarrassed  state  of  his  pecuniary  affairs.  Miss 
Birch  was  not  long  in  deciding  upon  her  course.  She 
would  not  allow  the  happiness  of  a  lifetime  to  slip  from 
her  if  she  could  prevent  it.  She  wrote  to  the  poet  a 
frank  and  womanly  letter,  acknowledging  her  deep  in- 
terest and  profound  respect,  and  offering  him  the  bulk 
of  her  fortune,  if  he  were  willing  to  accept  it.  Of  course 
Lamartine  could  not  but  suspect  the  truth.  Deeply 
^touched  by  her  generosity,  he  called  upon  her,  and 
found  her  to  be  not  only  fair  to  look  upon,  but  a  woman 
jof  a  brilliantly  literary  and  artistic  education.  He  made 
jan  offer  of  his  hand  and  heart,  and  was  promptly  and 


gladly  accepted,  and  in  after  years  Alfonso  de  Lamar- 
ative  to  wages  was  made  "because  a  great  part  of  our  jtin,e  owed  not  more  to  his  wife's  wealth  than  to  her  sus- 
people  is  dead  of  the  plague^"  itaining  love  and  inspiring  enthusiasm. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


338 


Sights  and  Sounds  in  a  Hammock. 

BY  JENNETTE  GIBSON. 

Did  you  ever  in  a  hammock  to  the  sky  upturn  your  face ; 
See  the  raging  storm  clouds  gather  and  the  vivid  lightning's 
chase 

Thro'  the  whelming  gloomy  vapors,  by  the  wakened  west-wind 
blown; 

Hearken  to  the  rolling  thunder  roaring  loudly  thro'  the  dome? 

Note  the  grandly  mournful  music  of  the  wind's  ^olian  harp; 
Now  suppressed  and  now  in  fury,  sweeping  on  in  whirlwind 
dark? 

Watch  the  storm  rise  higher,  blacker,  in  an  awful  solemn  pile; 
As  you  lie  in  silent  wonder  gazing  wrapp'd  in  awe  the  while? 

The  very  air  confused  and  darkened,  by  the  wayward  winds 
unfurl'd, 

And  the  black  clouds  blown  to  bursting,  overhead  in  tumult 
whirl'd? 

See  the  mighty,  struggling  tempest  mass  the  swelling  clouds 
on  high; 

Tossing  pearly  floods  of  crystal— alert  to  leave  an  angry  sky? 
******* 

In  a  breezy  porch  a  hammock  wilefuUy  entices  me 
To  its  luring,  airy  meshes  bj'  the  sounding  briny  sea. 
On  the  beach  the  baffled  waters,  rolling,  foaming,  dash  and 
break; 

Restful  lying,  gently  swinging,  I  am  dreaming  half  awake. 

Wearied  from  long  toilsome  hours  in  the  busy,  crowded  town; 
Shaded  from  the  golden  sun  whose  bright,  tireless  eye  looks 
down 

On  the  hills  and  meadows  sweet,  where  great  drony  cattle  lie; 
O'er  sheltering  trees  where  busy  birds  teach  their  tender  young 
to  fly. 

In  odorous  languor  flowers  droop— meekly  bowing  modest 
heads; 

Life  of  streams  is  drying  up  from  low,  rocky  river  beds; 
A  sultry  hush  rests  on  the  earth,  as  if  in  earnest,  silent  prayer, 
Each  blade  of  grass,  each  thirsty  plant,  were  seeking  its  kind 
Creator's  care — 

To  preserve  its  cherished  life  in  the  happy  growing  world: 
"  Send  water — water  from  the  skies,  ere  our  tender  leaves  be 
curl'd. 

And  lifeless  lie  our  spreading  roots,  buried  in  the  heated  soil  I" 
See,  weary  farmers   seek   the  shade — cease   awhile  from 
onerous  toil. 

But,  oh!  behold  the  tranquil  beauty  of  the  beaming  azure  sky; 
I  behold  but  fleecy  cloudlets,  driven  softly,  floating  by; 
Reclining  here  'mid  earth  and  heaven,  swinging  dozily  at  rest; 
Of  this  leafy  bower  so  fragrant  a  becharmed  and  happy  guest. 

Burning  rays  athwart  the  foliage,  shooting  from  the  blazing 
sun, 

Peer  in  thro'  Virginia  Creeper  when  their  rapid  race  is  run. 
Find  me  in  my  cosy  hammock  fondled  by  a  gentle  breeze. 
Hearkening  to  the  drone  of  insects  and  soft  music  from  the 
trees. 

Soothed  at  length  by  gentle  zephyr  and  the  varied  hum  of 
sound, 

In  old  Morpheus'  arms  enfolded,  I'm  in  peaceful  slumber  bound. 
Slept  one  ne'er  so  sweetly,  soundly— half  hidden  by  the  rust- 
ling leaves; 

Until  suddenly  awakened  by  the  risen  wind  that  grieves. 


Comes  a  threatening  cloud  from  westward,  rising  grandly 
vast  and  deep. 

O'er  the  summer  sky  unfurling  with  tumultuous  sullen  sweep. 
Rattling  wheels  of  volleying  thunder,  crash  across  the  stormy 
sky: 

Crack  the  shadowy  depths  of  darkness,  send  sharp  scathing 
lightning  nigh. 

Potent  elements  are  warring  on  the  earth  and  'mid  the  clouds; 
Comes  a  sound  like  fearful  oattle  in  a  myriad  angry  crowds. 
Stately  trees  fall  rent  asunder— stripped  of  verdure  laden 
branches ; 

Blinding  dust  and  fallen  leaflets,  whirl  aloft  in  airy  dances. 

Driving  down  come  drenching  torrents,  boldly  dashing  over  all; 
Ne'er  was  such  another  tempest  on  this  old  revolving  ball. 
Swift  streams  running,  earth  absorbing,  flowers  drink  refresh- 
ing draughts; 

Validly  plunging,  sweeping  onward,  harkt  the  famished  river 
laughs  I 

Ah,  there's  a  rift  far  over  yonder — honest  Sol  is  peeping  through; 
Sends  a  ray  of  gleaming  sunshine  just  to  say  that  he  is  true. 
Sweet  dame  Nature  smiling  gaily,  in  the  joy  of  being  blest, 
Sees  her  dotted  hills  and  meadows  all  in  freshened  greenness 
dressed. 

Splendid  rainbow  full  of  promise,  disentangles  from  th« 
clouds. 

Glinting  softly,  giving  solace  to  earth's  eager  watching  crowda 
Untrammelled  by  the  fallen  showers,  tinted  clouds  dissolve 
and  flee. 

Vanish  'neath  a  warm  horizon,  bathing  in  a  radiant  sea. 

As  in  nature,  so  in  nations,  hosts  are  rallied  to  the  charge — 
Blessings  brought  thro'  fearful  combat  to  the  helpless  world  at 
large. 

Thus  to  save  must  wage  the  conflict — throb  the  pulses  of  the 
storm. 

Sometimes  to  subdue  an  evil — sometimes  to  purge  out  a  wrong. 


Vegetable  Acids— Oxalic. 

BT  JAS.  p.  DUFFY. 

There  are  six  acids,  familiar  to  the  chemists,  which  on 
account  of  their  being  the  products  of  plants,  are  called 
vegetable  acids.  Their  names  are,  oxalic,  tartaric, 
GALLIC,  CITRIC,  MALIC,  and  TANNIC.  They  are  all,  gen- 
erally speaking,  soluble  in  hot  and  cold  water,  with  the 
exception  of  gallic  acid ;  they  all  possess  a  sour  taste, 
and  with  the  aid  of  heat  may  be  decomposed  into  other 
acids. 

The  first  mentioned  vegetable  acid,  oxalic,  is  generally 
prepared  by  the  manufacturers  of  it  in  the  following 
manner : 

Caustic  potash  and  caustic  soda  are  first  made  into 
a  strong  solution  by  mixing  the  same  with  twice  as  much 
water  as  soda  and  potash.  Saw-dust  is  then  mixed  with 
this  solution  until  the  mixture  is  converted  into  a  thick 
paste.  The  whole  is  then  heated  on  iron  plates.  By 
this  means  the  woody  fibre  is  converted  into  crystals  of 
oxalic  acid,  leaving  the  remainder  as  oxalates  of  sodium 
and  potash. 

For  experimental  purposes,  the  acid  is  best  produced 
in  the  following  manner  : 

Procure  a  glass  flask,  capable  of  holding  a  quart  of 
any  liquid,  in  it  make  a  mixture  of  seven  fluid  ounces 
nitric  acid,  and  one-thirtieth  of  an  ounce  of  starch,  and 
heat  the  whole  very  gently.  Dense  nitric  fumes  will  soon 
arise  from  the  mixture,  which  the  experimenter  should 
be  careful  not  to  breathe.  When  the  fumes  begin  to 
subside,  the  solution  must  be  removed  to  an  evaporating 
dish,  and  evaporated  until  it  only  occupies  one-sixth  of 
its  former  bulk.  The  whole  must  then  be  cooled,  and 
the  oxalic  acid  will  be  obtained  in  the  form  of  transpar- 
ent crystals. 

The  uses  of  oxalic  acid  are  chiefly  confined  to  analy- 
tical purposes,  although  it  is  also  sometimes  used  in 
cleaning  brass  and  copper  articles,  and  in  removing  spots 
of  ink  and  iron  rust  from  white  cloth.  The  latter  use 
may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  experiment : 

Immerse  some  white  cloth  in  writing  ink,  and  allow  it 
to  dry.  Make  a  solution  of  thirty-eight  grains  of  oxalic 
acid  and  two  ounces  of  water,  and  dip  the  cloth  in  the 
solution.  Now,  rinse  the  cloth  in  clear  water,  and  traces 
of  the  ink  will  disappear.  The  cause  of  this  lies  in  the 
fact  that  the  ink  owes  its  color  to  a  tannate  of  iron  ;  the 
acid  destroys  this,  and  forms  with  it  a  chemical  com- 
bination which  the  water  dissolves. 

The  various  other  vegetable  acids,  will  be  taken  up 
I  and  described  in  future  articles. 


A  COVEY  OF  PARTRIDGES. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


341 


PARTRIDGES  AND  QUAILS. 


Partridge  is  the  popular  name  of  the  family  of 
Perdicidm,  which  includes  also  the  quails.  They 
dilfer  from  the  grouse  in  having  the  legs  bare  and  the 
nostrils  protected  by  a  naked  hard  scale  ;  they  are 
also  smaller  in  size,  and  more  numerous  in  species  ; 
tlie  head  seldom  has  a  naked  space  round  the  eyes, 
and  the  sides  of  the  ties  hardly  pectinated  ;  they  arc 
widely  distributed  over  the  globe,  but  the  true  part- 
ridges, or  perdicidce,  have  no  representatives  in 
America.  Great  confusion  exists  in  the  application 
of  the  term  partridge  ;  the  spruce  partridge  is  the 
Canada  grouse,  (tetrao  Canadensis,  Linn) ;  the  part- 
ridge of  New  England  is  the  ruffed  grouse,  {bonasa 
umbellus  Steph.)  ;  the  partridge  of  the  Middle  and 
Southern  States  is  the  quail  {artyx  Yirginianus, 
Bonap.),  and  several  other  quails  are  called  part- 
ridges, as  the  plumed  and  Gambel's  of  California ; 
the  scaled  or  blue,  and  the  Massena  of  the  valley  of 
the  Rio  Grande,  in  Texas  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the 
birds  called  quails  in  Europe  belong  to  the  partridges 
and  to  the  genus  coturnix  (Mohr). 

Few  birds  are  more  solicitous  in  rearing  their 
young  than  the  partridge,  and  many  are  the  strata- 
gems which  the  parents  will  practice  to  draw  off  at- 
tention from  the  brood,  which  by  signal  notes  is 
scattered  or  recalled.  They  devote  themselves  to 
their  little  ones,  run  about  with  them,  teach  them  to 
find  their  favorite  ants'  eggs  and  grubs,  and  should  a 
sportsman  or  a  dog  appear,  the  startled  father-bird 
utters  a  cry  of  warning,  upon  which  the  mother 
hastily  gathers  her  family  together,  and  scrambles 
off  with  them  as  fast  as  she  can,  while  the  father 
gives  pitiful  little  chirps  as  though  he  were  hurt, 
droops  his  wing,  and  flies  limpingly  from  place  to 
place  as  though  wounded.  When  he  thinks  all  is 
safe  he  suddenly  darts  off,  and  joins  his  dear  ones  in 
a  place  of  security.  But  one  kind  of  enemy  he  can 
not  fly  from — this  is  the  falcon-vulture,  or  sparrow- 
hawk.  If  one  appears  the  partridges  appear  struck 
with  terror,  and  never  attempt  to  stir  or  to  hide,  but 
allow  themselves  to  be  killed  without  making  the 
least  resistance.  Seeing  this,  some  people  kill  them 
by  fastening  an  artificial  bird  of  the  kind  to  the  tail 
of  a  kite,  which  is  flown  over  them.  The  frightened 
bird  stop  still,  staring  at  it  while  the  hunters  advance 
and  shoot  them. 

Marwick  says  :  "Once,  in  particular,  I  saw  a  re- 
markable instance  of  solicitude  in  the  old  bird  to 
save  its  young.  As  I  was  hunting  with  a  young 
pointer,  the  dog  ran  on  a  brood  of  very  small  part- 
ridges ;  the  old  bird  cried,  fluttered,  and  ran  trem- 
bling along  just  before  the  dog's  nose,  till  she  had 
drawn  him  to  a  considerable  distance,  when  she  took 
wing  and  flew  still  farther  off,  but  not  out  of  the 
field.  On  this  the  dog  returned  to  me,  near  he 
place  where  the  young  ones  lay  concealed  in  the 
grass.  This,  the  old  bird  no  sooner  perceived  that 
she  flew  back  again  to  us,  settled  just  before  the 
dog's  nose,  and  by  rolling  and  tumbling  about  again, 
drew  off  his  attention  from  the  young,  and  thas* pre- 
served her  brood  a  second  time.  I  have  also  seen 
when  a  kite  has  been  hovering  over  a  covey  of  young 
partridges,  the  old  birds  fly  up  at  the  bird  of  prey 
screaming  and  fighting  with  all  their  might  to  pre- 
serve their  little  ones." 

Selby  mentions  a  well  authenticated  instance,  in 
■which  two  partridges,  in  defense  of  their  brood,  gave 
battle  to  a  carrion  crow,  and  actually  held  the  mis- 
creant till  taken  away  from  them  by  the  spectator  of 
the  scene. 

The  facility  with  which  the  young  secrete  them- 
selves is  most  surprising.  Parker  Gilmore  says  : 
"  Frequently  have  I  got  unexpectedly  into  the  centre 


of  a  family,  when  up  they  would  rise  like  a  flight  ot 
bees,  and  as  rapidly  drop  again  ;  certainly  you  see 
the  exact  spot  on  which  they  have  alighted — that 
tuft  of  grass  you  believe  most  surely  contains  one, 
but  search  as  you  will,  turn  over  carefully  every 
blade,  look  well  about  the  roots — all  is  useless,  foi 
no  fledgling  will  you  discover. 

Except  during  the  breeding  season,  partridges  as 
sociate  in  flocks  or  coveys. 

"  Caught  in  the  meshy  snare,  In  vain  they  beat 
Their  idle  wings,  entangled  more  and  more. 
Nor  on  the  surges  of  tbe  boundless  air, 
Though  borne  triumphant,  are  they  safe  ; 
Glanced  just  and  sudden  from  the  fowler's  eye. 
The  gun  o'ertakes  their  sounding  pinions,  and  again 
Immediate  brings  them  from  the  towering  wing, 
Dead  to  the  ground,  or  drives  them  wide,  dispersed. 
Wounded,  and  whirling  various,  down  the  wind. " 

So  rapid,  however,  is  the  multiplication  of  the 
partridge  as  almost  to  defy  extermination  ;  nor  will 
persecution  drive  it  from  its  haunts.  The  covey  will 
rise,  whirl  about,  and  alight  again  and  again  ;  but 
though  they  may  be  diminished  by  the  gun,  the 
survivors  will  often  continue  in  the  same  turnip- 
field,  or  on  the  same  clover-stubble,  as  pertinaciously 
as  a  mountain  tribe  has  clung  to  their  mountain  fast, 
nesses,  in  a  war  of  extirpation. 

These  birds  feed  early  in  the  morning  and  late  in 
the  evening,  the  covey  resting  during  the  day  among 
the  herbage,  or  basking  on  dry  banks,  or  like  the 
fowl,  dusting  their  plumage  and  cleaning  their 
feathers.  At  night  they  generally  choose  the  middle 
of  a  large  field  as  their  roosting  place,  and  sit  crowded 
together.  The  call  of  the  partridge  is  usually  heard 
before  the  covey  retire  to  rest  ;  they  answer  each 
other,  and  thus  the  stragglers  are  collected. 

On  the  esteem  in  which  this  partridge  is  held  for 
its  flesh  we  need  not  expatiate.    An  old  distich  says? 

"If  partridge  had  the  woodcock's  thigh 
'Twould  be  the  best  bird  ere  did  fly.  " 

Mrs.  Reese  H.  Killian,  of  Honeybrook,  N.  Y.,.  is 
the  proud  owner  of  three   partridges,  who  have 
learned  to  know  her  and  her  husband  so  well  as  to 
have  become  perfectly  tame — a  result  considered  im- 
possible by  many.     These  three  birds  Mrs.  Killian 
has  ^ad  the  care  of  ever  since  they  were  hatched, 
which  was  in  August  last.     All  through  the  winter 
she  fed  and  protected  them,  and  consequently  they 
have  come  to  love  the  hand  that  fed  them.  During 
the  winter  they  always  slept  together  under  the 
stove,  finding  that  the  warmest  place,  and  were  an 
amusing  curiosity  to  the  neighbors  who  came  to  see 
them.      The  hanging  basket  was  also  a  favorite 
roost.      Now  when    spring  has   come  they  fly 
about    the    yard    picking    food    on  rjie  ground 
which  they  would  not  touch  with  their  feet  when 
the  snow  lay  upon  it.    They  watch  their  master 
and  mistress'  movements  about  the  premises  with  eager  eye, 
as  if  they  were  loth  to  lose  sight  of  them.   They  keep  up  a 
constant  whistling,  after    Mordecai,"  who  appears  to  be  their 
cry.   They  don't  seem  to  have  any  desire  to  fly  oS"  and  join 
their  wild  brothers  and  sisters,  but  apparently  consider  their 
company  degrading,  their  own  refined  education  and  bringing 
up  teaching  them  so.  Mrs.  Killian  thinks  she  has  three  pets 
to  be  proud  of,  and  we  agree  with  her.  . 

The  gray  partridge  of  India  is  often  reared  in  captivity  by 
the  natives.  They  admire  its  shrill  cackle  as  much  as  we 
should  the  sweetest  notes  of  a  nightingale;  and,  besides,  it  is 
a  first  rate  fighter,  and  afi"ords  nearly  as  much  diversion  in  that 
way  as  a  game-cock.  It  is  a  hardy  bird,  and  becomes  bold  and 
familiar,  like  the  chuckore,  sparring  at  people's  legs,  and  flying 
at  cats,  dogs  and  children.  It  feeds  on  rice  and  all  kinds  of 
grain  to  which  insects,  especially  while  ants,  should  be  occa- 
sionahy  added,  to  correct  costiveness.  The  pugnacious  dis- 
position of  this  bird  renders  it  one  of  the  easiest  of  all  game 
to  catch,  and  there  is  hardly  a  village  in  the  wilder  parts  of 
Upper  and  Western  Bengal  where  this  amusement  is  not 
carried  on.  For  this  purpose  a  tame  one  is  placed  in  a  small 
cage  covered  with  strong  horsehair  nooses,  and  carried  out  of 
an°evening  or  morning  to  the  jungle.  On  arriving  at  a  likely 
spot  the  fowler  blows  two  or  three  times  upon  the  bird  in  the 
cage,  an  act  which  has  the  invariable  effect  of  rousing  the 


342 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


little  captive  to  fury.  It  answers  every  puff  by  a  shrill  cry. 
and  in  a  moment  or  so  goes  off  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage  and 
defiance,  screaming  and  cackling  challenges  to  all  comers,  in 
which  state  it  is  placed  on  the  ground,  dancing  about  in  its 
cage,  while  the  fowler  retires  behind  some  neighboring  bush 
to  watch  operations.  The  decoy  bird's  calls  have  been 
answered  all  round  the  coppice  by  the  time  its  master  is  hid- 
den, and  ere  long  an  exceedingly  diverting  scene,  which  I 
have  more  than  once  witnessed  in  Singbhoom,  ensues.  One 
by  one  the  wild  cock  birds,  whose  crows  have  been  audible 
nearer  and  nearer,  emerge  from  the  covert,  head  up,  wings 
down,  and  tails  spread,  and,  after  showing  off  in  a  species  of 
war  dance  before  the  cage,  the  nearest  rushes  at  it  with  a 
charge  that  would  send  it  rolling  off  the  scene  were  it  not 
securely  pegged  to  the  ground.  The  bird  witliin  and  the  bird 
without  engage  furiously,  a  la  Pyramus  and  Thisbe— but  with 
kicks  instead  of  kisses— through  the  intervening  wall,  till 
after  a  few  interchanges  of  this  nature,  the  assailant  finds 
himself  fast  by  the  leg  in  one  of  the  nooses.  The  fowler  runs 
out,  detaches  the  captive,  and  retreats  with  it  to  his  ambus- 
cade, whereupon  other  wild  birds,  which  have  been  scared 
away  at  sight  of  the  man,  quickly  reassemble,  and  the  same 
scene  is  enacted  with  another  champion,  and  so  on,  da  capo. 
till  the  whole  are  secured  or  until  the  decoy  bird  has  become 
exhausted  and  sulky. 

The  quail  is  much  smaller  than  the  partridge  proper— but 
resembles  that  bird  in  its  form  and  modes  of  life.  There  are 
about  a  dozen  species  found  in  North  and  Central  America  and 
in  the  West  Indies.  The  common  quail,  or  Bob  White,  {Oryx 
Virginiamis  Bonap.),  is  about  ten  inches  long,  with  an  alar 
extent  of  fifteen ;  the  general  color  above  is  brownish  red, 
especially  on  the  wing  coverts,  tinged  with  gray ;  chin,  throat, 
forehead,  and  line  through  the  eyes  and  along  the  sides  of  the 
neck,  white ;  a  black  band  across  the  top  of  the  head. 

It  takes  to  trees  when  alarmed,  a  flock  dispersing  in  all 
directions  and  afterward  coming  together  at  the  call  of  the 
leader. 

The  males  are  very  pugnacious,  and  in  the  breeding  season 
titter  the  well  known  notes,  "Ah,  Bob  White,"  the  first  syllable 
rather  low,  but  the  others  loud  and  clear ;  by  some  these  notes 
are  thought  to  resemble  "more  wet,"  and  are  therefore  re- 
garded as  omens  of  rainy  weather. 

"Whistles  the  (juail  from  the  covert. 

Whistles  with  all  his  might, 
High  and  shrill,  day  after  day, 
'Children,  tell  me,  what  does  he  say  ?' 
Ginx — (the  little  one,  bold  and  bright, 
Sure  that  he  understands  aright)— 

He  says,  'Bob  White !  Bob  White !' 

"  Calls  the  quail  from  the  cornfield. 

Thick  with  its  stubble  set; 
Misty  rain  clouds  floating  by 
Hide  the  blue  of  the  August  sky, 
'What  does  he  call,  now,  loud  and  plain?' 
Crold  Locks—''  That  is  a  sign  of  rain  1' 

He  calls,  '  More  wet !  more  wet  1' 

"  Pipes  the  quail  from  the  fence-top, 

Perched  there  full  ia  sight. 
Quaint  and  trim,  with  quick,  bright  eye, 
Almost  too  round  and  plump  to  fly. 
Whistling,  calling,  piping  clear, 
'What  do /think  he  says?  My  dear,' 

He  says,  '  Do  right !  do  right !'  " 

Parker  Gil Imore  saye  of  the  common  American  quail:  "Tf 

tastifiable  to  envy  your  neighbors  the  possession  of  anything, 
think  the  sportsman  who  has  killed  this  game  must  often 
have  wished  in  his  heart  that  it  was  abundant  in  England.  In 
my  opinion  there  is  no  bird  more  worthj'  of  attention,  and 
none  deserving  of  the  honor  of  introduction  to  any  land,  than 
the  American  ortyx.  It  weighs  from  eight  to  ten  ounces,  is 
erect  in  its  walk,  very  handsome  in  plumage,  strong  upon  the 
wing,  feeds  principally  upon  grain,  grass-seed,  and  ants,  fre- 
quents indifferently  brush,  timber,  or  open  country,  is  capable 
of  standing  cold,  is  not  quarrelsome  with  other  game,  and  is 
very  prolific,  frequently  hatching  two  broods  in  a  season. 

"  As  a  table  delicacy  I  know  no  greater ;  for  weeks  I  have  con- 
stantly had  them  at  both  breakfast  and  dinner,  still  without 
becoming  satiated,  and  there  are  very  few  varieties  of  game 
could  stand  a  more  severe  test.  Their  note  or  call  is  remark- 
ably melodious,  and  in  the  spring  or  pairing  time,  when  thev 
are  numerous,  you  can  hear  their  sweet  voice  all  day  long,  and 
in  every  direction.  I  have  always  regretted  that  no  one  intro- 
duced this  little  stranger  in  sufficient  quantities  to  gnarantee 
the  experiment  a  fair  trial," 

This  bird  is  universally  scattered  over  the  United  States  east 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  where  cultivation  exists,  although 
most  abundant  in  MaiTland  and  Virginia, 


When  statistics  show  that  a  pig  can  live  thirteen  days  with- 
out food  or  drink,  farmers  are  foolish  to  feed  them  so  often. 
Yes,  sir;  its  a  pig  blunder. 

Lbabn  in  youth,  if  you  can,  that  happiness  is  not  out- 
side, but  inside.  A  good  heart  and  a  clear  conscience 
bring  happiness,  which  no  riches  and  no  circumstances 
&lone  ever  do. 


The  Last  of  the  Incas. 

In  the  course  of  an  extensive  tour  through  the  interior 
of  South  America,  during  the  past  year,  I  visited  Cuzco. 
That  city,  renowned  as  the  capital  of  the  luca  Empire, 
and  the  limit  of  the  conquests  of  Pizarro,  is  among  the 
most  interesting  places  I  have  seen  in  any  part  of  the 
world.  The  extreme  difficulty  of  reaching  it,  owing  to 
its  distance  from  the  coast,  and  the  lofty  chain  of  Andes 
intervening,  appears  to  be  the  chief  reason  that  this 
celebrated  city  is  so  little  known  to  our  country- 
men. It  abounds  in  stupendous  monuments  of  art,  at- 
testing a  civilization  quite  equal,  if  not  superior  to  that 
of  the  Aztecs.  But,  amid  these  remains  of  ancient 
days,  there  exists  a  living  relic  of  the  past,  some  short 
notice  of  whom  may  be  interesting. 

The  venerable  Doctor  Don  Justo  Sahanvauri,  a  canon 
of  the  Cathedral  of  Cuzco,  and  now  more  than  ninety 
years  of  age,  claims  to  be  a  lineal  descendant  in  the  sev- 
enth degree  from  Huyana  Caipac,  the  last  reigning  Inca^ 
and  father  of  the  ill-fated  Atahualpha,  burnt  alive  by 
the  conquerors  in  the  plaza  of  Caxamorca.  The  evi- 
dence of  his  claims  appears  to  me  to  be  conclusive,  so 
that  in  this  man  we  see  the  last  of  the  royal  race  of 
Incas,  as  no  others  of  unmixed  blood  are  known  to  exist. 
He  is  a  man  of  learning,  and  quite  distinguished  in  the 
history  of  his  country — having  personally  received  the 
thanks  of  Bolivar  at  the  close  of  the  war  of  Independ- 
ence for  bis  services  in  the  cause  of  Liberty. 

A  clerical  friend  took  me  to  the  old  man's  house.  We 
found  him  reading  Tasso  in  his  garden ;  a  secluded  spot 
just  under  the  walls  of  the  great  Temple  of  the  Sun, 
where  his  ancestors,  as  High  Priests  of  the  Sun,  ana 
hereditary  Lords  of  Peru,  once  officiated  at  the  altar  in 
the  grand  and  imposing  worship  of  the  "  Children  of  the 
Sun."  He  received  us  very  affably,  and  showed  me 
many  matters  of  interest  about  his  house.  He  conversed 
more  intelligently  than  is  usual  with  Peruvians  of  the 
interior,  concerning  "El  Grande  Republica  del  Norte," 
as  he  called  the  United  States,  and  appeared  much  in- 
terested in  the  slight  sketch  of  our  political  system,, 
which  he  requested  me  to  give  him.  He  had  many 
questions  to  ask :  who  was  President,  and  who  would 
be  the  next  President  ? 

He  is  a  fine  looking  man,  with  a  physiognomy  quite 
different  from  that  of  the  Quecha  Indians  (the  race  peo- 
pling this  part  of  Peru);  having  a  high  forehead,  large, 
regular  features,  and  an  intelligent  eye.  A  paralytic 
stroke  about  two  years  ago  deprived  him  of  the  power 
of  writing,  except  early  in  the  morning,  when  he  can 
sign  his  name. 

His  son  acts  as  his  amanuensis.  He  always  affixes  the 
word  Inca  to  his  name.  The  seal  of  his  letters  bears  the 
arms  granted  by  Charles  V.  to  his  family  in  1544.  The 
original  letters  patent  are  carefully  preserved  in  his 
library. 


A  Pathetic  Incident. 

At  one  of  the  schools  in  St.  Louis,  numbers  of  the 
pupils  were  in  the  habit  of  bringing  luncheon  with  them, 
which  at  noon  they  ate  together.  Among  those  who  did 
hot  go  home  for  dinner,  the  teacher  in  a  particular  room 
noticed  a  little  girl  who  always  sat  looking  wistfully  at 
her  playmates  when  they  went  out  with  their  luncheon, 
but  who  never  brought  any  herself.  The  child  was  neat- 
ly but  very  plainly  clad,  and  the  closest  student  in  school 
hours.  This  odd  action  of  the  child  lasted  for  some 
time  when  one  day  the  teacher  noticed  that  the  little 
thing  had  apparently  brought  her  dinner.  The  noon 
hour  came,  and  the  children  took  their  lunch  as  usual 
and  went  out  to  eat  it,  the  little  girl  referred  to  alone 
remaining  in  the  room,  with  her  dinner  wrapped  up  in  a 
paper  on  the  desk  before  her.  The  teacher  advanced  to 
the  child,  and  asked  her  why  she  did  not  go  out  to  eat 
with  the  rest,  at  the  same  time  putting  out  her  hand 
toward  the  package  on  the  desk.  Quick  as  thought  the 
girl  clasped  her  hands  over  it,  and  exclaimed,  sobbing, 

Don't  touch  it,  teacher ;  and  don't  tell,  please !  it  s 
only  blocks."  And  that  was  a  fact.  Having  no  dinner 
to  bring,  and  being  too  proud  to  reveal  the  poverty  of 
her  family,  the  child  had  carefully  wrapped  up  a  number 
of  small  blocks  in  paper,  and  brought  the  package  to 
present  the  appearance  of  a  lunch.  It  was  nothing — a 
mere  ridiculous  incident  in  school  life ;  but  it  was  suffi- 
cient to  make  older  and  wiser  heads  than  hers  feel  sad. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


343 


Fashions  in  G-reenland. 

To  one  ignorant  of  the  style  of  dress  of  the  Green- 
p,nders  and  the  similarity  of  the  dress  of  both  sexes,  it 
tvould  be  difficult  to  distinguish  the  man  from  the 
Woman.  The  man  combs  his  hair  straight  down  and 
ever  his  forehead,  only  parting  it  sufficiently  to  enable 
him  to  see  directly  ahead  of  him,  while  the  woman 
eombs  her  hair  in  a  long  plait,  forming  it  into  a  knot  on 
top  of  the  head,  which  is  elevated  about  four  inches 
from  the  scalp  and  tied  with  a  strip  of  ribbon,  either  of 
black,  blue,  or  red  color — the  widow  being  distinguished 
by  a  black  ribbon,  the  wife  by  the  blue,  and  the  maiden 
by  the  red  one.  The  complexion  is  coppery,  like  that 
of  the  Indian,  their  hair  black  and  their  nose  flat,  while 
their  cheek-bones  are  broad  and  prominent,  nearly 
hiding  the  nasal  appendage  when  the  profile  is  pre 
sented.  The  kapetab  or  jumper,  with  hood  attachment, 
is  worn  by  both  sexes,  the  hood  of  the  woman's  being 
made  larger,  in  which  to  carry  the  young  babe,  is  of 
sealskin  with  trimmings  of  dogskin.  The  pantaloons 
and  boots  are  also  worn  by  both  sexes,  those  of  the 
women  being  in  most  cases  very  elaborately  and  artis- 
tically trimmed.  The  pantaloons  of  the  women  reach 
only  to  the  knee,  while  the  boots,  made  of  finely  tanned 
sealskin,  nicely  crimped  and  sewed  with  the  sinews  of 
the  deer,  make  them  look  comfortable. 

Carbonic  Acid. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

€akbonio  acid  is  a  transparent,  colorless  gas,  which, 
at  ordinary  temperature,  possesses  a  slightly  acid  taste 
and  smell.  It  is  obtained  from  substances  called  carbon- 
ates, and  among  these  are  marble,  limestone  and  chalk, 
the  acid  being  produced  by  either  subjecting  them  to  the 
influence  of  strong  chemicals,  or  by  strongly  heating 
them. 

Experiment. — Procure  a  wide-mouthed  bottle  with  a 
bent  tube  attached  to  the  cork  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
will  just  enter  the  bottle  about  two  inches,  and  be  long 
enough  and  of  the  requisite  shape  (somewhat  like  the 
figure  7)  to  enter  and  nearly  touch  the  bottom  of  another 
open-mouthed  bottle  known  as  a  battery  jar.  Now  in- 
troduce into  the  bottle  a  quantity  of  either  marble  or 
chalk  in  small  pieces,  but  not  powdered  ;  on  this  pour  a 
little  hydrochloric  acid,  and  add  twice  as  much  water,  so 
as  to  half  fill  the  bottle.  Then  fit  in  the  bent  tube.  The 
acid  will  take  the  lime  away  from  the  marble,  and  the 
gas  will  pass  into  and  fill  the  jar.  The  gas  is  very  heavy 
and  will  not  escape  until  the  jar  is  full.  At  this  time  a 
piece  of  card  or  stifE  paper  may  be  placed  over  the  ves- 
sel to  prevent  the  action  of  the  currents  of  air. 

As  the  acid  is  the  product  of  the  combustion  of  the 
carbon  present  in  the  chalk  or  marble,  it  is  therefore  in- 
combustible, and  is  also  incapable  of  supporting  com- 
bustion and  animal  life.  The  first  fact  may  be  proved 
by  dipping  a  lighted  taper  in  the  jar,  when  it  will  be  im- 
mediately extinguished.  That  carbonic  acid  is  produced 
from  the  combustion  of  charcoal  is  obvious ;  and  the 
fact  that  its  burning  in  a  close  room  has  been  used  for 
suicidal  purposes,  is  sufficient  proof  of  the  fact  that  car- 
bonic acid  is  incapable  of  supporting  animal  life. 

It  is  soluble  in  water,  but  increased  solubility  is  pre- 
vented when  it  is  subjected  to  pressure.  Water  thus 
surcharged  with  it  possesses  an  agreeable  taste,  effer- 
vesces briskly  when  the  pressure  is  removed,  and  is  sold 
under  the  name  of  soda  water,  though  in  reality  it  does 
not  possess  or  contain  any  soda.  Being  an  exceedingly 
weak  acid,  it  is  produced  during  the  decay  of  all  animal 
and  vegetable  substances.  During  fermentation  it  is 
evolved  in  large  quantities,  and  it  is  continually  given 
off  during  the  breathing  of  animals. 

Heroism  is  rarely  understood  to  be  simply  uncomprc- 
mised  duty.  Heroism  which  is  not  duty  is  but  a  dream 
of  the  dark  ages.  Duty  that  is  not  performed  with  the 
spirit  of  a  hero  is  but  the  mortar  and  brick  of  hard 
bondage.  In  the  daily  walks  of  life,  unseen  and  unad- 
mired,  there  may  exist  the  truest  heroic  elements,  and 
aU  may  find,  if  they  dare  choose,  a  glorious  life  and 
grave  in  the  sphere  of  commonplace  duty. 

Turtles  dig  holes  in  the  sea  shore  and  bury  their  eggs, 
covering  them  up  to  be  hatched  by  the  sun.  Lobsters 
are  very  pugnacious,  and  fight  severe  battles.  If  they 
lose  a  claw  another  grows  out. 


Early  Marriages. 

BY  ROSA  V.  RALSTON. 

<  The  universal  idea  that  one  should  always  embrace 
the  first  opportunity  to  engage  in  anything  desirable, 
does  not  hold  good  as  regards  marriage.  We  can  but 
note  with  regret  the  extremely  early  age  at  which  the 
obligations  of  matrimony  are  assumed  by  some  of  the 
young  people  of  the  present  age.  Scarcely  have  they 
entered  the  threshold  of  manhood  and  womanhood 
before  they  launch  their  craft  out  into  the  broad 
sea  of  life,  where  it  is  hard  to  steer  aright  at  best,  and 
with  the  increasing  cares  of  a  household,  begin  their 
career  with  no  guide  but  ignorance  and  no  helmsman 
but  inexperience.  Just  at  this  age  when  their  characters 
are  being  formed,  and  correct  views  of  the  philosophy 
of  life  are  being  imbibed,  which  is  necessarily  a  slow 
process,  it  is  a  great  error  to  crowd  the  mind  with  the 
altogether  new  responsibilities  of  husband  and  wife. 
They  know  nothing  of  the  foibles  and  follies  and 
variability  of  human  nature.  And  without  this  knowl- 
edge, if  they  have  gone  through  the  entire  course  of 
book  cramming  in  our  schools  and  colleges,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  either  should  know  how  to  bear  with  the 
weakness  of  the  other,  or  to  analyze  the  dispositions  of 
their  offspring,  and  train  and  cultivate  the  infant  mind 
as  it  gradually  unfolds  itself.  They  are  apt  to  view  life 
through  the  rose-tinted  lens  of  the  nui'sery,  where  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  have  every  desii^  gratified,  and 
some  one  to  shield  them  from  the  coldness  of  the 
world ;  so  it  seems  harder  for  them  to  practice  self% 
denial  and  to  think  and  act  for  themselves. 

If  the  husband  has  arrived  at  maturity,  and  the  wife 
be  his  jurior  by  several  years,  the  disadvantage  i^ 
doubly  on  her  side.  Besides  her  own  inexperience  to 
combat,  she  has  the  exactness  and  precision  of  his  more 
mature  judgment  to  counteract.  It  rarely  happens  that 
a  man  regards  the  opinion  of  a  child-wife  after  thq 
romance  of  matrimony  has  worn  off.  Once  impressed 
with  her  lack  of  knowledge,  he  is  apt  to  go  through, 
life  with  the  impression,  no  matter  what  may  be  the 
subsequent  increase  of  her  store  from  experience  and 
observation.  At  first  she  is  a  toy,  a  petted  plaything, 
then  a  mere  drudge,  but  never  a  helpmeet  and  bosom 
companion  npon  whom  he  can  always  rely,  and  of  whom 
he  can  seek  counsel  in  time  of  need.  The  estimation 
which  a  husband  puts  upon  the  intrinsic  worth  of  a 
wife  between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty-five  is  as 
one  to  two  according  as  the  years  increase.  When  he 
marries  her  in  the  full  bloom  of  her  maturity,  he  is 
never  fearful  that  she  will  commit  some  egregious 
blunder  through  sheer  ignorance,  or  that  she  will,  for 
want  of  a  little  care  and  attention,  overwhelm  him  with 
a  sea  of  troubles  and  difficulties.  It  might  therefore, 
be  safely  asserted  that  one-half  of  the  ill-formed  unions 
now  existing  is  the  result  of  the  extreme  haste  of  young 
people  to  get  married  at  an  age  when  they  are  entirely 
incapable  of  choosing  a  companion  for  life. 


The  Bell  Family. 

Members  of  this  family  are  now  found  and  used  In 
every  civilized  country  ;  in  cities,  towns,  churches,  pris- 
ons, palaces,  hotels,  and  on  board  of  every  ship.  They 
vary  in  stature,  bulk  and  speech  ;  there  is  the  dwarf, 
with  its  little,  tinkling  voice,  and  the  giant,  v/ith  its  loud 
tones,  that  would  nearly  stun  you.  Their  employments 
also  are  varied — they  call  people  to  church,  ring  merrily 
at  marriages,  at  Christmas,  and  other  joyful  times ; 
sound  mournfully  at  funerals,  summon  people  to  rail- 
way trains,  announce  the  arrival  of  visitors,  and  are  often 
rung  impatiently  by  masters  and  mistresses  to  call  their 
servants.  Bells  were  first  heard  of  in  the  Book  of  Ex- 
odus ;  they  were  made  of  gold,  and  were  very  small,  they 
were  fastened  to  the  blue  vestment  which  the  high  priest 
wore  when  attending  to  religious  duties.  The  Romans 
put  bells  on  their  sheep  and  horses,  which  was  first  done 
to  frighten  away  wild  beasts  and  to  enable  the  owners  to 
find  them  more  easily  when  they  wandered  away.  It 
was  not  until  this  century  that  bell-hanging  was  intro- 
duced into  the  rooms  of  houses.  It  is  supposed  that  long 
before  bells  were  known  in  Europe  they  wei-e  used  in 
Hindoo  temples  for  the  purpose  of  frightening  away 
evil  spirits.  It  is  believed  that  Paulinus,  Bishop  of  Nola, 
in  Campania,  first  invented  bells  in  the  year  400  ;  they 
were  first  used  in  churches  in  A.  D.  900. 


344 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


COQUETTE'S  BOSE. 

BY  KEA. 

We  two  have  spent  some  happy  days 

By  brooklet,  stream,  and  fountain;  • 
We  two  have  trodden  rocky  ways, 

And  climbed  a  misty  mountain. 
And  we  have  whispered  soft  and  low 

Many  a  time  together, 
And  thought  it  very  sweet  to  go 

And  seek  for  fern  and  heather. 
And  once  you  found  a  pale  white  rose— 

I  shall  forget  it  never— 
And  said  some  words  my  heart  well  knows, 

For  ever  and  for  ever. 

II. 

I  used  to  think  you  very  fair. 

And  oh!  so  very  simple, 
Because  you  had  a  childlike  air 

And  such  a  saucy  dimple ! 
I  used  to  think  you  loved  the  birds 

And  lived  among  the  flowers, 
And  that  you  meant  the  whispered  words 

You  said  in  twilight  hours. 
And  oh!  I  thought  you  would  be  true, 

Although  you  were  so  never; 
And  yet  I  will  be  true  to  you 

For  ever  and  for  ever. 

III. 

I  wonder  if  you  quite  forget 

The  days  we  spent  together, 
Or  if  you  think  with  vague  regret 

Of  tangled  grass  and  heather. 
I  wonder  if  your  eyes  are  still 

As  blue  as  when  we  parted — 
I  eaw  them  turn  away  and  fill. 

And  thought  you  broken-hearted. 
Ah  well!  you  were  a  sad  coquette, 

But  I'll  forget  you  never; 
I'll  keep  your  rose  ('tis  treasured  yet) 

For  ever  and  for  ever. 

Everyone  should  know  that  hot  water  will  restore 
cut  flowers  that  are  faded  by  being  worn  on  the  dress 
or  carried  in  the  hand.  Cut  half  an  inch  from  the  end 
of  the  stem,  and  put  it  directly  into  boiling  water  ;  the 
petals  will  smooth  and  resume  their  beauty  in  a  few 
minutes.  Colored  flowers  will  revive  most  perfectly, 
for  white  flowers  are  inclined  to  curl  and  turn  yellow. 
The  thickest  textured  flowers  will  be  restored  the  most 
wonderfully.  Flowers  will  keep  fresh  after  this  treat- 
ment almost  as  long  they  would  have  done  if  freshly 
gathered. 


French  and  English  Manners. 

A  number  of  years  ago,  two  Scotch  ladies  paid  a  visit 
to  Paris,  accompanied  by  their  brother,  whose  business 
led  him  to  go  thither  every  year.  He  was  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  several  Parisian  families,  but,  not  speak- 
ing French  fluently,  he  had  little  domestic  intercourse 

with  them.    The  two  Misses  D  ,  on  their  arrival, 

expected  that  their  brother's  acquaintances  would  call 
on  them,  as  they  had  been  aware  of  their  arrival ;  but 
not  a  soul  came  near  them.  They  did  not  know  that  in 
France  the  etiquette  is  for  the  stranger  to  call  first— 
precisely  the  reverse  of  what  is  the  practice  in  England ; 
besides  which,  they  were  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  the 
French  generally  do  not  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of 
foreigners,  and  rarely  give  them  invitations  to  their 
houses. 

Receiving  no  attentions,  the  ladies  found  Paris  to  be 
rather  dull,  their  only  amusement  being  sight-seeing. 
One  day,  walking  with  their  brother  in  the  Champs- 
Elysees,  he  introduced  them  to  a  lady  whom  they 
chanced  to  meet.  Taking  pity  on  their  isolation,  she 
invited  them  to  dine  with  her  on  the  following  day.  The 
lady  carved  small  pieces  of  each  dish,  and  put  them  on 
a  plate  with  a  fork,  which  was  handed  round  to  each 
guest  to  help  themselves.  The  Scotch  ladies,  accustomed 
to  eat  potatoes  with  every  dish,  were  puzzled  to  find 
none  forthcoming.  After  the  meat,  came  a  dish  of  green 
peas,  and  the  salad.  The  French  use  the  same  knife 
and  fork  for  every  dish,  and  keep  them  when  their  plates 

are  changed ;  and  the  Misses  D  were  horrified  to  see 

that  the  servant  who  took  their  plates,  coolly  put  their 
knife  and  fork  on  to  the  cloth  beside  them,  and  did  not 
give  them  a  clean  one  until  the  dessert  was  served.  They 
were  greatly  perplexed  by  the  variety  of  dishes  served, 
the  absence  of  potatoes,  and  the  arrival  of  green  peas 
after  the  meat  had  been  taken  away  I  The  dinner  was 
good,  but  the  oddity  of  the  arrangement  was  incompre- 
hensible. It  was  a  violation  of  all  ordinary  conceptions. 
After  dinner  the  gentlemen  led  the  ladies  back  to  the 
drawing  room,  and  cafe  noir  was  served.  Strong  black 
coffee,  without  milk  or  cream,  was  not  very  palatable  to 
the  Scotch  ladies,  though  they  found  the  liqueurs  which 
succeeded  it — creme  de  mdka  and  creme  de  vanille — excel- 
lent. 

After  sitting  chatting  for  about  half  an  hour,  the  host- 
ess astonished  the  Misses  D         by  announcing  her 

intention  of  going  for  a  walk,  it  being  Summer  and  the 
days  long.  The  Scotch  ladies  were  too  shy  and  too  little 
accustomed  to  converse  in  French  to  ask  for  explana- 
tions, but  they  thought  the  lady  very  rude  to  turn  them 
out  of  her  house  in  this  cool  way ;  they  had  not  ordered 
their  carriage  until  lOX,  so  they  begged  her  to  allow 
her  servants  to  fetch  one  of  them,  and  returned  to  their 
hotel  marveling  at  the  unmannerly  impudence  of  French 
ladies. 

In  France,  there  are  generally  only  two  meals  a  day ; 
dejeuner,  consisting  of  hot  or  cold  meat,  vegetables,  des- 
sert, wine,  concluding  with  a  cup  of  cafe  au  lait;  this  is 
usually  served  about  10  or  11,  and  there  is  no  other  meal 
untQ  dinner,  about  7.  Some  people  have  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  a  roll  brought  to  them  in  their  rooms  early  in  the 
morning,  but  this  is  by  no  means  general.  The  two 
Scotch  ladies  returned  home  with  a  poor  opinion  of 
French  people  and  French  manners ;  the  truth  being 
that  they  made  no  allowance  for  a  perfectly  agreeable 
state  of  things  different  from  that  to  which  they  had 
been  accustomed.  

Franklin's  Simple  Language. 

Tradition  has  it,  that  when  Benjamin  Franklin  was  a 
lad,  he  began  to  study  philosophy,  and  soon  began  ap- 
plying technical  names  to  common  objects.  One  even- 
ing when  he  mentioned  to  his  father  that  he  had  swal- 
lowed some  acephalous  mollusks,  the  old  man  was  much 
alarmed,  and  suddenly  seizing  him,  called  loudly  for 
help.  Mrs.  Franklin  came  with  warm  water,  and  the 
hired  man  inished  in  with  the  garden  pump.  They 
forced  half  a  gallon  down  Benjamin's  throat,  then  held 
him  by  the  heels  over  the  edge  of  the  porch  and  shook  him, 
while  the  old  man  said  :  ''If  we  don't  get  them  things 
out  of  Benny  he  will  be  pizened,  sure."  When  they 
were  out,  and  Benjamin  explained  that  the  articles  eaten 
were  oysters,  he  received  a  whipping  for  frightening 
his  parents.  He  then  formed  a  resolution  to  ever  after- 
ward convey  his  thoughts  in  the  simplest  language 
possible. 


THE  GROJVING  WORLD. 


345 


The  Last  Discovery. 

There  really  seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  marvels  of 
nature.  The  last  one  which  turned  up  is  called  "the 
living  drill."  It  is  a  worm,  as  big  around  as  a  pipe-stem, 
and  about  five  inches  long,  which  bores  into  the  hardest 
rock  with  surprising  facDity.    So  far  as  yet  heard  from, 

the  living  drill"  is  a  native  of  Berks  County,  Pennsyl- 
vania. It  is  reported  that  it  has  long  been  known  to  the 
people  of  that  county,  but  they,  good,  honest  souls, 
have  never  considered  it  of  any  account.  But  at  last  the 
eye  of  science  has  lighted  upon  this  iron-clad  worm,  anJ 
it  now  comes  to  the  front.  If  it  can  only  be  raised  in 
large  numbers,  it  is  thought  by  some  enthusiastic  per- 
sons, that  it  may  drive  patent  drills  out  of  the  market. 
The  patentees  of  drills  must  be  looked  after,  or  they 
may  take  steps  to  extinguish  this  vermin  which  threat- 
ens to  bring  their  inventions  to  naught. 

When  we  think  of  the  Darwinian  theory,  and  "  the 
survival  of  the  fittest,"  and  the  "doctrine  of  pro- 
gression," the  imagination  is  dazed  at  the  possibilities 
which  this  "  living  drill"  foreshadows.  Who  knows  but 
what  we  may  have  these  creatures  developed  to  the  size 
of  anacondas,  with  a  boring  power  which  might  honey- 
comb the  earth  itself  ?  

Farmers'  Life  in  "Winter- 

Probably  no  one  of  the  industrial  classes  has  been  so 
directly,  and  we  may  say  disastrously,  influenced  by 
modern  innovations  and  changes  as  farmers,  and  this 
relates  specially  to  winter  life  and  pursuits  of  this  class. 
The  active  work  of  farmers  and  their  families  was  not 
in  any  degree  suspended  in  winter  until  within  a  period 
of  a  third  of  a  century.  Indeed,  the  hardest  labor  of 
the  year  was  performed  by  them  in  cold  weather ;  they 
no  more  thought  of  housing  themselves  when  the  snows 
came  than  of  living  by  begging  or  stealing.  The  country 
was  comparatively  new,  and  there  were  clearings  to  be 
made,  logs  to  be  cut,  wood  to  be  hauled,  stone  walls  to 
be  built  (for  many  of  our  common  field  walls  were  put 
dp  in  the  dead  of  winter) ;  the  ways  were  to  be  kept 
clear  of  snow  obstructions  ;  corn  was  to  be  shelled  and 
taken  long  distances  to  the  mill ;  the  cows,  oxen,  horses, 
and  sheep  were  to  be  fed,  and  the  pigs  looked  after. 

There  were  no  idle  hours  for  the  farmers  of  a  gene- 
ration ago  in  winter  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the 
women  and  children  in-doors.  All  was  hurry  in  the 
kitchen  from  early  daylight  to  sunset ;  and  when  the 
evening  darkness  came  on,  the  knitting,  spinning,  darn- 
ing, and  patching  continued  until  eight  or  nine  o'clock, 
when  all  went  tired  to  bed.  The  clothing  worn  by  the 
family  was  of  domestic  make,  fabrics  of  linen  as  well  as 
of  wool.  The  wool  was  taken  from  the  backs  of  the 
sheep,  scoured,  carded,  spun,  woven,  and  dyed,  on  the 
farm  premises.  The  bark  of  the  butternut  afforded  a 
favorite  tint  of  yellow-brown  ;  and  chipped  logwood  and 
copperas,  bought  of  the  distant  grocer,  gave  the  inky 
black  suited  to  garments  for  Sunday  use.  The  hum  of 
industry  never  ceased  in  the  dwellings  of  the  earlier 
race  of  farmers,  except  at  night  and  on  "Lord's  Day." 
And  they  were  happy,  healthy,  contented ;  but  little 
money  was  needed,  they  had  few  artifical  wants,  and 
their  ambition  was  confined  to  the  narrow  limits  of  their 
homesteads. 

But  a  great  change  has  occurred,  and  now  farmers 
have  become,  so  far  as  winter  life  is  concerned,  a  kind 
of  hibernating  animal,  like  the  bears  and  frogs  in  the 
woods  and  marshes.  Coal  has  taken  the  place  of  wood 
to  a  large  extent  even  in  the  country,  so  there  is  little 
chopping  to  be  done  ;  there  are  no  walls  to  be  built,  no 
heavy  timber  to  haul,  but  little  com  to  husk  or  shell, 
few  sheep  and  cows  to  feed,  and  but  little  marketing  to 
do.  When  the  first  snow-storm  spreads  its  white  mantle 
over  the  face  of  mother  earth,  all  is  hushed  and  silent 
around  most  of  our  farm  homesteads.  The  crowing  of 
a  solitary  cock,  perched  upon  the  barnyard  fence,  seems 
to  be  almost  a  painful  intrusion  upon  the  general  silence. 
As  regards  the  family,  the  boys  are  not  seen  around  the 
chopping-block,  or  on  the  hay-mow ;  the  girls  are  sel- 
dom seen  at  the  windows  with  their  knitting  work,  or  in 
the  snow  path  leading  to  the  bam,  with  milk-pail  in 
hand.  The  boys  are  away  at  school,  or  serving  as 
clerks  in  some  city  store  ;  the  girls,  if  at  home,  sit  list- 
lessly about  the  red-hot  parlor  stove,  disconted,  lonely, 
with  "nothing  to  do."  And  really,  there  is  very  little 
they  can  do  ;  there  is  no  wool  to  card  or  spin,  no  flax  to 


run  into  threads,  no  industrial  labor  that  will  give  them 
even  a  small  retum  in  ready  money.  The  large  factories 
do  all  the  spinning  and  weaving,  and  make  all  the  bon- 
nets, stockings,  and  under  and  outer  garments ;  and 
willing  hands  in  isolated  homes  find  no  remunerative 
employment.  The  great  want  of  the  age  is  some  indus- 
trial labor  which  can  be  performed  at  farm  homesteads, 
and  in  the  dwellings  of  the  poor,  so  that  a  little  money 
can  be  eamed  at  hwne.  In  the  progress  of  events,  we 
have  the  expectation  that  some  new  avenues  of  industry 
will  be  opened  in  this  direction,  and  when  this  occurs 
1  a  blessing  will  rest  upon  thousands  of  happy  homes. 

The  discouraged  state  in  which  large  numbers  of  our 
farmers  live  is  not  favorable  to  health  or  happiness  ; 
neither  is  it  favorable  to  success  in  any  direction.  Win- 
ter in  the  country,  in  New  England  and  the  other 
Northern  States,  is  really  quite  a  severe  ordeal  to  pass 
through  ;  but  it  can  be  made  a  time  for  mind  improve- 
ment, and  also  a  time  of  preparation  for  the  active 
labors  of  the  summer.  Every  good  and  useful  paper  or 
book  a  farmer  reads  is  an  acquisition,  the  value  of 
which  cannot  be  stated  in  dollars  and  cents.  Winter  is 
the  time  to  improve  the  intellect,  the  time  to  lay  up 
those  stores  of  knowledge  which  will  serve  in  old  age, 
when  the  eyes  are  dim  and  the  hearing  impaired,  as  food 
for  thought  and  meditation.  In  the  altered  condition  of 
things  which  prevails  in  this  age,  farmers  must  seek  new 
modes  of  occupation  in  winter. 


Salutations. 

The  Hebrew  salutation  was  "Peace  1"  and  the  Greeks, 
"Eejoice!"  The  moderns  use  the  form  "What  doest 
thou  ?"  In  Germany,  "  How  do  you  find  yourself?"  and 
in  some  parts  of  the  country  they  invariably  kiss  the 
hands  of  the  ladies  of  their  acquaintance  with  whom 
they  meet.  In  Spain,  "How  goes  it?"  and  Spanish 
grandees  wear  their  hats  in  the  presence  of  the 
sovereign,  to  show  they  are  not  so  much  subjected  to 
him  as  the  rest  of  the  nation.  When  the  royal  carriage 
passes  it  is  the  rule  to  throw  open  the  cloak,  to  show 
that  the  person  is  unarmed.  In  the  West  Indies  the  ne- 
groes say  "  Have  you  had  a  good  sleep?"  The  Pelew 
Islanders  seize  the  foot  of  the  person  they  desire  to 
salute,  and  rub  their  faces  with  it ;  and  New  Guinea 
people  place  on  their  heads  leaves  of  trees  as  emblems 
of  peace  and  friendship.  In  the  sickly  districts  of  Egypt, 
where  fevers  are  common  and  dangerous,  they  salute  by 
saying,  "  How  goes  the  perspiration  ?"  "  Do  you  sweat 
copiously  ?"  "  Is  it  well  with  you  ?"  and  the  inhabitants 
kiss  the  back  of  a  superior's  hand,  and,  as  an  extra 
civility,  the  palm  also.  Chinese  salutations  are  very 
peculiar.  Of  equals  they  inquire,  "  Have  you  eaten 
your  rice  ?"  "Is  your  stomach  in  order  ?"  and  "  Thanks 
to  your  abundant  felicity."  The  Turks  cross  their  hands, 
place  them  on  their  breasts,  and  bow,  exclaiming  "  Be 
under  the  care  of  God."  "Forget  me  not  in  thy  prayers." 
"Thy  visits  are  as  rare  as  fine  days  1"  an  ancient  greet- 
ing, as  it  is  by  no  means  applicable  to  their  present 
country.  The  Romans,  in  ancient  times,  exclaimed, 
"  What  doest  thou  ?"  "  Be  strong,"  or  "  Be  healthy," 
when  it  was  customary  to  take  children  up  by  the  ears 
and  kiss  them.  Italians,  on  meeting,  kiss  the  hands  of 
ladies  to  whom  they  are  related,  with  the  strange  in- 
quiry, "  How  does  she  stand  ?"  Persians  salute  by  in- 
clining neck  over  neck,  and  then  cheek  to  cheek,  with 
the  extravagant  greeting,  "  Is  thy  exalted  high  position 
good  ?"  "  May  thy  shadow  never  be  less,"  and  "  Peace 
be  upon  thee."  In  Poland,  the  inhabitants  bow  to  the 
tcround,  with  the  significant  inquiry,  "Art  thou  gay  ?" 
or  "  How  hast  thou  thyself  ?"  Russian  ladies  permit 
not  only  their  hands  but  foreheads  to  be  kissed  by 
friendSo  The  men  salute  by  inquiring  "  How  do  you 
live  on  ?"  "  Be  well,"  and  a  common  exclamation, 
which  means  literally,  "  God  be  with  you,"  has  degene- 
rated of  late  years,  into  the  opposite — "Devil  take 
you  1"  The  Hollanders,  with  their  proverbial  love  of 
good  living,  salute  their  friends  by  asking,  "How  do 
you  fare?"  "Have  you  had  a  good  dinner?"  Lap- 
landers, when  they  meet  on  the  ice,  press  their  noses 
firmly  together.  Bengalese  call  themselves  the  "most 
humble  slaves"  of  those  they  wish  to  salute.  Bohemians 
kiss  the  garments  of  persons  whom  they  wish  to  honor. 
Siamese  prostrate  themselves  before  superiors,  when 
a  servant  examines  whether  they  have  been  eating 
anything  offensive.  H  so,  they  are  kicked  out  •-  if  not 
they  are  picked  up. 


346 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Interest  and  Perseverance. 

For  success  is  every  human  being  striving.  "How 
shall  it  be  reached  ?"  is  the  deepest  problem  of  each 
man's  life.  But  the  grandest  problems  are  ever  envel- 
oped in  the  deepest  mystery;  and  the  true  answer  of 
this  question  will  lead  us  to  earth's  most  coveted  places. 
Man  sees  thousands  above  him  who  have  already  reached 
the  goal  he  hopes  to  attain.  He  may  endeavor  to  look 
back  upon  their  foot-prints  ;  and  tbough  he  sees  many 
of  their  helps  and  hindrances,  he  can  not  know  of  the 
silent  inner  struggles  of  these  lives,  or  of  the  most  cir- 
cuitous windings  of  their  pathways.  Could  he  know,  it 
would  be  no  criterion  by  which  to  guide  his  footsteps. 
For  each  one  of  us  has  an  obstacle  to  surmount,  unlik 
any  ever  before  existing ;  and  not  only  has  he  a  different 
hindrance  given,  but  he  has  to  help  him  something 
whose  counterpart  no  one  else  will  ever  possess. 

Then  it  must  follow  that  each  one  will  reach  success 
by  a  different  road.  But  there  are  certain  things  which 
every  one  must  attain,  no  matter  how  wide  a  chasm  may 
separate  his  ideal  good  from  that  of  another.  And  as 
the  rarest  treasures  are  ever  guarded  by  one  lock,  and 
then  another,  and  often  others  still,  so  is  the  road  to 
success  guarded  from  all  of  earth's  sons  who  do  not 
possess  both  interest  in  their  work  and  perseverance  to 
continue. 

No  person  can  rightly  commence  a  work  in  which  he 
feels  no  interest.  And  we  could  not  desire  him  to  con- 
tinue in  that  which  was  not  rightly  commenced.  There- 
fore interest  is  ever  the  first  cause  in  arousing  men  to 
successful  labor.  None  of  the  great  reformations  of  the 
past  that  have  uprooted  evils  standing  since  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world,  could  have  been  achieved  had  they 
failed  to  awaken  the  interest  of  the  people.  In  looking 
back  upon  the  world's  history,  we  find  recorded  the 
names  of  many  measures,  brought  before  its  several 
nations,  which  we  feel,  had  they  been  successful,  would 
have  been  the  means  of  arousing  the  people  to  a  higher 
standard  of  worth.  As  we  ask  ourselves,  "Why  should 
this  great  and  grand  scheme  meet  with  so  ignominious 
a  failure?"  we  can  truly  answer,  because  its  coadjutors 
awakened  no  interest  in  the  minds  of  others. 

Would  Columbus  ever  have  succeeded  in  discovering 
the  New  World  had  he  not  felt  that  his  scheme  was 
among  the  grandest  that  ever  entered  man's  mind  ?  And 
could  Europe's  sovereigns  with  him  have  seen  its  great- 
ness, he  would  not  have  waited  long  years  for  a  fleet  in 
which  to  cross  the  Atlantic.  In  whatever  cause  we  may 
be  laboring,  those  who  work  with  the  greatest  interest, 
other  things  being  equal,  are  the  most  successful. 

But  interest  without  perseverance  will  gain  for  us  no 
victories.  How  many  young  people  choose  for  their 
life-work  that  for  which  they  have  much  talent !  They 
work  energetically  and  faithfully  but  for  a  short  time, 
and  then  because  success  does  not  crown  their  first  effort 
—because  they  meet  what  men  must  inevitably  meet, 
obstacles— because  the  world  will  not  give  homage  to 
those  whose  worth  is  untried,  they  commence  some 
other  work  with  as  great  interest  as  before,  and  with  as 
little  perseverance,  and  the  results  of  the  second  are  but 
the  results  of  the  first.  Perseverance  requires  not  only 
unceasing  labor^  but  enduring  patience.  We  must  work 
expecting  to  wait,  it  may  be  years,  for  any  degree  of 
success.    If  the  first  effort  be  unsuccessful,  how  much 

greater  is  the  need  that  we  lay  not  down  our  vigilance, 
ut  give  the  undivided  powers  of  our  being  to  the  second 
attempt.  Even  though  some  avenging  god  may  seem  to 
follow  our  footsteps,  and  endeavor  to  foil  every  plan, 
shall  we  give  up  ?  No !  let  us  say  we  loill  conquer ;  and 
the  greater  the  number  of  obstacles  overcome,  the 
prouder,  the  more  glorious  the  victory. 

Those  who  lack  perseverance  do  not  continue  long  in 
any  one  work;  and  constant  change  will  cause  the  wealth 
or  popularity  which  they  seek,  to  deem  ever  but  just  a 
little  beyond  their  reach.  It  will  aver  be  beyond,  never 
gained.  But  to  what  success  may  interest  and  persever- 
ance lead  us  !  Then  realizing  what  strong  weapons  for 
good  are  interest  and  perseverance,  let  us  remember 
that  they  are  just  as  powerful  instruments  of  evil,  if 
used  in  the  cause  of  wrong.  Some  successes  are  the 
worst  failures  that  can  be  attained.  Endeavor  to  reach 
the  true  success.  And  what  is  this  if  not  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  greatest  possible  good  ?  And  in  how-j 
ever  humble  a  manner  our  neighbor  may  seek  to  im- 
prove the  condition  of  the  world,  let  us  not  despise  his, 
work,  but  look  rather  at  ^he  effects  than  the  means.  | 


Equine  Sagacity. 

A  pleasant  story  has  just  come  to  us  from  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.  In  Graaf-Reinett,  as  in  all  the  old  Dutch 
towns  in  the  colony,  there  is,  in  the  centre  of  the  place, 
a  large  market  square,  where  the  farmers,  traders,  and 
others,  arriving  with  their  produce  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night,  may  "  out-span  "  the  oxen  or  horses  from 
their  wagons,  send  the  cattle  out  to  the  "commonage " 
to  feed,  while  they  bivouac  at  their  wagons,  as  is  the 
wont  of  African  travelers  to  do,  until  the  eight  o'clock 
morning  market  auction.  An  old  horse  belonging  to 
one  of  these  parties  had  wandered  about  in  search  of 
grass  and  water— vainly,  no  doubt,  for  it  was  during  the 
severe  drought  from  which  the  country  is  but  now  re- 
covering. Coming  to  the  great  bare  market-place,  and 
finding  a  knot  of  men  talking  there,  he  singled  out  one 
of  them,  and  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve  with  his  teeth. 
The  man,  thinking  the  horse  mischt  possibly  bite,  re- 
pulsed him,  but  as  it  was  not  very  roughly  done  he 
returned  to  the  charge,  with  the  same  reception  ;  but  he 
was  a  persevering  animal,  and  practically  demonstrated 
the  axiom  that  "perseverance  gains  the  day,"  for  upon 
his  taking  the  chosen  sleeve  for  the  third  time  between 
his  teeth,  the  owner  awoke  to  the  idea  that  a  deed  of 
kindness  might  be  required  of  him  ;  so  putting  his  hand 
upon  the  horse's  neck,  he  said  :  "  All  right,  old  fellow  ; 
march  on  !"  The  horse  at  once  led  the  way  to  a  pump 
at  the  further  side  of  the  square.  Some  colored  servants 
were  lounging  about  the  spot.  One  of  them,  at  the 
bidding  of  the  white  man,  filled  a  bucket  with  water ; 
three  times  was  the  bucket  replenished  and  emptied  be- 
fore the  "great  thirst"  was  assuaged,  and  then  the 
grateful  brute  almost  spoke  his  thanks  to  his  white 
friend  by  rubbing  his  nose  gently  against  his  arm,  after 
which  he  walked  off  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  A  story 
somewhat  analogous  to  the  foregoing  was  told  me  by  a 
friend,  whose  uncle,  an  old  country  squire  in  one  of  our 
western  counties,  had  a  favorite  hunter  in  a  loose  box  in 
the  stable.  One  warm  summer  day  he  was  "athirst," 
and  could  get  no  water.  He  tried  to  draw  the  groom's 
attention  to  the  fact,  but  without  success.  The  horse 
was  not  to  be  discouraged  ;  he  evidently  gave  the  mat- 
ter consideration.  The  thirst  was  pressing.  All  at  once 
he  remembered  that  he  always  had  a  certain  halter  put 
upon  his  head  when  led  to  the  water.  He  knew  where 
it  hung.  He  managed  to  unhook  it  from  its  peg,  and 
carried  it  to  the  groom,  who  at  once,  in  great  admiration 
of  the  knowledgeable  brute,  rewarded  him  in  the  man- 
ner he  desired. 


Curing  a  Toothache. 

Millions  upon  millions  of  thanks  are  due  the  disvov- 
erer  of  this  sinple  remedy  for  a  distressing  ailment,  if 
it  is  only  true.  For  thousands  of  years  toothache  has 
been  in  the  world,  ranking  as  the  most  decided  affliction 
of  mankind,  and  all  this  time  alum  and  salt  have  been 
ready  at  hand,  but  with  nobody  possessed  of  the  genius 
to  apply  them.  But  we  know  how  it  it  done  at  last,  and 
henceforth  let  toothache  be  banished  from  the  world : 

A  gentleman  says,  after  suffering  excruciating  pain 
from  toothache,  and  having  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  relief, 
Betty  told  me  a  gentleman  had  been  waiting  some  time 
in  the  parlor  who  said  he  would  not  detain  me  one  min- 
ute. He  came— a  friend  I  had  not  seen  for  years.  He 
sympathized  with  me,  while  I  briefly  told  how  sadly  I 
was  afflicted. 

"My  dear  friend,"  exclaimed  he,  "I  can  cure  you  m 
ten  minutes." 
"  How  ?  how  ?"  I  asked ;  "  do  it  in  pity  !" 
"  Instantly,"  said  he.  "Betty,  have  you  any  alum  ?" 
"Yes." 

"  Bring  it  and  some  common  salt." 

They  were  produced ;  my  friend  pulverized  them, 
mixed  in  equal  quantities ;  then  wet  a  small  piece  of 
cotton,  causing  the  mixed  powders  to  adhere,  and  placed 
it  in  my  hollow  tooth. 

"There,"  said  he,  "if  that  does  not  cure  you  I  will 
forfeit  my  head.  You  may  tell  this  in  Gath  and  pubhsh 
it  in  Ashkalon  ;  the  remedy  is  infallible." 

It  was  so.  I  experienced  a  sensation  of  coldness  on 
applying  it,  which  graduaUy  subsided,  and  with  it  the 
torment  of  the  toothache. 

The  hiffher  we  rise  the  more  isolated  we  become  ;  and 
all  elevations  are  cold.  De  Bouffbrs. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


347 


The  Boy  who  Took  a  Boarder. 

BY  CHARLOTTE  ADAMS. 

Once  upon  a  time,  long  before  any  of  you  children 
were  bom— about  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  in 
fact— a  little  boy  stood  one  morning,  at  the  door  of  a 
palace  in  Florence,  and  looked  about  him. 

Why  he  was  standing  there  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps 
he  was  watching  for  the  butcher  or  the  milkman,  for  he 
was  a  kitchen-boy  in  the  household  of  a  rich  and  mighty 
cardinal.  He  was  twelve  years  old,  and  his  name  was 
Thomas. 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  tap  on  his  shoulder,  which  made 
him  turn  around,  and  he  said  with  great  astonishment: 

''What!  Is  that  you,  Peter?  What  has  brought 
you  to  Florence  ?  and  how  are  all  the  people  in  Cor- 
tona?" 

"  They're  all  well,"  answered  Peter,  who  likewise  was 
a  boy  of  twelve.  ''But  I've  left  them  for  good.  I'm 
tired  of  taking  care  of  sheep— stupid  things  !  I  want 
to  be  a  painter.  I've  come  to  Florence  to  learn  how. 
They  say  there's  a  school  here  where  they  teach 
people." 

"  But  have  you  got  any  money  !"  asked  Thomas. 
"Not  a  penny," 

"  Then  you  can't  be  a  painter.  You  had  much  better 
take  service  in  the  kitchen  with  me  here  in  the  palace. 
You  will  be  sure  of  not  starving  to  death,  at  least,"  said 
the  sage  Thomas. 

"  Do  you  get  enough  to  eat  ?"  asked  the  other  boy  re- 
flectively. 

"  Plenty.    More  than  enough." 

"  I  don't  want  to  take  service,  because  I  want  to  be  a 
painter,  "  said  Peter,  "But  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do. 
As  you  have  more  than  you  need  to  eat,  you  shall  take 
me  to  board — on  trust  at  first,  and  when  I'm  a  grown  up 
painter,  I'll  settle  the  bill." 

"Agreed,"  said  Thomas,  after  a  moment's  thought. 
"  I  can  manage  it.  Come  up  stairs  to  the  garret  where 
I  sleep,  and  rU  bring  you  some  dinner  by-and-by." 

So  the  two  boys  went  up  to  the  little  room  among  the 
chimney-pots  where  Thomas  slept.  It  was  very,  very 
small,  and  all  the  furniture  in  it  was  an  old  straw  bed 
and  two  rickety  chairs.  But  the  walls  were  beautifully 
whitewashed. 

The  food  was  good  and  plentiful,  for  when  Thomas 
went  down  into  the  kitchen  and  foraged  among  the 
broken  meats,  he  found  the  half  of  a  fine  mutton-pie, 
which  the  cook  had  carelessly  thrown  out.  The  car- 
dinal's household  was  conducted  upon  very  extrava- 
gant principles. 

That  did  not  trouble  Peter,  however,  and  he  enjoyed 
the  mutton-pie  hugely,  and  told  Thomas  that  he  felt  as 
if  he  could  fly  to  the  moon. 

"So  far,  so  good,"  said  he  ;  "but,  Thomas,  I  can't 
be  a  painter  without  paper  and  pencils  and  brushes 
and  colors.    Haven't  you  any  money  ?" 

"No,"  said  Thomas,  despairingly,  "and  I  don't 
know  how  to  get  any,  for  1  shall  receive  no  wages  for 
three  years," 

"Then  I  can't  be  a  painter,  after  all,"  said  Peter, 
mournfully. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  suggested  Thomas,  "I'll  get 
some  charcoal  down  in  the  kitchen,  and  you  can  draw 
pictures  on  the  wall," 

So  Peter  set  resolutely  to  work,  and  drew  so  many 
figures  of  men  and  women  and  birds  and  trees  and 
beasts  and  flowers,  that  before  long  the  walls  were  all 
covered  with  pictures. 

At  last,  one  happy  day,  Thomas  came  into  possession 
of  a  small  piece  of  silver  money.  Upon  my  word,  I 
do  not  know  where  he  got  it.  But  he  was  much  too 
honest  a  boy  to  take  money  that  did  not  belong  to 
him,  and  so,  I  presume,  he  derived  it  from  the  sale  of 
his  "perquisites.  " 

You  may  be  sure  there  was  joy  in  the  little  board- 
ing-house up  among  the  chimney-pots,  for  now  Peter 
could  have  pencils  and  paper  and  India-rubber,  and  a 
few  other  things  that  an  artist  needs.  Then  he  changed 
his  way  of  life  a  little.  He  went  out  early  every  morn- 
ing and  wandered  about  Florence,  and  drew  everything 
he  could  find  to  draw,  whether  the  pictures  in  the 
churches,  or  the  fronts  of  the  old  palaces,  or  the  stat- 
ues in  the  public  squares,  or  the  outlines  of  the  hills 
beyond  the  Arno,  just  as  it  happened.   Then,  when  it 


became  too  dark  to  work  any  longer,  Peter  would  go 
home  to  his  boarding-house,  and  find  his  dinner  all 
nicely  tucked  away  under  the  old  straw  bed  where 
landlord  Thomas  had  put  it,  not  so  much  to  hide  it 
as  to  keep  it  warm. 

Things  went  on  in  this  way  for  about  two  yea^. 
None  of  the  servants  knew  that  Thomas  kept  a  boarder, 
or  if  they  did  know  it,  they  good-naturedly  shut  their 
eyes.  The  cook  used  to  remark  sometimes  that  Thomas 
ate  a  good  deal  for  a  lad  of  his  size,  and  it  was  quite 
surprising  he  didn't  grow  more. 

One  day  the  cardinal  took  it  into  his  head  to  alter  and 
repair  his  palace.  He  went  all  over  the  house  in  com- 
pany with  an  architect,  and  poked  into  places  that  he 
had  never  in  all  his  life  thought  of  before.  At  last  he 
reached  the  garret,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  stumbled 
right  into  Thomas'  boarding-house. 

"Why,  how's  this  ?"  cried  the  great  cardinal,  vastly 
astonished  at  seeing  the  mean  kttle  room  so  beautifully 
decorated  in  charcoal.  Have  we  an  artist  among  us  ? 
Who  occupies  this  room  ?" 

"The  kitchen-boy,  Thomas,  your  Eminence." 

"A  kitchen-boy  !  But  so  great  a  genius  must  not  be 
neglected.    Call  the  kitchen-boy,  Thomas." 

Thomas  came  up  in  fear  and  tremblmg.  He  never 
had  been  in  the  mighty  cardinal's  presence  before. 
He  looked  at  the  charcoal-drawings  on  the  wall,  then 
into  the  prelate's  face,  and  his  heart  sank  within  him, 

"Thomas,  you  are  no  longer  a  kitchen-boy,"  said  the 
cardinal,  kindly. 

Poor  Thomas  thought  he  was  dismissed  from  service 
— and  then  what  would  become  of  Peter  ? 

"Don't  send  me  away  !"  he  cried,  imploringly,  falling 
on  his  knees.  "I  have  nowhere  to  go,  and  Peter  will 
starve — and  he  wants  to  be  a  painter  so  much." 

"Who  is  Peter"  asked  the  cardinal. 

"  He  is  a  boy  from  Cortona,  who  boards  with  me,  and 
he  drew  those  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  he  will  die  if  he 
cannot  be  a  painter." 

"Where  is  he  now  ?"  demanded  the  cardinal. 

"He  is  out,  wandering  about  the  streets  to  find  some- 
thing to  draw.  He  goes  out  every  day  and  comes  back 
at  night." 

"When  he  returns  to-night,  Thomas,  bring  him  to 
me,"  said  the  cardinal.  "  Such  genius  as  that  should 
not  be  allowed  to  live  in  a  garret." 

But,  strange  to  say,  that  night  Peter  did  not  come 
back  to  his  boarding-house.  One  week,  two  weeks 
went  by,  and  still  nothing  was  heard  of  him.  At  the 
end  of  that  time,  the  cardinal  caused  a  search  for  him 
to  be  instituted,  and  at  last  they  found  him  in  a  con- 
vent. It  seems  he  had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  one 
of  Raphael's  pictures  which  was  exhibited  there.  He 
had  asked  permission  of  the  monks  to  copy  it,  and 
they,  charmed  with  his  youth  and  great  talent,  had 
readily  consented,  and  had  lodged  and  nourished  him 
all  the  time. 

Thanks  to  the  interest  the  cardinal  took  in  him,  Petei 
\ras  admitted  to  the  best  school  for  painting  in  Florence. 
As  for  Thomas,  he  was  given  a  post  near  the  cardinal's 
person,  and  had  masters  to  instruct  him  in  all  the  learn- 
ing of  the  da>. 

Fifty  years  later,  two  old  men  lived  together  in  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  houses  in  Florence.  One  of  them 
was  called  Peter  of  Cortona,  and  people  said  of  him, 
"he  is  the  greatest  painter  of  our  time."  The  other 
was  called  Thomas,  and  all  they  said  of  him  was, 
"Happy  is  the  man  who  has  him  for  a  friend  !" 

And  he  was  the  boy  who  took  a  boarder. 


The  Tyrolese. 

The  Tyrolese  paint  the  fronts  of  their  house  in  fresco, 
mostly  with  subjects  out  of  the  lives  of  the  saints,  some- 
times with  passages  out  of  Tyrolese  history — battles  and 
processions,  and  "pomps  and  vanities  of  this  world  and 
the  next — all  set  forth  in  rude,  vigorous  design,  with  a 
sort  of  reckless  prodigality  of  coloring,  as  if  red  and 
yellow  ochre  cost  nothing.  A  favorite  decoration  is  that 
of  a  gigantic  St.  Florian  emptying  a  bucket  of  water 
upon  a  diminutive  house  on  fire,  which  reaches  about 
up  to  his  knee.  No  house  they  say  can  be  burnt  which 
bears  this  talisman.  The  Tyrolese  are  not  alone  in  their 
regard  of  charms  ;  almost  every  nation  has  its  popular 
usages,  based  on  vulgar  credulity  or  superstitious  rev- 
erence for  relics  or  amulets. 


348  THE  GROIVING  l^FORLD. 


JESSIE'S  ORAVE. 

BY  J.  B.  E. 

Oh,  fair  and  fresh  the  fragile  flower 

That  I  so  soon  have  lost ; 
The  bud  that  bloomed  in  shine  and  shower, 

And  perished  in  the  frost. 

Sad  memory  muses  whilst  I  stand 

In  this  familiar  place — 
I  miss  the  clasping  of  a  hand, 

The  vision  of  a  face. 

My  life  had  sunshine  years  ago— 

But  lost  delight  is  vain  ; 
The  blossom  dead  beneath  the  snow 

Shall  one  day  bloom  again. 

Now  in  her  early  grave  she  iies, 

In  deep,  unruffled  rest ; 
The  eyelids  drooping  on  her  eyes, 

The  quiet  in  her  breast. 

"Charlotte  Corday  in  Prison." 

BY  DELL. 

This  impressive  picture  is  in  the  Corcoran  Gallery  of 
Art  at  Washington.  It  is  the  work  of  Charles  N.  Muller, 
an  eminent  French  artist,  known  by  his  "  Rollcall  "  of 
the  victims  of  the  guillotine  during  the  first  French  Re- 
volution. Charlotte  Corday,  descended  from  a  noble 
family,  though  a  republican,  determined  to  rid  the 
republic  of  the  bloodthirsty  Marat,  who  sent  to  the 
guillotine  all  opposed  to  him.  She  managed  to  get  an 
audience  with  the  monster,  and  as  he  was  in  the  act  of 
taking  the  names  of  some  of  her  countrymen  as  fresh 
victims,  she  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  After  a  trial  she 
was  guillotined  on  the  17th  of  July,  1793,  aged  25  years. 
She  never  repented  the  deed  and  displayed  firmness  and 
composure  to  the  last. 

The  artist  has  depicted  her  in  the  garb  of  a  rustic, 
with  tri-color  ribbons  on  her  cap,  resting  languidly  upon 
the  rusty  iron  bars  of  her  prison  window.  Her  right  arm 
is  braced  against  the  stone  wall,  the  hand  holding  a  pen 
supporting  the  drooping  head.  The  left  hand  clasps 
the  iron  bars— a  touching  contrast  between  its  delicate, 
Blender  fingers  and  the  rusty  metal.  The  pose  of  the 
form  show  weariness,  as  does  also  the  noble  pale  face 
looking  through  the  grating  with  a  thrilling,  earnest 
moumfulness.  She  appears  as  if,  weary  with  writing,  she 
had  slowly  sought  the  window  for  air  untainted  by 
prison  walls.  Her  mouth  shows  unfaltering  firmness, 
and  her  eyes  show  watchfulness  and  sadness,  but  not 
the  sorrow  of  private  grief.  There  is  in  them  no  sign  of 
remorse,  nor  of  regret,  unless  over  the  necessity  of  her 


terrible  act.  Their  whole  expression  speaks  of  a  heart 
brooding  over  the  fate  of  her  country. 

The  picture  is  free  from  the  tragic  treatment  the  sub- 
ject is  too  apt  to  receive  from  French  artists.  Its  color 
throughout  is  grave  and  subdued.  The  clear,  pale  face, 
the  plain  gray  garb,  the  stone  wall  and  rusty  bars,  are 
all  in  solemn  keeping.  Even  the  rosy  tints  of  the  ex- 
quisitely tinted  fingers  harmonize  with  the  prevailing 
gravity  of  color. 

This  noble  picture  is  recently  from  the  hand  of  the 
artist  and  has  never  before  been  publicly  exhibited. 

Washington^  D.  C,  June,  1876. 

English  Landowners. 

It  is  sometimes  confidently  asserted,  both  in  this 
country  and  in  England,  that  five  hundred  people  own 
half  the  soil  of  Great  Britain.  The  statement  is  entirely 
untrue.  There  is  another  statement,  also  quite  popular, 
which  appears  to  be  more  worthy  of  belief,  because  it  is 
taken  from  official  figures.  The  British  census  of  1861 
gives  29,235  as  the  number  of  landed  proprietors  in  the 
United  Kingdom.  The  inference,  if  there  were  no  more 
facts  to  be  learned,  would  be  irresistible,  that  less  than 
30,000  persons  own  the  entire  territory  of  the  British  Isle, 
But  it  was  discovered  by  some  one  who  took  pains  to  in- 
vestigate, that  more  than  one-half  of  the  persons  set 
down  as  landowners  were  women.  It  was  also  discov- 
ered that  thousands  of  persons  who  own  land  were  set 
down  as  ''private  gentlemen,"  or  as  ''farmers."  The 
untrustworthiness  of  the  figures  was  then  absolutely 
proved,  but  they  have,  nevertheless,  done  duty  in  nu- 
merous speeches  of  land-reformers  for  ten  years. 

The  Duke  of  Richmond,  in  a  debate  during  the  session 
lately  closed  in  the  House  of  Lords,  exposed  the  extent 
to  which  the  above  statements  were  wide  of  the  truth. 
According  to  the  census,  there  were  but  245  landed  pro- 
prietors in  Hertfordshire.  As  there  are  391,141  acres  of 
land  in  the  country,  this  would  leave  an  average  of 
almost  1,600  acres  to  each  owner.  But  the  duke  took 
pains  to  go  through  the  rate-books,  and  found  that  the 
owners  of  land  in  Hertfordshire  number  9,833,  which  is 
forty-four  and  one  third  acres  of  land  to  each  owner, 
and  an  owner  to  every  twenty-two  persons  of  the  popu- 
lation by  the  census  of  1871.  The  same  rate  for  England 
alone  would  make  the  number  of  proprietors  almost  a 
million.  It  is  not,  however,  pretended  that  Hertford- 
shire is  a  fair  test  of  the  whole  country.  The  Earl  of 
Derby  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  number  of  proprie- 
tors was  in  the  neighborhood  of  300,000. 


The  First  Wine. 

A  Grecian  legend  is  as  follows :  "When  Bacchus  was 
a  boy  he  journeyed  through  Hellas  to  go  to  Naxia,  and, 
as  the  way  was  very  long,  he  grew  tired,  and  sat  down 
upon  a  stone  to  rest.  As  he  sat  there,  with  his  eyes  upon 
the  ground,  he  saw  a  little  plant  spring  up  between 
his  feet,  and  was  so  much  pleased  with  it  that  he  deter- 
mined to  take  it  with  him  and  plant  it  in  Naxia.  He 
took  it  up  and  carried  it  away  with  him  ;  but,  as  the  sun 
was  very  hot,  he  feared  it  might  wither  before  he  reached 
his  destination.  He  found  a  bird's  skeleton,  into  which 
he  thrust  it,  and  went  on.  But  in  his  hand  the  plant 
sprouted  so  fast  that  it  started  out  of  the  bones  above 
and  below.  This  gave  him  fresh  fear  of  its  withering, 
and  he  cast  about  for  a  remedy.  He  found  a  lion's  bone, 
which  was  thicker  than  the  bird's  skeleton,  and  he  stuck 
the  skeleton,  with  the  plant  into  it,  into  the  bone  of  the 
lion.  Ere  long,  however,  the  plant  grew  out  of  the  lion's 
bone  likewise.  Then  he  found  the  bone  of  an  ass  still 
larger  than  that  of  the  lion.  So  he  nut  the  lion's,  con- 
taining the  bird's  skeleton  and  the  plant,  into  the  ass's 
bone,  and  thus  he  made  his  way  to  Naxia.  When  about 
ready  to  set  the  plant  he  found  the  roots  had  entwined 
themselves  around  the  bird's  skeleton  and  the  lion's 
bone  and  the  ass's  bone ;  and  as  he  could  not  take  it  out 
without  damaging  the  roots,  he  planted  it  as  it  was,  and 
it  came  up  speedily  and  bore,  to  his  great  joy,  the  most 
delicious  grapes,  from  which  he  made  the  first  wine,  and 
gave  it  to  men  to  drink.  But  behold  a  miracle  !  When 
men  drank  of  it  they  first  sang  like  birds ;  next,  after 
drinking  a  little  more,  they  became  vigorous  and  gallant 
as  lions  ;  but  when  they  drank  more  still,  they  began  to 
behave  like  asses. 


THE  GROfVING  WORLD. 


349 


FUNGI. 


Several  years  ago  the  press  universally,  gave  an  ac- 
count (which  8ome  of  our  readers  may  have  read), 
vouched  for  by  well  known  physicians,  of  a  boy  lying 
sick  at  New  Haven,  Conn.,  with  a  diseased  knee.  He 
was  a  very  great  sufferer,  and  the  best  medical  skill  had 
afforded  but  little  relief.  Finally,  a  time  arrived  when 
a  singular  quiet  and  ease  came  to  him,  together  with  a 
strange  unaccountable  dread  of  having  even  his  bed- 
cloth'^s  touched.   There  was  grea*  tenderness,  but  little 


stem  and  leaves  were  wrhite,  the  bud  a  delicate  pink. 
The  bud  unfolded  during  the  day  into  a  blossom. 
Physicians  came  from  far  and  near  to  see  this  curious 
freak  of  nature,  and  the  plant  was  cut  off  and  pre- 
served by  one  of  them.  Tliese  are  the  main  facts  of 
the  case.  I  write  from  memory,  having  read  several 
accounts  of  the  remarkable  occurrence  at  the  time. 
This  seems  almost  incredible — but,  that  it  really  did 
occur  is  an  undoubted  faot,  which  does  not  seem  so 
improbable  when  we  consider  that  it  was  a  fungus 


TRUFFLE 

pain.  So  elevatmg  the  clothee  from  the  limb,  his  friend  s 
humored  his  whim,  and  let  him  alone  to  doze  and  dream 
If  they  wanted  to  dress  or  examine  it,  he  begged  an 

pleaded  with  them  not  to,    "  Oh,  don't  !  "  he  said  

"  only  let  me  rest  one  day  more  !  "  This  repugnance 
to  an  examination  and  repeated  protest  at  the  sug- 
gestion went  on  for  nearly  a  week,  when  one  day  he 
said,  "mother,  now  there  is  no  one  else  here,  you 
may  see  what  is  the  matter."  The  clothes  were 
thrown  down  and  to  ;the  utter  astonishment  of  both 
boy  and  mother,  a  plant  grew  from  the  sore  knee. 
It  had  a  stem  with  two  leaves  and  a  bud  on  it.  The 


HUNTING. 

growth  and  these  growths  are  found  everywhere 
infinite  variety. 

Every  object  is  more  or  less  infested  by  this  ubi- 
quitous race;  some  spread  themselves  over  our  fruits; 
others  attack  our  bread,  cheese,  pickles,  or  othe? 
manufactured  articles  of  food.  "  When  our  beer  be- 
comes motherly,"  says  Dr.  Badham,  "  the  mother  of 
that  mischief  is  a  fungus,"  which  also  forms 
in  vinegar ;  if  pickles  acquire  a  bad  taste, 
if  catsup  turns  ropy  and  fputrefies,  funguses 
have  a  finger  in  it  all.  Their  reign  stops 
not  here— thev  even  prey  on  each  other.    The  close 


350 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


cavities  of  nuts  occasionally  afford  concealment  to  some 
species  r  others,  like  leeches,  stick  to  the  bulbs  of  plants, 
and  suck  them  dry ;  some  (the  architect  and  shipbuild- 
er's bane)  pick  timbers  to  pieces  as  men  pick  oakum. 
The  Oxygena  equina  has  a  particular  fancy  for  the  hoofs 
of  horses  and  the  home  of  cattle,  sticking  to  these  alone. 

Thi^  belly  of  a  tropical  fly  is  liable  in  autumn  to  break 
out  into  vegetable  tufts  of  fungous  growth,  and  the  cater- 
pillar to  carry  about  in  his  body  a  clavaria  bigger  than 
himself. 

There  is  a  curious  Australian  fungus,  consisting  of  a 
sort  of  stem  about  an  inch  a  half  high,  with  a  bunch  of 
berry-like  appearance  at  its  summit.  This  takes  its  root 
in  the  head  of  a  species  of  huge  caterpillar,  which,  having 
burrowed  in  the  earth  preparatory  to  changing  to  the 
pupa  state,  becomes  the  prey  of  the  fungus  ;  and  so  firm 
is  its  hold,  that  when  the  latter  is  pulled  from  the  ground 
the  caterpillar  on  which  it  has  fixed  itself  comes  with  it. 

Almost  every  earthly  thing  is  liable  to  be  infested  with 
some  species  or  other  of  this  tribe :  the  human  teeth 
produce  them,  and  the  wounded  flesh  of  living  men. 
Put  we  must  forbear,  for  we  might  fill  a  large  volume 
were  we  to  attempt  to  describe  all  the  strange  and  varied 
situations  which  fungi  select  for  their  own  especial  habi- 
tations and  sustenance. 

The  chemical  structure  of  fungi  is  said  to  be  the  most 
highly  animalized,  or,  in  other  words,  to  partake  more 
of  the  nature  of  animal  composition  than  that  of  any 
other  vegetable.  Besides  the  intimations  of  this  circum- 
stance that  are  affordeil  by  the  smell  of  some  of  the 
species  in  decay,  which  partakes  much  of  the  character 
of  that  of  putrid  meat,  and  the  strong  meat-like  flavor 
which  some  of  them  possess  when  cooked,  we  find  the 
following  fact  stated — that,  "like  animals,  they  absorb 
a  large  quantity  of  oxygen,  and  disengago  from  their 
surface  a  large  quantity  of  carbonic,  acid,  but  in  lieu  of 
it  some  give  out  hydrogen,  and  other3  azotic  gas.  They 
yields  moreover,  to  chemical  analysis  the  several  com- 
ponents of  which  animal  structures  are  made  up."  They 
are  considered  to  be  highly  nutritious,  and  are  said  to  be 
easy  of  digestion. 

In  fact,  the  fungus  tribe  is  an  important  and  most  re- 
markable division  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  similar 
in  structure,  and  many  of  the  species  exquisite  in  form 
and  coloring,  whilst  others  are  calculated  to  be  extremely 
valuable  articles  of  diet  or  medicine.  The  range  of 
growth  of  the  species  of  this  remarkable  kind  of  vegeta- 
tion is  as  surprising  as  the  variety  in  size,  form  and  color 
which  they  exhibit.  We  wander  in  the  dewy  meadows 
in  autumn,  and  we  find  the  grass  studded  with  mush- 
rooms. Here  and  there  we  notice  broad  rings  in  the 
grass,  and  we  know  them  to  be  the  fairy  rings"  which 
were  in  ancient  times  supposed  to  have  been  formed  by 
the  midnight  gambols  of  fairies,  when,  with  nimble  feet, 
they  tripped  in  mystic  dance  beneath  the  moonbeams ; 
those  whom  Prospero  thus  adjures : 

"  In  demi-puppets,  that 
By  moonshine  do  the  green  sour  ringlets  make, 
Whereof  the  ewe  bites  not;  and  you,  whose  pastime 
Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms." 

These  dark  rings  are  known  to  be  caused  by  the 
growth  of  fungi,  which,  it  is  supposed,  spread  out- 
wards from  the  centre,  every  year  of  their  growth, 
exhausting  the  soil  of  the  circle  which  they  have 
occupied,  and  throwing  out  fresh  germs  to  one  be- 
yond, in  which  they  grow  the  next  year,  and  then 
again  push  beyond  it,  and  occupy  a  wider  range  in 
each  succeeding  year. 

As  we  pursue  our  rambles,  and  penetrate  into  the 
woods,  we  look  above  us  and  see  huge  fringes  of 
fungus  growth  hanging  out  from  the  trunks  of  the 
trees,  and  on  the  decayed  stumps  around  we  perceive 
the  most  exquisitely  tinted  clothing  of  what,  by  the 
sea-side,  we  should  conceive  to  be  shell  clustered  in 
shelves  one  above  the  other,  and  all  grouped  in  the 
most  various  and  beautiful  forms ;  we  touch  them 
and  they  are  wood-like  ;  we  take  a  chisel  and  hammer, 
and  such  hard  wood  is  it  to  chip  them  off,  that  we 
find  it  easier  to  take  bark  and  all  than  to  sevei  these 
parasites  from  the  trunk  on  which  they  have  fixed 
themselves. 

These  beautiful  objects  are  all  fungi.  Some  of 
them  in  form  and  penciling  much  resemble  thfi 


beautiful  sea-weed  (padina  pavonia),  but  their  paint- 
ing is  different,  and  consists  of  broad  bands  of  black 
delicately  shading  into  gray  or  lavender,  and  alterna- 
ting into  a  soft  orange  color,  the  upper  surface  being 
velvety,  like  the  wing  of  a  moth,  and  the  lower  part 
of  a  creamy  white,  full  of  minute  pores,  which  give 
it  much  the  appearance  of  coralline  formation. 

We  have  had  clusters  of  them  brought  us  from  the 
woods,  so  beautiful  as  to  induce  us  to  group  them  as 
nearly  as  possible  as  they  would  appear  in  their  native 
habits,  and  arrange  them  for  a  basket  of  flowers ;  and 
when  set  off  by  a  massive  bunch  of  roses  or  dahlias,  this 
structure  formed  an  object  as  beautiful  as  it  was  curious, 
and  lasted  for  many  months  perfectly  unchanged  in  form 
and  color. 

Besides  these,  and  a  thousand  other  varities  which  in- 
fest trees,  posts,  etc.,  are  a  multitude  of  lovely  little 
gems  o^  ali  hues,  which  lie  scattered  about  on  the  heath, 
or  spring  out  of  decayed  leaves,  bits  of  stick,  wood,  etc., 
all  glittering  in  the  moisture  beneath  the  bright  autumnal 
sunbeams,  and  looking  like  so  many  jewels.  "  What 
geometry  shall  ever  define  their  ever-varying  shapes  ? 
Who  but  a  Venetian  painter  do  justice  to  their  colors?"  says 
Pr.  Badham.  "As  to  shapes,"  he  adds,  "some  are  simple 
threads,  like  the  Bijssus,  and  never  get  beyond  this ;  some  shoot 
out  into  branches  like  sea-weed ;  some  pufF  themselves  out 
into  puff-balls;  some  thrust  their  heads  into  mitres;  these 
assume  the  shape  of  a  cap,  and  those  of  a  wine-funnel;  some, 
like  Agaricus  mammosus,  have  a  teat ;  others,  like  Agaricus 
clypeolarius,  are  umbonated  at  their  centre  :  these  are  stilted 
upon  a  high  leg,  and  those  have  not  a  leg  to  stand  on ;  some 
are  shell-shaped,  and  some  hang  upon  their  stalks  like  a  law- 
yer's wig.  Some  assume  the  shape  of  a  horse's  hoof,  others  of 
a  goat's  beard ;  in  the  Clathnes  cancellatus  you  look  into  the 
fungus  through  a  thick  trellis  which  surrounds  it.  One  is 
formed  like  a  nest,  another  like  an  ear."  "''One,"eays  Dr. 
Badham,  is  so  like  a  tongue  in  shape  and  general  appearance, 
that  in  the  days  of  enchanted  trees  you  would  not  have  cut  it 
off  to  pickle  or  to  eat,  on  any  account,  lest  the  knight  to  whom 
it  belonged  should  afterwards  come  to  claim  it  of  you." 

The  coal-mines  of  Dresden  exhibit  the  interesting  phenome- 
non of  fungi  which  emit  light  like  pale  moonbeams ;  and  Mr. 
Gardiner  states,  that  "  while  in  a  Brazilian  town  he  obtained 
a  considerable  quantity,  and  found  that  a  few  of  them,  in  a 
dark  room,  were  sufficient  to  read  by." 

Some  of  the  facts  supplied  us  by  authors  of  the  expansive 
growth  of  fungi  are  scarcely  credible.  One  author  speaks  of  his 
placing  phallus  impudicus  within  a  glass  vessel,  and  its  expand- 
ing so  rapidly  as  to  shiver  the  glass  to  pieces  with  an  explosive 
detonation  as  loud  as  that  of  a  pistol.  Carpenter  gives  an 
account  of  a  paving  stone,  twenty-one  inches  square,  and 
weighing  eighty-five  pounds,  being  raised  an  inch  and  a  half 
from  its  foundation  by  a  cluster  of  common  toad-stools  spring- 
ing up  under  it.  Irecollect  with  what  wonder  I  used  as  a  child  to 
stop  on  my  way  to  school  and  look  at  these  little  growths, sprung 
up  in  a  night,  half  expecting  to  see  some  of  them  occupied 
by  a  bevy  of  toads,  and  I  recollect  one  day  asking  an  uncle, 
"when  the  toads  sat  on  the  stools?"  but  was  answered  by  a 
smUe  and  "you  must  watch  and  see."  I  think  children  must 
be  often  puzzled  by  their  sudden  appearance  in  places  they  are 
familiar  with.  I  fancy,  were  conversation  possible,  the  fol- 
lowing queries  and  replies  might  frequently  take  place : 


Free  'ittle  toad  stools. 

Don't  you  see? 
Jes'  as  tunnin'  as 

We  tan  be, 

Where  did  we  tum  from  ? 

We  don't  know. 
Guess  from  the  same  place 

Violets  grow. 

What  are  we  dood  for  ? 

Jes'  to  keep 
Rain  from  de  mosses 

When  dey  sleep. 


What  else  dood  for? 

Lem'  me  see  1 
Fool  boys,  sometimes, 

'Tween  you  an'  me. 

How  old  are  we  ? 

Don't  know  quite. 
Reckon  we  came  in 

A  shower,  last  night. 

Where  are  we  goin'  to  ? 

O,  my  soul  1 
Wif  all  the  flowers,  in 

A  gate  big  hole. 


Sir  Joseph  Banks  makes  a  statement  of  a  circumstanca 
which  occurred  under  his  own  roof,  even  more  wonderful  than 
any  yet  related.  He  states  that  a  friend  having  sent  him  a 
cask  of  wine,  which  was  too  new  and  sweet  for  present  use,  it 
was  locked  up  in  a  cellar  to  mature.  At  the  end  of  three  years. 
Sir  Joseph,  supposing  that  time  had  now  done  its  work,  pro^ 
ceeded  to  open  the  cellar  and  inspect  its  contents.  Little  did 
he  think  how  time  had  been  employed.  The  door  refused  to 
open,  and  he  had  it  fairly  cut  away ;  but  was  no  nearer  effect- 
ing an  entrance  than  before.  The  cellar  was  found  to  be  liter- 
ally filled  with  fungus  growth,  which  had  borne  the  casks  aloft 
to  the  ceiling,  where  it  stuck,  upheld  by  fungi,  the  produce  of 
the  wine  which  had  all  leaked  out  and  formed  this  monstrous 

^'^The^tructure  of  the  fungus  tribe  is  most  peculiar,  and  differs 
entirely  from  that  of  any  other.  Their  whole  substance  may 
be  considered  as  a  mass  of  reproductive  matter.  The  spores 
of  f unsi  auflvrec     the  seeds  in  other  plants  •  they  consisi  of 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


round,  oval,  oblong,  or  occasionally  other  shaped  bodies,  sol 
minute  as  in  most  cases  not  to  be  distinguishable  by  the  naked 
eve  but  displaying,  when  viewed  by  a  microscope,  various 
rolors-Dink  purple,  yellow  or  white;  they  are  sometimes 
naked  but  more  frequently  closed  up  in  little  receptacles, 
those  of  regular  form  being  called  thecae,  and  those  of  irregu- 
lar form  mranges.  When  ripe  the  spores  are  either  ejected 
fSm  these  little  cases  with  a  jerk,  caused  by  the  bursting  of 
an  elastic  ring,  which  encircles  them,  or  else  they  return,  to 
the  earth  with  the  dissolving  substance  of  the  fungus  m  which 

^^The  treasures^of  food  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  provide 
for  us  in  the  fungus  tribe  are,  by  no  means  duly  appreciated 
bv  the  Americans.  Throughout  the  continent  of  Europe,  on 
the  contrary,  plants  of  this  tribe  are  eagerly  sought  after  by 
all  classes,  and  form  the  chief,  if  not  the  sole  diet  of  thousands, 
who  would  otherwise  be  but  scantily  provided  with  aliment. 
In  Italv  and  Germany  immense  numbers  of  the  various  species 
of  this  tribe  are  sold  in  the  markets,  and  produce  an  almost 
incredible  amount  of  income.  In  Bome,  so  important  are  the 
funo-i  as  an  article  of  commerce,  that  there  is  a  pablic  officer 
aopointed  to  test  the  species  exposed  for  sale,  and  superintend 
this  branch  of  the  revenue ;  for  in  that  market  a  tax  is  laid  on 
all  quantities  of  fungi  presented  for  sale  exceeding  ten  pounds 
in  wei'^ht.  "The  returns  of  taxed  mushrooms  alone,  says 
Dr.  Balham,  "during  the  last  ten  years,  give  a  yearly  average 
of  between  sixty  and  eighty  thousand  pounds  weight.  1  hie 
calculation  includes  only  the  Roman  market,  and  that  every 
other  market-place  in  the  Italian  states  has  its  proportionate 
sale  of  this  wide  spreading  branch  of  the  vegetable  product  of 

'^Miishr'ooms  exist  under  the  most  opposite  conditions  Some 
appear  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  as  the  cultivated  mushroom, 
the  edible  boletus,  the  morel,  the  puflf-ball,  etc.  Girard  says: 

"  The  meadow  mushroom  is  in  kinde  the  best 
It  is  ill  trusting  any  of  the  rest." 

Some  grow  upon  the  trunks  of  trees,  upon  branches,  and 
upon  leaves ;  others,  as  the  truffle,  are  found  buried  in  the 
earth  at  a  considerable  depth. 

Very  little  is  generally  known  about  the  mysterious  article 
called  the  truffle,  which  belongs  to  the  vegetable  kingdom,  but 
does  not  give  the  least  sign  of  vegetation  either  in  or  out  of 
the  ground  and  has  so  far,  baffled  all  efforts  made  to  cultivate 
it  It  grows  in  the  south  of  France,  and  also  in  Italy,  Spain, 
England  and  Scotland.  It  is  found  under  three  species  of  trees 
only— the  tilbert,  and  the  white  and  red  oak  (the  last  two  in 
particular;  and  of  late,  the  farmers  and  others  of  the  county  of 
Perigord,  France,  have  found  it  profitable  to  sow  the  white  and 
red  acorn  for  the  sole  object  of  raising  truffles.  The  young 
plants  will  procure  truffles  the  fifth  or  sixth  year,  and  often  the 
crop  of  the  tenth  year  is  safficient  to  remunerate  the  farmer 
for  all  the  labor  and  interest  invested.  The  finding  of  truffles 
would  be  due  to  mere  luck  or  hard  labor  if  it  were  not  for  the 
keen  scent  of  the  dogs  and  sows,  which,  in  this  strange  hunt, 
are  trained  to  seek  this  fungus.  The  English  or  Scotch  truffler 
avails  himself  of  the  services  of  a  dog  and  the  French  of  swine. 
The  dogs  of  Great  Britain  are  of  a  peculiar  breed,  and  trained 
from  puppyhood  to  hunt  the  truffle  out  by  the  nose,  and  then 
to  scratch  it  up  with  their  long,  sharp  claws.  They  wear  a 
muzzle  to  prevent  their  injuring  the  truffles,  for  although  dogs 
do  not  eat  them,  they  like  to  play  with  what  they  have  worked 
so  energetically  to  uncover,  so  the  hunter  must  be  ready  to 
strike  the  dog  on  the  nose  the  moment  t^e  truffle  is  in  sight, 
or  the  dog  will  have  it  in  his  mouth.  The  dog  finds  them  in 
shrubberies,  plantations  and  woods,  sometimes  in  banks  and 
ditches,  but  always  where  trees  abound,  beneath  them,  or  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  stems,  in  rings  of  clusters  of  six  or 
seven  together  round  each  tree.  Though  they  are  often  found 
tn  September,  the  truffler  understands  so  well  their  need  of 
wet  and  damp  that  he  will  refuse  to  look  for  them  in  a  dry 
season  until  a  certain  amount  of  rain  has  fallen. 

Sometimes  October  passes  without  any  worth  gathering 
being  discovered  in  their  usual  haunts. 

A  few  days'  rain,  and  then,  in  the  very  same  places  where 
the  truffler  had  looked  in  vain,  large  clusters  of  the  finest  will 
have  sprung  up  ;  so  quickly  is  this  strange  fungus  propagated 
%mder  the  soil  in  favorable  situations  and  in  damp  weather. 

They  will  increase  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  pound  in  weight, 
and  even  in  rainy  seasons  to  as  much  as  a  pound,  while  they 
measure  from  about  four  to  six  inches  round. 

In  drj',  hot  seasons  they  remain  small,  and  are  liable  to  rot 
and  to  be  infested  with  insects.  Resembling  externally  a  rug- 
ged knot  of  an  old  oak  or  piece  of  decayed  wood,  and  about 
the  size  of  a  walnut,  they  are  found  where  the  soil  is  black, 
loamy,  and  mixed  with  flint,  or  is  composed  of  chalk  and  clay. 
Examine  them  minutely  through  the  microscope,  and  you  will 
find  on  opening  one  that  the  interior  is  grained  with  veins  of 
various  colors,  and  is  of  a  firm,  tough  texture,  white  in  color 
when  young,  and  growing  darker,  until  its  ripeness  is  shown 
by  becoming  entirely  black,  and  diffusing  an  agreeable  odor 
resembling  musk. 

Besides  this  large  truffle,  there  is  another  kind  well  known 
to  the  truffler,  though  ignored  in  scientific  accounts.  It  is 
called  in  the  truffle  district  the  "red  truffle,"  on  account  of 
its  color,  and  is  of  the  size  of  a  sweet-pea,  but  though  small,  is 
equal  in  flavor  to  the  larger  kind,  and  in  some  places  as  com- 
mon. A  writer  says ; 


"This  extraordinary  odor  is  so  powerful  and  so  peculiar, 
that  no  imposition  can  be  practiced  in  providing  this  article  of 
food.  I  can  never  forget,  whilst  living  in  a  truffle  district,  the 
first  time  that  three  or  four  pounds  were  brought  into  the 
house.  It  was  impossible  to  support  their  oppressive  and 
pungent  odor,  which  pervaded  the  whole  house,  and  they  had 
to  be  removed  at  once  to  a  safe  distance,  till  the  cook,  by 
either  boiling  or  stewing  them  into  sauce,  prevented  its  recur- 
rence. For,  strange  to  say,  it  is  the  raw  truffles  that  offend  in 
this  way,  and  then  only  when  ripe  and  fit  to  eat;  the  young 
unripe  ones  are  hardly  perceptible  by  emell.  This  peculiar 
odor,  imperceptible  tiiou^h  it  be  to  the  human  nose  when 
growing  beneath  the  soil,  is  yet  scented  out  by  the  animals." 

In  France,  the  sows  trained  for  hunting  truffles,  are  fed 
entirely  on  acorns  (never  anything  else),  and  during  the  season, 
once  a  day  only — after  the  day's  work  is  over.  liain  in  July  or 
August  is  generally  the  precursor  of  a  good  crop.  Truffles  are 
found  from  six  to  ten  inches  below  the  surface.  Those  nearest 
are  sometimes  hurt  by  frost,  though  not  often,  in  the  mild 
climate  of  the  south  of  France.  Truffle  hunting,  in  France,  is 
a  specialty,  and  the  men,  women  and  children  devoted  to  it 
depend  on  the  short  season  of  forty  or  fifty  days  to  cam  enough 
to  take  care  of  themselves  and  their  sows  the  rest  of  the  year. 
The  hunter  cannot  employ  his  time  at  anything  el!*e.  He  has 
all  he  can  do  to  gather  every  day  the  necessary  supply  of  acorns 
needed  by  his  useful  animal.  Hunters  generally  start  the  day 
after  Christmas.  The  whole  outfit  consists  of  the  sow,  fastened 
by  the  hind  leg;  one  bag,  containing  bread  and  cheese  for  the 
man  and  acorns  for  the  sow,  another  bag  ready  to  receive  the 
truffles,  a  blanket  and  a  cane.  The  poor  brute  being  led  away 
seems  delighted,  well  knowing  it  will  be  paid  for  every  truffle 
that  it  finds.  They  are  no  sooner  in  the  woods  than  the  sow 
is  let  loose  and  begins  to  hunt,  the  man  keeping  close  watch 
behind.  The  sow  will  go  slowly  over  the  ground  and  never 
root  until  it  scents  the  precious  vegetable.  Upon  sighting  the 
article  sought  the  animal  will  retire  with  a  grunt  from  a  rap 
on  his  snout  from  the  hunter,  for  the  hog  is  voraciously  fond 
of  this  fungus.  The  man  then  picks  up  and  bags  the  truffles, 
and  gives  the  poor  animal  one  or  two  acorns  for  its  trouble. 
Man  and  sow  stay  out  in  the  woods  until  driven  away  by  a 
hard  storm  or  by  want  of  provisions,  in  which  case  they  stop 
at  the  nearest  farmhouse  and  deposit  the  result  of  their  labor 
so  far.  Having  rested  and  gathered  the  aecessiiry  acorns,  they 
start  again,  and  keep  doing  the  same  until  the  luber  has  dis- 
appearedfrom  the  ground  in  tbe  same  mysterious-  manner  as  it 
came.  The  preparation  of  the  article  is  very  simple.  It  is 
carefully  washed  and  crushed.  Some  are  peeled ;  others  are 
left  in  their  natural  state.  All  are  boiled  just  once,  then  put 
in  tin  cans,  adding  a  wine  glass  of  white  wine  to  keep  them 
moist.  The  cans,  after  being  hermetically  sealed,  are  sub- 
mitted to  a  second  boiling  to  insure  preservation.  Truffles  are 
then  ready  to  be  shipped  to  any  climate,  and  appear  on  the 
table  of  gourmands  the  world  over. 

When  the  vast  number  and  universal  dissemination  of 
Fungales  are  taken  into  consideration,  together  with  their 
diversity  of  form  and  size,  it  is  not  surprising  that  botanists 
have  been  much  puzzled  over  them.  Fries  discovered  no  f  e w&r 
than  two  thousand  species  within  the  compass  of  a  square 
furlong  in  Sweden.  Of  the  Agarias  alone,  above  a  thousand 
species  are  described.  In  size  they  range  from  the  minute 
moulds  which  are  found  to  produce  death  in  the  silkworm  and 
the  common  house-fly  (which  M.  Deslongchamps  found  in  the 
air-cells  of  the  eider  duck,  while  alive,  and  which  Professor 
Owen  found  m  the  lungs  of  a  flamingo),  up  to  the  great  puff- 
ball,  which  attains  the  diameter  of  a  foot  in  a  singla  night. 


An  Accidental  Discovery. 

Many  of  the  important  discoveries  of  fhe  world  have  been 
made  by  seeming  accident,  though  nothing  in  the  Providence 
of  God  can  truly  be  called  accidental. 

Many  years  ago  an  Indian,  in  South  America,  was  left  by  his 
companions  to  die  of  fever  beside  a  flowing  river.  As  the 
waters  wound  sluggishly  by,  he,  ever  and  anon,  stooped  down 
and  drank  copious  draughts  from  it.  To  the  surprise  of  his 
companions  he  was  restored  to  health,  and  again  joined  them 
to  tell  marvellous  tales  of  the  blessed  river.  The  Jesuits  were 
not  slow  to  pronounce  his  cure  a  miracle,  and  an  ever-ready 
story  of  some  heavenly  visitant  who  had  placed  a  spell  on  the 
stream,  was  rehearsed  again  and  again  in  the  credulous  ears  of 
the  poor  natives.  The  sick  from  all  around  flocked  to  the  holy 
waters,  and  multitudes  were  cured.  But  by-and-by  it  became 
known  that  the  virtue  came  from  natural  causes.  The  bark  of 
a  tree  which  floated  abundantly  in  the  stream  had  imparted  its 
medicinal  properties,  and  when  the  many  came  it  was  at  length 
exhausted.  But  the  tree  grew  all  about  in  the  forests,  and 
Peruvian  bark  soon  became  an  article  of  commerce,  and  was 
carried  to  Rome  as  early  as  1643.  It  was  not  until  1737  that 
the  tree  became  known  to  naturalists. 

I  fancy  many  a  poor  child  who  has  been  forced  to  take  hia 
daily  dose  of  quinine  or  cinchona,  wish  heartily  the  old  Jesuits 
1  had  never  made  the  discovery. 


352 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


The  Window  Lights. 

We  can  never  tell  when  or  where  an  influence  may  go  out 
from  our  lives  that  will  prove  a  blessing  to  others,  giving  them 
strength  and  cheering  in  times  of  their  deepest  sadness. 

A  lady,  whose  home  was  nearly  opposite  a  hospital,  went 
over  one  day  with  some  little  comforts  for  some  of  its  inmates. 
While  sitting  in  a  front  ix>om,  which  overlooked  her  own 
dwelling,  conversing  with  real  sympathy  with  a  patient,  she 
learned  what  a  comfort  the  light  of  her  cheerful  sitting-room 
had  often  been  to  these  solitai-y  sufferers— how  the  bright 
family  group  had  cheered  them  like  a  beautiful  picture— how 
they  had  loved  to  watch  it,  and  how  sorry  they  felt  when  the 
blinds  were  closed,  shutting  it  all  out  and  leaving  only  the 
blank  darkness.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  blinds  of  this 
kind  woman's  sitting-room  was  left  open  after  that  until  the 
lights  were  out  in  the  opposite  house,  and  the  pleasing  view 
did  good  like  a  medicine  to  those  who  loved  to  watch  it.  It 
was  a  small  charity,  but  a  blessed  one,  that  benefitted  both  the 
giver  and  receiver. 

Two  young  ladies,  who  had  been  reduced  to  extreme  poverty 
by  the  misconduct  of  their  father,  toiled  early  and  late  at  the 
business  of  dressmaking  in  their  effort  to  make  headway 
against  their  misfortunes.  In  their  humble  room,  unknown 
and  unnoticed,  they  seemed  as  little  likely  as  any  one  in  the 
world  to  exert  an  inspiring  influence  upon  others.  Yet  the 
light  in  their  lowly  window  was  noticed  by  a  young  physician 
as  he  was  returning  late  at  night,  and  he  remembered  having 
often  seen  it  before.  Though  almost  in  the  depths  of  despair 
himself,  he  could  not  help  inquiring  who  were  the  late  watch- 
ers. When  he  learned  their  history  it  nerved  him  with  a  new 
ambition  and  resolution.  If  they  could  show  such  spirit, 
surely  he,  vvith  a  man's  strength  and  opportunities,  should 
not  give  way  to  despondency.  So  with  new  corn-age  he  set 
forth  to  battle  with  life  and  won  a  splendid  victory.  He  never 
forgot  that  light  in  the  window  and  the  lesson  it  taught  him. 

Every  Christian  should  be  "  as  a  city  set  on  a  hill."  An  in- 
fluence should  go  forth  from  our  every  day  life  that  shall 
elevate  and  cheer  all  about  us.  We  should  let  our  light  shine. 
By  so  doing  we  may  do  good  to  others  in  most  unexpected 
times  and  ways.  The  "light  in  the  window"  of  our  daily 
lives  may  be  the  means  of  winning  many  to  the  mansions  of 
eternal  light,  and  though  we  never  knew  them  on  earth,  we 
shall,  doubtless,  know  them  in  heaven. 


Pay  as  You  G-o. 

Gen  Sherman  has  a  remarkable  faculty  for  saying  sensible 
things.  His  advice  to  the  young  men  of  the  O'Fallon  Poly- 
technic School  a  short  time  since,  was  by  no  means  below  his 
usual  standard.   He  remarked : 

"  One  half  of  the  evils  that  beset  the  path  of  young  men 
starting  in  life  come  from  the  neglect  of  their  parents  to  edu- 
cate them  in  the  use  of  money.  Not  that  all  parents,  or  even 
most  of  them,  are  extravagant  with  their  sons'  allowance,  or 
that  they  do  not  give  them  a  great  deal  of  advice  on  the  sub- 
ject of  economy.  But  they  do  not,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word  make  the  proper  use  of  money  a  part  of  their  education. 
They  restrain,  but  they  do  not  guide.  As  boys'  needs  and  de- 
sires increase,  they  are  too  apt  to  be  met  with  only  increasing 
difficulty  in  getting  money,  interposed  often  in  such  a  form  as 
to  stimulate  rather  than  regulate  their  appetite  for  spending. 
It  is  hard  for  parents  to  realize  that  sooner  or  later  their  sons 
must  have  the  control  of  more  or  less  money  to  use  or  waste, 
to  save  or  invest,  according  to  their  own  judgmen  t,  and  that 
mere  restriction  in  the  allowance  of  money  does  not  fit  them 
for  the  temptations,  difficulties,  and  perplexities  of  this  im- 
portant part  of  the  business  of  life.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten 
that  a  great  proportion  of  the  dishonesty  which  is  so  common 
in  our  modern  communities  flows  from  the  want  of  proper 
training  of  young  men  in  the  employment  of  money.  Its 
source,  like  that  of  a  godd  deal  of  other  crime  and  sin,  is  in 
ignorance  and  weakness  rather  than  in  deep-seated  vicioua- 
ness. 

"  The  old  Koman  rule,  that  the  debtor  was  to  be  regarded 
always  as  the  possible  slave  of  the  creditor,  is  not  now  a  basis 
of  legal  action,  and  American  law  no  longer  allows  imprison- 
ment for  innocent  debt.  But  neither  the  Roman  rule  nor  our 
own  former  practice  was  without  its  basis  of  reason  and 
equity  It  is  common  to  speak  of  the  oppressed  debtor,  but 
in  most  cases  debt  is  a  voluntary  thing.  Few  men  incur  it 


from  necessity.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases,  men  who  ca». 
not  pay  their  debts,  especially  young  men,  might  have  been, 
able  to  do  so  if  they  had  not  wasted  their  means.  JL  very 
small  percentage  of  debtors  habitually  cut  down  their  expen- 
ditures to  the  lowest  possible  point.  Indeed,  they  would  gen- 
erally be  considered  '  mean '  if  they  did  so.  The  economies 
necessary  for  a  man  of  small  means  to  keep  out  of  debt  are 
very  petty  in  amount  and  in  character.  They  are  inevitably 
annoying  and  irksome,  and  the  strain  on  the  will  is  constant. 
It  is  quite  easy  to  regard  them  as  contemptible.  But  they  are. 
in  reality  the  reverse  of  that.  They  are  essentially  noble,  and 
they  add  to,  instead  of  detracting  from,  the  dignity  of  the 
man  who  is  capable  of  them.  The  old  law  was  based  on  thia- 
fact,  and  punished  and  degraded  the  man  who  would  not  deny 
himself  to  pay  his  debts. 

"  Borrowed  money,  where  the  debtor  does  not  know  how  he 
is  to  pay,  and  has  no  clear  resources  to  depend  on,  is  not  the 
money  of  the  borrower,  but  of  the  lender.  And  where  the 
motive  of  the  lender  is  not  one  of  friendship,  and  the  credit  is 
given  as  a  matter  of  business,  no  man  has  any  right  to  borrow 
without  knowing  that  he  can  pay,  any  more  than  he  has  the 
right  to  swindle.  The  promise  of  payment  in  such  case  is 
essentially  a  false  pretense,  and  as  unjustifiable  as  any  other 
form  of  deception."  These  are  principles  which  to  young 
men  cannot  too  frequently  be  commended,  and  it  will  be  well 
if  any  of  Gen.  Sherman's  hearers  should  conceive  for  his  teach- 
ing a  respect  proportioned  to  the  admiration  felt  by  every  one 
for  their  distinguished  author.  

G-reatness  and  G-oodness. 

Take  goodness,  with  the  average  intellectual  power,  and 
compare  it  with  mere  greatness  of  intellect  and  social  stand- 
ing, and  it  is  far  the  nobler  quality ;  and  if  God  should  offer 
me  one  of  them,  I  would  not  hesitate  which  to  choose.  No, 
the  greatest  intellect  which  God  ever  bestowed  I  would  not 
touch  if  I  were  bid  to  choose  between  that  and  the  goodness- 
of  an  average  woman  :  I  would  scorn  it  and  say,  "  Give  it  tc^ 
Lucifer ;  give  me  the  better  gift."  When  I  say  goodness  is 
greater  than  greatness,  I  mean  to  say,  it  gives  a  deeper  and 
serener  joy  in  the  private  heart,  joins  men  more  tenderly  to 
one  another,  and  more  earnestly  to  God.  I  honor  intellect, 
reason  and  understanding.  I  wish  we  took  ten  times  more 
pains  to  cultivate  them  than  we  do.  I  honor  greatness  of  mind 
—great  reason,  which  intuitively  sees  truth,  gi-eat  laws,  and 
the  like ;  great  understanding,  which  learns  special  laws  and 
works  in  detail ;  the  understanding  that  masters  things  for 
use  and  beauty ;  that  can  marshal  millions  of  men  into  an 
organization  that  shall  last  for  centuries.  I  once  coveted  such, 
power,  and  am  not  wholly  free  from  the  madness  of  it  yet.  1 
see  its  use.  I  hope  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  joys  of  science 
and  letters ;  I  am  not  of  the  pursuit  of  these.  I  bow  reverent- 
ly before  the  men  of  genius,  and  sit  gladly  at  their  feet.  But 
the  man  who  sees  justice  and  does  it,  who  knows  love  and 
lives  it,  who  has  a  great  faith  and  trusts  in  God — let  him  have 
a  mind  quite  inferior,  and  culture  quite  a  little,  I  must  yet 
honor  and  reverence  that  man  far  more  than  he  who  has  the 
greatest  power  of  intellect.  I  know  that  knowledge  is  power, 
and  reverence  it ;  but  justice  is  a  higher  power,  and  love  is  a 
manlier  power,  and  religion  is  a  diviner  power,  each  greater 
than  the  mightiest  mind.  Theodore  Parker. 


Good  Advice. 

I  am  always  sorry  for  a  man  who  knows  how  to  do  but 
one  thing,  I  have  seen  many  such  men.  I  gave  ten  dollars  to* 
one  who  could  speak  and  write  five  or  six  languages  and  trans- 
late beautifully  ;  but  m  the  middle  of  a  hard  Winter  he  could 
not  get  a  living.  I  knew  another  man  who  had  preached 
twenty-five  years,  till  his  throat  failed  him,  and  he  used  to  go 
around  looking  very  blue  and  sad,  until  people  pitied  him  and 
got  up  donation  parties  for  him,  because  he  was  good  for 
nothing  except  to  preach.  I  knew  a  lady  who  had  taught 
school  for  twenty  years,  till  she  was  a  poor,  nervous,  broken- 
down  woman,  and  didn't  know  how  to  make  a  dress  for 
herself.  Now,  boys  and  girls,  every  real  man  should  know 
how  to  do  one  thing  right  well.  Every  wise  farmer  has  a- 
principal  crop ;  but  he  has  always  a  little  something  else  to 
live  on.  Don't  carry  all  your  egga  in  one  basket.  Don't  put 
all  your  money  in  one  pocket.  If  you  want  to  get  along  right 
well,  learn  one  sort  of  work  to  get  along  by,  and  all  sorts  oi 
work  to  get  a  living  with  when  your  ©ne  sort  gives  out. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


353 


"Fixed  Vegetable  Oils." 

BT  JAS.  P.  DTTFFT. 

Fixed  Vegetable  Oils  are  certain  kinds  of  oils  which 
generally  consist  of  two  different  principles,  one  of 
which,  olein^  is  a  fluid  ;  the  other  part,  where  the  oil  is 
obtained  from  mineral  substances  is  called  stearine^  but 
Is  also  know  as  margarine.  When  the  oil  is  produced 
from  vegetable  substances,  such  as  the  cocoanut  or 
palm,  the  second  principle  is  called  cocine,  or  palmitin. 
The  latter  principle  is  a  solid  matter,  the  quantity  vary- 
ing with  the  different  oils. 

The  chemical  elements  of  these  oils,  generally  speak- 
ing, are  nearly  the  same,  that  is,  they  u'teually  contain 
nearly  equal  proportions  of  hydrogen  and  carbon,  a 
small  quantity  of  water,  and  about  the  same  amount  of 
oxygen.  A  few,  such  as  palm-oil,  at  ordinary  tempera- 
tures, are  nearly  solid  ;  but  they  all,  without  exception, 
become  half  solid  on  being  exposed  to  a  temperature  of 
less  than  32  deg.  A  familiar  illustration  of  this  fact  can 
be  seen  in  the  case  of  salad  oil,  which,  as  is  well  known, 
freezes  in  Winter. 

As  every  variety  (and  there  are  very  many  of  them)  of 
fixed  oil  is  insoluble  in  water,  if  it  be  mixed  therewith, 
it  will  speedily  rise  to  the  top  of  the  same,  thus  showing 
it  to  be  lighter  than  the  water,  since  it  floats  thereon. 

In  most  cases  of  exposure  of  fixed  oils  to  the  atmo- 
sphere they  will  absorb  oxygen  and  become  thick,  ex- 
cept the  oil  is  in  a  thin  layer,  in  which  case  it  dries. 
Other  oils  become  rancid  on  exposure.  These  different 
properties  constitute  an  important  affair  in  their  or- 
dinary usage.  The  former  class  are  known  as  drying 
oils,  and  when  boiled  with  litharge  are  used  by  house- 
painters  to  a  great  extent.  The  principal  of  these  are 
linseed,  hempseed,  nut,  poppy  and  walnut.  The  other 
class  is  called  fat  or  unctous  oils,  and  to  them  many 
fires  originating  from  spontaneous  combustion  may  be 
ascribed.  The  latter  is  caused  by  rags  which  have  been 
smeared  or  used  in  wiping  such  oils,  being  thrown  in  a 
heap  in  a  comer.  There  they  are  often  allowed  to  re- 
main for  some  time,  when  the  carbon  in  the  oil  undergoes 
oxidation  thus  evolving  carbonic  acid.  The  production 
of  the  latter  is  accompanied  with  an  elevation  of  tem- 
perature, and  the  consequences  but  too  often  are  that  the 
rags  take  fire  with  serious  results. 

Among  the  oils  which  produce  this  effect,  the  most 
prominent  are  rape,  colza,  cameline,  sun-flower,  cotton, 
cocoanut  and  sessama.  They  only  dry  after  very  long 
exposure  to  the  air.  Although  fixed  oils  cannot  be  dis- 
solved in  water,  yet  they  are  soluble  in  fluids  containing 
either  soda  or  potash.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  latter 
may  be  used  for  cleaning  oil  lamps,  and  removing  grease 
from  clothes. 

The  extraction  and  purification  of  fixed  vegetable  oils 
will  be  described  in  another  article. 


Products  of  Coal.—"  Marsh  Gas.* 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Prominent  in  the  series  of  the  products  of  coal  are  two 
gases  known  as  marsh  gas  (light  carburretted  hydrogen), 
and  olefiant  gas. 

The  first  of  these,  marsh  ^as,  is  the  subject  of  this 
article.  It  is  so  named  from  its  frequent  occurrence  in 
places  containing  stagnant  pools  of  water.  This  maybe 
proved  or  illustrated  by  proceeding  in  the  following 
manner : 

Thrust  a  long  pole  Into  one  of  the  above-mentioned 
pools,  and  stir  the  water ;  immediately  the  air  will  be- 
come offensive  on  account  of  the  gas  liberated.  Now 
invert  an  empty  wide-mouthed  glass  jar  over  the  pond, 
near  the  bubbles  of  water.  It  will  soon  be  filled  with 
the  gas  which  may  be  kept  for  use. 

The  origin  of  the  gas  in  this  case  is  owing  to  the  putre- 
faction of  vegetable  substances,  in  a  place  where  insufla- 
cient  oxygen  to  oxidize  these  same  substances  into 
carbon,  is  found.  In  this,  the  water,  by  co'^ering  the 
vegetable  substances,  is  the  cause  oi  the  intufiicient 
supply  of  oxygen. 

Ordinarily,  marsh  gas  is  colorless,  and  posi  esses  about 
one-half  the  weight  of  air,  it  ranking  as  the  second 
lightest  substance  known.  It  forms  a  considerable  por- 
tion, and  is  partly  the  cause  of  the  illuminating  power 
of  coal-gas  already  described.  Its  greatest  natural 
source  is  the  coal  mine,  where  it  sometimes  occasions 
disastrous  accidents.  At  ordinary  temperatures  it  aome- 


tlmes  escapes  from  the  masses  of  coal,  and  coming  In 
contact  with  air,  forms  "fire-damp,"  The  explosion  ot 
this  mixture  in  mines,  which  are  deficient  in  ventilation, 
often  occasions  loss  of  life. 

It  may  be  prepared,  artificially,  in  the  following 
manner : 

Place  on  an  iron  plate  a  mixture  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  grains  slaked  lime,  thirty-one  of  sodium 
acetate  (crystallized),  and  sixty-two  of  sodium  hydrate. 
Heat  the  whole  gently  until  it  has  become  dry  and 
friable.  Now  procure  a  glass  tube,  se  ren  or  eight  inches 
long,  an  inch  wide,  and  closed  at  one  end.  Fill  it  with 
the  dry  mixtui-e,  and  attach  caout-choac  piping  to  it  in 
order  to  cany  off  the  gas  to  be  formed.  The  latter  must 
be  arranged  to  dip  in  a  vessel  of  water  containing  a  bent 
tube  connected  with  a  gas  jar.  The  tube  containing  the 
mixture  is  now  to  be  arranged  so  that  it  can  be  heated 
by  a  spirit  lamp.  Marsh  gas  will  soon  be  evolved  from 
the  tube  containing  the  chemicals,  and  will  pass  through 
the  piping  to  the  vessel  of  water,  and  thence  through 
the  bent  tube  to  the  gas  jar  ready  for  use. 

The  principal  purpose  for  which  this  gas  is  used,  is  in 
making  chloroform.  This  is  effected  by  allowing  chlorine 
to  act  slowly  on  it,  by  this  means,  what  is  called  three 
atoms  of  hydrogen,  being  taken  away  and  replaced  by 
the  same  quantity  of  chlorine.  The  result  is  a  volatile, 
colorless  liquid,  the  inhalation  of  the  vapors  of  which 
causes  temporary  insensibility  to  pain. 


Practical  Jokes. 

In  later  days,  fortunately  for  the  nerves  of  the  ma- 
jority of  people,  practical  j'^kes  are  considered  in  very 
bad  taste,  and  discouraged  by  society ;  but  in  the  last 
century  they  flourished  like  weeds.  Perhaps  our  read- 
ers are  already  familiar  with  the  exploit  of  the  famous 
Turpin,  who  entering  a  tavern-yard  on  one  occasion, 
slipped  the  harness  off  an  ass,  and  sending  the  animal 
away  in  the  care  of  a  confederate,  crept  into  the  hameS  i 
himself,  and  with  unblushing  effrontery  awaited  the  ar- 
rival of  the  owner,  who  was  naturally  astonished  to  find 
his  beast  gone,  and  a  man  standing  harnessed  in  its 
gear.  Still  more  was  he  amazed  when  he  heard  Turpin 
devoutedly  thanking  God  for  the  recovery  of  his  human 
shape.  "At  length,"  exclaimed  he,  "  my  sins  are  for- 
given me,  and  the  time  of  my  penance  is  expired.  I 
sinned  and  was  changed  to  an  ass,  but  heaven  iS  merci- 
ful, and  its  anger  does  not  endure  forever."  Sajing 
which  Turpin  threw  down  his  harness  and  walked  off. 
However,  not  very  long  after,  the  ass  was  sent  to  be 
sold,  and  who  should  come  into  the  market  but  its  for- 
mer proprietor.  After  staring  at  the  animal,  he  called 
out,  "  What !  has  the  wretch  sinned  again  !  and  has  he 
again  been  turned  into  an  ass  ?  For  the  love  of  God, 
I  friends,  have  nothing  to  say  to  that  animal  1  He  has  de- 
ceived me  once,  but  I  am  not  to  be  caught  again  ;  for, 
look  you,  whoever  buys  him  will  find  him  some  day  or 
other  as  I  did,  turned  into  a  man."  The  joke,  in  this 
case,  was  good,  but  its  originator  profited  by  it,  cleverly 
combiiring  wit  with  profit. 

A  practical  joke  of  a  different  character  was  once 
played  on  a  well-known  author  by  his  patron,  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk.  The  impecunious  writer  was  surprised  in 
his  garden,  and  surrounded  by  a  number  of  distinguished 
visitors,  headed  by  the  duke  who  said,  "We  are  come 
to  dine  with  you,  old  bard."  "  Your  royal  highness  has 
taken  us  by  surprise,"  said  the  writer,  "but  we  will 
send  off  for  some  provisions  to  Dorking ;  it  is  only  three 
miles  off."  A  messenger  was  despatched,  but  conform- 
ably to  previous  instructions,  intercepted,  and  a  walk 
In  the  garden  being  proposed,  the  captain  was  detained 
in  conversation  whilst  the  servants  were  setting  out  the 
table  and  arranging  the  banquet.  All  this  time  the  au- 
thor was  suffering  the  agonies  of  a  host  who,  though  on 
hospitality  intent,  was  conscious  of  the  emptiness  of 
his  larder,  and  on  the  anxious  lookout  for  the  arrival  of 
the  basket  lading  with  supplies  from  Dorking.  Presently 
the  dinner  was  announced.  Morris  entered  the  dining- 
room,  profusely  apologizing  as  he  went.  To  his  great 
surprise,  the  table  was  spread  bountifully  with  fish, 
lams,  fowl,  venison  and  pastry,  terminating  in  a  sub- 
ime  round  of  boiled  beef.  "A  most  ingenious  and 
well  executed  device,"  said  the  relieved  author,  who 
was  something  of  a  gourmand.  "  The  joke,  however,  is 
lot  at  my  expense ;"  and  he  sat  down  and  heartily  en- 
loyed  himself. 


354 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


WHA.T  MIGHT  BE. 

BY  SAKAH  DOUDNEY. 

If  (  were  bound  to  you,  she  said, 

i  .ove  b'o  passing  well 
That  J-  GOJld  jeave  my  purple  dales 

imd  bright  with  bud  and  bell, 
Jf'>f  weary  lor  the  fruitful  vales 
Wbeieti;  aiy  people  dwell. 

If  1  coa«ti  .»n  with  you,  she  said, 

Deep  m  voi  r  city's  heart, 
In  ail  your  dark  and  toilsome  days, 

L  too  would  do  my  part; 
Made  strong  to  tread  the  woeful  waySp 

As  stainless  Britomart. 

If  f  were  one  with  you,  she  said. 

Our  blended  lives  might  flow 
Like  some  full  river's  tide  to  bless 

The  homes  of  high  and  low. 
Till  God's  sweet  plant  of  righteousueat 

Should  greatly  thrive  and  grow. 

But  as  that  may  not  be,  she  said 

(He  knoweih  what  is  best), 
I  do  my  work  apart,  and  pray, 

"  O,  Father,  make  him  blest?  • 
And  hasten  thine  eternal  day, 

Wheji  love  shall  find  its  resflt.** 


Oral  Instruction. 

Literally  taken,  oral  instruction  is  any  instruction 
Bonveyed  by  word  of  mouth  ;  that  is,  any  information 
Dr  statement  made  »)y  the  lips  to  the  ear,  in  distinction 
from  the  same  addressed  to  the  eye  by  means  of  the 
«7ritten  or  printed  page.  Hence,  many  regard  all  verbal 
communication  to  the  pupil,  whether  it  embodies  expla- 
nation of  something  done  or  statement  of  something  in 
extension  of  what  a  book  says,  or  whether  it  is  a  formal 
lecture,  as  oral  instruction  in  the  sense  which  educators 
attach  to  the  words.  A  conversation  with  a  class,  or  a 
reading  from  a.  book,  or  an  illustration  thrown  in,  or 
even  a  stor.v  told,  are  in  this  view  the  varieties  of  oral 
instruction.  Jn  like  manner  a  page  repeated  from  mem- 
ory, be  it  history  or  grammar  or  intellectual  arithmetic, 
Is  an  oral  lesson  on  the  part  of  the  pupil.  The  essence 
of  it  consists  simply  in  spoken  words  rather  than  in 
printed  wordu  r,  in  the  form  of  address,  or  in  the  sense 
addressed,  rather  than  in  any  skillful  approach  to  the 
Intellect  hv  the  avenue  of  readiest  access.  It  is  not  tMs 
which  may  be  claimed  to  be  a  "  method  "  by  itself,  for 
this  is  ap  accompaniment  and  auxiliary  of  all  methods. 
Oral  instruction  is  not  simply  talkina  to.  or  with  a  class. 


Nor,  again,  is  it  simply  giving  the  lessons  of  a  text- 
book without  the  book.  If  teacher  and  pupil  should 
both  be  able  to  dispense  with  all  books  in  the  class  and 
to  go  through  with  the  lesson  as  it  is  given  them,  it 
might  not  vary  at  all  from  the  lesson  of  the  book,  and 
the  only  distinguishing  feature  of  it  would  be  the  great- 
er exercise  of  memory.  This  would  be  on  the  part  of 
both  a  lesson  remembered,  for  which  the  text-book 
would  stUl  furnish  both  the  guide  and  the  substance. 
This  lesson  would  have  an  apparent  advantage  over  one 
heard  directly  from  the  text-book ;  but,  except  so  far 
as  independence  of  the  book  at  the  time  of  recitation 
goes,  only  an  apparent  advantage.  Oral  instruction  dif- 
fers from  other  instruction  in  that  it  makes  its  own  text- 
book— that  is,  its  definition,  its  statements  of  princi- 
ples, its  rules,  all  that  would  be  put  into  a  book  ;  and  in 
that  it  does  this,  not  by  giving  them  ready-made,  but  by 
leading  to  them  by  regular  steps.  It  aims  to  persuade  • 
the  pupil  to  use  his  own  power  by  a  skillful  presentation 
of  points  adapted  to  awaken  his  curiosity.  It  assumes 
that  the  pupil  may,  within  his  range,  investigate  and 
discover  truth  and  learn  to  make  the  formulas  by  which 
it  is  expressed,  and  that  this  is  better  than  to  give  him 
formulas  of  any  sort  and  tell  him  to  use  them  for  solv- 
ing problems  or  for  doing  any  part  of  his  work.  It  is  a 
process  of  unfolding,  of  development,  rather  than  of 
furnishing  the  results  of  previous  investigation  made  by 
others.  It  is  original  inquiry  under  guidance ;  inquiry 
at  first  hand,  rather  than  reception  of  truth  at  second 
hand  ;  it  is  a  path  of  discovery,  rather  than  a  subsequent 
account  of  what  has  been  discovered.  It  is  leading  the 
child  to  do  what  all  who  make  books  ought  to  do,  in- 
stead of  telling  him  outright  the  results  which  others 
have  already  reached.  It  is  a  methodical  presentation 
of  truth,  not  ordered  on  the  surface,  but  near  enough 
to  stimulate  search,  without  requiring  too  severe  toil  or 
too  deep  delving.  Step  by  step  truth  is  unfolded,  not 
communicated.  Ray  by  ray  light  is  let  in  tLat  each  point 
may  be  seen  by  itself,  and  that  the  whole  may  at  length 
stand  revealed,  and  that  each  part  by  the  process  of  dis- 
covery may  be  the  learner's.  In  the  nature  of  the  case 
instruction  which  has  this  end  as  its  leading  idea  must 
be  oral;  it  must  be  for  each  learner  a  bringing  out  of  his 
powers  ;  it  must  be  a  direct  personal  contact  of  his  own 
mind  with  the  mind  of  the  teacher,  and  through  the 
medium  of  the  subject  which  is  under  investigation. 

The  Streets  of  London. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

It  is  immaterial  what  you  throw  into  the  streets  of 
London,  it  is  always  picked  up  in  a  short  time.  Those 
whose  avocations  caU  them  upon  the  streets  at  an  early 
hour  see  an  altogether  different  race  of  men  from  those 
met  during  the  day.  In  such  streets  as  are  still  paved, 
men  may  be  seen  peering  earnestly  on  the  ground,  and 
armed  with  a  short  stick  having  a  metal  hook  on  the 
end.  This  stick  is  thrust  into  and  drawn  along  the  cre- 
vices between  the  paving  stones.  Does  it  give  out  a 
metallic  sound  ?  In  an  instant  the  man  has  picked  up 
something  and  placed  it  in  the  wallet  hanging  over  his 
shoulder.  He  takes  no  notice  of  any  one,  he  keeps  on 
walking  ;  and  although  a  casual  observer  may  discover 
nothing,  yet  the  professional's  hand  is  constantly  swing- 
ing up  to  deposit  something  in  his  pack.  It  is  said  that 
the  findings  of  this  class  arc  mostly  nails  fallen  out  o 
horseshoes.  And  all  under  the  streets,  where  we  are 
carelessly  walking,  the  sewers  are  peopled  with  patient, 
persistent  workers,  hrmting  in  the  dark  and  slime  for 
plate  or  jewels  that  luckless  thieves  may  have  thrust 
down  there  in  the  night  when  closely  pursued  by  out- 
raged law  officials.  And  lusty  rats  plunge  and  hustle 
away  into  side  aisles  of  this  net-work  of  water  streets 
underground.  The  ragpickers  are  astir  at  an  early  hour, 
so  are  the  bone  and  garbage  pickers,  only  intent  upon 
pi-olonging  an  existence  which  seems  to  us,  more  favored 
ones,  as  only  a  long  life-struggle  with  starvation  and 
death.  Looking  at  the  suffering,  the  ignorance,  the 
criminality  found  in  the  great  cities  of  the  world,  and 
then  glancing  at  the  many  discontented,  fretful,  unhappy 
natures  that  do  not  and  will  not  esteem  the  great  privi- 
leges which  God  has  given  them  to  improve  their  own 
condition  and  that  of  the  poor  around  them,  we  can  but 
send  up  the  mental  prayer  : 

"  Open  our  blind  eyes  and  soften  our  hearts,  that  we 
may  be  thy  faithful  stewards." 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD. 


355 


A  Sailor's  Story 

Four  years  ago  (writes  an  American  sailor)  I  left  the 
port  of  Boston,  the  master  of  a  fine  ship,  bound  for 
China.  I  was  worth  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  was  the 
husband  of  a  young  and  handsome  wife,  whom  I  had 
married  but  six  months.  When  I  left  her,  I  promised  to 
return  in  less  than  a  twelvemonth.  I  took  all  my  money 
with  me  save  enough  to  support  my  wife  hi  my  absence, 
for  the  purpose  of  trading  when  in  China,  on  my  own 
account.  For  a  long  time  we  were  favoied  with  pros- 
perous winds ;  but  when  in  the  China  seas  a  terrible 
storm  came  upon  us,  so  that  in  a  short  time  I  saw  the 
vessel  must  be  lost,  for  we  were  drifting  on  the  rocks  of 
an  unknown  shore.  I  ordered  the  men  to  provide  each 
for  himself  in  the  best  possible  manner,  and  forget  the 
ship,  as  it  was  an  impossibility  to  save  her.  We  struck 
— a  sea  threw  me  upon  the  rocks  senseless,  and  the  next 
would  have  carried  me  back  into  a  watery  grave,  had  not 
one  of  the  sailors  dragged  me  further  up  the  rocks. 
There  were  only  four  of  us  alive,  and,  when  morning 
came,  we  found  that  we  were  on  a  small  uninhabited 
island,  with  nothing  to  eat  but  the  wild  fruit  common  to 
that  portion  of  the  earth. 

I  will  not  distress  you  by  an  account  of  our  sufferings 
there  ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  we  remained  sixty  day  before 
we  could  make  ourselves  known  to  any  ship.  We  were 
taken  into  Canton,  and  there  I  had  to  beg ;  for  my  money 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  I  had  not  taken  the 
precaution  to  have  it  insured.  It  was  nearly  a  year  be- 
fore I  found  a  chance  to  come  home,  and  then  1,  a  cap- 
tain, was  obliged  to  ship  as  a  common  sailor.  It  was 
two  years  from  the  time  I  left  America  that  I  landed  in 
Boston.  I  was  walking  in  a  burned  manner  up  one  of 
its  streets,  when  I  met  my  brother-in-law.  He  could  not 
speak  nor  move,  but  he  grasped  my  hand,  and  the  tears 
gushed  from  his  eyes. 

Is  my  wife  alive  ?"  I  asked.  He  said  nothing.  Then 
I  wished  that  I  had  perished  with  my  ship,  for  I  thought 
my  wife  was  dead,  but  he  very  soon  said :  '•^iSlie  is  alive." 
Then  it  was  my  turn  to  cry  for  joy.  He  clung  to  me 
and  said  :  "  Your  funeral  sermon  has  been  preached,  for 
we  have  thought  you  dead  for  a  long  time."  He  said 
that  my  wife  was  living  in  our  little  cottage  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  State.  It  was  then  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  I  took  a  train  that  would  carry  me  within 
twenty-five  miles  of  my  wife.  Upon  leaving  the  cars  I 
hired  a  boy,  though  it  was  night,  to  drive  me  home. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  that 
sweet  little  cottage  of  mine  appeared  in  sight.  It  was 
a  warm,  moonlight  night,  and  I  remember  how  like 
heaven  it  looked  to  me.  I  got  out  of  the  carriage  and 
went  to  the  window  of  the  room  where  the  servant  girl 
slept  and  gently  knocked.  She  opened  the  window,  and 
asked  "  Who  was  there  ? "  "  Sarah,  do  you  not  know 
me  ?  "  said  1.  She  screamed  with  fright,  for  she  thought 
me  a  ghost,  but  I  told  her  to  unfasten  the  door  and  let  me 
In,  for  I  wished  to  see  my  wife.  She  let  me  in  and  gave 
me  a  light,  and  I  went  up  stairs  to  my  wife's  room.  She 
lay  sleepiiig  quietly.  Upon  her  bosom  lay  our  child, 
whom  I  had  never  seen.  She  was  as  beautiful  as  when  I 
left  her,  but  I  could  see  a  mournful  expression  upon  her 
face.  Perhaps  she  was  dreaming  of  me.  I  gazed  for  a 
long  time  !  I  did  not  make  any  noise,  for  I  dai'e  not  wake 
her.  At  length  I  imprinted  a  soft  kiss  upon  the  cheek  of 
my  little  child.  While  domg  it,  a  tear  dropped  from  my 
eye  and  feU  upon  her  cheek.  Her  eyes  opened  as  clear- 
ly as  though  she  had  not  been  sleeping.  I  saw  that  she 
began  to  be  frightened,  and  I  said,  "  Mary,  it  is  your 
husband ! "  and  she  clasped  me  about  my  neck  and 
fainted.  But  I  cannot  describe  to  you  that  scene.  She 
is  now  the  happy  wife  of  a  poor  man.  I  am  endeavoring 
to  accumulate  a  little  property,  and  then  I  wiU  leave  the 
ssa  f  orevei\  

The  Panier. 

The  panier  flourished  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV.,  and 
consisted  of  a  petticoat  made  of  basket-work.  They 
were  even  made  of  wood  with  bars  of  iron,  and  were 
originally  introduced  from  Spain  by  Anne,  of  Austria, 
mother  of  Louis  XV.,  and  were  the  fashion  for  about 
twenty  years  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIII.  For  nearly 
a  century  they  disappeared,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
time  of  Louis  XV.  that  they  once  more  became  the 
mode.  Barbier,  in  his  interesting  diarj-,  published  more 
than  a  century  ago  in  Paris,  tells  us  that  "  The  Cardinal 
of  Fleury  has  had  his  legs  much  cut  by  the  paniers  of  a 


certain  lady  with  whom  he  was  recently  returning  from 
a  religious  service.  You  know  these  paniers  are  so 
monstious  that  two  persons  cannot  well  occupy  the 
same  sedan  chair  on  account  of  their  size.  His  eminence 
insisted  upon  returning  home  in  the  chair  of  Madam 

 ;  and,  as  he  is  a  stout  man,  he  somehow  or  other 

broke  her  panier,  and  the  wooden  bars  wounded  his  legs 
so  that  he  had  to  be  carried  out  of  the  chair,  with  the 
blood  trickling  down  his  calves.  As  to  the  lady,  she 
laughed  fit  to  kill  herself  at  this  spectacle,  which  has 
made  all  Paris  roar."  Further  on  he  tells  us  :  "These 
paniers  are  so  big,  that  when  the  Queen  is  seated  in  her 
reception-room  with  mesdames  the  sisters  of  the  King 
on  either  side  of  her,  their  petticoats  hide  her  Majesty 
so  completely,  that  the  King  has  issued  an  order  to  the 
effect  that  there  shall  always  be  two  vacant  chairs  on 
either  side  of  her  Majesty." 

A  Royal  Joke 

One  does  not  think  of  Frederick  the  Great  primarily 
as  a  joker.  His  life  was  anything  but  humorous,  and 
was  the  cause  of  more  tears  than  smiles.  But  Frederick 
loved  a  joke,  especially  if  there  was  a  spice  of  malicious- 
ness in  it.  His  whole  intercourse  with  Voltaire  was  a 
great  comedy— a  burlesque  of  friendship  and  literary 
patronage.  On  one  occasion  Voltaire  requested  the 
privilege  of  reading  a  new  poem  to  him.  Frederick  was 
delighted,  and  named  an  hour  when  he  would  graciously 
listen  to  the  latest  production  of  the  great  French 
genius.  At  the  appointed  time  Voltaire  appeared,  manu- 
script in  hand,^  and  read  the  poem.  The  king  had 
meantime  secreted  behind  a  screen  in  the  same  room  a 
man  of  wonderful  memory,  who  had  the  gift  of  repeat- 
ing any  composition,  however  lengthy,  to  which  he  had 
once  listened.  When  Voltaire  had  concluded  his  re- 
cital, Frederick  expressed  great  admiration,  but  de- 
clared he  had  heard  the  poem  before.  The  poet  was  in- 
dignant, repelling  the  charge  of  plagiarism  with  great 
warmth.  The  king,  however,  insisted  that  the  poem 
was  by  no  means  of  recent  origin,  and  said  there  was  a 
man  in  his  court  who  could  repeat  it  from  beginning  to 
end.  He  sent  for  the  man  who  had  been  concealed  be- 
hind the  screen  and  who  had  listened  to  the  reading, 
and  requested  him  to  repeat  a  certain  poem,  quoting  the 
first  lines.  The  man  instantly,  and  to  the  great  astonish- 
ment of  Voltaire,  repeated  the  poem  word  for  word. 
The  indignation  of  the  poet,  when  he  discovered  the 
trick,  may  be  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 


Evert  human  soul  has  a  germ  of  some  flowers  within, 
and  they  would  open  if  they  could  only  find  sunshine 
and  free  air  to  expand  in.  I  always  told  you  that  not 
having  enough  of  sunshine  was  what  ailed  the  world. 
iViake  people  happy  and  there  will  not  be  half  the  quar- 
relling- or  a  tenth  part  of  the  wickedness  there  is. 

A  Useful  Drug. 

Ammonia,  or  as  it  is  generally  called,  spirits  of  harts- 
aorn,  is  a  powerful  alkali,  and  dissolves  grease  and  dirt 
with  great  ease.  It  has  been  recommended  very  highly 
for  domestic  purposes.  For  washing  paint,  put  a  tea- 
spoonful  in  a  quart  of  moderately  hot  water ;  dip  in  a 
flannel  cloth  and  then  wipe  off  the  woodwork  ;  no  scrub- 
bing will  be  necessary.  For  taking  grease  spots  from 
any  fabric  use  the  ammonia  nearly  pure,  then  lay  white 
blotting-paper  over  the  spot,  then  iron  it  lightly.  In 
washing  lace,  put  about  twelve  drops  in  a  pint  of  warm 
suds.  Put  in  your  silverware  and  wash,  using  an  old 
nail-brush  or  tooth-brush  for  the  purpose.  For  cleaning 
hair-brushes,  etc.,  simply  shake  the  brushes  up  and 
down  in  a  mixture  of  a  tablespoonful  of  ammonia  to 
one  pint  of  hot  water;  when  they  are  cleaned  rinse  them 
in  cold  water,  and  stand  them  in  the  wind  or  in  a  hot 
place  to  dry.  For  washing  finger  marks  from  looking 
glasses  or  windows,  put  a  few  drops  of  ammonia  on  a 
moist  rag  and  make  quick  work  of  it.  If  you  wish  your 
house  plants  to  flourish  put  a  few  drops  of  the  spirits  in 
every  pint  of  water  used  in  watering.  A  teaspoonful 
will  add  much  to  the  refreshing  effects  of  the  bath. 
Nothing  is  better  than  ammonia  water  for  cleaning  the 
hair.  In  every  case  rinse  off  the  ammonia  with  clear 
water.  To  which  we  would  only  add,  that,  for  removing 
grease  spots,  a  mixture  of  ammonia  and  alcohol  is  better 
than  alcohol  alone ;  and  for  taking  out  the  red  stauia 
produced  by  the  strong  acids  in  blue  and  black  cloths, 
there  is  nothing  better  than  ammonia. 


356 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Wonderful  Kindness  of  a  Dog. 

Lately,  says  a  Cleveland  paper;  we  chronicled  the  fact 
that  a  little  boy,  seven  years  old,  who  had  wandered 
away  from  his  home  on  Chatham  street.  West  Side,  and 
become  lost,  was  found  by  a  policeman  crouched  in  the 
corner  of  a  yard  asleep  and  half  frozen,  for  the  weather 
<vas  quite  cold.  To  this  should  now  be  added  the  fact 
that  the  boy,  finding  himself  unable  to  make  his  way 
home,  began  to  cry,  and  while  thus  engaged,  a  large 
dog,  apparently  a  cross  between  the  hound  and  shepherd 
breeds,  which  the  boy  had  never  seen  before,  came 
along,  and,  appreciating  the  boy's  distress,  took  up  a 
position  close  to  the  boy,  and  remained  on  guard  before 
him,  lending  the  warmth  of  his  shaggy  covering  to  keep 
comfortable  the  fiset  and  limbs  of  his  human  ward.  He 
was  in  downright  earnest  in  his  self-imposed  guardian- 
ship, for  when  the  ofiicer  attempted  to  arouse  the  little 
sleeper  and  take  him  to  the  station  for  better  security, 
the  dog  manifested  a  disposition  to  resist  any  inter- 
ference with  his  charge,  and  it  required  considerable 
coaxing  on  the  part  of  the  patrolman  to  induce  com- 
pliance on  the  part  of  the  canine  constable.  He  finally 
conceded  the  point,  however,  and  suffered  the  little  wan- 
derer to  be  led  to  the  Central  station,  where  he  was  given 
a  chance  to  get  a  good  nap  on  a  lounge  in  a  warm  room. 
But  the  dog  did  not  desert  him  even  here,  seeming  to 
think  the  boy  might  require  further  attention,  and  he 
followed  on  to  the  station,  stole  quietly  into  the  room 
where  he  was  taken,  stretched  himself  on  the  floor  be- 
side the  couch  of  his  little  companion,  and  when  the 
sergeant  went  thither  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  to 
look  after  the  little  fellow,  the  dog  manifested  no  little 
anger  at  the  intrusion,  and  stuck  by  the  boy  with  a 
fidelity  as  devoted  as  it  was  wonderful.  The  little  fel- 
low was  then  taken  to  the  West  Side  station  on  Detroit 
street,  the  dog  still  attending  him,  and  taking  up  a  posi- 
tion at  his  feet  as  soon  as  they  reached  there,  and  view- 
ing all  comers  with  the  eye  of  jealous  and  determined 
guardianship.  What  became  of  the  two  after  this,  be- 
yond the  fact  that  the  boy  was  restored  to  his  home,  we 
know  not ;  but  the  peculiar  and  wonderful  conduct  of 
the  dog  certainly  deserves  the  mention  and  commenda- 
tion we  here  make  of  it. 

THE  WYOMING-  MASSACRE. 

A  LEAF  FROM  SAVAGE  HISTORY. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

Wyoming.  It  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  most  beautifnl 
valleys  in  the  world.  Poets  have  sang  of  its  scenery,  travelers 
and  historians  have  dwelt  on  its  natural  splendor,  and  painters 
have  lingered  to  paint  the  glories  of  its  autumnal  sunset.  It 
was  long  claimed'  by  the  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations,  but  the 
Delawares,  Shawneese,  and  Nanticokes,  and  some  other 
tribes,  occasionally  obtained  possession.  In  1742,  Count  Zin- 
zendorf,  the  great  apostle  of  the  Moravians  or  "United 
Brethren,"  came  to  America,  and  the  following  year  he  plunged 
into  the  wilderness  to  preach  their  doctrine  to  the  red  men  of 
the  forest.  It  was  while  engaged  in  the  work  of  their  mission- 
ary enterprise  that  they  penetrated  to  the  wild  though  beautiful 
vale  of  Wyoming. 

Hardy  pioneers  soon  followed,  and  an  active  and  industriona 
settlement  was  commenced.  Flowers  grew  in  profusion  all 
over  the  forest,  and  luxuriant  wild  grape  vines  trailed  among 
the  branches  of  the  trees,  often  covering  the  glens  at  the  foot 
of  the  surrounding  mountains  and  the  coves  along  the  placid 
Susquehanna,  with  an  arching  canopy  of  dark  green  leaves,  in- 
termingled in  the  autumn  with  rich  purple  clusters  of  fruit, 
ever  a  source  of  delight  to  the  lover  of  the  forest  and  back- 
woods. 

A  feeling  of  friendship  and  brotherly  love  is  always  a  peculiar 
trait  of  early  frontier  life.  At  the  commencement,  it  existed 
in  Wyoming  ;  and  from  morning  till  night  the  rustic  songs  of 
the  merry  woodmen,  intermingled  with  the  echoes  of  their 
axes,  as  they  felled  the  tall  trees  of  the  grand  old  forest^  rolled 
the  logs  and  split  rails  to  build  fences  where  the  ripening 
grain  waved  over  the  fields  dotted  with  charred  stumps,  and 
wreaths  of  thin  blue  smoke  rose  in  lazy  spiral  curls  from  burn- 
ing log-heaps,  and  from  the  rude  old  fashioned  stone  chimneys 
of  their  log  cabins,  where  the  happy  housewives  plied  their 
daily  toil  while  their  merry  children  chatted  and  built  play- 
houses in  the  door-yard.  No  one  thought  it  low  or  unbecoming 
to  labor,  but  all  toiled  alike,  each  in  his  or  her  respective 
sphere,  and  not  because  they  were  obliged  to,  but  because  it 
was  their  duty,  and  their  love  and  pride  revolted  at  the  thought 
of  idleness. 

Such  scenes,  perfectly  free  from  the  tyranny  of  modem 
fashion  and  the  turmoils  of  avaricious  greed  and  strife,  where 
true  health,  peace,  and  happiness  prevail,  must  besought  for  in 
the  little  colonies  ;  where  men  and  women  of  sturdy  mould  and 


ambitious  mind  are  not  afraid  to  labor,  even  under  difficulties 
and  hardships,  wielding  the  axe  and  plow,  the  loom  and  churn, 
and  turning  an  honest  penny,  plodding  onward  and  upward 
along  life's  road  together,  in  friendly  neighborhoods  among  the 
hills  and  backwoods  where  the  bounteous  hand  of  Nature 
clothes  the  ground  in  all  the  beauties  of  terrestrial  glory- 
where  man  is  equal  with  his  brother  man,  and  love  prevails— 
and  where  society  is  courted  and  cultivated  for  the  good  there 
is  in  it,  and  not  for  the  shams  of  an  outward  show. 

One  would  imagine  as  he  passes  along  the  level  fields  of  the 
Wyoming  valley  of  to-day,  noting  the  abundant  productions, 
the  neat  gardens  and  villas  surrounded  with  ripe  fruits  and 
flowers,  fllling  the  balmy  atmosphere  with  eweet  perfume,  and 
combining  to  produce  upon  the  outward  senses,  sensations  of 
all  the  delights  of  harmonious  Nature,  could  have  no  dark  story 
to  tell.  And  yet  Wyoming  with  all  its  natural  beauty  has  had 
its  page  of  dark  and  cruel  nistory. 

In  1762,  about  two  hundred  persons  arrived  from  Connecticut 
and  settled  just  above  where  Wilkesbarre  now  stands.  At  first 
they  lived  friendly  with  their  red  neighbors,  but  ere  long  their 
wily  foes  thinking  themselves  offended,  made  a  sudden  attacic 
and  massacred  about  twenty  persons.  The  rest  fled  in  dismS,y 
over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forest  to  the  settlements  at 
Easton.  The  settlers  were  men  of  daring,  however,  and  their 
first  disaster  did  not  overthrow  their  courage.  They  had 
suffered  heavily,  but  like  iron  passing  through  the  fire,  it  had 
tempered  and  strengthened  their  nimds,  and  the  enterprise 
they  had  commenced  could  not  be  given  up. 

The  valley  was  again  repeopled,  but  a  new  foe,  formidable  in 
its  character,  arose  to  menace  their  happiness  and  undermine  the 
foundations  of  their  society.  The  Connecticut  settlers  claimed 
the  territory  under  their  charter  from  England.  The  Pennsyl- 
vania settlers  opposed  them.  For  a  time  fierce  disputes  raged, 
and  insurrection  and  civil  strife  were  threatened  ;  but  ere  the 
trouble  was  settled,  the  flames  of  the  Revolution  between 
England  and  America  burst  forth,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
reunite  and  join  hands  in  the  protection  of  their  common 
country. 

The  entire  white  population  of  the  valley  at  this  time  was 
probably  some  2,500  souls.  The  news  of  Lexington  and 
Bunker  Hill  fired  their  souls  with  the  mighty  pulsations  of 
liberty  and  patriotism,  that  liko  an  electric  impulse,  was  arous- 
ing the  people  from  Massacnusetts  to  the  Carolinas.  With 
their  accustomed  activity  and  vigor  they  raised  several  com- 
panies, which  marched  away  to  Washington,  and  to  participate 
in  the  battles  of  Brandywine  and  Germantown. 

The  war  for  Independence  had  continued  three  years,  and  its 
effects  began  to  be  sadly  felt  in  the  colonies.  Toward  the 
latter  part  of  June,  1778,  Colonel  John  Butler  collected  his  tory 
rangers  and  a  detachment  of  Sir  John  Johnson's  Royal  Greens, 
some  four  hundred  in  all,  and  with  seven  hundred  fierce  Seneca 
Indian  warriors  from  Central  New  York  prepared  to  descend 
the  Susquehanna  River  upon  the  Wyoming  settlement. 

Reaching  the  head  of  the  valley,  they  marched  upon  Jenkin's 
fort,  which  capitulated  on  the  2d  of  July.  A  terrible  crisis 
was  now  at  hand.  Nearly  all  capable  of  bearing  arms  were 
with  Washington  in  the  regular  army,  and  the  place  was  almost 
defenseless.  A  few  rude  forts  or  stockades  had  been  con- 
structed by  setting  logs  on  end  side  by  side  in  circular  ditches, 
forming  an  inclosure  where  the  women  and  children  might  re- 
treat in  case  of  emergency.  In  the  entire  region,  there  was 
but  a  single  cannon,  a  four  pounder,  kept  as  an  alarm  gun  at 
the  Wilkesbarre  fort,  and  this  was  without  ball.  But  though 
they  labored  under  difticulties,  and  against  superior  means  and 
numbers,  they  proposed  not  to  give  up  their  homes  and  lives 
-without  a  struggle. 

Forty  or  fifty  militiamen,  with  a  half-raised  company  com- 
manded by  Captain  Hewitt,  assembled  at  once.  It  was  a  signal 
for  the  general  muster.  Boys  scarcely  entering  their  teens 
took  their  places  in  the  ranks,  and  their  grandfathers,  old  and 
bent  with  age,  and  with  their  snowy  hair  flying  in  the  gentle 
breeze,  came  forward  to  offer  their  services  in  the  defence  of 
their  homes.  Though  weak  in  numbers,  they  felt  strong  in  the 
right.  They  knew  their  cause  was  just,  and  they  believed  the 
god  of  battles  would  nerve  their  arms  to  strike  the  blow  for 
home,  kindred,  and  country.  They  would  have  preferred 
peace,  but  peace  was  not  to  be  had.  There  was  no  alternative. 
They  must  fight  or  die. 

The  brave  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  took  the  command,  and 
led  them  out  from  Forty  Fort  to  meet  the  enemy.  The  field 
of  battle  was  a  level  plain,  mostly  covered  with  scrub  oaks  and 
dwarf  pines.  The  settlers  numbered  between  three  and  four 
hundred  ;  their  right  wing,  commanded  by  Colonel  Butler  and 
Major  Garret,  resting  on  a  steep  bank  at  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  their  left,  commanded  by  Colonels  Dennison  and 
Dorrance,  extended  to  a  swamp  densely  covered  with  alders  and 
brushwood.  A  little  after  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the 
bloody  work  commenced.  Gradually  the  British  forces  fell 
back  before  the  steady  fire  of  the  settlers,  and  the  gallant 
heroes  of  Wyoming  pressed  forward.  But  the  odds  was  too 
great.  Six  bands  of  bloodthirsty  Seneca  Indians  were_  massed 
under  cover  of  the  woods  on  the  left,  and  now  their  time  had 
come.  With  blood-curdling  war  whoops,  they  rushed  upon  tha 
white  defenders  like  the  whirlwind.  The  men  fell  rapidly  be- 
fore the  rifles  of  the  red  men,  and  ere  long  it  became  necessary 
to  fall  back  and  reform  m  better  position.  The  order  was 
mistook  for  one  of  retreat,  and  soon  the  men  were  rushing 
hither  and  thither  in  wild  confusion.  Colonel  Butler  saw  the 
situation,  and  his  heart  almost  seemed  to  bleed  for  the  settlers^ 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


357 


Segardless  of  danger,  He  ruelied  between  hi3  own  forces  and 
those  of  the  enemy  and  f  ranticly  exclaimed  :  "  Don't  leave  me, 
mv  children,  and  the  victory  is  ours."  But  it  was  of  no  avail. 
The  battle  was  lost. 

Now  commenced  the  dread  massacre.  The  unrestrained 
savages  closed  in  about  their  victims  and  slaughtered  them 
without  mercy.  The  heavy  thud  of  the  tomahawk,  and  the 
sharp  ring  of  the  merciless  scalping  knife,  mingled  with  the 
horrid  yells  of  exultation,  rang  over  the  plain  proclaiming  their 
tale  of  death  and  woe.  The  fugitive  plunging  through  tiie 
forest  and  across  his  clearing,  pursued  by  a  yelling  band  of  war 
painted  demons,  beheld  his  nome  and  stacks  of  grain  in  flames. 
In  terror  he  paused  a  single  instant,  and  then  sank  beneath  a 
blow  from  his  pursuers,  in  one  spot,  just  back  of  Mr.  Gay's 
house,  near  the  river,  sixteeu  men  were  formed  in  a  ring, 
around  a  rock,  and  being  held  by  stout  Indians,  a  squaw  went 
around  with  a  knife  and  tomahawk,  butchering  and  murdering 
them  in  the  most  inhuman  manner.  One  of  the  settlers,  a  Mr. 
Hammond,  concentrating  all  his  muscular  powers  with  an 
almost  superhuman  effort,  broke  from  his  captors,  dashed 
away,  and  escaped.  The  rock  is  still  shown,  and  is  known  as 
Queen  Esther's  Bloody  Rock.  A  little  farther  on  nine  more 
were  murdered  in  a  similar  manner. 

Terrible  scenes  and  .ncidents  occurred  in  every  direction, 
and  examples  of  heroism,  devotion,  and  self  sacrifice  were  met 
with  everywhere.  At  night,  the  glare  of  burning  buildings  lit 
up  the  valley  and  reflected  their  red  light  upon  the  sky  in  many 
places.  A  black  cloud  of  smoke  rolled  up  over  the  forest, 
warning  the  fleeing  settlers  that  their  homes  were  but  a  thing  of 
the  past. 

Who  can  paint  the  horrors  and  sufferings  of  the  broken  bands 
of  fu^tives  during  their  long  and  fatiguing  journey  through 
the  wilderness  to  the  land  of  civilization  ?  One  hundred  and 
fifty  widows  and  six  hundred  orphans  houseless  and  homeless, 
fleeing  in  scattering  bands  like  frightened  sheep  through  the 
dark  forest,  with  infuriated  savages  dashing  hither  and  thither 
amongthem,  braining  one  and  scalping  another,  and  rendering 
the  night  hideous  by  their  whoops  and  furious  yells,  presented 
one  of  the  most  horrid  pictures  of  war.  Of  all  the  brave  heroes 
Who  went  forth  to  battle  for  all  they  held  dear,  on  the  fatal 
afternoon  of  the  memorable  3d  of  July,  only  sixty  survived. 
In  one  company  of  a  hundred  fleeing  fugitives  all  but  a  single 
man  were  women  and  children. 

Old  white  haired  men  put  forth  all  their  strongth,  and  totter- 
ing upon  their  canes  essayed  to  escape.  The  watchful  eye  of 
the  savages  espied  them,  and  they  fell  beneath  a  blow  of  the 
unerring  tomahawk.  A  dark  form  would  bend  over  them  with 
a  dripping  knife,  and  the  next  moment  another  gory  scalp 
would  Hang  dangling  from  his  bloody  girdle.  With  a  piercing 
yell  of  mad  delight  he  would  then  dash  on  after  his  murderous 
companions,  to  drag  others  from  their  hiding  places  and  gorge 
themselves  with  blood  and  plunder. 

But  we  forbear  longer  to  picture  the  horrors  of  the  scene. 
It  was  enough  to  appall  the  stoutest  heart.  Those  who  have 
experienced  the  work  of  savage  warfare  can  only  realize  the 
horrors  of  an  Indian  massacre.  Fond  mothers  clasped  their 
infants  to  their  bosoms,  and  trembling,  Hushed  their  feeble 
cries,  fancying  in  the  rustle  of  each  leaf  the  stealthy  tread  of  a 
lurking  savage,  and  taking  a  last  look  at  -heir  smouldering 
homes,  and  the  loved  spot  where  with  their  husbands  they  had 
toiled  so  long  and  earnestly,  they  turned  cheir  faces  m  the 
opposite  direction,  and  with  courage  and  fortitude  amid  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  starvation,  and  fatigue,  they  toiled  on  for 
weary  days,  throuj^h  dismal  swamps  and  dark  forests,  appro- 

griately  termed  the  "Shades  of  Death,"  over  the  rugged 
'ekona  Mountain,  and  on  to  Stroudsburg  and  other  places, 
where  for  a  season  they  found  relief  and  rested. 

The  beautiful  settlement  was  virtually  ruined  and  aban- 
doned ;  and  though  a  few  returned,  by  far  the  greater  number 
begged  their  way  back  to  Connecticut,  contented  and  willing 
to  give  up  all  their  disputed  claims,  and  remain  in  the  land  of 
civilization.  Reader,  this  is  no  fancy  sketch.  The  horrors  of 
war  cannot  be  painted  too  black.  The  dead  bodies  that  lay  fester- 
ing in  the  forest  all  summer,  proclaimed  the  double  barbarity 
of  the  bloody  deed,  and  seemed  to  cry  in  the  ears  of  mankind, 
to  brand  the  txyry  leaders  of  their  own  race  with  everlasting 
infamy. 

One  hundred  years  have  rolled  away.  Wyoming  Valley  is 
ailed  with  a  rich  and  industrious  population,  church  spires 
point  heavenward,  thriving  towns  and  villages  have  sprung  up, 
the  steam-whistle  echoes  over  the  plain,  and  it  is  a  world  of 
enterprise  and  activity.  The  Indian  warrior  has  long  since 
passed  away,  though  a  remembrance  of  his  cruel  deeds  remain. 
The  bones  of  the  unfortunate  victims  of  the  terrible  massacre 
have  been  collected,  and  a  beautiful  monument  marks  the  spot. 


The  misery  of  human  life  is  made  up  of  lar^e  masses, 
each  separated  from  the  other  by  certain  intervals.  One 
year,  the  death  of  a  child  ;  years  after  failure  in  trade ; 
after  another  longer  or  shorter  Interval,  a  daughter 
imay  have  married  unhappily.  In  all  but  the  singularly 
aniortunate,  the  integral  parts  that  compose  the  sum 
k>tal  of  the  unhapplness  of  a  man's  life  are  easily 
comited  and  distinctly  remembered. 


A  contented  mind  is  the  greatest  blessing  a  man  can 
lave  in  this  world. 


Cultivation  of  the  Quince. 

The  quince  tree  grows  from  eight  to  fifteen  feet  high, 
when  cultivated  as  a  single  tree  ;  but  more  generally  we 
find  it  grown  with  six  or  eight  stalks  from  a  single  set. 
As  it  is  subject  to  the  apple-borer,  which  often  destroys 
the  single  stalk,  it  is  much  better  to  let  it  sprout  natu- 
rally so  as  to  give  them  a  number  of  stalks. 

Either  in  the  spring  time,  when  covered  with  its  large 
white  or  pale  pink  blossoms,  or  in  the  autumn  when 
loaded  with  perfumed  or  golden  fruit,  it  is  an  ornament 
to  the  garden  and  the  orchard.  It  is  common  to  the 
homesteads  of  New  England,  eveiy  family  raising  enough 
for  home  use,  and  generally  some  for  a  ready  market. 

Of  late  years  much  interest  has  been  developed  in  the 
cultivation  of  this  fruit.  The  increasing  demand  in  the 
market ;  the  enhanced  value,  it  having  doubled  in  price 
during  the  last  fifteen  years,  now  commanding  four 
dollars  per  bushel  in  the  garden  ;  its  invaluable  qualities, 
both  as  a  delicacy  of  the  table  and  a  necessity  in  popular 
consumption,  all  conspire  to  make  its  successful  cultiva- 
tion a  business  of  great  profit.  Some  experiments  in 
growing  the  quince  as  a  farm  crop,  where  the  ground 
has  been  richly  cultivated,  with  the  trees  six  to  eight 
feet  apart,  have  realized  several  thousand  dollars  an 
acre — one  instance  reported  in  New  Jersey  going  as  high 
as  ten  thousand  dollars.  In  all  such  instances,  how- 
ever, we  are  to  take  into  the  account  the  long  years  of 
preparation  and  growth  before  the  trees  will  bear,  and 
also  the  continual  failure  of  the  trees  themselves  from 
the  destructive  action  of  the  borer.  When  grown  in  this 
manner,  some  root  crop  may  be  cultivated  between  the 
trees  which  will,  in  part  at  least,  pay  for  the  labor  be- 
stowed upon  the  orchard. 

But  the  cheapest  and  most  successful  orchard  I  have 
seen  grown,  and  one  that  is  annually  loaded  with  fruit, 
is  located  at  the  south-east  side  of  a  hill  where  the  soil 
is  moist  with  small  springs  and  rich  and  soft  with  the 
wash  and  leaves  that  come  as  a  mulch  to  the  land. 
There  is  no  labor  bestowed  after  planting;  the  ground 
is  left  like  an  apple  orchard  to  itself ;  but  then  every 
autumn  the  proprietor  gathers  three  quarters  of  a  bushel 
of  the  best  quinces  to  a  single  bunch,  and  sells  the  same 
at  three  dollars  a  bunch  at  his  house.  One  hundred 
Buch  clumps  is  three  hundred  dollars  every  year. 

One  farmer  has  a  brook  coursing  down  the  mountain 
and  running  across  his  meadow,  on  the  banks  of  which 
I  have  seen  the  quince  flourish  with  no  other  aid  than 
the  genial  moisture  of  the  soil  and  the  balmy  sunshine. 
So,  too,  I  have  seen  ihem  flourishing  and  caring  for 
themselves  along  the  sheltered  side  of  stone  walls, 
where  the  leaves  drifted  in  the  wind  till  their  annual 
deposit  wrought  a  mechanical  condition  in  the  soU, 
which  uniting  with  the  moisture  from  the  stone  combine 
to  make  just  the  soil  for  this  valued  fruit.  On  the 
borders  of  the  garden,  especially  if  there  is  a  side  that 
gets  the  wash,  the  trees  are  planted  and  grow  there 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  planter.  And  I  have  seen  the 
trees  with  their  golden  heads  rising  over  the  mournful 
ruins  of  the  once  flourishing  homestead.  The  places  I 
have  indicated,  and  all  similar  localities,  are  the  natural 
home  of  the  quince.  Get  the  roots,  or  take  cuttings  and 
set  them  in  loose  moist  soil,  give  them  care — they  will 
pay  you  for  it— and  after  three  or  four  years  you  will 
have  fruit  for  yourselves,  and  after  you  will  your  chil- 
dren enter  into  the  joy  of  your  labors.  The  apple  and 
the  pear  are  the  two  best  varieties  of  the  quince  for 
cultivation  ;  these  will  always  sell  in  the  market  at  five 
times  the  value  of  apples. 


The  Sunflower  as  a  Disinfectant. 

It  has  become  quite  well  established  that  sunflowers 
are  disinfectants,  and  that  they  are  a  preventive  of  mias- 
matic fevers.  A  gentleman  living  on  the  banks  of  the 
Scheldt  has  cultivated  the  sunflower  extensively  on  his 
property  adjoining  the  river,  and  there  has  not  been  a 
single  case  of  miasmatic  fever  among  his  tenants  for 
years,  although  the  disease  prevails  to  a  large  extent  in 
the  neighborhood.  The  sunflower  in  its  growth  absorbs 
a  large  quantity  of  impure  gases,  feeding  principally  by 
its  leaves.  It  absorbs  nitrogen  more  rapidly  than  any 
other  plant,  and  evaporates  as  much  as  a  quart  of  water 
a  day. 

Aix  philosophy  lies  m  two  words,  "sustain,"  and 
*.  abstain.'  Epicrarus. 


358 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


BEAR  AND  FORBEAR. 


Be  careful,  ye,  whose  wedded  hearts 

Are  lovingly  united ; 
Be  heedful,  lest  an  enemy 

Steal  on  you  uninvited  1 
A  little,  wily,  serpent  form. 

With  graceful,  luring  poses— 
Or,  coming  in  a  diflTrent  guise, 

A  thorn  among  the  roses  1 

Be  careful,  ye,  whose  marriage  bells 

Now  merrily  are  ringing  I 
Be  heedful  of  the  bitter  word, 

The  answer  keen  and  stinging— 
The  sharp  retort,  the  angry  eye 

Its  vivid  lightning  flashing — 
The  rock  on  which  so  many  hopes 

Are  daily,  hourly  dashing  1 

"Bear  and  forbear"— the  only  way 

To  tread  life's  paths  together. 
Then  come,  and  welcome,  shining  sun, 

Or  come,  dark,  cloudy  weather ; 
Two  wedded  hearts,  conjoined  in  one 

That  cannot  live  asunder. 
Have  put  Love's  golden  armor  on — 

O  world,  look  on  and  wonder  I 


Sagacity  of  a  Rat. 

In  the  wall  of  the  cellar  of  a  friend  of  the  writer,  Is  a 
hole  about  a  foot  from  the  floor.  It  inclines  downward 
through  the  wall,  so  nearly  perpendicularly,  that  what- 
ever object  falls  through  it  must  strike  the  floor  at  a 
point  quite  close  to  the  wall.  Through  this  hole  a  rat 
was  in  the  habit  of  letting  himself  fall  and  preying  on 
the  vegetables  in  store.  Immediately  under  the  aper- 
ture, at  the  only  point  where  the  animal  could  strike, 
the  owner  placed  a  steel  trap,  set.  He  felt  sure  of  his 
game  however  cautious  of  a  trap  the  creature  might  be  ; 
for  the  hole  would  throw  him  upon  it  as  a  funnel  guides 
water  into  a  bottle. 

The  next  morning  he  went  to  enjoy  the  success  of  his 
experiment ;  but  he  discovered  to  his  chagrin  that  the 
rat  knew  a  trick  worth  two  of  his.  For  the  animal  had 
evidently  peeped  down  the  hole,  taken  a  survey  of  the 
premises,  seen  the  peril  and  gone  to  work,  more  intelli- 
gently than  many  a  man  would  have  done,  to  evade  it. 
He  had  brought  bits  of  paper  from  out  of  doors  and 
pushed  through  the  hole  upon  the  trap  till  a  thick  bed 
of  them  completely  covered  it.   He  had  then  tumbled 


on  It  with  impunity,  sprung  it,  allowing  it  to  catch  the 
paper,  and  gone  otf  to  enjoy  his  usual  feast  in  the 
cellar. 

Here  now — and  the  fact  may  be  relied  upon  literally 
as  stated— was  no  such  routine  of  instinct  as  that  with 
which  a  robin  builds  her  nest  or  a  beaver  his  dam.  For 
the  rat  had  been  brought  to  face  a  new  set  of  circum- 
stances. He  had  gone  through  a  course  of  reasoning, 
laid  a  shrewd  plan,  taken  care  that  the  bed  of  paper  was 
thick  enough  for  his  purpose,  and  carried  out  his  little 
game  wdthout  a  slip.  The  incident  is  worth  the  atten- 
tion of  philosophers  who  attempt  to  draw  the  line  be- 
tween instinct  and  reason.  g.  b.  w. 

Profitable  Excursions. 

The  prescription  which  physicians  often  make  of  a  joui-ney 
to  cure  the  mental  or  physical  ills  of  a  patient,  is  of  t^n  looked 
upon  by  friends  as  a  mere  notion  of  the  doctors ;  not  half  so 
sensible  as  to  procure  a  handful  of  pills  or  a  bottle  of  drops. 
But  very  often  it  is  just  the  medicine  most  needed.  Always 
to  see  the  same  faces,  the  same  furniture,  the  same  scenes 
around  one,  produces  a  stagnation  of  the  ideas  which  is  felt  in 
every  pulse  of  the  being.  The  going  out  of  one's  home  and 
mixing  with  strangers  who  have  a  different  set  of  ideas,  the 
looking  out  on  new  scenery,  even  the  necessity  of  putting  up 
with  many  inconveniences,  is  very  salutary  to  many  who  are 
lapsing  into  confirmed  iuvalids.  Particularly  is  this  true  of 
mental  invalids,  however  adverse  they  may  be  to  the  prescrip- 
tion. Persuade  them  out  of  their  easy  chairs  and  their  accus- 
tomed works,  bring  them  into  more  active  sympathy  with  the 
great  beating  pulse  of  human  life,  and  you  have  taken  a  very 
important  step  toward  their  recovery. 

Busy,  over-burdened  mothers,  need  greatly  the  rest  of  an  oc- 
casional journey— if  only  a  day  in  the  nearest  city— to  rest 
their  wearied  brains,  and  give  them  heart  for  renewed  labors. 
Their  pleasure  trips  may  be  wearying  at  the  time,  as  they 
usually  are  to  those  unaccustomed  to  them.  I  well  remember 
sitting  on  the  breezy  piazza  which  overlooked  the  grand  white 
cap  of  ocean,  drinking  in  with  the  keenest  enjoyment  the 
glory  of  the  scene,  when  a  hard-working  woman,  who  sat  near 
me,  remarked  with  a  smile,  "  This  is  harder  work  than  wash- 
ing." Yet  for  all  that  the  excursion  was  good  for  her,  and  for 
her  children  who  shared  it.  It  gave  them  rest  from  toil,  and 
food  for  new  thought  and  conversation  for  weeks  to  come. 

There  is  a  mental  magnetism  which  we  receive  in  this  mingling 
with  strangers  which  quickens  our  mental  powers,  and  they  xu 
turn  act  on  our  working  force,  rendering  us  more  efficient  and 
certainly  more  cheerful  workers.  So  never  feel  that  you  are 
♦'losing  time "  in  such  resting  spells.  Cora  Bellx. 

The  Early  Morning*  Cock. 

One  of  the  many  mysteries  that  have  hitherto  baffled 
solution  is  the  reason  of  the  crowing  of  the  cock.  Some 
people  have  imagined  there  is  a  connection  between  the 
times  of  his  crowing  and  the  minimum  temperature  of 
the  night,  while  others  assert  that  the  weather  affects 
his  voice,  and  that  before  rain  he  will  crow  twenty-four 
hours  at  a  stretch.  In  fact,  all  that  is  known  for  certain 
is  that  he  begins,  as  a  rule,  to  crow  toward  the  break  of 
day,  and  is  at  times  a  horrible  nuisance,  especially  to 
light  sleepers  and  invalids.  A  new  cause  for  his  crow- 
ing has  lately  been  assigned  by  a  sheriff  in  Scotland.  At 
the  Police  Court  at  Edinburgh,  two  persons  were 
charged  with  keeping  cocks  in  their  back  yards  to  the 
annoyance  of  the  neighborhood.  A  gentleman  stated 
that  the  defendants,  and  others  in  the  same  street,  kept 
a  number  of  cocks  which  began  to  crow  so  lustily  at 
break  of  day  that  all  sleep  after  commencement  of  the 
concert  was  impossible.  The  annoyance  from  this  con- 
duct on  the  part  of  the  cocks  was,  he  said,  so  great  that 
his  wife's  health  had  completely  broken  down  through 
want  of  sleep,  and  he  had  been  obliged  to  send  her  to 
the  country  in  the  hope  of  effecting  its  restoration.  The 
sheriff  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  hutches  in  which  the 
COCKS  were  kept  were  insufficiently  secured  from  the 
light,  which  was  the  cause  of  their  crowing,  and  said 
if  this  defect  was  not  remedied  within  a  fortnight  the 
cocks  must  be  removed.  It  will  be  interesting  to  hear 
the  result  of  this  experiment,  which,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
for  the  sake  of  the  misguided  birds,  as  well  as  for  that 
of  the  sufferers  by  their  restlessness,  will  prove  success- 
ful, for  hitherto  the  only  known  remedy  for  a  cock  given 
to  overcrowing  is  to  wring  his  neck. 


THE  HIPPOPOTAMUS  AND  ITS  YOUNG. 


s 


THE  GROOVING  PI^ORLD. 


361 


THE  HIPPOPOTAMUS, 

Or,  Behemoth  of  Holy  Writ. 

A   SKETCH    OF   SAVAGE  AFRIO 


The  study  of  the  animated  world  is  ever  a  field  of 
interesting  instruction.  The  vegetable  world  displays 
the  wondrous  skill  of  the  Creator  in  a  thousand  different 
ways  ;  but  the  animal  kingdom,  which  it  supports 
by  its  life  sustaining  properties,  seems  removed  a 
step  higher  and  nearer  to  man's  own  self,  and  appears 
to  claim  a  stronger  share  of  his  attention.  The  hcwrse 
and  dog  have  been  the  friends  and  companions  of 
man  from  the  remotest  sages  ;  and  they  appear  to  ad- 
minister more  to  his  wants,  and  to  be  more  gifted  with 
intelligence  than  any  other  representatives  of  the 
brute  creation.  With  them  as  his  companions,  he 
traverses  the  dark  forest,  threads  the  intricate  jungles 
of  the  torrid  zone,  and  boldly  attacks  the  most  for- 
midable beasts  of  the  tropical  regions. 

The  smaller  animals,  like  the  mole  and  squirrel, 
excite  his  admiration  and  delight;  as  he  views  them 
ever  busy,  skipping  from  limb  to  limb,  and  running 
along  the  ground,  gathering  nuts  or  grain  to  store  up 
a  winter's  supply — the  marmot  or  woodchuck  dis- 
playing his  engineering  qualities  in  the  construction 
of  his  underground  dwelling,  and  hundreds  of  others 
furnish  lessons  of  pleasure  and  profit. 

The  larger  and  more  ferocious  beasts  like  those 
that  inhabit  Africa  and  India,  have  a  fiercer  aspect 
and  at  first  sight,  naturally  strike  the  mind  with 
something  akin  to  terror.  Yet  they  generally  flee 
before  his  stern  presence  and  commanding  mien,  and 
as  he  beholds  himself  master  of  the  situation,  he 
realizes  that  he  is  really  "  Lord  of  the  fowl  and  the 
brute,"  and  his  mind  is  inspired  with  courage  and  in- 
trepidity. 

Prominent  among  the  larger  land  animals  is  the 
Hippopotamus,  or  Behemoth  of  Holy  Writ.  It  is 
also  sometimes  known  as  the  River  Horse,  and 
abounds  extensively  in  the  rivers  and  lagoons  of 
Africa,  to  which  country  it  is  exclusively  confined. 
Of  all  the  huge  beasts  of  the  tropics  it  presents  the 
most  uncouth  appearance.  Its  short  thick  legs  are  like 
great  pillars  of  flesh.  The  feet  are  large  with  four, 
toes,  terminated  by  separate  hoofs.  Its  ponderous  body 
is  little  inferior  in  size  to  that  of  the  elephant.  They 
have  been  known  to  measure  seventeen  feet  in  length, 
and  fifteen  feet  in  circumference.  Being  largely  com- 
posed of  immense  masses  of  fat,  their  form  is  rounded, 
and  when  on  land,  exceedingly  awkward  and  unwieldy 
in  appearance.  The  head  is  very  thick  and  bulky,  and 
the  mouth  enormous,  armed  with  huge  white  tusks, 
sometimes  more  than  two  feet  in  length,  giving  it  a 
fierce  and  formidable  aspect.  Its  diminutive  black  eyes 
are  situated  high  up  in  the  head,  and  the  ears  are  small 
and  pointed.  The  skin,  which  is  sometimes  more  than 
an  inch  in  thickness,  is  destitute  of  hair,  and  of  a  dark 
dirty  brown  color,  often  discolored  by  mud,  and  bearing 
upon  its  surface  unsightly  cracks  and  warty  ex- 
crescences. On  land,  it  is  extremely  slow  and  clumsy ; 
but  in  the  water,  it  swims  and  dives  like  a  duck. 

During  the  day  it  stays  in  the  river,  in  places  where 
the  water  is  deep  and  still,  over-arched  by  trees, 
which  form  a  canopy  of  rank  vegetation,  shutting  out 
the  fierce  rays  of  the  burning  sun,  where  apes  congre- 
gate and  chatter,  and  the  serpent  glides  silently  among 
the  ferns,  while  the  huge  boa-constrictor  lies  coiled 
among  the  thick  branches  overhead,  and  the  air  is  filled 
with  the  hum  of  bees  gathering  honey  from  the  myriad 
Bweet-scented  flowers  of  the  shrub  and  vine.  At  night 
he  generally  comes  out  upon  the  land  and  saunters 
along  the  shore,  feeding  upon  the  reeds,  rushes,  and 
other  coarse  herbage  found  growing  along  the  margins 
of  streams,  and  occasionally  enters  the  rice  and  cane 
fields  around  the  native  villages,  where  it  tramples  down 
and  destroys  far  more  with  its  enormous  feet  than  it 
eats. 

When  unmolested,  the  hippopotamus  is  generally  in- 
offensive, and  dives  beneath  the  water  on  the  approach 


of  man ;  but  lie  Is  quick  to  resent  an  injury,  and  wheo 
once  aroused,  he  becomes  frenzied  with  rage  and  for- 
midable to  combat. 

The  natives  hunt  the  hippopotamus  for  its  teeth,  and 
sometimes  for  its  flesh.  Several  different  modes  are 
practiced  for  its  capture,  the  most  .common  of  which 
is  that  of  river  spearing,  A  number  of  natives  arm 
themselves  with  spears  or  barbed  harpoons,  with 
handles  and  ropes  attached,  and  embarking  on  a 
light  reed  raft,  proceed  down  the  current  to  where 
behemoth  resides.  Tlio  lookouts  who  are  ever  on 
the  alert,  soon  perceive  dark  spots  like  little  mud. 
banks,  rising  here  and  there  above  the  still  water^ 
.  producing  a  slight  ripple  and  then  disappearing 
'This  is  the  nose  of  the  Hippopotamus,  thrust  up  tt 
breathe.  Silently  the  rude  raft  floats  down  the 
stream,  and  at  length  it  strikes  full  against  the 
bulky  form  of  the  unconscious  beast.  Arousing  him» 
self,  the  raft  is  heaved  upwards  as  if  by  an  earth- 
quake. Leaping  forward,  the  spearmen  bury  their 
harpoons  in  the  monster's  back,  and  av/ait  the  shock. 
For  a  moment,  perhaps,  he  flounders  fearfully  in  the 
water,  and  the  raft  is  shaken  violently;  but  the  men 
generally  keep  their  places,  and  when  he  dives  to 
the  bottom,  they  slip  off  in  a  canoe,  and  draw  the 
ropes  attached  to  the  harpoons  tightly  around  the 
trunk  of  a  tree.  He  soon  comes  up  enraged  to  fury; 
and  dashing  this  way  and  that,  with  loud  bellowings 
and  detonations,  seeks  to  destroy  everything  within 
his  reach.  The  ropes  hold  him  fast,  and  for  a  while 
the  hunters  let  him  exhaust  his  rage  and  strength  in 
vain  charges,  and  then  they  fall  upon  him.  Blood 
soon  flows  in  great  streams,  and  at  length  he  falls 
forward  upon  his  knees,  rolls  over  upon  his  side,  and 
with  a  maddened,  sullen  roar  expires.  -  • 

Another  method  is  that  of  the  "  dead-fall."  A  log 
of  wood,  with  heavy  stones  and  harpoons  attached,  is 
hoisted  over  the  path  he  frequents  in  his  feeding 
ground  near  the  solitary  lake  he  inhabits,  and  held 
in  its  place  by  a  rope  running  over  the  branches  of 
some  tree,  down  to  the  ground,  and  thence 
across  his  path  in  such  a  manner,  that  he^  will 
walk  against  it,  throwing  it  from  the  trigger 
which  holds  it  in  its  place,  and  letting  the  loaded  tar-» 

Eoon  descend  upon  him  like  a  thunderbolt  from  over- 
ead.   The  wound  is  deep  and  fearful ;  and  if  it  has 
been  properly  arranged,  death  is  the  result. 

Often  during  cool  moonlight  evenings,  the  lagoons 
and  marshy  pools,  far  removed  from  the  native  settle 
ments,  present  a  strange  and  animated  picture,  which 
the  African  hunter  does  not  soon  forget.  The  majestic 
elephant  stalks  along  the  shore  in  herds,  and  enters  the 
water  to  drink;  occasionally  raising  his  trunk,  and 
silently  listening  for  any  unusual  sound  that  may  attract 
his  attention ;  the  huge  form  and  upraised  proboscis 
standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  starry  sky  beyond ; 
the  huge  rhinoceros  with  his  uncouth  pachydermatous 
brother,  the  hippopotamus,  trample  down  reeds  and 
aquatic  vegetation  along  the  sloughs  and  inlets,  plowing 
up  the  rich  black  mud,  and  uttering  a  low  guttural 
sound  something  like  the  grunt  of  a  hog ;  the  antelope 
and  giraffe,  or  came  1  opard,  with  their  long  neck  s  elevated, 
come  timidly  forward,  often  in  large  herds,  to  drink  of 
the  sparking  water  and  .eturn,  altogether  makmg  up  the 
lively  scene  of  animated  nature  as  viewed  in  the  remote 
wilderness  of  savage  Africa. 

Sometimes  the  huge  beasts  meet  in  deadly  conflict ; 
and  the  scene  presented  is  one  of  the  most  fearful  that 
earth  witnesses.  They  rush  to  battle  with  tartarean 
roars  that  awake  the  echoes  of  the  surrounding  hills, 
and  break  the  stillness  of  the  night  with  their  deadly 
struggles.  Branches  of  the  trees  and  bushes  are  rent 
and  torn ;  the  ferns  and  rushes  are  trampled  in  the  mire, 
and  often  the  seamed  and  furrowed  ground  is  dyed  red 
with  blood.  The  elephant  and  rhinoceros  frequently 
engage  in  these  terrible  encounters,  each  seeking  tc 
destroy  the  other;  the  one  with  his  long  ivory  tusks,  the 
other  with  his  formidable  horn.  At  such  times,  the 
struggle  is  terrible  beyond  all  power  of  description. 
The  very  earth  seems  to  tremble  beneath  the  mightj 
shock.  The  other  animals  flee  from  the  scene,  and  the 


362 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


comtatants  are  left  to  pursue  tlieir  deadly  work  alone. 
The  elephant  is  generally  victorious,  though  sometimes 
the  rhinoceros  gets  a  temporary  advantage,  and  disem- 
bowels his  adversary  in  a  moment.  In  his  mad  and 
insaue  rage,  and  with  eyes  glowing  like  red  balls  of  fire, 
he  rushes  upon  his  fallen  foe,  and  plowing  great  rents 
in  his  prostrate  body,  sickening  to  behold,  he  gloats  for 
awhile  over  his  dead  antagonist,  and  then  leaves  his 
mangled  body  to  fester  in  the  morrow's  sun,  or  be  de- 
voured by  the  vultures  or  hyenas  of  the  surrounding 
forests. 

Such  is  the  savage  nature  of  the  untamed  denizens  of 
the  wilds  of  central  Africa.  Man  almost  shudders  at 
the  bare  recital.  And  yet,  if  he  would  pause  to  examine 
the  heart  of  mankind,  he  would  find  Mm  desperately 
wicked ;  and  when  the  baser  passions  are  fully  aroused 
and  uncontrolled,  he  would  find  him  exhibiting  all  the 
ferocity  of  the  savage  beasts  of  the  African  jungles. 
Look  on  the  field  of  battle  when  the  contending  hosts 
meet  in  battle  array.  See  them  applying  every  instru- 
ment of  destruction  that  savage  ingenuity  can  invent. 
Witness  the  work  of  the  barbarous  bombshell,  and  the 
showers  of  destructive  grape  and  canister,  mowing  down 
whole  platoons.  Behold  the  awful  charge,  and  hand  to 
hand  conflict  that  is  to  decide  the  result.  Whole  com- 
panies of  horsemen  ride  over  the  field,  crushing  the 
bones  and  mangling  the  bodies  of  the  wounded  and 
bleeding  beneath  the  iron  hoofs  of  their  chargers,  regard- 
less of  their  dying  groans  and  appealing  cries  for  mercy. 
They  plunge  the  dripping  bayonet  through  the  heart  of 
their  fallen  foe,  and  their  gleaming  sabers  drink  the  life 
blood  of  their  brother  man,  leaving  widows  to  mourn 
and  orphans  to  cry  for  bread.  The  blood  of  Christian- 
ized humanity  curdles  with  horror  at  the  contemplation. 
Can  anything  in  the  realms  of  savage  ferocity  be  more 
atrocious  ?  When  man  lets  his  passions  loose,  then, 
how  much  is  he  raised  above  the  most  formidable  of 
wild  beasts  ?  And  being  a  reasoning  and  sensible  being, 
endowed  with  judgment  and  wisdom,  how  much  more 
is  he  accountable  for  his  earthly  deeds  ?  Let  us  leam  a 
lesson  from  the  savage  beasts  that  will  shame  us  for  not 
holding  our  passions  in  check;  that  will  cause  our 
better  feelings  to  govern  our  temper,  and  frown  down 
every  attempt  to  quarrel  and  fight ;  that  will  arouse  the 
spirit  of  compromise,  and  destroy  the  bloody  hand  of 
war;  that  will  put  to  shame  every  immoral  or  dis- 
honest principle,  and  lead  us  to  the  glorious  paths  of 
▼irtue,  mendship,  conciliation,  and  peace 

Cloves  and  Pepper. 

BT  CAPT.  CARNES, 

The  clove  tree  belongs  to  the  family  of  myrtles.  Its 
Bmall  lanceolate  evergreen  leaves  resemble  those  of  the 
laurel,  and  the  flowers  grow  in  bunches  at  the  extremity 
of  the  limbs.  They  first  appear  at  the  beginning  of  the 
rainy  season  ;  they  are  in  the  form  of  long  greenish  buds, 
from  the  ends  of  which  the  expanded  corolla  shows  a 
delicate  peach-blossom  color.  When  the  corollas  begin 
to  fade  the  calyx  turns  yellow,  then  red ;  the  calyces, 
with  their  forming  seeds,  are  at  this  time  plucked  from 
the  tree,  and  after  drying  in  the  sun,  become  the  cloves 
of  commerce.  If  the  cloves  are  not  gathered  just  at 
this  time  the  seed  enlarges,  the  calyx  expands,  and  much 
of  the  pungent  properties  of  the  clove  is  lost.  The  whole 
tree  is  aromatic,  and  the  footstalks  of  the  leaves  are 
nearly  as  odorous  as  the  flowers. 

As  an  ornamental  tree  the  clove  is  unrivalled.  Their 
noble  height,  their  beautiful  form,  their  luxuriant  foliage 
and  spicy  fragrance  conspire  to  make  them  "  a  joy  for- 
ever." 

It  requires  a  favorable  soil  and  climate  to  develop 
the  oil  and  resinous  qualities  peculiar  to  this  tree.  In 
the  larger  islands  of  Eastern  Asia,  and  in  Cochin  China, 
it  has  little  flavor.  In  the  Moluccas  the  clove  comes  to 
perfection  without  cultivation.  It  is  planted  in  Zanzibar, 
Cayenne,  Bourbon  and  Trinidad ;  but  from  Amboyna 
comes  the  best  quality,  and  in  quantity  ranging  up 
among  the  million  pounds. 

Pepper,  although  not  so  costly  as  cloves  is  of  greater 
commercial  value  because  the  consumption  is  immense. 
The  pepper-vine  supports  itself  by  twining  around  poles 
placed  for  it,  or,  as  in  many  plantations,  it  is  placed 
near  the  mango  and  other  straight  trees,  the  trunks  of 
which  it  festoons  with  elegant  bunches  of  fruit.  The 
pepper  leaf  is  large  and  bright  green  in  color,  and  re- 


sembles the  ivy.  it  flowers  in  June  after  the  rains  be- 
gin. The  greenish  white  blossoms  are  followed  by 
pungent  fruit  that  grow  in  clusters  like  grapes. 

Pepper  grows  on  the  Malabar  coast  in  Sumatra, 
Borneo,  Java,  and  Singapore  ;  and  its  cultivation  has 
been  introduced  into  Cayenne  and  the  West  Indies. 
The  black  and  white  varieties  are  the  product  of  the 
same  plant,  the  latter  being  naturally  bleached  while 
lying  on  the  ground,  or  artificially  prepared,  which  may 
add  to  its  commercial  value,  but  detracts  from  the 
strength  and  flavor  of  the  spice. 

Of  later  years,  in  the  mania  for  adulteration,  the 
ground  pepper  is  too  often  mixed  with  other  substances 
unpalatable  if  properly  analyzed  ;  and  it  would  be  pre- 
ferable, if  practicable,  to  purchase  the  round  pepper- 
corns and  reduce  them  to  flour  by  pounding  in  a  mortar. 
Some  such  method  ought  to  be  revived  whereby  to  pre- 
pare both  coffee  and  spices,  for  by  no  other  means  can 
we  be  sure  of  obtaining  the  genuine  articles. 


The  Old  Rag  Picker's  Savings. 

BT  COKA  BELLE. 

There  was  a  peculiar  character  in  our  village  known 
for  many  years  as  "  Granny  Dixon,"  who  illustrated 
well  the  value  of  small  accumulations,  when  wisely 
assorted  and  disposed  of.  She  went  poking  about  the 
streets  every  day  with  her  coarse  bag  on  her  back,  gath- 
ering up  all  the  old  papers  floating  about,  the  rags  and 
bits  of  string,  even  old  bones  and  empty  bottles.  She 
always  made  a  circuit  of  the  college  buildings  before 
her  return,  looking  sharply  along  on  the  ground  under 
the  windows,  and  always  sure  of  finding  something 
worth  carrying  away.  The  students  were  always  ready 
to  chaff  with  Granny,  who  was  never  at  a  loss  for  a 
smart  repartee,  and  roars  of  laughter  used  sometimes  to 
greet  a  youth  who  found  he  had  met  his  match  in  the 
burly  old  rag-gatherer.  She  was  always  profoundly 
grateful  for  any  little  gifts,  as  a  pair  of  old  socks,  a 
worn-out  vest,  or  a  pair  of  torn  pantaloons.  If  they 
would  not  tit  "  old  grandad's"  portly  proportions,  they 
would  at  least  serve  to  patch  him.  He  was  an  inoffen- 
sive old  fellow,  whom  his  wife  kept  in  good  order,  and 
who  sometimes  sawed  up  an  arm-load  of  wood  or  two 
for  the  neighbors,  but  mostly  he  sat  on  his  cosy  little 
porch,  or  by  his  English  fireside,  and  smoked  his  pipe  of 
peace.  They  were  "old  country"  people,  and  loved 
the  old  ways  best.  Their  snug  little  home  with  its  small 
garden  filled  to  overflowing  with  choice  fruits  large  and 
small,  was  near  my  father's,  and  I  have  spent  many  an 
evening  hour  in  childhood  reading  to  the  old  folks,  as 
neither  of  them  could  read. 

Both  died  at  last,  and  it  was  found  that  Granny's 
"  pickings  "  had  amassed  a  snug  little  fortune,  besides 
her  house  and  lot,  which  was  all  left  to  a  poor  niece  in 
England,  who  came  over  with  her  large  family  and 
thankfully  took  possession  of  it.  The  old  people  had 
lived  in  the  greatest  comfort,  according  to  their  tastes, 
1  and  their  little  gatherings  had  provided  well  for  a  large 
household  after  them. 


A  Nice  Little  Home  Amusement. 

Many  very  pretty  little  chemical  experiments  may  be 
made  by  the  young  people,  which  will  amuse  and  as- 
tonish those  around  them.  As  for  instance,  with  so 
simple  an  article  as  red  cabbage,  a  very  beautiful  effect 
can  be  rendered  in  the  following  manner :  Cut  three 
leaves  of  cabbage  into  small  pieces^  and  after  placing 
them  in  a  basin,  pour  a  pint  of  boiling  water  over  them, 
letting  them  stand  an  hour ;  then  pour  off  the  liquid 
into  a  decanter.  It  will  be  of  a  fine  blue  color.  Then 
take  four  wine-glasses ;  into  one  pu,t  six  drops  of  strong 
vinegar ;  into  another,  six  drops  of  solution  of  soda ; 
into  the  third,  the  same  quantity  of  a  strong  solution  of 
alum  ;  and  let  the  fourth  glass  remain  empty. 

Fill  up  the  glasses  from  the  decanter,  and  the  liquid 
poured  into  the  glass  containing  the  acid  will  quickly 
become  a  beautiful  red ;  that  in  the  glass  containing  the 
soda  will  be  a  fine  green ;  that  poured  into  the  empty 
one  will  remain  unchanged. 

By  adding  a  little  vinegar  to  the  green,  it  will  imme- 
diatftly  change  to  red ;  and  on  adding  a  little  of  solution 
!  of  soda  to  the  red  it  will  assume  a  fine  green,  thus  show- 
ing the  action  of  acids  and  alkalies  on  vegetable  blues. 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


363 


Blood  Poisoning. 

BT  L.  C.  P. 

In  the  belief  that  effects  as  various  almost  as  the  per- 
sons in  whom  we  find  them,  are  the  direct  or  indirect 
result  of  the  cause  expressed  in  the  above  caption,  we 
shall  proceed  to  relate  a  few  instances  as  they  nave 
come  under  our  observation. 

Not  to  be  too  personal,  we  will  proceed  alphabetic- 
ally. A.  was  a  healthy  person  of  forty-five  years.  For 
eighteen  or  more  of  these  last  years,  had  not  known  a 
sick  day  oeyond  occasional  colds.  Went  to  live  in  a 
house  where  on  one  side  were  flats  not  yet  filled  and 
marked  off  into  building  lots,  and  consequently  used  to 
dump  dead  cats  and  such  other  produce  as  the  "best 
families  "  don't  want  in  their  yards. 

In  a  few  weeks  the  spring  rains  came  and  health 
failed.  Poison,  when  spoken  of,  was  but  the  phantom 
of  a  diseased  imagination,  and  a  lame  back  caused  by 
what  somebody  else  called  piles  when  they  were  so, 
and  a  swollen  knee,  feeling  as  if  it  was  twisted  for 
several  weeks,  was  what  so-and-so  called  "rheumatism 
—had  it  frequently,"  etc.  The  melody  of  the  frogs  pro- 
claimed it  blood  poisoning— genuine  malarial  neighbor- 
ship. 

B.  was  a  mother,  who — but  with  the  sickness  conse- 
quent on  that  relation— had  reared  to  man  and  woman- 
hood her  family,  and  ^ent  to  live  in  a  house  where  the 
closet  had  a  vault,  over  which,  under  the  same  roof, 
were  rooms — very  finely  finished  rooms,  too — for  sleep- 
ing rooms,  with  plenty  of  large  windows,  blinds,  etc. 
Not  thinking  of  poisonous  gases,  which  were  but  rarely 
perceptible,  she  grew  sleepless,  nervous — a  complaint 
she  had  not  suffered  from  before  ;  grew  large,  filled  up, 
as  it  were,  with  dreadful  sensations  in  the  eyes,  as  if 
gurgling,  rushing  water,  or  rather  the  sound  thereof, 
was  behind  them  and  gushing  over  the  brain. 

She  was  told  it  was  not  unusual  at  her  time  of  life, 
and  was  treated  as  if  the  suffering  could  be  alleviated 
thus  and  thus,  and  although  protesting  that  it  was  from 
poison  in  some  form,  from  the  green  carpet,  or  the 
green  dress,  or  some  other  green  thing ;  no  one  thought 
of  the  real  cause — closet  gases.  Was  it  not  strange,  in 
the  many  months  that  woman  was  under  the  care  of  the 
most  eminent  physicians,  that  the  symptoms  wtich  baf- 
fled them  were  not  recognized.  Aiter  health  was  par- 
tially restored,  by  change  of  air  and  residence,  living  in 
a  house  where  everything  was  conducted  into  the  sewer, 
she  was  again  affected  in  the  same  way,  then  knowing  it 
was  from  poison  gases.  Other  members  of  the  family 
were  differently  affected.  One  sneezed — had  what  is 
now  called  hay-fever.  One  had  a  most  fearful  sore  on  his 
lip,  his  wife  one  on  her  arm.  In  that  house  there  was 
no  apology  for  a  trap  to  keep  the  sewer  gas  back. 

After  consultation  with  the  city  engineer,  who  thought 
there  could  never  be  good  drainage  there  because  of  the 
level  (still  the  water  found  plenty  of  descent),  and  vain 
endeavors  to  get  relief  from  sewer  vapors,  they  moved 
out.  Other  families  moved  in  and  out,  until  at  last  the 
proprietor  said  :  "If  you  want  the  house  move  in,  and 
if  you  don't  like  it,  hold  your  tongue  about  it."  Now 
would  not  the  authorities  of  any  city  look  to  it  and  con- 
demn a  house  as  untit  to  live  in,  if  it  were  giving  fever 
or  small  pox  iu  the  same  ratio. 

C.  moved  with  a  small  family  into  the  chambers  of  a 
pretty  house.  Everything  looked  lovely,  cellar  clean 
and  dry,  ^an  August  drouth,)  closet  in  the  shed,  a  vault ; 
the  most  important  questions  were  :  "  Are  you  not  trou- 
bled with  closet  vapors  ?"  *'0h  no,  never  1"  "Is  the 
drainage  all  right  ?"  "  Perfect  1  I  paid  so  much  to  enter 
sewer."  Well,  the  first  washing  done,  the  water  poured 
into  the  sink  stayed  on  the  ceUar  floor.  They  had  thrown 
It  on  the  ground  all  summer  because  it  backed  in,  and 
always  had.   C.s  stay  did  not  exceed  a  year. 

D.  lived  in  a  house  where  the  sink  waste-pipe  brought 
back  such  odors  as  no  words  can  describe.  The  good 
wife  knew  it,  but  "  she  always  made  up  her  mind  not  to 
complain  of  what  she  could  not  mend,  and  as  it  was  not 
Aer  house,  she  could  not  let  it  be  remedied  out  of  her 
means."  The  husband  had  the  "  filling-up "  trouble, 
their  only  child  got  chronic  "hay-fever,''  They  would 
not  believe  that  an  open  sewer  could  give  such  results 
as  blood  poison,  because  if  the  water  run  off,  they 
thought  all  was  weU. 

The  last  case  we  shall  give  you  is  one  whose  several 
rears  of  exposure  to  noxious  gases  has  caused  more  or 


less  of  the  above  described  symptoms  and  the  late  rapid 
enlargement  of  the  liver  nnd  spleen,  and  otherwise  pro- 
ducing such  deleterious  effects  on  a  once  vigorous  con- 
stitution, as  would  convince  those  who  have  been  skepti- 
cal as  to  whether  there  was  really  any  grounds  of 
complaint,  that  such  grounds  were  not  wanting. 

An  Irish  Elliot. 

"Well,  Pat,  how  do  you  get  on  with  your  work?" 
asked  Mr.  Maginnis,  the  landlord  of  the  "  Game  Chicken 
and  Tobacco-pipes,"  in  Castle  Island,  County  Kerry, 
Ireland,  of  Pat  Murphy,  the  village  Dick  Tinto,  who  was 
busily  engaged  in  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  an 
elaborate  representation  of  a  pugnacious  fowl  with  a 
gorgeous  tail,  designed  for  a  "  pictorial  advertisement,'' 
or,  vulgarly  speaking,  signboard,  for  Mr.  Maginnis's 
hostelry,  which  proffered  "entertainment  for  man  and 
baste,"  to  all  and  sundry  who  might  pass  that  way. 
"  How  do  you  get  on,  my  boy  ?"  "Oh,  faix,  illegant," 
answered  Pat.  "  Sure  'tis  high  art,  it  is,  and  no  mistake. 
Haven't  I  to  stand  on  the  dog-kennel  to  racheup  to  id?" 
"  Don't  you  think  that  bird's  tail  is  a  little  out  of  draw- 
ing?" said  Mr.  Mack,  putting  his  hands  under  his  coat- 
tails  and  looking  at  the  painting  with  the  air  of  a  con- 
noisseur. "  Out  av  dhrawin',  is  id  ?"  said  Pat.  "  Troth 
'tis  the  best  of  drawin',  it  is,  bekase  it'll  dhraw  custom 
to  yer  hotel,  and  sure  that's  the  dhrawin'  ye  want,  Mis- 
ther  Maginnis,  av  I  don't  mistake."  "Very  good,  Pat," 
replied  the  worthy  host,  "  but  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw 
a  game  chicken  with  a  green  comb  before.  It's  not 
natural."  "Not  natural  I"  retorted  the  artist.  "Av 
coorse  it's  not  natural.  Who  wants  nature  in  a  high-art 
.picture  ?  'Tis  idayal,  it  is,  Mlsther  Mack,  and  pathriotic. 
Isn't  it  an  Irish  fowl,  and  isn't  green  his  native  color?" 
"But,  Pat,  you've  made  the  ground  red."  Av  coorse  I 
have.  Sure  the  green  ought  to  be  above  the  red,  ever 
and  always.  And  the  thrue  principles  of  high  art  is  to 
convey  idayal  impressions  through  the  manes  of  ma- 
tayrial  objects,  so  hould  yer  whist,  and  lave  the  fine  art» 
to  thim  that  tmdherstands  thim."  

Silicon. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Silicon,  after  oxygen,  is  the  most  abundant,  and 
widely  diffused  of  all  the  chemical  agents.  It  is  a  po wd  er 
of  a  dark-brown  color,  and  occurs  in  combination  with 
oxygen  as  si?im,  and  in  combination  with  oxygen  and 
various  metallic  elements,  as  silicates  of  those  elements. 

Silica,  silex,  or  silicic  acid,  occurs  in  nature  as  quartz, 
flint,  rock-crystal,  &c.  ;  in  a  crystallized  state,  it  is  often 
noticed  on  the  outside  of  some  kinds  of  grasses.  It 
occurs  also  in  plants,  particularly  in  the  outer  covering 
of  the  stalks  and  the  husks  of  grain.  The  cuticle  of 
rattan,  for  example,  contains  a  large  amount  of  silica, 
and  the  value  of  the  plant  called  horse-tail  {Eqicisetum) 
as  a  scourer  and  polisher,  on  the  great  quantity  of  silica 
contained  in  it. 

Silica  is  composed  of  one  part  of  silicon  with  three  of 
oxygen,  and  as  it  occurs  in  nature,  is  incapable  of  being 
dissolved  in  water,  but  dissolves  with  more  or  less 
diflBculty  in  caustic  soda,  or  potash,  forming  sodium, 
or  potassium  silicate.  The  potassium  and  sodium  sili- 
cates are  used  in  the  arts  under  the  name  of  water-glass. 
The  principal  use  made  of  this  water-glass  is,  as  a 
preparation  for  coating  stone  liable  to  decay  from  at- 
mospheric influences.  It  is  also  extensively  used  by 
calico-printers  and  soap-makers. 

In  a  commercial  point  of  view,  however,  the  most 
important  use  of  silica  is  that  of  the  manufacture  ol 
glass  of  all  kinds  and  quantities,  of  which  it  is  an  essen* 
tial  ingredient.  For  this  purpose,  sand  is  fused  with 
soda,  together  with  a  little  oxide  of  lead,  to  give  it 
fusibility.  The  metal,  as  it  is  called,  is  kept  in  a  state 
of  fusion  for  some  hours,  until  all  the  ingredients  are 
completely  mixed,  when  it  is  ready  for  working. 

The  color  of  glass  varies,  the  green  color  of  the  bot- 
tle-glass being  due  to  the  presence  of  ferrous  silicate  ; 
cobalt  silicate  gives  a  beautiful  blue,  manganese  silicate 
a  violet,  and  copper  silicate,  a  ruby  color  to  the  glass. 

If  a  proper  proportion  of  alkali  be  employed,  ordinary 
glass  is  unacted  on  by  air  and  moisture.  The  lapse  of 
time,  however,  indicates  that  a  very  slight  action  takes 
place  on  most  kinds  of  glass,  though  the  progress  is 
slow.  Hydrofluoric  acid  is  the  only  one  in  which  silica 
is  soluble,  and  is  accordingly  employed  in  etchiiu?  on 
glass  surfaces. 


364 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD. 


EBB-TIDE. 

On  a  summer  eve,  when  the  tide  was  low, 
An  old  man  sat  in  the  golden  glow, 
The  waves  were  washing  their  sandy  stones. 
And  calm  and  sweet  were  their  languid  tones; 
He  looked,  and  listened,  and  softly  sighed, 
As  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  ebbing  tide 

He  had  passed  his  threescore  years  and  ten; 
He  had  smiled  and  wept  like  other  men* 
Brother  and  parent,  friend  and  wife, 
Had  drifted  o'er  the  sea  of  life 
To  the  peaceful  shore  where  saints  abide; 
But  he  was  left  by  the  ebbing  tide. 

Left— all  alone  with  the  dreamy  past; 
A  battered  hull  on  the  shingle  cast. 
No  more  to  ride  on  the  seething  main. 
Nor  feel  the  shock  of  the  storm  again; 
He  lay  at  peace  by  the  ocean  side, 
To  wait  the  coming  of  Death's  great  tide. 

That  solemn  tide,  with  its  voiceless  roll, 
Shall  bear  on  its  waves  that  weary  soul 
To  the  blessed  land  where  the  angel  throng 
Will  hail  its  coming  with  holy  song. 
And  the  home  of  that  faithful  heart  shall  be 
A  place  of  rest  by  the  crystal  seal 

Go  That  Way  Yourself. 

There  is  practical  wisdom  in  that  comment  of  Josh  Billings, 
with  regard  to  the  precept  "train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he 
should  go."  He  says  " it  is  a  good  plan  to  go  that  way  two  or 
three  times  yourself." 

Parents  often  miss  it,  by  giving  a  pound  of  precept  for  every 
ounce  of  example.  Too  often  the  example  sets  quite  the 
other  way,  and  sharp-eared  children  are  not  slow  to  perceive 
the  discrepancy. 

If  a  mother  instructs  her  child  carefully  in  the  duty  of  al- 
ways speaking  the  truth,  and  then  goes  on  to  make  a  great 
fuss  over  the  detested  Mrs.  Parker,  telling  her  "  how  delighted 
she  is  to  see  her,"  and  begging  her  to  stay  to  tea,  depend  upon 
it  "there's  a  child  there  takin'  notes."  If  she  does  not  hear 
from  it  some  day  it  will  be  surprising. 

"Did  you  really  like  that  piece  of  fancy  work,  mother,  or 
did  you  only  say  so,"  asked  a  young  lady  of  a  friend  of  mine. 
It  came  out  that  mother  "only  said  so,"  and  it  did  not 
strengthen  the  faith  of  the  listener  in  her  general  sincerity. 

The  father  who  would  see  his  eon  grow  up  an  honest,  honora- 
ble man,  must  beware  of  any  double-dealing,  either  with  him 
or  before  his  eyes.  It  does  not  strengthen  a  boy's  faith  in 
his  father's  integrity  to  have  the  calf  that  was  given  to  him 
sold,  and  the  proceeds  put  in  his  father's  pocket.  It  angers 
him  to  have  father  sell  the  berries  he  had  toilsomely  picked, 
and  then  invest  the  money  in  chewing  tobacco.  There  are 
parents  as  mean,  though  I  hope  not  many. 

"Go  that  way  yourself,"  if  you  wish  your  child  to  walk  in 
the  straight  way,  and  be  patient,  and  rebuke  lovingly  even  his 
short-comings,  remembering  with  humilitv  how  many  times 
you  also  have  stumbled  before  him. 


Salt. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Salt  is  a  natural  mineral  whicli,  when  pure,  is  a  color* 
less,  transparent  stone.  It  crystallizes  in  cubes,  dis- 
solves readily  in  about  three  times  its  own  weignt  of 
water,  and  possesses  an  agreeable  taste,  which,  on  ao- 
count  of  being  faimljar,  is  the  representative  of  that 
taste  called  saline. 

The  sources  of  salt  are  three  in  number — salt  beds, 
saline  springs  and  sea-water.  In  all  cases  in  which  the 
salt  is  in  solution  with  water,  it  (the  salt)  is  obtained  by 
evaporation.  This  is  effected  by  fir^and  in  warm,  sunny 
countries,  by  the  heat  of  the  sim.  When  found  in  beds, 
if  suflSciently  pure,  the  salt  is  mined  in  the  same  manner 
as  any  other  ore :  but  when  it  is  mixed  with  earth  or 
other  impurities,  its  solubility  in  water  is  availed  of  in 
working  the  bed.  Water  is  let  into  the  bed,  and  allowed 
to  remain  there  till  it  has  become  saturated  :  the  brine 
is  then  pumped  out,  and  the  salt  obtained  by  the  evapo- 
ration process,  which  produces  a  hard,  coarsely  crystal- 
lized salt.  Fine  grained  table-salt  is  obtained  by  boiling 
down  the  brine  rapidly. 

The  uses  of  salt  are  many  and  greatly  varied.  Its  pre- 
serving qualities  are  applied  in  the  preservation  of  fish 
and  meat.  It  is  extensively  employed  by  potters  in 
glazing  earthenware.  Large  quantities  are  used  in  pre- 
paring sodium  sulphate,  from'  which  common  soda  is 
made.  It  is  also  the  source  from  which  chlorhydric  acid 
is  obtained.  The  addition  of  common  salt  to  the  food 
is  usual  everywhere.  In  one  part  of  the  world,  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  many  islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
north  of  Australia,  it  is  used  in  the  form  of  sea-water  as 
a  sauce. 

Salt  is  contained  in  the  blood  in  as  great  a  proportion 
as  it  is  scarce  in  the  natural  aliments ;  in  animal  food  the 
blood  and  cartilages  are  provided  with  the  greatest  pro- 
portion of  common  salt,  and  these  are  just  the  part* 
which  we  should,  but  do  not,  partake  of  tQ  the  greatest 
quantity. 

Common  salt  is  as  digestible  as  it  is  nutritious ;  fot 
water  dissolves  it  with  ease ;  and  while  the  body  cannot 
exist  without  salt,  it  appears  to  be  the  most  important 
addition  to  food,  justly  meriting  to  be  the  best  of  all 
condiments.  The*common  salt  of  our  kitchens,  however, 
is  not  the  purest.  Rock  salt  is  generally  the  jpurest,  as 
containing  less  elements  foreign  to  pure  chloride  of  so- 
dium, which  constitutes  salt. 


Weights  of  Boys  and  Girls. 

Upon  the  average,  boys  at  birth  weigh  a  little  more 
and  girls  a  little  less  than  seven  pounds.  For  the  first 
twelve  years  the  two  sexes  continue  nearly  equal  in 
weight,  but  beyond  that  age  the  boys  acquire  a  decided 
reponderance.  Young  men  of  twenty  average  one 
undred  and  thirty-five  pounds,  while  the  young  women 
of  twenty  average  one  hundred  and  ten  pounds  each. 
Men  reach  their  heaviest  weight  at  about  forty  years  of 
age,  when  their  average  weight  will  be  about  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  pounds  ;  but  women  slowly  increase  in 
weight  until  fifty  years  of  age,  when  their  average 
weight  will  be  one  hundred  and  thirty.  Taking  the 
men  and  women  together,  their  weight  at  full  growth 
will  then  average  from  one  hundred  and  eight  to  one 
hundred  and  fifty  ;  and  women  from  eighty  to  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty.  The  average  weight  of  humanity  all 
over  the  world,  taking  the  ages  and  conditions,  working 
men  and  women,  and  gentlemen  and  ladies  without 
occupation,  black  and  white,  boys,  ^rls,  and  babies,  is 
very  nearly  one  hundred  pounds  avoirdupois  weight. 


Origin  of  Indian  Names. 

The  Sioux  Indians  name  their  pappooses  after  events 
transpiring  at  the  time  of  their  birth.  As  illustrative  of 
this  peculiar  trait.  Red  Cloud  is  known  to  have  taKen 
that  name  from  the  fact  that  the  western  sky  was  over- 
spread with  red  clouds  at  the  moment  of  his  birth,  while 
the  bringing  of  a  captive  horse  with  a  spotted  tail  gave 
the  now  great  chief  the  singular  cognomen  of  Spotted 
Tail.  Sitting-Bull  received  nis  name  because  a  buffalo 
bull  was,  by  a  lucky  shot,  thrown  upon  its  haunches  in 
plain  sight  of  his  mother's  tepee  at  the  natal  hour,  while 
the  covertings  of  a  fractious  pony  famished  a  name  for 
the  redoubtable  Ci-azy  Horse. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


365 


Gossip. 

While  it  would  scai'cely  be  jnet  to  say  that  all  the  gossip  in 
tlic  world  is  set  afloat  by  woman,  we  fear  that  she  is  possessed 
by  that  demon  to  n  much  greater  extent  than  man.  If  this 
gossip  was  always  harmless,  the  evil  of  tattling  would  be  less. 
Unfortunately,  however,  this  is  not  the  case;  not  only  are 
matters  of  but  little  consequence  rolled  under  the  tongue  like 
a  sweet  morsel,  but  characters  are  torn  to  shreds,  and  circum- 
stances that  should  be  covered  over  by  the  veil  of  silence,  are 
ruthlessly  exposed  by  the  eager  gossip.  The  more  disgraceful 
the  event,  the  greater  pleasure  does  the  tattler  take  in  its  dis- 
cussion, the  more  earnest  is  she  in  her  efforts  to  disseminate 
the  shocking  tidings.  She  knows  no  /ear,  and,  alas !  she 
knows  no  mercy;  she  has  got  hold  of  something  worth  talking 
about,  and  she  hugs  it  to  her  heart  as  a  treasure  of  great  price. 

This  eagerness  to  gossip  about  the  affairs  of  others  is  a  terri- 
ble flaw  in  the  character.  Gossip  is  rarely  good-natured. 
She  goes  about  with  a  poisoned  dagger.  She  is  the  meanest 
jjoddess  to  worship,  because  she  is  full  of  malice  and  all  un- 
charitableness.   She  strikes  in  the  dark,  and  knows  no  pity. 

The  Greeks  represented  the  Harpies  as  women  of  frightful 
countenances,  with  serpents  in  their  hair,  and  holding  the 
torch  of  discord.  Were  we  to  paint  the  gossips  of  society,  the 
modern  Harpies— it  is  thus  that  we  would  portray  them— wo- 
men of  frightful  countenances,  with  hissing  serpents  twined 
in  their  haii-,  and  holding  the  torch  of  discord. 

In  1TO9,  an  edict  was  issued  at  St.  Helena  for  the  punishment 
of  gossips.  The  ordinance  was  as  follows :  ' '  Whereas,  several 
idle,  gossiping  women  made  it  their  business  to  gofromhouse 
to  house  about  the  island,  Inventing  and  spreading  false  and 
scnndalous  reports  of  the  good  people  thereof,  and  thereby 
vowed  discord  and  debate  among  neighbors,  and  often  between 
men  and  their  wives,  to  the  great  grief  and  trouble  of  all  good 
people,  and  to  the  utter  extinguishing  of  all  friendship,  amity, 
and  good  neighborhood ;  for  the  punishment  and  suppression 
whereof,  and  to  the  intent  that  all  strife  may  be  ended,  charity 
revived,  and  friendship  continued,  we  do  order  that  if  any  wo- 
jr.en  from  henceforth  shall  be  convicted  of  tale-bearing,  mis- 
chief-making, scolding,  or  any  other  notorious  vice,  they 
?;:all  be  punished  by  ducking  or  whipping,  or  such  other 
l  uuishmeut  as  their  crimes  or  transgressions  shall  deserve,  or 
f  tn;  governor  and  council  shall  think  fit." 

After  so  terrible  a  threat  as  this,  no  doubt  the  women  re- 
strained their  tongues,  tranquility  and  peace  was  restored,  and 
;iie  reign  of  gossip  was  forever  over  at  St.  Helena.  If  such  a 
1 -imishment  as  this  was  inflicted  upon  the  gossips  of  New 
York,  we  fear  that  there  would  be  in  the  whole  city  very  few 
ury  women,  or  women  whose  tender  shoulders  did  not  ache 
from  the  effects  of  the  merciless  lash. 

No  Tact. 

A  person  may  live  just  as  long  without  tact,  but  he  cannot 
live  half  as  pleasantly,  nor  make  it  half  as  pleasant  for  those 
he  is  associated  with.  Think  twice,  girls,  before  you  accept 
one  of  these  blundering  fellows  who  are  always  saying  just 
the  wrong  thing  to  the  wrong  person.  It  is  a  pity  for  them, 
to  bo  sure.  They  cannot  help  it  any  more  than  a  color-blind 
person  can  help  his  defect;  but  they  do  not  often  get  the 
charity  that  might  be  extended  to  them  if  this  was  a  more 
charitably  disposed  world.  It  is  not  inclined  that  way,  and 
the  poor  tactless  fellow  makes  hosts  of  enemies  as  he 
goes  along,  where  he  may  desire  most  earnestly  to  make 
friends.  Choleric  folks  are  thrown  into  a  rage  at  some  un- 
lucky remark,  by  which  he  "did  not  mean  anything,"  but 
which  had  a  most  offensive  sound. 

Everybody  dreads  them,  for  they  are  sure  to  open  the  door  of 
"  the  skeleton  closet "  of  the  house,  or  tread  on  the  tenderest 
"corns"  of  their  neighbors,  and  all  in  the  most  innocent, 
matter-of-fact  way.  You  have  seen  such  a  blunderer  bring 
the  flush  to  some  delicate  young  girl's  cheek,  by  asking  before 
a  room-full  after  that  unfortunate  brother  of  hers,  who  ran 
away  with  the  contents  of  her  father's  safe ;  pursuing  his 
iaquiries  with  great  interest ;  asking  if  they  had  ever  got  any 
clue  to  his  whereabouts,  or  had  ever  been  able  to  recover  any 
of  the  money.  He  did  not  mean  any  harm,  though  he  has 
agonized  a  sensitive  heart,  and  made  all  about  him  burn  with 
indignation.  Suppose  you  took  him  to  task  for  it,  he  would 
pi'obably  look  at  you  with  surprise,  and  remark,  "Why,  I  did 
not  suppose  she  would  care,  seeing  that  everybody  knows  it." 


The  apologies  of  such  people,  when  they  find  out  their 
offense,  is  often  the  worst  part  of  it.  They  plunge  btill  deeper 
into  the  matter,  and  when  they  have  driven  their  poor  victims 
to  the  verge  of  distraction,  are  only  led  off  the  hunt  by  some 
resolute,  corapatjsioiiatc  bystander,  who  is  forced,  metaphoric. 
ally,  to  seize  them  by  the  coat  collar  to  effect  his  purpose. 

The  fault  of  all  this  may  lie,  in  a  measure,  in  the  natural 
biabit  of  the  man  ;  but  much  is  due  to  education,  or  the  want 
jf  it.  Mothers  can  do  much  towards  implanting  a  tender, 
delicate  regard  for  the  feelings  of  others  in  very  young  chil- 
dren, and  this  spirit  diligently  nurtured  will  make  a  great 
difierence  when  the  individual  is  grown.  Children  do  not  for- 
get these  early  lessons,  but  they  are  graven  with  a  diamond 
pin  on  waxen  tablets,  "Wax  to  receive,  but  marble  to 
retain." 


Fruitful  Age. 

We  are  all  either  old  or  growing  old,  and  we  are  all,  there- 
fore, interested  in  the  question,  which  is  often  discussed, 
whether  the  faculties  of  the  mind  may  go  on  increasing  in 
dtrength  to  the  last,  or  whether  they  mast  necessarily  partake 
of  the  gradual  failure  of  the  bodily  powers.  A  writer  in 
Blackwood^s  Magazine  enumerates  many  striking  instances  of 
the  display  of  great  intellect  in  advanced  life.  Sophocles,  he 
reminds  us,  composed  one  of  his  finest  tragedies— the  "CEdipus 
at  Colonus"— when  he  was  nearly  ninety,  ^schylus,  at  seven- 
ty-three, wrote  his  "Orestes."  Simonides  gained  in  his 
3ightieth  year  the  crown  of  victory  over  all  competitors,  by 
his  "Dithyrambic  Choras."  Pindar,  the  greatest  of  lyric 
poets,  wrote  with  undiminished  powers  till  past  eighty.  Me- 
tastasio  lived  and  wrote  until  he  was  eighty-four;  and  Gol- 
doni,  who  died  at  eighty-seven,  wrote,  after  he  had  passed 
his  fourscore  years,  some  of  his  happiest  plays.  Wordsworth 
lived  to  eighty,  and  Goethe  to  eighty- three,  with  unfailing  po- 
etic power.  To  this  list  of  great  poets  is  added  a  notable  cata- 
logue of  illustrious  artists  :— 

Titian,  whose  pencil  only  dropped  from  his  hand  when  he 
was  stricken  by  the  plague  at  nearly  a  hundred  years  of  age. 
Michael  Angelo,  whose  fervid  brain  carried  him  on  with  ever 
fresh  creative  power  and  imaginative  capacity  to  ninety. 
Leonardo  de  Vinci,  master  of  all  arts  and  sciences,  the  fullest 
and  ablest  man  in  all  directions,  that  perhaps  ever  lived,  and 
who  died  at  his  easel,  with  undiminished  faculties,  at  seventy- 
five.  Tintoretto,  whose  unwearied  pencil  worked  until  he  was 
eighty-two.  Palmo  Giovine,  who  lived  and  exercised  his  art 
until  he  was  eighty-four.  Perugino,  whose  skill  had  not  failed 
at  seventy-eight.  Rubens,  who  was  irrepressible  as  ever  at 
seventy.  Teniers,  who  elaborated  his  groups  and  interiors 
until  he  was  eighty-four;  and  Claude,  whose  pictures  were 
still  as  charming  as  ever  when  he  died  at  eighty-two. 

The  truth  evidently  is  that  the  different  faculties  of  the 
mind  come  to  maturity  at  different  periods  of  life.  Memory 
and  perception,  for  example,  are  strongest  in  youth.  A  child 
will  learn  a  new  language  more  easily  than  a  grown  person. 
A  boy  of  fifteen  will  discover  a  bird's  nest,  or  commit  a  list  of 
names  or  dates  to  memory,  more  readily  than  a  man  of  fifty. 
Those  intellectual  powers  which  are  most  needed  in  early  life 
are  most  vigorous  while  the  body  is  still  immature  and  weak. 
It  is  therefore  to  be  expected  that  in  the  decline  of  years 
other  faculties  of  the  mind,  appropriate  to  that  season  of  ex- 
istence, should  gather  strength,  even  while  the  physical  pow- 
ers are  failing.  Especially  reflection,  which  combines  the  re- 
sults of  long  experience,  to  deduce  from  them  general  truths, 
and  imagination  which  frames  new  creations  out  of  materials 
stored  in  the  mind,  should  at  this  time  have  their  widest  scope 
of  action  and  their  greatest  energy. 

Why  this  is  not  always  the  case  is  unfortunately  too  evident. 
All  faculties  rust  and  perish  by  disuse.  The  love  of  ease, 
which  all  feel  more  or  less,  is  apt  to  grow  with  years,  and,  un- 
less resolutely  resisted,  leads  to  a  weak,  repining,  and  useless 
old  age.  But  those  whose  sense  of  duty,  or  love  of  their  fel- 
low-creatures, or  zeal  for  improvement,  lead  them  to  resist 
this  insidious  and  fatal  influence,  have  their  reward  not  only 
in  the  respect  and  affection  which  wait  on  them — the  "honor,  't 
love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends"— but  in  the  sense  of  use-  \ 
fulness  and  the  gratifying  assurance  that  the  products  of  their 
mental  exertions  at  this  period  may  be  the  most  valuable  of 
all,  as  the  best  fruit  of  our  orchards  are  those  which  ripe« 
ifttest  in  the  year. 


366 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


SPEING  TRIPS  OVER  THE  FIELDS, 

— ^WITH — 

A  TRAILING  ROBE  OF  GREEN 


Hark  I  the  little  birds  they  sing, 
"  Welcome,  bright  and  sunny  Spring !" 
And  the  little  children's  feet 
Patter  down  the  village  street. 
Into  woods  and  meadows  fair, 
Primroses  and  violets  there, 
Some  to  pick,  and  some  to  sing 
"Welcome,  happy,  joyous  Spring  I" 

Old  winter  has  gone  at  last,  and  liis  lovely  daughter 
comes  ' '  trailing  her  green  robes  over  the  hill-sides 
and  meadows "  as  she  gayly  trips  along.  The 
breezes  sport  with  her  hair,  the  brook  leaps  up  and 
laughs  in  her  face  as  it  goes  dancing  over  the  stones, 
sparkling  in  the  sunshine.  She  flings  white  and  rosy 
blossoms  at  the  trees,  and  anemones  and  violets 
spring  up  beneath  her  feet.  The  birds  in  every  tree- 
top  welcome  her  and  the  young  leaves  hasten  forth 
to  rejoice  in  her  presence.  0,  beautiful  daughter  of 
winter  !  lovely  art  thou  in  the  freshness  of  thy 
youth— '".  elcome  are  the  blessings  which  thy  hands 
scatte"  n  every  side.  Thy  smiles  are  more  prized 
by  th  waiting  children  of  earth  than  are  rarest  gems 
set  in  precious  stones  ;  for  in  them  lie  promises  of 
golden  grain  and  rich  fruitage  ;  of  food  and  raiment, 
comfort  and  pleasure.  Oh  !  the  delight  of  roaming 
through  the  grand  old  woods,  watching  all  their 
hidden  treasures  opening  into  new  life  !  1  know  just 
where  the  violets'  blue  heads  peep  up  beside  fallen 
logs,  tree  roots,  and  the  old  ivy -grown  wall  where 
the  brown  leaves  have  sheltered  them  so  long  from 
the  wintry  cold.  I  remember  the  liandsful  I  gathered 
to  place  in  a  pretty  basket  for  an  invalid  friend,  the 
last  time  that  cousin  Maud  and  I  wandered  down  the 
old  familiar  path  to  the  home  of  the  sweet  flowers, 
where  they  peeped  modestly  from  beneath  the  green, 
dewy  leaves.  Then  as  we  slowly  wended  our  way 
back  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  the  sweeter  sun- 
shine of  youth  and  health,  how  we  lingered  by  the 
way  to  drink  in  the  pure  air,  to  note  the  soft  clouds 
float  slowly  away  o'er  the  clear  blue  sky,  while  the 
lithe  winged  birds  alighted  almost  at  our  feet  and 
caroled  their  sweet  notes  of  melody  in  unmolested 
happiness  from  the  trees. 

Even  now  I  know  the  dogwood  is  spreading  its 
white  banners  to  the  breeze  on  many  a  sunny  slop3.  I 
can  see  through  memory's  window  the  very  spot  where 
one  stands,  just  at  the  edge  of  the  grove,  lifting  its 
snowy  tent  from  amongst  the  undergrowth  of  young 
oaks  and  sumach  bushes.  The  slope  in  front  of  it 
covered  with  fresh  young  grass  and  starry  forget-me- 
nots,  reaches  down  to  a  tiny  brooklet  singing  through 
the  meadow,  where  the  rabbit  and  field-mouse  come  to 
drink,  and  birds  bathe  and  splash  in  the  cool,  rippling 
water.  The  sunshine  is  just  as  bright,  the  birds  sing  as 
gayly,  the  flowers  bloom  as  sweetly  as  in  those  days  so 
long  ago  ;  but  something  is  gone  which  can  never  come 
again  with  any  returning  spring.  Oh,  youth  and  health  ! 
bow  beautiful  ye  seem  when  lost  forever. 

At  the  elm-tree's  foot  there  lingers. 
Pale  as  Spring's  own  pearly  fingers, 
The  slender  windflower,  like  a  fairy— 
Eightly  named,  so  light  and  airy  ;— 
And  rises,  without  speck  or  flaw. 
The  ivy -leaved  hepatica. 
All  unconscious  of  its  grace, 
The  violet  hides  its  modest  face. 
While,  above,  the  columbine 
And  the  lithe  clematis  twine. 
Deeper  in  the  forest,  where 
Silence  fills  the  pulseless  air. 
And  withered  leaves,  last  year's  farewell, 
So  thickly  strew  the  ferny  dell. 
The  lily,  child  of  promise,  dwells, 
As  pure  as  heaven's  own  asphodels. 
These  soft,  baliny  days  stir  my  soul  as  no  others 


j  I  feel  like  reaching  out  my  arms  toward  sky  and  trees, 
and  clasping  something-nl  know  not  what.  A  feeling 
of  longing  and  yearning.  Do  others  have  it,  I  wonder  ? 
Such  days  used  to  fill  me  with  inexpressible  pain  and 
sadness,  when  I  could  go  out  only  for  a  few  moments  in 
the  sheltered  porch,  and  looking  around  at  everything 
in  nature  springing  into  new  life,  while  my  own  life 
seemed  withered  and  dead,  would  think  of  past  springs 
whose  beauty  and  joy  were  gone  forever.  But  as  the 
years  go  on,  and  I  grow  more  accustomed  to  it,  and  am 
able  to  see  a  little  more  of  the  outer  world,  these  feel- 
ings gradually  cease.  Nature  takes  on  new  and  broader 
meanings  to  the  earnest  watcher  of  its  revelations  ;  and 
though  sometimes  a  tuage  of  melancholy  mingles  with 
the  sweet  pleasure  that  I  now  feel  in  viewing  these 
scenes,  it  cannot  destroy  it.  I  know  there  is  an 
eternal  spring,  where  I  shall  find  what  earth  has  lost 
for  me  ;  and^  this  is  sweet  comfort.  I  know  the  beauty 
of  earth  and  sky  around  us  here  are  only  types  of  a 
higher,  holier  beauty  there,  where  it  is  fadeless,  im- 
mortal. 

Not  long  ago,  two  gentlemen,  traveling  in  Europe, 
attempted  the  ascent  of  one  of  the  Alpine  mountains, 
Though,  of  course,  toilsome,  it  was  delightful.  The 
mountain  side  was  clothed  in  the  varied  beauty  of 
vineyard,  forest  and  grassy  slopes,  sometimes  crossed 
by  little  streams.  Farther  up,  the  path  became  more 
difficult ;  bat  even  there  was  the  grandeur  of  the 
glacier,  and  the  increasing  beauty  of  the  prospect. 

When  near  the  summit  a  sudden  gale  arose. 
Though  it  would  be  a  real  disappointment  to  give  up 
the  attempt,  after  all  their  toil  so  far,  especially  as 
their  time  was  limited,  the  gentlemen  thought  it  the 
part  of  discretion  to  return.  The  wind  was  blowing 
so  fiercely  that  they  could  scarcely  keep  their  foot- 
ing. But  the  guides  came  to  their  side,  saying,  in  a 
cheering  resolute  way  :  ' '  Take  our  hands,  and  you'll 
do  it  !" 

With  hands  firmly  grasped  in  those  of  the  strong, 
"  robust,  brave  mountaineers,  the  ascent  was  in  a  few 
moments  accomplished,  and  they  stood,  rejoicing,  cm 
the  summit. 

What  a  beautiful  illustration  of  our  life-path  is 
this  mountain  way  !  All  day  those  guides  had  walked 
beside  the  travelers,  seeming  scarcely  to  aid  them  at 
all,  except,  perhaps,  a  moment  now  and  then,  in  cross- 
ing a  stream,  or  climbing  over  a  rocky  pass  ;  but  ever 
alert,  ever  watchful,  and  at  the  first  real  peril,  the 
first  great  need,  holding  out  the  strong,  sure  hand 
and  almost  lifting  them  over  the  rugged  way,  till  the 
mountain-height  was  won,  and  before  them  spread,  in 
matchless  beauty,  hfll  and  vale,  forest  and  river,  green 
field  and  silvery  lake. 

So  we  walk  on,  through  the  green  pastures  and  beside 
the  still  waters  of  our  home-life,  perhaps  with  hardly  a 
thought  of  danger  or  possible  grief  ;  hardly,  it  may  be, 
recognizing,  or  even  seeking,  a  Father's  guidance  ana 
care.  Yet  His  all-loxing  and  all-wise  Providence  is  about  us 
still,  by  night  and  day,  shielding  and  guarding  us  in  a  thousand 
ways,  warding  off  unseen  dangers,  aiding  our  weakness, 
though  we  may  be  unconscious  of  aid,  guiding  us  all  the  way; 
and  at  the  first  great  peril  or  pain,  temptation  or  difficulty— the 
first  moment  we  turn  our  faces  to  Him,  and  reach  out  our  feeble 
hands— we  feel  His  strong,  sure  clasp,  and  are  lifted  over  the 
slippery  rocks;  so  onward  and  upward,  sustained  by  His  arm, 
comforted  by  His  love,  cheered  by  the  hope  He  sets  before  ua, 
at  last  our  feet  touch  the  shining  heights  of  life  eternal! 

********* 

The  days  grow  warmer  and  longer;  the  hyacinths,  and  jon- 
quils, and  narcissus  have  had  their  brief  season  and  are  gone; 
but  the  garden  borders  are  still  gay  with  tulips  and  daisies, 
and  the  blue  iris  raises  its  stately  head  to  be  admired.  Then 
the  rosebuds  form,  and  grow  slowly  toward  perfection — closely 
watched  by  the  childrens'  eager  eyes— and  at  last  open  into 
bloom.  Pink  and  white,  yellow  and  crimson;  an  almost  end- 
less variety  of  shades  and  forms,  and  almost  every  yard  ia 
brightened  by  their  presence.  The  May  skies  look  down  upon 
it  all ;  May  breezes  blow  in  at  the  open  windows  and  scatter 
rose  petals  upon  the  floor.  Bees  are  humming  amidst  the 
clover. 

Let  those  who  can,  enjoy  the  beautiful  time  of  spring.  If 
young  in  years  and  blessed  with  health,  do  not  peer  away  into 
the  future  for  anticipated  joy,  but  grasp  with,  thankfulneee  the 
'  daily  good  showered  about  your  path. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


367 


"Why  do  we  heap  hug;e  mounds  of  years 
Before  us  and  behind, 
And  scorn  the  little  days  that  pass 
Like  angels  on  the  wind? 

"Each,  turning  around  a  small,  sweet  face, 
As  beautiful  as  near. 
Because  it,  is  so  small  a  face 
We  will  not  see  it  clear. 

"And  so  it  turns  from  us,  and  goes 
Away  in  sad  disdain; 
Though  we  could  give  our  lives  for  it. 
It  never  comes  again." 

Make  the  most  of  each  day,  for  in  all  probability  no  happier 
5>eriod  awaits  you  in  the  days  to  come.  If  you  have  the  shelter 
and  comfort  of  a  pleasant  home,  with  kind  parents  to  watch 
over  your  welfare  and  provide  for  your  wants,  cherish  them, 
for  you  must  sometime  bear  your  share  of  life's  burden  alone, 
when  these  dearly  loved  friends  shall  have  been  laid  away  to 
rest.  Perhaps  you  have  brothers  and  sisters,  but  they  will  be 
scattered  from  the  home  circle,  and  you  may  have  none  in  your 
trouble  and  sorrow  to  comfort  and  sustain  you  by  their  pre- 
sence. 

Go  out  into  the  familiar  fields  and  enjoy  them;  for  in  after 
years  memory  will  present  them  to  you,  hallowed  and  beauti- 
fied through  association  with  the  happy  fleeting  days  of  the 
past.  Besides  there  are  many  useful  facts  to  learn— many  in- 
teresting things  to  see  at  every  step  taken  in  God's  broad  do- 
main. He  utilizes  every  atom  of  matter,  every  square  inch  of 
ground,  each  leaf,  plant,  rock  and  pool  is  covered  or  filled  with 
living  wonders.  All  the  myriad  forms  of  life  must  be  provided 
with  a  home — nothing  is  left  without  the  requisite  elements 
necessary  for  its  existence.  Even  the  rail  fences  provide  a 
place  for  the  gay  butterflies  to  hang  their  little  bags  of  eggs, 
where  they  remain  until  hatched  by  the  warm  sunshine  of 
spring.  Here,  also,  you  will  find  pretty  mosses  and  lichens. 
The  tiny  flower  seed  slyly  drops  into  the  crevice  of  the  rock, 
and  the  grateful  grains  of  soil  wafted  there  by  the  wind,  take 
the  seed  and  fold  it  carefully  away;  the  rains  and  dew  give  it 
drink — the  generous  sun  warms  it  into  life.  Soon  the  green 
leaves  appear;  then  the  bud  and  blossom,  which  in  its  turn  de- 
velopes  seed  to  be  blown  away  into  other  crevices.  So  indus- 
triously does  Nature  labor  to  have  no  spot  unprovided  with  a 
tenant.  The  more  we  study  her  works,  the  more  wonderful 
the  mysteries  she  reveals. 

Did  you  ever,  in  walking  in  the  fields,  come  across  a  large, 
flat  stone,  which  had  lain,  nobody  knows  how  long,  with  the 
grass,  forming  a  little  hedge,  as  it  were,  close  to  its  edges;  and 
nave  you  not  insinuated  your  stick,  or  your  foot,  or  your  fin- 
gers, under  its  edge,  and  turned  it  over,  as  a  housewife  turns  a 
cake,  when  she  says  to  herself,  "It's  done  brown  enough  by 
this  time." 

What  an  odd  revelation,  and  what  an  unpleasant  surprise  to 
a  small  community,  the  very  existence  of  which  you  had  not  ex- 
pected. Blades  of  grass  flattened  down  and  matted  together,  as 
if  they  had  been  bleached  and  ironed ;  hideous  crawling  creatures 
— tartle-bugs  one  wants  to  call  them;  some  of  them  cunningly 
spread  out  and  compressed  like  Lepine  watches  (nature  never 
loses  a  crack  or  crevice,  but  she  always  has  one  of  the  flat-pat- 
tern live  time-keepers  to  slide  into  it);  black,  glossy  crickets, 
with  their  long  filaments  sticking  out  like  the  whips  of  four- 
horse  stage  coaches.  But  no  sooner  is  the  stone  turned  and 
the  wholesome  light  of  dav  let  upon  this  blinded  community 
of  creeping  things,  than  all  rush  round  wildly,  butting  every- 
thing in  their  way,  and  end  in  a  general  stampede  for  under- 
ground retreats.  Next  year  you  will  find  the  grass  tall  and 
green  where  the  stone  lay,  and  the  dandelions  and  buttercups 
re-growing  there.  The  wild  blossoms  are  ever  ready  to  found 
a  home  and  rear  their  pretty  heads  upon  any  spot  that  ofEers  a 
chance  for  growth. 

"  There's  not  a  heath,  however  rude,  but  hath  some  little  flower, 
To  brighten  up  its  solitude,  and  scent  the  evening  hour.'' 

What  a  beautiful  sight  does  a  field  of  bright  buttercups  or 
star-eyed  daisies  present  to  the  eye,  and  how  sweetly  fragrant 
a  field  of  clover  gently  swayed  by  the  breeze;  here  the  bees  and 
butterflies  love  to  linger  to  gather  the  honeyed  juices  hidden 
in  the  delicate  petals. 

There  are  times  when  the  heart  is  one  melodious  song  of 

f)raise.  When  we  rise  in  the  morning  our  hymns  of  gratitude 
eap  forth  spontaneously.  The  sky  never  seemed  as  lovely,  the 
bird's  carol  is  longjer  and  sweeter,  Flowerc  lift  up  their  heads 
for  a  welcome  which  we  cannot  resist  giving  them— for  even  in 
hours  of  sadness  they  pierce  the  gloom,  scattering  their  bright 
rays  into  the  darkened  soul,  ofttimes  coming  as  messengers  of 
peace.  So  in  our  moments  of  exulting  joy  they  claim  the  first 
place. 

Oh,  blessed  be  flowers!  Ho\»-jnany  times  have  you  won  your 
silent  way  into  the  homes  of  the  rough  and  uncouth,  teaching 
them  your  lessons  of  humility  and  love— taming  down  the  harsh, 
unrefined  nature  into  a  more  gentle  and  delicate  one.  But  not 
here  are  your  best  lessons  taught.  It  is  the  room  of  the  sick, 
the  weary  and  discouraged  that  your  presence  brings  most  hope 
Bnd  joy.  I  do  not  think  we  can  measure  the  greatness  of  the 
lessons  taught  by  these  silent  teachers  of  hope,  purity  and 
trust,  to  the  weak,  discouraged  ones  of  earth.  But  into  how 
many  homes  are  they  sent  by  kind  friends  during  the  long, 
■dreary  months  of  frost  and  snow?  The  rich  can  procure  theru 
without  trouble,  and  even  humble  homes  are  ofttimes  adorned 


with  iTiem,  But  there  are  hundreds  to  whom  they  come  as 
rarely  as  diamonds  glitter  on  the  brows  of  peasants. 

Ye  who  have  flowers  in  abundance,  gather  from  them  into 
little  missions  of  love  your  bouquets  and  send  to  those  who 
have  none,  that  they  may  fulfill  the  work  which  they  were 
placed  on  earth  to  do.  You  who  have  a  few  be  not  selfish  with 
these,  but  see  how  many  clouds  you  can  scatter  from  your  eick 
friends'  brow — how  many  homes  you  can  brighten  by  these 
little  gifts  of  love.  I  tell  you  the  lessons  taught  them  will  not 
be  the  only  ones  learned.  They  will  not  only  bring  joy  to  the 
receiver,  but  a  great  delight  to  the  giver. 

If  flowers  were  as  rare  and  diflicult  to  collect  as  rubies  and 
diamonds,  they  would  be  accounted  as  of  far  greater  value,  be- 
cause more  beautiful  than  those  gems.  Nay,  if  any  one  of  the 
precious  stones  had  possessed,  in  addition  to  its  other  qualities, 
a  perfume  as  delicious  as  tiiat  of  the  most  evanescent  of  spring 
flowers,  men  would  have  bartered  for  it  the  mo.«t  valued  fruits 
of  industry,  and  poets  would  have  embalmed  it  in  immortal 
song.  It  is  only  because  flower.s  are  so  plentiful  that  we  forget 
or  fail  to  perceive  that  they  are  so  surpassingly  beautiful. 

Especially  are  they  welcome  to  the  sick.  They  have  been 
found  to  have  a  wonderfully  soothing  effect  on  insane  persons. 
The  Michigan  Lunatic  Asylum  is  provided  with  a  green-house, 
and  persons  who  have  manifested  the  most  violent  symptoms 
of  insanity  have  become  calmed  down  to  a  quiet  condition  on 
being  presented  with  a  bouquet  from  the  green^house. 

"They  speak  of  hope  to  the  fainting  heart. 

With  a  voice  of  promise  they  come  and  part; 

They  sleep  in  dust  through  the  wintry  hours, 

They  break  forth  in  glory— bring  flowers,  bright  flowers." 


Vegetable  Acids— Tartaric. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Tartaric  acid  is  a  vegetable  acid  which  .8  generally 
obtained  from  cream  of  tartar,  or  more  strictly  speak- 
ing, from  the  grape,  since  the  latter  Is  the  source  from 
which  the  former  originates. 

Whilst  fermenting,  wine,  no  matter  what  its  variety 
may  be,  deposits  on  the  inside  of  the  casks  in  which  it 
is  contained  a  kind  of  crust.  In  the  rough  state  this  is 
called  bitartrate  of  potash.  For  the  purpose  of  utilizing 
the  crust,  which  also  frequently  occurs  in  bottles  of 
wine  which  have  lain  undisturbed  for  a  lengthy  period 
on  one  side,  it  is  purified,  and  is  then  known  as  cream  of 
tartar. 

The  tartaric  acid  is  obtained  from  this  in  transparent 
crystals ;  the  cream  of  tartar  being  for  this  purpose 
treated  in  the  following  manner :  To  two  ounces  of  hot 
water,  to  which  one-sixth  of  an  ounce  of  strong  hydro- 
chloric acid  has  been  dissolved,  three  hundred  grains  of 
cream  of  tartar  are  added.  Three  hundred  grains  of 
calcium  hydrate  are  then  dissolved  in  one  and  one-third 
ounces  of  water,  forming  milk  of  lime.  This  is  added  to 
the  cream  of  tartar  solution  until  the  latter  shows  a 
decided  reaction,  and  the  precipitate,  calcium  tartrate, 
settles  to  the  bottom  of  the  dish.  The  calcium  tartrate 
is  then  collected  on  a  fflter  made  of  blotting  paper,  and 
transferred  to  a  flask  similar  to  the  one  already  described 
in  these  columns  in  the  article  on  Nitric  Acid.  A  solu- 
tion of  one-third  of  an  ounce  of  sulphuric  acid  and  one 
and  one-third  ounces  of  water  is  now  added  to  the  con- 
tents of  the  flask  and  allowed  to  boil  for  a  short 
time. 

The  latter  described  solution  causes  calciiim  sulphate 
to  form  from  the  calcium  tartrate,  and  sets  free  the  tar- 
taric acid  in  the  fiask. 

After  boiling,  the  contents  of  the  flask  are  filtered,  by 
which  means  the  calcium  sulphate  is  separated  from  the 
acid.  The  latter,  being  now  in  the  liquid  state,  is  evapo- 
rated over  a  spirit  lamp  until  it  occupies  only  one- 
twenty-fourth  of  a  pint.  On  allowing  it  cool,  crystals  of 
tartaric  acid  will  form  and  separate  from  the  liquid.  In 
the  above  description  of  the  process  of  manufacture, 
only  small  quantities  of  each  element  are  employed  on 
account  of  the  convenience  of  working  the  same.  The 
uses  of  tartaric  acid  are  very  numerous  and  valuable. 
In  chemistry  it  is  frequently  used  as  a  test ;  in  medicine 
it  is  used  with  antimony  and  potass  for  forming  the 
well-known  tartar  emetic.  Rochelle  powders  also  owe 
much  of  their  eflBcacy  to  the  cream  of  tartar  contained 
in  one  of  the  papers. 

The  acid  is  used  by  dyers,  who  value  it  very  highly, 
and  finally  it  may  be  used  for  making  a  pleasant  summer 
drink  by  dissolving  half  a  teaspoonful  of  it  in  four 
ounces  of  ice-water,  adding  syrup,  and  pouring  upon 
the  same  four  ounces  of  ice-water  in  which  hall  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  baking  soda  has  been  dissolved.  The  whole 
will  foam  up  rapidly,  forming  a  very  refreshing  drink. 


368 


THE  GROUPING  WORLD. 


TOTTIE'S  TROUBLE. 

Where  clover  fields  slope  upwards 
From  the  meadow  by  the  mill, 

To  where  clusterin|f  woods  of  hazel 
Crown  the  summit  of  the  hill, 

There's  a  lane  in  whose  thick  hedgegrows. 
Bright  with  flowers  and  glossy  green, 

Stand  many  branching  elm-trees 
To  shade  the  path  between. 

All  along  that  pleasant  pathway, 

In  the  sunny  month  of  May, 
Up  the  lane,  between  the  hedgerows, 

Little  Tottie  walked  one  day. 

Rosy  cheeks,  and  yellow  ringlets— 

On  her  face  a  happy  smile- 
Passed  she,  singing,  on  her  journey 

From  the  lane  across  the  stile, 

Through  a  rugged  waste  of  bracken 
Trembling  in  the  morning  breeze, 

Till  she  stood  upon  the  hill-top, 
Underneath  the  hazel-trees. 

There,  above  her,  woodbine,  drooping, 
Faint  luxurious  perfume  made. 

While  the  pale  dog-roses  clambered 
In  a  thorn-fenced  barricade. 

Tottie  looked  around  in  wonder: 

"Many  roses  there  may  be, 
But  my  crimson  bud,  my  beauty, 

Best  of  all,  I  cannot  see. 
Tester  eve  I  saw  it  growing 

Like  a  ruby,  crimson  bright. 
What  has  happened  to  my  rose-bud 

Through  this  one  short  summer's  night?*' 

Tottie  did  not  know— how  could  she?— 

That  the  crimson  bud  she  saw 
Was  the  same  as  that  pale  flower. 

Now  a  pretty  bud  no  more. 

For  the  ruthless  wind  and  sunshine 

Opening  out  the  bud  to  view. 
Stole  the  color  from  the  petals, 

Left  it  pallid  where  it  grew. 

Tottie  took  her  empty  basket, 
And  from  underneath  the  trees 

Passed  again  through  bracken,  waving 
In  the  merry  morning  breeze, 

Down  the  hill  she  slowly  wandered. 
While  above  her  shone  the  skies, 

But  the  teardrops  chased  each  other 
Fast  from  Tottie's  streaming  eyes. 

What  to  her  was  lane  or  meadow, 

Sunny  skies  or  morning  hour? 
She  was  going,  sad  and  silent, 

Home  without  her  cherished  flowei. 


Children,  with  hands  full  of  nosegays. 
Do  not  smile  at  Tottie's  sorrow; 

Many  a  roseycwith  fading  petals. 
Holds  for  you  a  weeping  morrow. 


Food  and  Flannel. 

Good  nourishing  diet  generates  fat,  and  upon  this  we- 
depend  for  the  heat  of  our  bodies.  Flannel  is  a  non- 
conductor, and  prevents  the  escape  of  heat  from  our 
bodies,  while  it  also  keeps  the  cold  air  from  reaching  u& 
from  the  outside.  If  we  envelop  a  jug  of  hot  water  in 
several  thicknesses  of  woolen  blankets  it  will  retain 
heat  a  long  time.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  wrap  a  piece 
of  ice  in  a  blanket,  it  may  be  kept  for  many  hours  in  hot 
weather  without  melting.  This  only  shows  that  flannel 
allows  neither  hot  nor  cold  air  to  pass  through  it. 

The  whole  surface  of  the  body  should  be  covered  with 
heavy  flannel,  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  cold  weather,  to 
prevent  the  sudden  cooling  of  the  body  when  we  go  out 
of  a  room  at  70  degrees  into  a  temperature  of  zero,  or 
ten  below. 

People  who  are  subject  to  colds  on  the  lungs  will  do 
well  to  wear  a  layer  of  cotton  batting  all  over  the 
lungs  ia  addition  to  flannel.  See  that  the  layer  of 
cotton  comes  well  up  and  around  the  lower  part  of  the 
neck,  and  even  with  the  tops  of  the  shoulders,  to  pro- 
tect the  apices  of  the  lungs. 

Whisky-drinkers  are  not  able  to  resist  a  low  tempera- 
ture. It  is  not  strange  when  we  find,by  actual  experiment, 
that  the  administration  of  alcohol  lowers  the  temperature 
of  the  body.  A  temperate,  well-nourished  man  will 
live,  with  comparative  comfort,  in  an  atmosphere  which 
would  freeze  the  life  out  of  a  drunkard  in  a  short 
time.  A  wise  man  will  drink  hot  coffee  or  milk  instead 
of  any  form  of  spirits  if  he  expects  to  endure  exposure 
to  cold. 

Where  the  hands,  feet  or  ears  are  frozen  in  a  degree 
not  suflScient  to  cause  death  and  sloughing  of  the  part, 
they  may  be  restored  by  applying  snow  or  cold  water  in 
a  tolerably  cold  room.  This  is  done  frequently  by  the 
inhabitants  of  cold  countries, as  they  say,  "to  take  the 
frost  out."  The  application  of  snow  or  cold  water  in 
these  cases  does  not  take  the  frost  out,  but  does  directly 
the  opposite  thing— it  keeps  it  from  coming  out  too 
rapidly,  and  prevents  the  inflammation  which  would  be 
set  up  by  the  too  sudden  re-establishment  of  the  circula- 
tion. 

People  who  are  apparently  frozen  dead  must  be  put  in 
a  cold  room,  the  temperature  of  which  must  be  raised 
very  slowly  indeed.  Friction  with  snow,  or  cloths  dipped 
in  cold  water  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  body,  may 
be  used  as  mentioned  before.  Artifical  respiration  must 
be  tried.  Inflate  the  lungs  by  blowing  into  the  mouth 
with  a  pair  of  bellows,  or  with  your  own  mouth,  and 
empty  them  again  by  compressing  the  chest  walls. 
Keep  up  the  restorative  efforts  for  a  long  time,  as  case& 
have  been  known  to  recover  after  being  seemingly  dead 
for  several  hours. 

To  relieve  the  itiching  and  burning  which  usually 
follows  an  ordinary  case  of  frost-bite,  we  know  of 
nothing  better  than  a  weak  solution  of  nitrate  of  silver^ 
say  five  grains  to  the  ounce  of  water. 

Much  from  Little. 

A  bar  of  iron  worth  five  dollars,  when  moulded  into  horse- 
shoes would  double  its  value.  Wrought  into  needles  it  would 
be  worth  three  hundred  dollars ;  into  pen-knife  blades,  over 
three  thousand,  and  if  made  into  balance  springs  of  watches  is 
worth  over  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

A  pound  of  wool  was  spun  by  an  English  woman,  in  1745» 
into  a  thread  forty-eight  miles  long.  That  was  thought  a 
great  thing  in  its  day,  and  was  recorded  on  the  books  of  the 
Royal  Society.  But  since  that  time  a  young  lady  has  spun 
another  pound  into  a  line  ninety-six  miles  long,  and  a  pound 
of  cotton  with  a  thread  one  hundred  and  fifteen  miles  in 
length. 

It  seems  a  great  deal  to  make  out  of  these  crude  materials ; 
but  boys  and  girls  you  have  a  material  at  hand  susceptible  of 
a  degree  of  improvement  far  surpassing  that  of  the  bar  of 
iron.  Your  God-given  powers  of  intellect  can  be  made  into 
"horseshoes,"  or  "watch  springs,"  and  you  are  the  workman. 
It  rests  with  yon  what  you  are  to  become  in  life.  You  may 
have  all  possible  advantages  and  yet  make  life  a  failure.  "  Any 
one  can  bring  a  horee  to  the  waler,  but  all  the  world  can't, 
make  him  drink  when  you  have  him  there." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


369 


IS  FARM  LIFE  UNINTERESTING? 
Daniel  Webster  Among  His  Cattle. 


"  Talking  with  a  very  bright  and  ambitious  young 
woman,  a  farmer's  daughter,  where  we  stopped  over 
night,  she  said  farming  was  a  dull  sort  of  life.  Yes," 
said  a  young  man  of  twenty-two  years,  there  is  no  in- 
centive to  work.  It  is  all  hum-drum,  routine,  and  hard 
work — no  relaxation  of  effort  and  nothing  to  stimulate." 


monest  tiling  to  excite  our  Interest  if  v/e  take  the 
pains  for  investigation. 

Could  you  tell  us  liow  many  kinds  of  grasses— 
real  grasses — grow  on  your  farm  ?  Could  you  tell 
us  of  their  correct  habits  and  history  ?— Suppose  we 
ask  you  how  many  species  of  plants  are  indigenous 
on  your  farm,  and  the  name  of  these  plants,  tinae 
of  flowering,  color  of  flowers,  soil  and  localiey  in 
which  they  grow;  could  you  tell  us  ?" 

The  products  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  are  among 
the  most  useful  and  interesting  objects  we  contem- 


DANIEL  WEBSTER  FEEDING  HIS 
*♦  What  a  mistake,"  we  replied.  **  There  is  everything 
i'or  a  stimulus.  Each  farm  is  a  world  itself,  about 
which  those  who  have  lived  upon  it  know  little  or 
nothing  comparatively.  It  is  scarcely  possible  not 
to  be  delighted  as  well  as  improved  by  the  study  of 
any  one  department  of  the  creation,  or  even  any  sin- 
gle object  which  it  comprises;  and  this  is  true  both 
with  regard  to  inanimate  objects  and  to  those 
*  thousand-fold  tribes  of  dwellers '  which  exist  in 
such  profusion  and  variety  every  where. — There  is 
■omething  in  the  *  life  and  conversation '  of  the  com- 


CATTLE  FROM  HIS  OWN  HAND, 
plate.    They  are  associated  with  the  earliest  and 
some  of  the  purest  pleasures  of  mankind  ;  for  every 
one  will  vividly  recollect  the  delight  experienced  in 
his  boyhood  by  the  appearance  of  the  \  harbingers  of 
the  vernal  season — the  iiowers  of  the  snow-drop,  cro- 
cus, primrose,  and  violet,  peeping  up  above  the  green 
sward,  or  from  the  hedgerows,  proclaiming  in  an  obvi 
ous  and  impressive  manner,  ""Lo,  the  wmter  is  past,  the 
ram  is  over  and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  upon  the  earth, 
the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come."    The  cultiva' 
led  flora  of  the  garden,  and  the  wild  flora  of  the  field* 


370 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


are  among  our  first  instructors,  conveying,  by  their  ex- 
ternal configuration,  lessons  of  purity  and  of  grace  to 
Hie  mind  in  the  age  of  its  awakening  susceptibilities.— 
This  is  a  moral  and  intellectual  discipline,  silent  and  un- 
ostentatious in  its  process,  but  of  great  importance  in  its 
effect  as  a  pource  of  valuable  directive  influence  to  the 
thoughts  and  feelings.  But  to  man,  in  mature  life,  the' 
larger  plants  and  timber-trees  are  essential.  His  exist- 
ence and  civilization  depend  upon  them.  They  furnish 
with  unbounded  prodigality,  the  food  which  satiates  his 
hunger  and  gratifies  his  taste  ;  supply  many  of  the  medi- 
cines that  allay  his  sickness  ;  afford  him  materials  for 
a  habitation  ;  yield  the  means  of  transporting  himself 
and  his  property  over  the  land,  and  across  the  ocean ; 
besides  being  the  ornament  of  his  walks  during  the 
period  of  their  growth. 

What  then  could  be  found  more  interesting  than  to  in- 
vestigate the  structure  of  plants  ;  to  unfold  the  riches  of 
the  vegetable  kingdom  with  its  different  organizations, 
.and  the  means  by  which  their  development  and  fructifi- 
cation are  secured. 

Consider  also  the  animal  creation.  Animals  supply 
US  with  food ;  minister  to  our  pleasures  ;  transport  us 
from  place  to  place.  The  more  closely  we  observe,  the 
more  widely  do  we  recognize  the  diffusion  of  animal  life ; 
the  more  diligently  we  search,  even  in  the  pools,  and 
fields,  and  woods,  the  more  novelties  in  animal  life  do 
we  discover ;  and  the  more  interested  do  we  become  in 
their  habits.  Perhaps  no  aDimal  is  more  useful  to  man 
than  the  ox.  Its  flesh  is  the  beef  of  our  dinner-table, 
and  that  of  the  calf  is  our  veal.  The  milk  of  the  cow  we 
drink  all  through  life.  Glue  is  made  of  the  horns,  hoofs, 
and  hide  Darings  of  the  ox.  Cow's  hair  is  mixed  with 
mortar,  to  make  it  hold  better,  and  in  fact  every  bit  of 
them,  from  the  tip  of  their  tail  to  their  nose-end,  is  use- 
ful in  some  way  or  other.  Read  these  old  lines  which,  I 
believe,  are  quite  correct  in  describing  a  good  milch 
cow : — 

"  If  long  in  the  head,  and  bright  in  the  eye; 
Short  in  the  leg,  and  thin  in  the  thigh; 
Broad  in  the  hips,  and  full  in  the  chine; 
Light  in  the  shoulder,  and  neck  rather  fine; 
Round  in  the  carcass,  and  wide  in  the  pinr 
Fine  in  the  bone,  and  silky  of  skin; 
Deep  in  the  bosom,  and  small  in  her  tail, 
She'll  ne'er  be  deficient  in  filling  the  pail." 

The  noble  horse,  the  sheep,  swine,  and  even  the  fowls 
of  the  barn-yard,  are  all  worthy  of  our  attention.  Then 
go  out  into  the  fields.  Do  you  know  the  habits  of  the 
woodchuck  that  burrows  in  the  earth  and  sleeps  on  a 
nest  of  dried  leaves  in  a  torpid  state  during  the  cold 
winter  ?  Do  you  notice  the  lively,  playful,  and  busy 
squirrel,  running  along  the  fences  and  walls,  cheeping 
like  a  young  chicken,  its  cheek  pouches  distended  with 
nuts  or  seeds,  occasionally  stopping  and  standing  up- 
right, watching  against  enemies,  and  disappearing  in 
some  hole  at  the  least  alarm  ?  Do  you  notice  the 
graceful  movements  of  the  bird,  its  soft  and  elegant 
plumage,  its  gift  of  song,  or,  if  not  of  song  of  a  cer- 
tain lively  gaiety,  its  tender  care  of  its  young,  its 
skill  in  preparing  so  pretty  a  home  for  their  recep- 
tion, jts  plaintive  mourning  when  deprived  of  its 
mate,  its  faith,  as  in  search  of  a  more  genial  clime,  ■ 
it  flies  across  the  mighty  waters — all  endear  it  to  us 
as  a  beautiful  gift,  for  among  all  the  many  wonder- 
ful creatures  God  lias  made,  there  is  not  one  to  be 
more  admired  than  the  bird. 

The  sprightly  and  familiar  blue-bird  is  always  a 
welcome  visitor,  and  one  of  our  earliest  songsters. 
He  does  good  service  to  the  farmer  in  destroying 
beetles,  grass-hoppers,  grubs,  wire  worms  and  other 
familiar  pests;  it  rarely  injures  any  of  our  garden 
fruits,  preferring  those  of  the  sumach  and  the  wild 
cherry.  The  nest  is  made  either  in  a  box  prepared 
for  it,  or  in  any  convenient  hole  in  a  tree.  Last  year 
a  pair  of  these  beautiful  birds  built  their  nest  iu  a 
gate  post  which  had  a  hole  in  the  side,  and  tliey 
were  continually  darting  in  and  out.  Early  in  the 
season  I  beheld  the  busy  creatures  carrying  in  ma.- 
terial  for  a  nest.  When  I  thought  sufficient  time 
had  elapsed  for  ,  the  eggs  to  be  laid  I  embraced  tlie 
opportunity,  when  the  birds  were  not  in  si<rlit  io  in- 


sert my  hand,  and  I  found  there  were  six  lovely  eggs,  ol 
a  pale  blue  color  in  the  nest.  This  gate  occupied  a  car 
riage  way  and  was  in  constant  use,  but  the  birds  came 
and  went  without  apparent  fear.  The  blue  bird's  song 
Is  soft  and  agreeable,  becoming  plaintive  as  winter  ap- 

roaches,  at  which  time  most  of  them  repair  to  the 

outhern  States. 

Who  does  not  love  the  robin.  His  appearance  and  his 
attitude  are  known  to  every  one.  He  stands,  his  head  a 
little  raised,  his  wings  drooping,  his  mild,  pleasant  eye 
beaming  with  intelligence.  Sometimes  he  spies  a  worm 
wriggling  in  the  grass,  and  he  gives  a  hop  toward  it,  and 
pecks  at  it,  and  devours  it.  Then  he  resumes  his  former 
position.  Now  and  then  he  sings  his  few  sweet  notes 
from  a  wall  or  decaying  stump.  His  flight  is  rapid,  and 
consists  of  short,  quick  starts,  from  one  place  to  another. 
Now  lie  is  on  the  ground,  now  on  the  fence.  The  nest  is  often 
built  near  houses,  and  in  very  noisy  locations ;  a  robin  has 
been  knonrn  to  build  on  the  timbers  of  a  railroad  bridge  over  a 
wide  sheet  of  water,  on  which  trains  passed  at  least  every  hour 
during  the  day  and  night— not  only  a  dangerous  and  a  tremu- 
lous position,'but  one  from  which  it  must  be  difficult  to  teach 
the  young  to  fly,  as  a  mis-step  would  precipitate  them  into 
the  water. 

Attempts  have  been  made,  with  some  partial  success,  to 
classify  the  various  architectural  contrivances  connected  with 
the  nesting  and  incubation  of  birds. 

"  Behold  a  bird's  nest  I 

Mark  it  well,  within,  without  1 

No  tool  had  he  that  wrought ;  no  knife  to  cut, 

No  nail  to  fix,  no  bodkin  to  insert. 

No  glue  to  join ;  his  little  beak  was  all ; 

And  yet  how  neatly  finished !   What  nice  hand. 

With  every  implemeht  and  means  of  art. 

Could  compass  such  another?" 

The  most  recent  and  most  nearly  successful  attempt  to  sys- 
tematize the  subject,  is  that  of  Prof.  James  Reunie,  of  King's 
Colleffe,  London.  In  this  system  the  entire  class  of  birds  are 
ranged  in  twelve  groups;  miners,  ground-builders,  masons, 
carpenters,  platform-builders,  basket-makers,  weavers,  tailors, 
felt-makers,  cementers,  dome-builders,  and  parasites.  In  the 
Spring  the  birds  of  these  various  trades  are  building  their 
nests  and 

"  Every  copse 
Deep  tangled,  tree  irregular,  and  bash 
Bending  with  dewy  moisture  o'er  the  heads 
Of  the  coy  choristers  that  lodge  within 
Are  prodigal  of  harmony. 

Cheering  is  the  invitation : — 

"Anna — Marie,  love,  up  is  the  sun; 

Anna — Marie,  love,  morn  is  begun, 

Mists  are  dispersing,  love,  birds  singing  free; 

Up  in  the  morning,  love,  Anna — Marie." 

Cultivate  a  fine  taste  for  the  beautiful  works  of  nature  and 
you  will  find  that  farm  life  does  not  lack  stimulus,  nor  the 
fields  nor  forests  their  charm. 

"Ye  birds  that  fly  through  the  fields  or  air, 
What  lessons  of  wisdom  and  truth  ye  bear  1 
Ye  would  teach  our  souls  from  earth  to  rise ; 
Ye  would  bid  us  all  grovelling  scenes  despise ; 
Ye  would  tell  us  that  all  its  pursuits  are  vain. 
That  pleasure  is  toil— ambition  is  pain- 
That  Its  bliss  is  touch'd  with  a  poisoning  leaven, 
Ye  would  teach  us  to  fia:  our  aim  on  heaven. 

"  Beautiful  birds  of  lightsome  wing, 

Bright  creatures  that  come  with  the  voice  of  Spring; 

We  see  you  arrayed  in  the  hues  of  the  morn, 

Yet  ye  dream  not  of  pride,  and  ye  wist  not  of  scoral 

Though  rainbow  splendor  around  you  glows, 

Ye  vaunt  not  the  beauty  which  nature  bestows  ; 

Oh  1  what  a  lesson  for  glory  are  ye, 

How  ye  preach  the  grace  of  humility. 

"  Sweet  birds,  that  breathe  the  spirit  of  song, 
^     And  surround  heaven's  gate  in  melodious  throng, 

Who  rise  with  the  earliest  beams  of  day. 

Your  morning  tribute  of  thanks  to  pay, 

You  remind  us  that  we  should  likewise  raise 

The  voice  of  devotion  and  song  of  praise  ; 

There's  something  about  you  that  points  on  high. 

Ye  beautiful  tenants  of  earth  and  sky." 
In  Summer  the  whole  air  is  filled  with  flies  and  insects, 
myriads  of  them  too  small  for  our  eyes  to  see.   The  swallow 
is  the  bird,  that  from  morning  to  night,  in  broad  sweeps 
through  the  air,  is  occupied  in  catching  them. 

With  the  early  Spring,  the  great  temple  of  nature  opens,  so 
to  say,  her  gates  and  doors,  and  forth  rush  living  creatures,  by 
millions.  Countless  eggs  are  hatched,  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  tiny  grubs  and  caterpillars  spring  into  life,  and 
in  their  turn  become  perfect  insects.  The  chrysalis,  that  has 
Jain  all  Winter  t^wathed  up  iH  some  secret  spot,  now  has  its 
bands  unloosed,  and  flutters  out  on  wings.  By  the  brook,  in 
the  meadows,  and  among  the  trees,  there  is  a  hum  and  a  stir 
Of  life  evervwhera 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


371 


Well  has  It  been  said  by  Dr.  Chalmers,  as  he  viewed  the  tele- 
sicope in  connection  with  the  microscope:  "The  one  led  me 
to  see  a  system  in  every  star ;  the  other  leads  me  to  see  a  world 
in  every  atom.  The  one  taught  me  that  this  mighty  globe, 
with  the  whole  burden  of  its  people  and  of  its  couu tries,  is  but 
a  grain  of  sand  on  the  high  field  of  immensity ;  the  other 
teaches  me  that  every  grain  of  sand  may  harbor  within  it  the 
tribes  and  the  families  of  a  busy  population.  The  one  told 
me  of  the  insignificance  of  the  world  I  tread  upon  ;  the  other 
redeems  it  of  all  its  insignificance;  for  it  tells  me  that  in 
the  leaves  of  every  forest,  and  in  the  flowers  of  every  garden, 
and  in  the  waters  of  every  rivulet,  there  are  worlds  teeming 
with  life,  and  numberless  as  are  the  glories  of  the  firmament. 
The  one  has  suggested  to  me  that  beyond  and  above  all  that  is 
visible  to  man  there  may  be  fields  of  creation  which  sweep 
immeasurably  along,  and  carry  the  impress  of  the  Almighty's 
hand  to  the  remotest  scenes  of  the  universe ;  the  other  sug- 
gests to  me  that,  without  and  beyond  all  that  minuteness  which 
the  aided  eye  of  man  has  been  able  to  explore,  there  may  be  a 
region  of  invisibles  ^  and  that,  could  we  draw  aside  the  mys- 
terious curtain  which  shrouds  it  from  our  senses,  we  might 
there  see  a  theatre  of  as  many  wonders  as  astronomy  has  un- 
folded—a universe  within  the  compass  of  a  point,  so  small  as 
to  elude  all  the  powers  of  the  microscope,  but  where  the  won- 
der-working God  finds  room  for  the  exercise  of  all  his  attri- 
butes ;  where  he  can  raise  another  mechanism  of  worlds,  and 
fill  and  animate  them  all  with  the  evidence  of  his  glory." 

Daniel  Webster  was  a  farmer,  and  took  delight  in  country 
things.  He  had  a  patriarch's  love  of  sheep.  Choice  breeds 
thereof  he  had.  He  took  delight  in  cows.  He  tilled  paternal 
acres  with  his  own  oxen.  He  loved  to  give  the  kine  fodder.— 
It  was  pleasant  to  hear  him  talk  about  oxen,  and  but  three 
days  before  he  left  the  earth,  too  ill  to  visit  them,  his  oxen 
lowing  came  to  see  him  as  he  stood  in  his  door,  and  his  great 
cattle  were  driven  up,  that  he  might  smell  their  healthy  breath, 
and  look  his  last  on  their  broad  generous  faces  that  were  never 
false  to  him. 

What  an  aff'ecting  scene  is  here  described.  Daniel  Webster 
loved  these  animals  for  their  own  sake,  and  not  for  their  value 
in  silver  and  gold.  He  loved  to  feed  them  with  his  own  hands 
in  order  to  witness  their  happiness  while  satisfying  their  hun- 
ger, and  to  win  their  love  for  him.  They  loved  their  kind 
owner,  and  no  wonder  they  came  lowing  one  by  one  to  see 
their  sick  lord.  The  Scripture  says  "The  ox  knoweth  its 
owner."  Then  all  those  splendid  animals,  numbering  be- 
tween one  and  two  hundred,  knew  Daniel  Webster,  as  they 
were  driven  up,  and  looked  upon  him  for  the  last  time,  p-nd 
who  shall  say  they  did  not  miss  him  and  mourn  for  him  when 
he  came  to  them  no  more. 

No  doubt  this  great  man  enjoyed  more  real  happiness  in  the 
society  of  the  dumb  animals  of  every  kind  on  the  Marshfield 
farm  than  he  ever  realized  in  hearing  the  plaudits  of  his  fellow 
men,  as  his  elegant  words  rang  out  in  the  Senate  Chamber 
Hall  of  our  great  nation,  and  thousands  of  worshipers  were 
following  in  his  train.  He  knew  that  fame  was  but  a  bubble, 
and  he  learned  by  bitter  experience  that  the  most  devoted  of 
his  followers  might  desert  and  betray,  but  not  one  of  these 
guiltless  creatures  would  ever  prove  false  to  him. 

Why  is  there  so  much  muttering  and  dissatisfaction  with 
existing  conditions.  Life  everywhere  is  a  state  of  daily  war- 
fare ;  each  position  has  its  trouble,  discontent,  and  burden, 
and  man  in  one  situation  is,  on  an  average,  as  happy  as  in 
another.  Life  is  too  short  to  waste  in  useless  repining.  Let 
us,  then,  try  to  content  ourselves  in  the  position  assigned 
us.  Let  the  farmer  look  out  over  his  broad  acres  and  know  that 
be  possesses  an  independence  Avhich  is  vouchsafed  to  few  other 
avocations,  and  while  many  of  his  fellows  toil  an  day  after 
day  in  close  confinement,  subject  to  the  rule,  pemaps,  of  un- 
congenial regulations  and  masters,  he  is  monarch,  at  least  over 
his  small  world.  Let  him  appreciate  the  blessings  daily 
showered  upon  him,  and  sit  "  beneath  his  own  vine  and  fig- 
tree,"  saying  with  the  poet  : 

"Beneath  these  fruit-tree  boughs,  that  shed 
Their  snow-white  blossoms  on  my  head. 
With  brightest  sunshine  round  me  spread 

Of  Spring's  unclouded  weather; 
in  this  sequestered  nook  how  sweet 
To  sit  upon  my  orchard  seat 
And  birds  and  flowers  once  more  to  greet, 
My  last  year's  friends  together.'*^ 


A  Hundred  Years  Ago. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CARNES. 

A  little  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  England,  or 
Great  Britain,  sought  to  place  her  heel  upon  the  colonies 
of  America.  She  had  crowded  her  prohibitory  laws 
upon  them  ;  she  had  forbidden  this  industry  and  that 
manufacture  ;  she  had  crowded  her  way  into  the  affairs 
of  private  citizens  ;  she  had  said  that  they  should  not 
have  this  thing,  and  they  should  not  do  that  thing— her 
zeal  was  not  according  to  knowledge.  Endui-ance  ceased 
to  be  a  virtue  with  the  colonists. 

Little  more  than  a  bimdred  years  ago  they  illustrated 


the  old  proverb.  The  last  straw  was  placed  upon  the 
camel's  back  and  it  broke.  The  "stamp  act"  massed 
the  long  gathering  clouds  of  war,  and  the  storm  broke 
with  appalling  force.  Little  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago  a  brilliant  orator  on  the  side  of  the  British  Ministry, 
exclaimed:  "These  Americans,  our  own  children,  plant- 
ed by  our  care,  nourished  by  our  indulgence,  protected 
by  our  arms  until  they  are  grown  to  a  good  degree  of 
strength  and  opulence,  will  they  now  turn  their  backs 
upon  us  and  grudge  to  contribute  their  mite  to  relieve 
us  from  our  overwhelming  debt." 

Colonel  Barre,  with  the  vehement  tones  becoming  a 
soldier,  arose  for  instant  reply  :  ' '  Your  opprti<,ii'wii  plantecj 
them  in  America  I  They  fled  from  your  tyranny  into  ^ 
wild,  uncultivated  land,  where  they  not  only  had  to  sub- 
due the  soil,  lying  under  the  original  curse  of  brambles 
and  thorns,  but  they  had  also  to  struggle  with  and  sub- 
due the  wily,  treacherous  and  murderous  ne  :.'.ve  aborigi- 
nes—the most  terrible  of  all  foes  to  mankind— and  yet 
they  preferred  this  state  of  existence  to  that  which  they 
had  endured  from  the  hands  of  those  who  should  have 
been  their  friends. 

"Nourished  by  your  indulgence  ?  They  grew  by  your 
neglect !  What  was  your  care  ?  So  soon  as  they  began 
to  grow  your  deputy  leeches  sucked  their  blood.  When 
they  could  stand  alone  you  sought  to  cripple  their 
strength  by  misrepresentation.  When  they  could  walk 
unaided  you  would  manacle  them  with  unjustifiable 
taxations. 

"Protected  by  your  arms  ?  TJiey  took  up  arms  to  pro- 
tect the  frontier  of  their  country,  which  was  drenched  in 
blood,  to  defend  the  interior,  whose  products  were  to 
yield  a  revenue  to  the  enlargement  of  your  own  funds  ; 
and  the  sanie  spirit  that  actuated  this  people  to  deal 
fairly  with  you  wiU  also  give  them  strength  to  deal  fairly 
by  themselves.  Remember  and  helieive  what  I  this  day  tell 
you." 

But  in  spite  of  all  this  heroic  eloquence,  a  little  more 
than  a  hundred  years  ago  the  odious  "  stamp  act"  was 
passed.  The  news  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  colo- 
nies. Boston  and  Philadelphia  muffled  their  bells  and 
rang  a  funeral  peal.  In  New  York  a  death's  head  was 
carried  through  the  streets  with  the  mournful  motto, 
"  England's  folly  and  America's  ruin."  In  Portsmouth 
a  coffin  inscribed  with  the  word  "  Liberty  "  was  ceremo- 
niously borne  to  the  grave,  while  minute  guns  ominous- 
ly pealed  along  the  route. 

A  little  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago.  Dr.  Franklin, 
then  in  London,  wrote  to  a  friend  in  the  colonies  :  "  The 
sun  of  Liberty  is  set,  and  America  must  now  light  only 
the  lamps  of  economy  and  industry."  Back  went  the 
portentous,  surcharged  reply  :  "  We  shall  light  torches 
of  another  sort."  The  answer  was  prophetic,  as  was 
proved  by  the  long,  fierce,  persistent  and,  thank  God, 
triumphant  struggle  for  liberty — for  the  freedom  of 
America,  that  country  which  is  the  asylum  for  the  down* 
trodden  and  oppressed  of  every  nation. 

Boys  and  girls  of  to-day,  the  men  and  women  of  to- 
morrow, look  back  a  little  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago.  Think  of  our  heroic  ancestors,  hewing  their  way 
step  by  step  along  a  savage  wilderness,  oppressed  by 
foreign  foes,  and  assailed  by  murderous  savages  and 
ferocious  wild  beasts ;  suffering  cold,  hunger  and  dis- 
ease, torn  from  kindred  ties— for  what  purpose  ?  To 
build  up  homes  of  peace  and  plenty  for  ijou  and  me  ;  to 
open  up  a  highway  of  light,  liberty  and  equal  rights  for 
us  to-day.  A  fruitful  country,  a  land  literally  "  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey,"  and  where  "rivers  of  oil" 
abound ;  with  free  institutions  of  learning  for  all,  a 
right  to  worship  God  after  the  dictates  of  our  own  con- 
sciences, a  broad  platform  where  merit  is  king  ;  where, 
ere  long,  the  well-balanced  head  will  hold  its  own 
weight,  irrespective  of  the  sex  of  the  shoulders  that  shall 
bring  it  unchallenged  into  whatever  station  it  is  fitted  to 
fill.  All  thin,  all  this  they  purchased  for  you  and  me — 
purchased  with  a  fortitude  and  suffering  which  we  to- 
day do  not  appreciate  half  enough  ;  bought  all  this  for 
us  with  their  strength,  their  best  abilities,  and,  also,  too 
often  with  their  heart's  red  blood. 

Oh,  little  people  of  America,  and  "  Children  of  a  larger 
growth,"  do  you  realize  the  responsibility  and  blessing 
of  living  HOW  ?  when  Science,  unfettered,  unchained,  is 
taking  the  human  mind  do\\Ti  and  out  and  up  through 
the  vast,  inexhaustible  storehouse  of  Nature,  until  awe- 
struck and  adoring  we  can  only  exclaim,  "  HowMvonder- 
ful  are  Thy  works,  oh  Lord  God  of  Hosts  !" 


372 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Snakes  of  Tennessee, 

BY  B.   G.  BRjLZELTON. 

The  snakes  inhabiting  this  State  are  the  rattle-snake, 
Olow-snake,  copper-head,  and  moccasin,  of  the  poison 
ylass  ,  and  the  green-snake,  garter-snake,  house-snake, 
;hicken-6nake,  and  black-snake,  belonging  to  the  harm- 
less class. 

The  one  most  dreaded,  on  account  of  its  bite,  is  the 
well-known  rattle-snake,  which  grows  to  be  six  feet 
long,  and  is  of  a  yellowish-brown  color,  with  yellow 
spots  along  its  sides,  and  has  a  diamond-shaped  head, 
and  also  provided  with  a  rattle  in  the  taU,  consisting  of 
articulated  horny  cells,  vibrated  by  motion  to  make  a 
noise.  These  homy  cells,  or  rattles,  as  they  are  gener- 
ally called,  increase  in  number  as  the  snake  advances  in 
years,  one  rattle  growing  each  year ;  so  by  knowing  the 
number  of  rattles  on  a  snake's  tail,  you  are  able  to  tell 
the  age  of  the  snake.  The  greatest  number  of  rattles 
that  I  ever  knew  found  on  one  of  these  snakes  were  six- 
teen, which  would  make  the  snake  sixteen  years  old. 
Whether  this  is  their  greatest  age  or  not  I  am  unable  to 
tell.  When  imposed  upon  it  makes  its  rattle  sing, 
warning  the  intruder  that  danger  is  nigh ;  and  when 
swimming,  it  keeps  its  rattle  entirely  above  the  water. 

It  usually  inhabits  hilly  and  mountainous  districts, 
where  the  soU  is  rocky  and  barren,  and  is  seldom  found 
on  low  wet  land.  It  never  leaves  its  young  very  far,  so 
that  in  case  of  an  attack,  they  may  be  quicldy  called  up 
and  swallowed  out  of  danger,  should  a  retreat  be  neces- 
sary. When  this  State  was  first  settled  these  snakes 
were  plentiful,  but  at  the  present  their  number  is  small. 
Many  years  ago,  a  company  of  men  were  surveying  the 
line  between  Hardin  and  Wayne  counties ;  they  met 
with  a  large  rattle-snake,  which  made  a  queer  noise  by 
means  of  its  tail,  different  from  that  made  with  its  rattle 
when  attacked  ;  soon  a  large  number  of  young  snakes 
came  running  up,  when  the  old  one  opened  her  mouth 
and  received  them  out  of  danger,  after  which  she  de- 
parted, leaving  the  surveyors  to  wonder  at  the  love  of  a 
mother-snake  for  her  children. 

This  snake  swallows  its  food  whole,  but  thought  not 
to  live  in  a  torpid  state  during  digestion.  I  once  heard 
of  a  rattle-snake  being  found  with  a  tortoise  in  it ;  how 
long  it  had  been  in  the  snake  was  unknown  ;  the  observer 
found  that  its  weight,  and  the  snake's  traveling,  had 
caused  a  hole  to  be  worn  through  the  snake's  body. 

There  is  a  species  of  rattle-snake  called  the  ground- 
rattle-snake,  which  is  a  small,  short,  and  thick  reptile, 
about  one  foot  long,  and  resembles  the  large  rattle-snake 
in  appearance.  Why  it  received  this  name  I  am  not  able 
to  tell,  but  probably  from  its  often  being  found  under 
logs  and  in  the  ground.  Its  bite  is  said  to  be  very 
poisonous. 

The  blow-snake,  another  poisonous  reptUe,  is  a  short, 
thick  snake  of  a  dark  color,  which  inflates  the  body  be- 
fore striking,  making,  at  the  same  time,  a  noise  re- 
sembling that  of  a  goose  when  attacked  on  her  nest. 
It  is  sometimes  called  the  spread-in-outer,  because  when 
struck,  it  spreads  its  body,  making  it  look  very  flat. 
Its  habitation  is  in  high  dry  lands,  in  gardens  and  weedy 
Dlaces. 

The  cotton-mouth  may  be  classed  with  those  that  in- 
habit the  water,  measuring  when  fully  grown,  from  four 
to  five  feet  in  length,  and  is  of  a  bright  black  color, 
having  a  very  poisonous  bite,  considered  equally  as 
dangerous  as  the  rattle-snake.  When  attacked,  it  jumps 
at  its  enemy,  though  he  be  thirty  feet  distant,  at  the 
same  time  throwing  its  mou+>^  wide  open,  which  looks 
inside  white  as  cotton ;  hence  the  name.  It  lives  in  or 
near  some  water  course,  and  among  drifts  of  logs,  where 
it  can  crawl  out  on  some  chunk  of  timber  and  enjoy  the 
rays  of  the  sun,  at  the  same  time  watch  for  its  prey. 

Next  in  order  of  the  poison  race,  and  of  those  inhalDit- 
ing  the  water,  is  the  copper-head.,  which  is  about  five 
feet  in  length,  and  of  a  dark  ugly  color  on  the  back  and 
sides ;  its  under  jaw  and  belly  is  of  a  copper  color, 
whence  the  name  copper-head,  or  copper-belly,  as  it  is 
often  called.  It,  like  the  cotton-mouth,  lives  near  the 
water,  never  making  its  appearance  on  the  hills  except 
in  the  dry  season,  when  the  creeks  and  other  watering 
places  becoming  dry  it  leaves  for  the  high  land,  perhaps 
in  search  of  food,  where  it  may  be  found  under  or  near 
some  dwelling-house,  in  the  poultry  yard,  and  often  in 
the  coops.  Its  bite  is  very  poisonous.  The  best  and 
quickest  remedy  that  I  know  of  to  be  administered  in 


ease  of  a  bite  from  this,  or  any  other  poisonous  snake, 
is  tobacco  ;  chew  it  and  swallow  the  juice,  at  the  same 
time  apply  a  piece  to  the  wound.  I  hope,  mentioning 
the  above  remedy  may  not  cause  some  young  lad  to 
carry  a  piece  of  tobacco  in  his  pocket  for  fear  he  might 
get  snake  bit,  and  no  remedy  near,  and  by  that  means 
learn  to  chew  the  weed. 

The  following  is  said  to  be  an  excellent  remedy  for 
snake  bites,  or  for  the  sting  of  the  wasp,  hornet,  or  bee : 
"  Take  equal  quantities  of  gunpowder,  salt,  and  yellow 
of  an  egg ;  mix  so  as  to  make  a  plaster ;  place  on  a 
cloth,  and  apply  to  the  wound,  letting  it  extend  one 
inch  on  all  sides  of  the  wound.  When  the  plaster  gets 
full  of  poison,  it  will  drop  off ;  apply  a  new  one  until 
it  remains  sticking  to  the  wound." 

The  moccasin  is  another  poisonous  reptile,  of  which 
there  are  three  species,  the  bob-tail,  spotted,  and  black 
moccasin  ;  all  have  a  poisonous  bite,  and  live  in' or  near 
some  water  course.  The  bob-tail  grows  to  be  very  large 
in  size,  but  short  in  length  ;  scarcely  ever  found  over 
four  feet  long.  Its  color  is  of  a  dark  chestnut  brown, 
faintly  barred  with  black,  and  it  has  a  short  taU,  whence 
the  name.  The  others  are  small,  slim  snakes,  growing 
not  over  four  feet  in  length  ;  one  has  black  and  brown 
spots  on  its  body,  the  other  is  of  a  black  color. 

This  concludes  the  history  of  the  poison  class,  now 
for  the  harmless  snakes  that  infest  this  region. 

A  very  beautiful,  harmless  little  snake^  living  in  this 
State  is  the  green-snake,  which  is  small,  slim,  and  about 
two  feet  long.  Another  one  is  the  garter-snake,  a  small, 
slim,  striped  reptile,  of  which  there  are  two  species, 
both  harmless.  But  the  most  beautiful  of  them  all  is 
the  ringed,  or  house-snake,  which  is  about  fifteen  inches 
long,  and  its  body  encircled  with  red  and  white  rings, 
which  makes  it  look  very  graceful.  Its  habitation  is 
principally  in  the  cracks  or  between  the  ceilings  of 
houses,  where  it  can  catch  rats  and  mice,  of  which  it  is 
very  fond,  and  may  be  heard  chasing  them  at  different 
hours  of  the  night,  while  humanity  is  taking  sweet 
repose. 

There  is  another  long-bodied,  black-colored  snake, 
with  pale  yellow  spots  on  its  side,  and  has  a  white  belly, 
called  the  chicken-snake,  which  is  sometimes  found 
seven  feet  long.  It  feeds  on  eggs,  young  chickens  and 
birds,  and  may  be  seen  climbing  large  trees  in  search  of 
bird's  nests.  It  is  also  fond  of  small  animals,  such  as 
rabbits,  rats,  and  mice,  and  it  has  been  known  to  catch, 
kill,  and  swallow  a  rabbit  whole. 

I  will  conclude  my  history  with  the  long  black-snake^ 
one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  race,  which  is  of  a 
jet-black  color,  and  often  found  seven  feet  long.  It  is  a 
good  fighter  among  other  snakes  ;  been  known  to  whip 
and  kill  a  large  rattle-snake.  If  you  strike  at  it  and  run, 
it  very  often  will  follow  you  a  great  distance,  or  until 
you  turn  and  run  towards  it,  then  it  will  run  from  you. 
From  its  being  such  a  fast  traveler,  and  love  for  running, 
it  is  called  by  many,  the  black-racer. 

Snakes  are  associated  in  our  minds  with  evil  and  with 
cunning.  Their  stealthily  silent  approach  and  sudden 
poisonous  dart  are  proverbial.  We  find  them  mentioned 
in  Scripture,  in  the  history  of  all  ages,  and  ever  in  terms 
of  opprobrium.  Serpents  are  often  mentioned  in  poetry, 
typical  of  slander,  cunning,  deceit,  and  other  crafty 
devices. 

"  The  tongues  of  serpents  with  three-forked  stings, 
That  spat  out  poison,  and  gore,  and  bloody  gore. 
At  all  who  came  within  his  ravenipp-  "* 

"Wonderful  Cats. 

It  is  on  record  that  a  shoemaker  in  Edinburgh  chanced 
to  leave  the  door  of  a  lark's  cage  open,  of  which  the 
bird  took  advantage  to  fly  away.  About  an  hour  atter- 
wards,  a  cat  belonging  to  the  same  person  made  its  ap- 
pearahce  with  the  lark  in  its  mouth,  which  it  held  by 
the  wings  over  the  back  in  such  a  manner  that  the  bird 
had  not  received  the  least  injury.  After  dropping  the 
bird  on  the  floor  she  looked  up  to  her  master  as  it  e>. 
pecting  his  recognition  of  her  cleverness.  The  writer 
himself  observed  many  instances  of  a  remarkable  in- 
stinct in  cats,  and  at  the  present  time  has  one  which 
every  day  knocks  at  the  door— sometimes  modestly, 
sometimes  with  a  sharp  double-knock  like  a  postman, 
occasionally  with  a  sharp  series  of  raps,  pianissimo, 
\  l<e  a  lady  or  a  quiet  single  gentleman.  The  door  is  hall 
5!;Liss  and  the  knocker  low.  The  cat  was  not  taught,  tout 
acquired  the  trick  br  l>is  own  observation. 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD. 


373 


Thrift  More  Important  Than  Large 
Salary. 

In  a  miserable  tenement  in  New  York  city,  a  man  named  Mun- 
roe  S.  Minster  lately  shot  himself,  wife  and  child.  There  were 
but  two  or  three  old  rickety  chairs,  a  small  table  and  a  bureau 
in  one  room,  eight  by  ten  feet,  and  in  a  closet  adjoining,  which 
served  as  a  sleeping  room,  was  a  poor  apology  for  a  bed.  The 
apartments  were  destitute  of  comfort  and  in  a  shockingly  filthy 
condition.  This  man  was  steadily  employed  at  $12  per  week— 
not  a  large  salary  to  be  sure;  but  quite  sufficient  to  provide  his 
small  household  with  the  necessaries  of  life  and  a  comfortable 
home— yet,  judging  by  his  surroundings,  he  had  found  his  ef- 
forts unavailing,  and  evidently  tired  of  life's  struggle,  put  an 
end  to  his  own  existence  and  that  of  his  family. 

A  sad,  sad  story  truly— but  where  lay  the  fault?  Was  it  want 
of  means,  or  miscalculation— want  of  luck,  or  lack  of  thrift? 
These  are  serious  questions,  as  they  sustain  a  wide  application 
The  occasion  of  all  this  distress  and  poverty  must,  we  regret  to 
say,  have  rested  with  the  parties  themselves — knowing  families 
as  we  do,  who  possess  inviting  homes  on  less  money:  but  cal- 
culation is  made,  every  cent  is  expended  to  the  best  advantage : 
consequently  the  children  are  warmly  clothed  and  sent  to 
school,  while  a  tidy,  cosy  home  awaits  their  return,  both  parents 
and  children  possessing  the  comforts  of  life;  besides  laying  by, 
aX  the  same  time,  a  little  surplus  fund  for  the  time  of  need.  One 
instance  in  particular  presents  itself  to  mind:— An  Englishman 
and  his  wife  came  to  this  country  several  years  since,  with  noth- 
ing in  their  hands  but  a  willingness  to  work,  and  minds  trained 
by  necessity  to  habits  of  economy.  Mr.  W  ,  obtained  em- 
ployment in  Connecticut  in  a  machine  shop,  at  $1,50  per  day, 
and  they  were  thankful.  Being  faithful,  his  wages  were  in. 
creased  to  $2,  and  he  retained  his  situation  for  many  years  at 
these  wages.  In  due  time  two  children  were  born  to  them— one 
a  daughter,  who  was  from  the  age  of  four  years  afflicted  with 
deformity  and  spinal  complaint,  requiring  much  care  and  con- 
siderable extra  outlay  for  medicine,  etc.,  Notwithstanding, 
they  lived  in  a  comfortable  home;  dressed  respectably;  attend- 
ed church  every  Sabbath  and  sat  in  their  own  pew.  Their  home 
consisted  of  four  rooms,  marvellously  clean,  and  containing  all 
needful  furniture.  Not  long  since,  being  informed  that  they 
contemplated  building  a  house,  to  cost  $1,000,  I  took  occasion 
to  inquire  how  they  had  managed,  and  was  told  by  thrifty  Mrs. 
W  ,  that  they  had  had  this  object  in  view  from  the  start,  de- 
termining to  place  in  the  savings  bank  each  week  a  small  sum 
of  money.  They  had  rarely  failed  to  do  so.  Oat  meal  and 
Indian  porridge,  good  bread,  butter,  soups,  stews,  and  usually 
one  small  roast  a  week  served  as  food.  They  ran  no  credit  ac- 
counts, but  paid  as  they  bought.  Good  care  was  taken  of  cloth- 
ing, each  having  a  Sunday  outfit.  "  Why,"  said  the  mother  of 
the  household  as  she  brought  forth  a  black  silk  dress,  "  I  have 
three  dresses  still  that  came  from  England.  This  black  silk  has 
been  turned  twice  and  made  over  several  times.  Originally  the 
skirt  was  very  full,  and  all  the  breadths  straight.  I  wore  it  for 
years  just  as  it  was,  for  a  best  dress;  then  I  turned  it.  The 
next  time  I  took  out  enough  for  a  new  waist,  and  a  year  ago  I 
made  it  over,  goreing  the  skirt,  taking  out  enough  for  a  basque 
and  this  pleated  ruffle  around  the  bottom.  When  I  come  home 
from  church  I  change  it  for  a  calico  wrapper;  and  it  will  last 
some  time  longer,  although  it  is  now  getting  somewhat  worn. 
This  plaid  woolen  frock  also  came  with  us,  which  I  have  never 
jfitered."  It  looked  rather  old-fashioned  to  be  sure,  with  a  deep 
pointed  waist  and  mutton-leg  sleeves;  but  I  have  seen  the 
owner  wear  it  with  a  white  linen  collar  and  cuffs  when  nothing 
could  be  more  comely.  I  regret  to  say  that  the  house  was  not 
erected,  owing  to  the  death  of  Mr.  W  ,  but  he  had  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  his  family  were  not  left  dependent  upon 
a  cold  world  for  bread. 

The  trouble  is,  many  people  are  dissatisfied  with  a  little,  and, 
craving  for  more,  neglect  to  husband  and  make  the  most  of 
what  is  already  in  hand.  Now  the  richest  men,  with  all  their 
wealth,  only  get  their  food,  the  clothes  they  wear,  and  a  house 
to  live  in,  which  may  be  finer  than  those  of  the  poor  man;  but 
happiness  and  contentment  cannot  be  added  by  wealth;  in  fact 
these  welcome  guests  more  frequently  take  up  their  abode  in 
the  less  pretentious  home  of  the  working  man. 

Further,  with  increase  of  means  come  wants  in  equal  propor- 
tion; a  thousand  avenues  open  through  which  the  rich  man's 
money  flows.  His  own  family  expenses,  for  instance,  keep 
pace  with  his  advancement.   Children  acquire  luxurious  habits 


of  living,  which  are  generally  gratified;  although  it  were  bettei 
for  all  were  they  reared  with  simple  tastes.  Then,  less  fortu. 
nate  relatives  are  to  be  assisted;  various  institutions  and  the 
poor  crave  his  helping  hand.  There  are  also  heavy  taxes  to 
pay,  notes  to  meet,  and  bills  innumerable  to  pay;  and  contri- 
vance is  called  in  to  make  both  ends  meet  in  the  house  of  the 
man  of  wealth  as  well  as  in  the  more  humble  home. 

Judgment  must  be  exercised  in  the  expenditure  of  an  in. 
come  in  either  condition.  A  case  in  point:  Spending  a  short 
time  in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  several  years  ago,  chance  intro- 
duced me  to  a  family  consisting  of  man,  wife  and  two  children, 

with  whom  I  became  somewhat  familiar.   Mr.  C  ,  as  I  will 

call  the  head  of  the  household,  was  in  the  employ  ol  an  insur- 
ance company  at  a  salary  of  $1,.'500  per  year  and  found;  while 
for  wife  and  children  $20  per  week  was  paid  for  board,  leaving 

$460  for  wearing  apparel  and  otlier  expenses.    Mrs.  C  ,  re- 

cei^red  $50  one  morning  with  which  to  purchase  winter  clothing 
for  the  children,  and  other  necessaries.  Going  on  a  shopping 
expedition  she  bought,  not  the  warm  clothing,  but  $.50  worth 
of  real  lace,  for  which  she  had  a  fancy.  Thus  most  of  their 
limited  salary  was  spent  without  due  consideration.  This  fam- 
ily were  unable  to  furnish  a  home  for  themselves,  just  mana- 
ging to  live,  constantly  in  debt,  and  always  complaining  about 
straitened  circumstances. 

But  where  lay  the  fault?  Shortsighted,  blind  to  their  own 
thoughtlessness,  they  struggled  on  from  year  to  year,  often 
wondering  how  this  one  or  that  one  managed  to  live  so  nicely 
and  at  the  same  time  keep  a  bank  account;  while  they  were 
constantly  distressed  because  of  bills  unpaid,  and  wants  unsup- 
plied.  That  $50  worth  of  nice  real  Valenciennes  lace  told  why 
they  made  no  headway:  had  no  family  altar  where  their  child- 
ren could  be  taught  domestic  tastes  and  habits,  with  no  injuri- 
ous surrounding  influences  in  the  home,  at  least,  to  lead  astray. 
Believe  me,  the  boarding  house  has  not  a  healthy  atmosphere 
for  either  parents  or  children.  Better  a  few  unpretending  rooms 
sustained  by  economy  and  cheerful  management ;  gradually 
adding  conveniences,  increasing  the  comfort  of  the  same,  than 
to  share  the  most  elaborately  embellished  mansion  of  another. 

That  a  family  of  three  persons  should  live  in  squalid  misery 
on  an  income  of  $12  a  week  is  sad  to  contemplate.  An  air  of 
comfort  might  have  pervaded  every  comer  of  those  two  rooms. 
Cleanliness  would  have  done  much;  a  tidy  cloth  on  the  little 
table;  a  sweet  scented  geranium  in  the  window;  a  shining  tea 
kettle  on  the  polished  stove;  and  the  mother  and  child  neatly 
clad  in  calico,  would  have  changed  that  wretched  place  into  a 
sunny,  attractive  home,  the  influence  of  which  would  have  been 
incalculable  upon  the  three  lives  blotted  out  of  existence  so 
cruelly  and  unnaturally.  Let  us  then  make  an  effort  to  do  the 
very  best  we  can  under  existing  circumstances,  and  rest  assured 
our  efforts  will  be  rew^arded  in  many  ways. 

Dueling. 

When  the  question  about  the  suitable  device  for  our  national 
arms  came  up  before  "  the  old  Congress,"  a  Southern  member 
vehemently  opposed  the  eagle,  as  that  was  the  king  of  birds, 
and  we  were  down  on  kings  just  then. 

Judge  Thatcher  of  Massachusetts,  arose  and  proposed  the 
"  goose  "  as  a  very  suitable  device.  It  was  a  humble,  repub- 
lican bird,  and  would  be  handy,  as  they  could  put  the  goslings 
on  cent  pieces,  etc.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  laughter  at 
the  Southerner's  expense,  and  in  hot  blood,  he  sent  a  challenge 
to  the  Massachusetts  representative.  Judge  Thatcher  took  it 
coolly,  and  handed  it  back  to  the  friend  who  brought  it,  saying 
he  should  not  accept  it. 

"  What  I  will  you  be  branded  as  a  coward  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  if  he  pleases,"  he  said  good  humoredly.  "I  always 
was  a  coward  and  he  knew  it,  or  he  never  would  have  sent  the 
challenge.'''' 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  mirth  in  Congressional  circles  at 
this  reply,  and  the  two  gentlemen  were  soon  on  as  friendly 
footing  as  before. 

Friedrich  the  Great  was  no  friend  to  dueling.  He  prized  his 
tall  soldiers  too  much  to  lose  one  of  them  unnecessarily.  An 
officer  once  asked  his  permission  to  fight  a  duel  with  a  man 
who  had  insulted  him.  Leave  was  granted  on  condition  that 
the  Emperor  should  be  a  spectator.  The  time  came  and  the 
parties  met  at  the  place  fi^ed  by  his  Majesty.  What  was  their 
surprise  to  find  a  tall  jibbet  looming  up  above  the  ground. 

They  anxiously  inquired  its  purpose.  "I  intend  to  hang 
the  survivor,"  said  the  stem  old  monarch. 

That  duel  was  not  fought,  and  by  this  effectual  device,  duel- 
ing was  broken  up  in  the  army. 


374 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


IN  PEACE. 

BY  J.  HUIE. 

The  shades  of  night,  descending  slow, 

O'ertop  the  silent  hills; 
The  silent  heavens  are  bending  low. 
With  silent  stars  that  burn  and  glow; 

And  peace  the  valley  fills. 

Soft-going  sounds  the  senses  steep. 

Earth  has  its  time  of  rest, 
For  toil  and  care  together  sleep; 
And  those  who  laugh  and  those  who  weep, 

Wrapped  in  God's  care,  are  blest. 

Star-woven  curtains  God  draws  round 

His  children  as  they  dream; 
Light  angels  tread  the  huly  ground, 
Bright  messengers  of  love  surround, 
And  watch  and  ward  for  Him. 

With  trustful  heart  I  would  lay  by 

Life's  good  or  seeming  ill, 
In  blest  forgetf  Illness  to  lie 
Beneath  a  wakeful  Father's  eye— 
For  all  things  wait  His  will. 

For  earth  and  heaven  are  joined — and  I 

Am  His  who  knows  them  all; 
Safe  when  His  sun  is  hot  and  high. 
Safe  when  His  night  winds  wander  by, 
Whatever  may  befall. 


The  Power  of  Kindness  at  a  Bull-Fight. 

Notice  had  been  posted  on  all  the  public  places  that 
on  a  certain  day  the  bull  called  "  El  Moro  "  would  be 
introduced  into  the  arena,  and  that,  when  he  should 
have  been  goaded  to  the  uttermost  fury,  a  young  girl 
would  appear  and  reduce  the  animal  to  quiet  subjection. 
The  people  of  Cadiz  had  heard  of  "El  Moro  "  as  the 
most  magnificent  bull  ever  brought  into  the  city,  and  it 
soon  became  known  that  the  girl  thus  advertised  was  a 
peasant  girl  of  Espara,  who  had  petted  the  bull,  and  fed 
It  and  cared  for  it  during  the  years  of  its  growth.  On 
the  appointed  day  the  vast  amphitheatre  was  filled  with 
aj3  anxious,  eager  crowd.  Three  bulls  had  been  killed  and 
dragged  away,  and  then  the  flourish  of  trumpets  an- 
nounced the  coming  of  the  hero  of  the  day.  With  a 
deep,  terrific  roar,  "El  Moro  "  entered  upon  the  scene. 
He  was  truly  magnificent,  a  bovine  monarch,  black  and 
fflossy,  with  eyes  of  fire,  dilating  nostrils,  and  wicked- 
looking  horns.  The  picadores  attacked  him  warmly, 
and  hurled  their  banderillos  (small,  dart-like  javelins, 
ornamented  with  ribbons,  and  intended  to  goad  and  in- 
fcriate.J   The  ijull  had  kUled  three  horses  off-hand,  and 


had  received  eight  banderillos  in  his  neck  and  shoulders, 
when,  upon  a  given  signal,  the  picadores  and  matadores 
suddenly  withdrew,  leaving  the  infuriated  beast  alone  in 
his  wild  paroxysm  of  wrath.  Presently  a  soft,  musical 
note,  like  the  piping  of  a  lark,  was  heard,  and  directly 
afterward  a  girl,  not  more  than  fifteen  years  of  age,  with 
the  tasteful  garb  of  an  Andalusian  peasant,  and  with  a 
pretty  face,  sprang  lightly  into  the  arena,  approaching 
the  bull  fearlessly,  at  the  same  time  calling  his  name, 
"  Moro  !  Moro  !  Ya  voy  !"  At  the  first  sound  of  the 
sweet  voice  the  animal  ceased  his  fury  and  turned  toward 
the  place  whence  it  came,  and  when  he  saw  the  girl  he 
plainly  manifested  pleasure.  She  came  to  his  head  an^ 
put  forth  her  hand,  which  he  licked  with  his  tongue. 
Then  she  sang  a  low,  sweet  song,  at  the  same  time 
caressing  the  animal  by  patting  him  on  the  forehead, 
and,  while  she  sang,  the  suffering  monarch  kneeled  at 
her  feet.  Then  she  stooped  and  gently  removed  the 
cruel  banderillos,  after  which,  with  her  arms  around 
"  El  Moro's  "  neck,  she  led  him  toward  the  gate  of  the 
torril. 


"  Big  Ben." 

Some  of  the  dimensions  of  this  clock  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  London,  England,  may  prove  interesting  to  our 
young  friends.  The  face  measures  22  feet  6  inches  in 
diameter,  and  71  feet  in  circumference  ;  the  minute  hand 
is  a  little  over  11  feet  in  length,  and,  being  hollow,  and 
made  of  copper,  only  weighs  \}>i  cwt.  ;  the  figures  are 
2  feet  from  end  to  end,  and  the  minute  dots  are  exactly 
1  foot  1  inch  apart  from  centre  to  centre".  It  takes  fivw; 
hours  twice  every  week  to  wind  up  the  striking  train, 
but  twenty  minutes  only  for  the  going  part,  which  is  small 
compared  with  the  striking  part.  The  number  of  turns 
taken  in  winding  up  the  clock  every  week  are  :  Quarter 
weights,  7,400 ;  hour  weights,  7,000 ;  going  weights,  420 
—total  number  of  turns  per  week,  14,820.  It  reports  its 
own  time  to  Greenwich  twice  in  each  day,  and  is  kept  so 
correct  that  it  has  varied  less  than  a  second  in  eighty  con- 
secutive days  The  weight  of  the  pendulum  is  700 
pounds,  and  the  shaft  is  15  feet  long.  The  weight  of 
the  striking  machinery  is  nearly  3  tons.  To  reach  the 
clock  the  visitor  has  to  mount  nearly  300  steps,  but  is 
well  repaid  for  his  trouble  by  seeing  some  very  interest- 
ing views  of  London  and  its  suburbs.  The  smallest  of 
The  quarter  bells  weighs  21  cwt.,  the  second  quarter  bell 
86  cwt.,  the  third  quarter  bell  36  cwt.,  and  the  fourth 
quarter  bell  nearly  4  tons.  The  hour  bell,  "Big  Ben,"' 
Veighs  13>^  tons.  The  weights  fall  a  distance  of  175 
3eet  beneath  the  clock. 

The  Power  of  Noble  Associates. 

There  was  once  a  dull,  heavy  English  lad,  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune early  to  lose  his  father,  whose  guiding  and  restraining 
hand  he  seemed  especially  to  need.  His  strong  point  seemed 
to  be  his  strong  will,  which  made  him  anything  but  a  pleasant 
companion.  But  a  wise  mother  felt  that  even  this  quality 
might  be  made  a  manly  power  for  good  if  only  properly  re- 
strained and  directed.  So  she  made  obedience  a  law  of  his 
childhood,  but  taught  him  to  decide  and  act  for  himself  in 
matters  where  he  could  be  safely  trusted  to  judge. 

At  fifteen  he  was  a  lumbering,  awkward  growing  lad,  more 
fond  of  rough  field  sports  than  of  books.  But  now  a  most 
happy  change  came  over  him.  Providence  threw  him  into 
the  society  of  the  Turney  family,  a  most  accomplished  and 
intellectual  circle,  but  one  with  very  wide  views  of  philan- 
thropy. The  saw  the  grand  "raw  material"  in  the  lad's  com- 
position, and  encouraged  and  stimulated  him  to  make  the 
most  of  his  abilities.  Through  their  aid  he  entered  the  Uni- 
versity of  Dublin  and  won  high  honors,  the  great  ambition 
being  to  carry  home  his  laurels  to  his  noble  friends.  He  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  the  house,  and  became  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
two  a  member  of  Parliament.  Sir  Fowell  Buxton's  name  will 
.  long  be  remembered  by  those  who  fought  the  battle  of  Eman- 
cipation in  the  British  colonies.  "Elephant  Buxton,"  as  he 
used  to  be  called,  threw  the  whole  force  of  his  strong  charac- 
ter into  the  battle,  and  never  flagged  or  faltered  until  there 
was  not  a  slave  on  British  soil.  His  success  in  life  turned  on 
his  forming  in  early  years  the  right  stamp  of  associates.  They 
were  those  who  would  lift  him  up  and  stimulate  him  to  the 
highest  exertion  of  which  his  nature  was  capable.  Any  young 
man  who  would  rise  in  the  world,  mast  follow  his  example  xm 
this  regard,  and  shun  every  downward  tendency. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


375 


Narrow-Mmded. 

In  the  ordinary  conrse  of  human  life,  without  great  reverses 
of  fortune,  impressions  arc  likely  to  be  governed  by  one  sphere, 
and  consequently  being  viewed  from  one  stand-point  only,  are 
one-sided.  If  we  were  to  view  a  cataract  at  a  distance,  and 
make  no  allowance  for  the  position  in  viewing  it,  its  dimin- 
ished size,  besides  the  lack  of  the  sound  of  falling  waters,  we 
would  have  no  more  idea  of  its  charms  than  though  we  had 
never  seen  it.  Thus  it  is  when  position  is  allowed  to  prejudice 
the  mind.  How  natural  it  seems  for  every  one  to  take  most 
interest  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  lives.  Every  family  is  like  a 
separate  planet,  with  its  satellites  revolving  around  it ;  outside 
affairs  are  sometimes  viewed  by  these  small  worlds  as  of  small 
importance  if  they  do  not  relate  in  any  way  to  their  own 
interests. 

No  one  is  surprised  if  an  ordinary  laborer  cares  little 
with  what  new  work  of  art  Vinnie  Ream  has  delighted  the  re- 
fined world ;  or  if  Rosa  Bonheur  is  an  artist  or  a  writer  of  fic- 
tion ;  if  Walter  Scott  wrote  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  or  Robinson 
Crusoe ;  a  family  depends  on  the  poor  man's  labor,  and  his 
aspirations  after  refinement,  if  ever  possessed,  have  been 
crushed  by  the  wants  of  poverty,  and  he  has  settled  down  into 
the  narrow  groove  of  his  existence.  The  business  man  has 
little  time  to  attend  to  charities— those  when  the  left  hand 
knows  not  what  the  right  hand  doeth.  A  higher  position  is 
fiought,  and  how  to  increase  his  wealth  is  the  greatest  interest 
and  aim  of  his  existence,  and  of  more  reality  to  him  than  the 
widows'  and  orphans'  cry,  which  never  reaches  his  sympathy. 

Prejudice  is  by  far  the  greatest  cause  of  persons  being  narrow 
minded,  for  it  bars  the  door  of  the  mind,  admitting  no  liberal 
Ideas.  Instances  of  this  are  so  numerous  that  we  need  not  re- 
mind our  readers  of  them.  Compare  our  own  religious  liber- 
ties, and  the  freedom  of  thought  in  our  own  age  and  country, 
to  the  "  reign  of  terror."  Some  allow  preconceived  notions 
to  become  so  firm  that  they  are  unwilling  to  investigate  a  sub- 
ject fairly,  fearing  the  truth  might  be  at  variance  with  their 
own  pet  theories.  Opinions  differ  as  greatly  on  any  one  sub- 
ject as  the  variety  of  different  minds  and  experiences  of  the 
persons  who  discuss  them.  We  have  an  illustration  of  this  in 
the  reading  of  the  Bible ;  how  many  religious  sects  Ifiere  are 
who  take  it  for  their  guide,  who  differ  in  some  minor  points; 
yet  who  shall  presume  to  sit  in  judgment  and  say  all  are  wrong 
who  do  not  adopt  his  "  articles  of  faith  ?  " 

In  order  to  be  liberal-minded  it  is  not  necessary  to  swerve 
from  our  principles  of  right,  nor  accept  every  theory  advocated; 
but,  believing  that  there  is  more  than  one  route  to  a  great  city, 
be  willing  to  take  the  pleasantest,  the  most  profitable  and 
surest  road  there,  even  though  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
going  another  way.  It  is  very  refreshing  to  converse  with  or 
read  the  writings  of  one  whose  ideas  come  to  us  like  the  sun- 
shine after  the  summer  rain,  leading  our  thoughts  into  a  new 
channel ;  we  gain  intellectual  activity,  which  brings  permanent 
good.  Let  us  look  life  in  the  face,  not  seeing  men  as  trees 
walking,  but  with  that  love  and  charity  which  sees  goodness 
in  all  mankind,  and  recognizes  truth  in  disguise  ;  then  only 
can  we  expect  to  be  truly  noble  in  mind  and  life. 


Small  Economies. 

Generally  speaking,  whenever  large  savings  have  been  made, 
they  have  been  effected  in  little  sums.  Very  few  persons  of 
ordinary  honesty  deliberately  set  to  work  to  make  large  pur- 
chases which  they  cannot  afford,  and  yet  numbers  spend  just 
as  much  in  the  long  run  in  little  things  that  they  scarcely 
think  worthy  of  notice.  It  is  very  difficult  to  realize  fully  the 
value  of  small  sums.  If  the  nickles  and  pennies  that  lie  loose 
in  the  pocket  were  properly  appreciated,  there  would  not  be  so 
much  pecuniary  embarrassment  in  the  world  as  there  is.  "Many 
a  mickle  makes  a  mucklc,"  this  is  true  of  nothing  more  than 
of  pennies  and  five  cent  pieces. 

What  is  spent  for  the  household  is  generally  a  necessary  out- 
lay, and  yet  there  are  two  or  three  ways  in  which  money  can 
be  saved  here  that  I  should  like  to  mention. 

The  first  is  by  buying  in  large  quantities.  Of  course  the 
danger  is  that  when  there  is  a  stock  of  things  to  "  run  at,"  as 
servants  say,  they  will  be  mo  :e  extravagantly  used.  All  I  can 
Bay  on  this  point  is  that  they  must  not  be  "  run  at."  A  proper 
quantity  must  be  portioned  out  and  the  rest  put  away.  Then 
it  will  be  found  that  the  articles  may  be  bought  cheaper  and 
better  in  large  quantities  than  in  small  ones. 


Another  way  to  save  expense  is  to  pay  for  everything  as  yom 
get  it.  If  you  do  this  you  will  avoid  overcharge  and  wUl  buy 
far  less.  If  the  money  had  to  be  put  down  at  the  moment, 
many  unnecessary  purchases  would  be  avoided.  People  who 
have  limited  incomes  are  those  who  can  least  afford  to  live  on 
credit,  and  unfortunately  they  do  it  more  than  any  others. 

Speaking  of  dinners  reminds  me  to  say  that  it  is  no  economy 
to  live  poorly.  Nature  requires  a  certain  amount  of  nourish- 
ment, and  will  have  it,  or  be  revenged,  and  the  revenge  will 
probably  take  the  form  of  a  long  doctor's  bill  or  diminished 
working  power.  This  sort  of  saving  is  "  penny  wise  and  pound 
foolish."  The  things  to  save  out  of  are  shams,  false  appear- 
ances and  self-indulgences,  not  necessaries.  Where  is  the  saving 
in  working  in  a  dim  light  to  save  candles  or  gas  and  injuring 
the  sight?  in  wearing  boots  that  take  in  water  and  bring  on 
rheumatic  fever?  in  living  on  poor  food  and  lowering  the  sys- 
tem ?  Far  better  wear  a  shabby  hat  a  week  or  two  longer  than 
usual,  or  dispense  altogether  with  that  piece  of  finery  you 
were  contemplating.  The  worst  of  it  is,  however,  that  people 
are  generally  much  more  willing  to  dispense  with  necessaries 
that  make  no  show  rather  than  with  useless  extravagances 
that  afford  an  opportunity  for  a  display  which  every  one  sees 
through. 

How  to  Succeed  in  Business. 

It's  no  wonder  that  men  do  not  succeed  in  business  more 
than  they  do ;  the  wonder  is  that  they  succeed  so  well.  They 
would  not,  if  there  were  any  better  men  to  take  their  places. 
Men,  as  a  rule,  do  not  throw  their  whole  soul  and  mind  into  an 
ordinary  business ;  they  generally  aspire  to  something  greater 
and  thereby  lose  all  chances  of  success.  I  will  relate  a  little 
case  in  point : 

Twenty  years  ago  there  was  a  man  in  Chrystie  Street, 
New  York  city,  who  opened  an  oyster  stand.  He  simply 
cooked  his  oysters  in  a  little  better  style  than  at  other  oyster 
places.  At  the  bottom  of  each  dish  he  placed  a  nicely  toasted 
bit  of  bread,  and  turned  the  well-cooked  stew  over  it.  His 
place  was  marvellously  clean  ;  he  attended  to  the  business 
himself,  with  scrupulous  care  in  every  appointment.  Success, 
of  course,  crowned  his  efforts.  Room  after  room  had  to  be 
taken  in  to  accommodate  his  patrons.  1  have  myself  walked 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  with  friends  to  partake  of  his  extraor- 
dinary stews.   Three  years  ago  he  retired  with  $250,000. 

Scarcely  a  day  passes  now  without  some  person  starting  an 
oyster  saloon.  Considerable  expense  is  incurred  to  fit  them  up 
very  nicely  ;  but  then  they  are  untidy,  table  cloths  are  dirty, 
oysters  are  poorly  cooked  by  inexperienced  hands,  and  in  a 
year  or  so  they  fail — and  it  is  no  wonder.  Many  years  ago 
Stewart  started  a  little  thread  and  needle  store,  and  being  anx- 
ious to  succeed  he  bethought  to  introduce  at  regular  distances 
before  his  counters  cushioned  stools,  upon  which  ladies  could 
rest  themselves  while  shopping.  Many  in  passing  the  store 
went  in  and  took  a  seat,  in  those  primitive  days,  to  rest  a 
moment,  but  always  bought  something  before  they  went  out. 
He  succeeded,  and  no  wonder.  He  is  now  estimated  to  be 
worth  sixty  millions.  This  same  sort  of  enterprise  has  been 
followed  up  ever  since — a  little  ahead  of  his  competitors  in 
everything. 

Young  men,  if  you  wish  to  succeed  in  any  enterprise  excel  in 
what  you  undertake.  It  is  not  a  hard  task  where  there  are  so 
many  laggards.  Most  men  think  it  only  necessary  to  open  a 
store  and  customers  will  flock  in.  It  is  not  so ;  you  must  be 
excelsior.  It's  the  little  extra  things  that  tell.  I  might  cite 
hundreds  of  cases  coming  under  my  own  observation.  There 
was  a  tailor  that  commenced  business  in  Rochester  eighteen 
years  ago.  His  name  has  slipped  my  memory.  He  gave  better 
fits  than  any  one  else ;  there  was  a  certain  superior  style  to  all 
his  garments.  His  shop  was  a  pattern  of  neatness;  his  large 
glass  windows  were  the  first  introduced  in  that  city ;  they 
were  daily  cleaned  and  shone  like  the  best  French  glass.  I  saw 
a  little  notice  in  one  of  the  city's  daily  papers  the  other  day, 
saying  that  he  had  retired  on  $200,000  and  upwards.  Had  that 
shop  been  untidy  he  would  have  failed  long  ago,  and  never 
been  heard  of. 

I  can  guarantee  success  to  any  young  man  who  will  receive 
these  suggestions  and  follow  them  out,  adding  from  time  to 
time  all  his  mind  will  suggest.  Once  started  on  this  plan  it 
will  grow  with  his  growth,  until  it  becomes  an  inherent  prin- 
ciple. 


376 


THE  GROWING  IVOR  LB. 


PRESIDENTS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

A.n  Epitome  of  the  Political  History  of  a  Nation. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

Thou,  too,  sail  on,  O  ship  of  state! 

Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great! — Longfellow. 

The  United  States  is  a  nation  of  liberty  and  freedom.  In 
every  sense  of  the  word,  "  the  people  rule."  What  a  world  of 
liberty  is  conveyed  in  that  one  short  sentence  1  All  just  govern- 
aaents  derive  their  power  from  the  consent  of  the  governed, 
fn  many  of  the  despotisms  and  absolute  governments  of  the 
Old  World,  the  aristocracy  and  monied  corporations  control  the 
aation  for  the  benefit  of  the  few,  and  chain  the  people's  will. 
Theiuling  power  descends  by  succession  from  father  to  son, 
»nd  is  perpetual.  It  holds  the  army,  the  navy,  and  the  keys  to 
the  treasury,  and  from  its  stern  mandate  there  is  no  appeal, 
except  through  revolution  and  blood,  which  would  alike  sub- 
Jet  all  to  common  ruin  and  destruction.  From  such  a  course 
of  terror  and  barbarity  the  people  turn  with  horror,  and  suffer 
slavery  and  serfdom,  fighting  the  battle  of  their  oppressors,  and 
paying  their  money  to  enrich  their  treasuries,  rather  than  ac- 
cept the  dread  alternative. 

No  nation  of  earth's  domain  is  founded  on  so  broad  and 
noble  a  foundation  as  ours.  Every  one  of  its  subjects,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  have  an  equal  voice  in  the  government,  and 
there  is  no  one  of  intelligence  and  capability  that  may  not  be 
called  upon  by  the  sovereign  voice  of  a  free  people,  to  preside 
over  some  one  of  its  numerous  ofiices,  and  administer  it  accord- 
ing to  law  and  justice.  The  price  of  our  precious  liberty  was 
paid  in  blood  and  treasure  at  the  time  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion ;  and  the  fell  hand  of  English  tyranny  was  forced  to  desist. 
Let  us  never  forget  the  patriot  heroes  of  that  noble  day ;  who 
laying  aside  all  minor  differences,  joined  the  grand  brotherhood 
lo  struggle  desperately  against  English  soldiers  and  exasper- 
ated savages,  for  the  glorious  rights  and  privileges  we  now 
enjoy.  They  passed  through  the  "  time  that  tried  men's  souls" — 
thev  gained  the  victory,  and  to  us  is  bequeathed  the  fruits  for 
which  they  bled  and  died. 

Every  young  man  in  this  country  must,  if  he  lives,  soon  be- 
come a  voter;  and,  as  it  were,  a  shareholder  in  the  government. 
He  will  soon  oe  called  upon  to  exercise  his  elective  franchise, 
and  to  perform  his  duties  as  a  citizen.  The  elective  franchise 
is  one  of  the  greatest  privileges  the  free  citizen  can  possess. 
By  it,  his  rulers,  if  obnoxious  or  unfaithful  to  a  majority  of  the 
people,  are  changed  at  the  end  of  the  term  for  which  they  were 
elected,  and  the  chief  executive  of  the  nation  can  be  changed 
'every  four  years.  Free  criticism  is  open  to  all ;  and  the  Ameri- 
cans are  never  slow  in  the  art.  Now,  far  be  it  from  me  to  enter 
into  any  discussion  on  politics  ;  but  no  one  should  undertake 
lo  vote  without  doing  so  understandingly.  It  is  perfectly  right 
that  there  should  be  two  political  parties  in  every  country,  and 
as  long  as  they  possess  the  God-given  right  of  suiirage,  we  have 
little  to  fear.  In  regard  to  which  party  the  voter  should  choose 
fee  identify  himself  with,  we  have  nothing  to  say.  It  is  a  ques- 
tion for  him  alone  to  decide,  and  in  order  to  do  so  intelligently, 
he  should  take  no  one^s  word  particularly,  but  should  study  and 
reflect  upon  the  constitution  and  formation  of  our  government, 
and  the  civil  and  political  history  of  our  country,  unbiased  by 
the  constant  disputes  and  wrangling  of  party.  He  should  read 
both  sides  carefully,  accepting  the  good  and  rejecting  tne  bad. 
Peruse  with  attention  the  acts  of  Congress  and  the  Executive, 
with  comments  thereon  by  the  leading  papers  of  both  parties, 
and  then  form  his  own  opinion.  Only  such  are  really  free. 
They  are  the  slaves  of  no  man  or  party.  They  go  to  the  polls 
after  due  reflection,  and  cast  their  votes  understandingly. 
They  thus  perform  their  conscientious  duty  to  man,  to  their 
country,  to  God,  and  they  are  willing  to  abide  by  the  result. 

Shortly  after  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war.  a  convention 
composed  of  the  most  learned  and  able  men  convened,  to  form 
a  just  system  of  government.  The  result  of  their  labors  was 
the  Constitution  of  our  country  ;  one  of  the  most  perfect  in- 
struments that  ever  emanated  from  the  hand  of  man.  The  first 
man  elected  to  the  oflice  of  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Union  was 
f- George  Washington,  the  patriot  hero,  that  led  our  brave  men  to 
;  victory.  The  election  was  unanimous.  John  Adams,  of  Massa- 
chusetts, was  elected  Vice-President.  On  the  30th  of  April, 
1789,  they  were  duly  installed  with  appropriate  ceremony  at 
New  York,  and  the  new  government  commenced.  Thomas 
Jefferson  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  Mr.  Knox,  Secre- 
tary of  War,  and  Alexander  Hamilton,  Secretary  of  the  Treas- 
ury. Edmund  Randolph  was  appointed  Attorney-General.and 
John  Jay,  Chief  Justice.  The  associate  judges  of  the  First 
Supreme  Court  were  John  Blair,  William  Cushing,  Robert  H. 
Harrison,  John  Rutledge,  and  James  Wilson.  The  two  parties 
at  this  time  was  known  as  Federalists  and  Republicans. 
Washington  and  Adams  were  unanimously  re-elected,  and  duly 
Installed  in  1793 ;  though  Washington  had  consented  with  re- 
luctance to  having  his  name  brought  forward  as  a  candidate  for 
the  second  term.  Having  served  eight  years,  he  retired  to  his 
residence  at  Mount  Vernon,  in  Virginia,  where  he  died  Decem- 
ber 14th,  1799,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight  years.  He  was  born 
February  22d,  1732,  and  at  the  time  of  his  first  installment  was 
fifty-seven  years  of  age.  It  is  almost  universally  admitted  that 
he  was  one  of  the  most  honorable  and  pure-minded  men  that 
ever  lived.  Whatever  he  said  was  in  earnest ;  and  he  was 
never  known  to  utter  a  jest,  or  play  the  blackguard  in  his  life. 
He  left  an  estate  said  to  have  been  worth  $800,000. 


John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  was  elected  by  the  Federal 
party,  and  installed  with  Thomas  Jefferson  as  Vice-President, 
on  the  4th  of  March,  1797.  He  was  born  in  1735  ;  was  sixty-two 
years  of  age  when  he  was  inaugurated  ;  served  his  country  four 
years,  and  died  July  4th,  1826,  at  the  ripe  age  of  ninety-one,  leav- 
ing a  moderate  property  to  his  heirs. 

At  the  next  convention  of  the  Federalists,  Mr.  Adams  was 
again  nominated  for  re-election,  while  the  Democrats,  or  Re- 
publicans, brought  forward  the  name  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 
The  contest  was  sharp  and  spirited  ;  and  the  result  of  the  elec' 
tion  so  close,  that  for  many  days  it  was  not  known  who  would 
be  president.  On  counting  the  two  highest  numbers  of  the 
Electoral  College,  the  l-esult  was  found  to  be  a  tie.  The  matter 
now  went  to  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  the  first  vot© 
taken  was  again  a  tie.  Finally,  however,  after  somewhat  of  an 
exciting  session,  during  which  thirty-five  trials  were  made  for 
a  decision,  Thomas  Jefferson  was  chosen  President,  and  Aaron 
Burr,  Vice-President.  Adams  and  Pinckney  retired  from  the 
coldest,  and  the  Federalists  submitted  to  the  Republican  ma- 
jority, and  a  change  in  the  government.  Jefferson  and  Burr  were 
duly  inaugurated  at  the  City  of  Washington,  March  4th,  1801. 
A  change  tjj^  <;^.al>Tji:\^  f nl\owp4  A-mongf  the  rest,  Mr.  Madi- 
son was  chosen  Secretary  of  htatt.  it  was  dtirin^Afs  term  that 
Louisiana  was  purchased  from  France  for  the  sum  of  $15,000,000. 
At  the  next  Presidential  contest,  Jefferson  was  elected  by  a 
majority  of  sixty-two  electoral  votes  against  sixteen.  George 
Clinton,  of  New  York,  was  electedj  Vice-President,  to  take 
the  place  of  Burr.  Jefferson  was  one  of  the  best  oi  American 
Presidents,  and  his  whole  administration  was  marked  with 
wisdom,  prudence,  and  sound  statesmanship.  Having  served 
his  country  in  that  capacity  for  eight  years,  he  retired  to  his 
home  in  Virginia,  where  he  died  July  4th,  1826,  the  same  day  that 
Adams  died  in  Massachusetts.  He  was  born  in  1743  ;  was 
fifty-eight  years  old  when  inaugurated,  and  eighty-three  at  his 
death. 

James  Madison,  of  Virginia,  was  next  elected  President  by 
the  Republicans,  and  George  Clinton,  of  New  York,  was  re- 
elected Vice-President.  Clinton  died  before  his  term  expired, 
was  succeeded  on  the  re-election  of  Mr.  Madison  in  1813,  bv 
Eldridge  Gerry,  of  Massachusetts,  who  also  died  in  oflice.  It 
was  during  Madison's  administration  that  the  second  war  with 
England  occurred.  He  served  eight  years,  from  1809  to  1817, 
when  he  retired  from  the  cares  of  public  life,  and  died  June 
28th,  1836.  He  was  born  in  1751,  was  fifty-eight  years  of  age  when 
first  installed,  and  eighty-five  at  his  death. 

James  Monroe,  of  Virginia,  was  next  elected  by  the  same 
party  that  had  been  in  the  majority  since  the  days  of  Jefferson, 
and  with  him  Daniel  D.  Tompkins  was  elected  Vice-President., 
His  course  was  moderate  and  wise,  and  he  generally  gave  good 
satisfaction  as  a  ruler.  John  Quincy  Adams  was  appointed 
Secretary  of  State,  John  C.  Calhoun,  Secretary  of  War,  Mr. 
Crawford,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  Smith  Thompson,  ofy 
the  Navy.  He  was  first  installed  March  4th,  1817,  and  again  after 
his  re-election  in  1821.  He  was  born  in  1758,  was  fifty-eight 
years  old  when  inaugurated,  served  as  President  eight  years, 
and  died  July  4th,  1831,  at  the  age  of  seventy-two. 

John  Quincy  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  son  of  the  former 
President  from  that  State,  was  elected  to  preside  over  the  tentb 
presidential  term.  John  C.  Calhoun,  of  South  Carolina,  was 
elected  Vice-President,  and  the  two  were  duly  installed  in  the 
spring  of  1825.  James  Barbour,  of  Virginia,  was  chosen  Secre- 
tary of  War,  Henry  Clay,  of  Kentucky,  was  Secretary  of  State, 
and  Richard  Bush,  of  Pennsylvania,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 
He,  too,  was  chosen  by  the  House  of  Representatives,  voting  by 
States.  He,  like  his  three  predecessors,  was  fifty-eight  yeara 
of  age  when  inaugurated,  but  unlike  them,  he  served  as  presi- 
dent but  four  years.  He  died  February  23d,  1848,  aged  eighty 
years. 

The  seventh  President  was  Andrew  Jackson,  of  Tennessee, 
installed  March  4th,  1829.  John  C.  Calhoun  was  re-elected  Vice- 
President.  Their  opponents  were  John  Quincy  Adams  and 
Henry  Clay.  John  Branch,  of  North  Carolina,  was  chosen 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  John  H.  Eaton,  Secretary  of  War,  Martin 
Van  Buren,  of  New  York,  Secretary  of  State,  and  Samuel  D. 
Ingham,  of  Pennsylvania,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  Jackson's 
administration  was  marked  by  great  firmness  and  resolution, 
looking  to  reform.  His  proclamation  against  the  Nullification 
Ordinance,  and  his  veto  of  the  United  States  Bank  Bill,  were 
his  two  most  important  acts,  rendering  his  name  justly  cele- 
brated by  both  parties  to  the  present  day.  He  was  re-elected 
to  preside  over  the  next  presidential  term,  and  with  him  Martin 
Van  Buren,  of  New  York,  was  elected  Vice-President.  He  was 
born  in  1767,  the  same  year  that  John  Quincy  Adams  was  born; 
was  sixty-two  when  inaugurated;  served  eight  years,  and  died 
June  8th,  1845,  at  the  age  of  seventy-eight. 

Martin  Van  Buren,  the  eighth  President,  was  a  native  of  New 
York.  He  was  born  in  1782  ;  and  at  the  time  of  his  inaugura- 
tion was  fifty-five  years  of  age.  Richard  M.  Johnson,  of  Ken- 
tucky, was  chosen  Vice-President  of  the  Senate.  His  opponents 
were  divided.  Harrison  and  Granger  representing  one  wing, 
and  Hugh  L.  White,  of  Tennessee,  and  John  Tyler,  of  Vir- 
ginia, the  other.  He  served  four  years,  and  died  July  24th,  1862, 
at  the  age  of  eighty  years. 

The  two  parties  at  this  time  were  known  as  Whigs  and 
Democrats.  Their  division  was  mainly  on  the  Tariff  question. 
A  National  Democratic  Convention  was  held  at  Baltimore,  and 
Van  Buren  and  Johnson  was  re-nominated.  The  Whigs  held 
their  convention  at  Harrisburg,  and  nominated  William  H. 
Harrison,  of  Ohio,  for  President,  and  John  Tyler,  of  Virginia, 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


377 


for  Vice-President.  The  campaign  was  spirited;  and  perhapsi 
many  can  remember,  even  yet,  the  song  of  "Tippecanoe  and 
Tyler  too,"  as  sung  by  the  "  Log  Cabin  Boys,"  when  they  met 
at  the  political  meetings  of  that  eventful  period.  The  Whigs 
gained  the  victory,  and  Harrison  was  inaugurated  March  4tii, 
1841-  He  served  but  one  month,  and  died  April  14,  1841,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-eight. 

V  ice-President  Tyler  now  became  President  in  his  stead.  He 
took  somewhat  of  a  different  course  from  what  had  been  ex- 
pected, vetoing  the  United  States  Bank  Bill,  as  Jackson  had 
previously,  and  working  with  the  Democrats  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  offend  his  political  friends  and  cause  his  Cabinet,  with 
the  exception  of  Daniel  Webster,  Secretary  of  State,  to  desert 
^m.  He  was  born  in  1790;  was  fifty-one  when  installed; 
served  three  years  and  eleven  months,  and  died  January  18th, 
1862,  aged  seventy-two. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  1844,  the  Whigs  held  their  convention  at 
Baltimore,  and  nominated  Henry  Clay,  of  Kentucky,  for  Presi- 
dent, and  Theodore  Frelinghuysen,  of  New  Jersey,  for  Vice- 
President.  The  Democrats  met  at  the  same  place  and  nomi- 
nated James  K.  Polk,  of  Tennessee,  and  George  M.  Dallas,  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  Democrats  felt  sure  of  success,  and  often 
during  the  campaign  they  used  to  sing,  "  O  poor  Harry  Clay, 
you  never  can  be  President,  for  Polk  is  in  the  way."  Polk  and 
Dallas  were  elected  and  duly  inaugurated  in  the  spring  of  1845. 
It  was  during  this  term  of  the  presidency  that  the  Mexican  v/ar 
occurred.  Polk  was  forty-nine  years  old  when  inaugurated, 
served  four  years,  and  died  June  15th,  1849,  aged  fifty-four. 

The  next  Whig  convention  was  held  at  Philadelphia,  June 
1st,  1S48.  Zachary  Taylor,  of  Louisiana,  the  hero  of  the  Mexi- 
can war,  was  nominated  for  President,  and  Millard  Fillmore,  of 
New  York,  for  Vice-President.  The  Democrats  met  at  Balti- 
more a  few  days  previous,  and  put  in  nomination.  General 
Lewis  Cass,  of  Michigan,  and  General  William  O.  Butler, 
of  Kentucky.  This  time  the  Whigs  were  victorious,  and  Taylor 
and  Fillmore  were  inaugurated  March  4th,  1849.  On  the  9th 
of  July,  1850,  Taylor  died,  after  serving  one  year  and  four 
months,  at  the  age  of  sixty-six.   He  was  born  in  1784. 

The  presidential  duties  now  devolved  upon  Fillmore.  He 
was  born  in  1800,  was  fifty  years  old  when  installed,  and  served 
two  years  and  eight  months.  Taylor's  Cabinet  had  been  com- 
posed as  follows:  Secretary  of  State,  John  M.  Clayton,  of 
Delaware;  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  William  M.  Meredith,  of 
Pennsylvania ;  Secretary  of  War,  George  W.  Crawford,  of 
Georgia;  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  Wi/fiam  B.  Preston,  of  Vir- 
ginia; Secretary  of  the  Home  Department,  Thomas  Ewing,  of 
Ohio;  Attorney-General,  Reverdy  Johnson,  of  Maryland;  and 
Postmaster-General  Jacob  Collamer,  of  Vermont.  Upon  the 
accession  of  Fillmore,  the  Cabinet  was  changed  as  follows: 
Secretary  of  State,  Daniel  Webster,  of  Massachusetts;  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  Thomas  Corbin,  of  Ohio;  Secretary  of 
War  Charles  M.  Conrad,  of  Louisiana;  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
William  A  Gxaham,  of  North  Carolina;  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  Alexander  H.  H.  Stewart,  of  Virginia;  Attorney  Gen- 
eral, John  J,  Crittenden,  of  Kentucky;  and  Postmaster-General, 
Nathan  K.  Hall,  of  New  York. 

In  June,  1852,  the  Democrats  held  their  National  Convention 
at  Baltimore,  and  nominated  Franklin  Pierce,  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, for  President,  and  William  R.  King,  of  Alabama,  for 
Vice-President.  The  Whig  Convention  soon  followed  at  the 
same  place,  and  General  Winfield  Scotland  William  A.  Graham, 
of  North  Carolina,  were  nominated.  John  P.  Hale,  of  New 
Hampshire,  was  nominated  by  the  Free  Soil  party.  The  can- 
vass was  animating.  The  Electoral  College  at  that  time  con- 
sisted of  two  hundred  and  ninety-six  members;  two  hundred 
and  fifty-four,  being  the  votes  of  twenty-seven  States,  were  for 
Pierce,  and  forty-two,  being  the  votes  of  four  States,  were  for 
Scott.  Pierce  was  inaugurated  March  4th,  1853.  William  L. 
Marcy,  of  New  York,  was  chosen  Secretary  of  State,  James 
Guthrie,  of  Kentucky,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  Robert 
McClelland,  of  Michigan,  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  Jefferson 
Davis,  of  Mississippi,  Secretary  of  War,  James  C.  Dobbin,  of 
North  Carolina,  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  James  Campbell,  of 
Pennsylvania,  Postmaster-General,  and  Caleb  Cushing,  of 
Massachusetts,  Attorney-General.  James  Buchanan,  of  Penn- 
sylvania, was  appointed  Minister  to  Great  Britain.  Pierce  was 
born  in  1804,  was  forty-nine  years  old  when  inaugurated,  and 
served  four  years. 

In  1856,  the  Whigs  nominated  Colonel  John  C.  Freemont,  of 
California,  and  William  L.  Dayton,  of  New  Jersey.  The  Demo- 
crats nominated  James  Buchanan,  of  Pennsylvania,  and  John 
C.  Breckenridge,  of  Kentucky.  The  American  party  nomi- 
nated Millard  Fillmore,  of  New  York,  and  Andrew  J.  Donelson, 
of  Kentucky.  The  contest  was  exceedingly  lively,  and  the 
parties  exerted  themselves  to  the  utmost.  Mr.  Buchanan  was 
elected  by  one  hundred  and  seventy-four  electoral  votes,  carr}'- 
ing  nineteen  States;  Col.  Freemont  had  one  hundred  and  four- 
teen votes  from  eleven  States;  and  Mr.  Fillmore  received  the 
ei^ht  electoral  votes  of  Maryland.  Buchanan  and  Brecken- 
ridge were  installed  in  the  spring  of  1857.  Lewis  Cass,  of 
Michigan,  was  chosen  Secretary  of  State,  Howell  Cobb,  of 
Georgia,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  John  B.  Floyd,  of  Virginia, 
Secretary  of  War,  Isaac  Toucy,  of  Connecticut,  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  Jacob  Thompson,  of  Mississippi,  Secretary  of  the  In- 
terior, Aaron  V.  Brown,  of  Tennessee,  Postmaster-General, 
and  Jeremiah  S.  Black,  of  Pennsylvania,  Attorney-General. 
Buchanan  was  born  April  13th,  1791,  was  sixty-five  years  of  a^-e 
when  iuaupurated.  and  served  four  years. 


On  the  23d  of  April,  1860,  the  Democratic  National  Conven- 
tion assembled  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  The  session  waa 
stormy,  and  for  some  time  they  could  not  agree.  Finally, 
Stephen  A.  Douglass,  of  Illinois,  and  Ilerschel  V.  Johnson,  of 
Georgia,  were  nominated.  The  Southern  Democrats  being  dis- 
satisfied, met  in  Baltimore,  June  25th,  and  nominated  John  C. 
Breckenridge,  of  Kentucky,  and  General  Joseph  Lane,  of 
Oregon.  The  Republicans  met  in  Chicago,  May  16th,  and 
nominated  Abraiiam  Lincoln,  of  Illinois,  and  Hannibal  Hamlin, 
of  Maine.  The  Constitutional  Union,  or  American  party,  met 
three  days  later  in  Baltimore,  and  put  forward  the  names  of 
John  Bell,  of  Tennessee,  and  Edward  Everett,  of  Mas.sachu- 
setts.  Thus  there  were  four  parties  in  the  field.  The  election 
came  off  November  6th.  Mr.  Lincoln  received  one  hundred", 
and  eighty  electoral  votes,  and  all  tiie  others,  one  hundred  and! 
twenty-three.  He  was  therefore  duly  inaugurated  March  4th, 
1861.  His  term,  as  is  well  known,  was  exceedingly  stormy. 
The  great  rebellion  burst  forth,  and  from  fir.><t  to  la.st,  the  na- 
tion was  rent  by  the  direst  civil  war  the  world  has  ever  wit- 
nessed, and  the  country  was  deluged  in  blood  beyond  all 
parallel.  The  following  able  gentlemen  compo.sed  his  Cabinet. 
William  H.  Seward,  of  New  York,  Secretary  of  State,  Salmon 
P.  Chase,  of  Ohio,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  Simon  Cameron, 
of  Pennsylvania,  Secretary  of  War,  Gideon  Wells,  of  Connec- 
ticut, Secretary  of  the  Navy,  Montgomery  Blair,  of  Maryland, 
Postmaster-General,  Edward  Bates,  of  Missouri,  Attorney- 
General,  and  Caleb  B.  Smith,  of  Indiana,  Secretary  of  the 
Interior. 

The  next  Republican  Convention  was  held  at  Baltimore,  June 
7th,  1864.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  re-nominated.  Andrew  Johnson, 
of  Tennessee,  was  nominated  for  the  Vice-Presidency.  The 
Democrats  held  their  Convention  at  Chicago,  August  26th,  and 
nominated  General  George  B.  McClellan.  George  H.  Pendle- 
ton, of  Ohio,  received  the  nomination  for  Vice-President. 
Lincoln  and  Johnson  were  elected,  and  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  their  office  March  4th,  1865.  On  the  night  of  the  14th  of 
April  following,  the  President  was  struck  down  by  the  hand  of 
an  assassin,  and  the  Vice-President,  Andrew  John.'^on,  took  his 
place.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  born  February  12th,  1809;  served  as 
President  four  and  one-eighth  years,  and  died  April  15th,  1865, 
aged  fifty-six. 

Upon  the  accession  of  Mr.  Johnson,  Lafayette  S.  Foster,  of 
Connecticut,  then  acting  as  President  of  the  Senate,  became 
Vice-President.  Mr.  Johnson  soon  disagreed  with  his  party, 
and  went  over  to  the  Democrats,  as  Mr.  Tyler  had  done  before. 
Charges  were  brought  against  him,  and  his  trial  came  on,  but 
the  evidence  was  not  deemed  sufficient  for  impeachment,  and 
he  was  acquitted.  His  Cabinet  was  as  follows:  William  H. 
Seward,  of  New  York,  Secretary  of  State,  Hugh  McCuUoch,  of 
Indiana,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  of. 
Pennsylvania,  Secretary  of  War,  Gideon  Wells,  of  Connecticut,' 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  James  Harlan,  of  Iowa,  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  James  Speed,  of  Kentucky,  Attorney-General,  and 
William  Dennison,  of  Ohio,  Postmaster-General.  The  Presi- 
dent's salary,  as  it  always  had  been,  was  $25,000  a  year;  mem- 
bers of  the  Cabinet,  $8,000.  Salmon  P.  Chase  was  made  Chief 
Justice,  with  a  salary  of  $6,500.  Resident  Foreign  Ministers 
received  $7,.500.  and  Ministers  Plenipotentiary,  etc.,  from 
$10,000  to  $17,500.  Mr.  Johnson  served  three  and  seven-eighth 
years,  and  died  July  31st,  1875. 

The  Republicans  opened  the  next  campaign  by  assembling  in 
Chicago,  May  20th,  1868,  and  nominating  General  S.  Grant, 
of  Illinois,  and  Schuyler  Colfax,  of  Indiana.  The  Democrats 
met  in  New  York,  July  5th,  and  chose  Horatio  Seymour,  of 
New  York,  and  Frank  P.  Blair,  of  Missouri.  Victory  rested 
with  the  Republicans,  and  Grant  and  Colfax  were  invested 
with  the  titles  of  their  office  March  4th,  1869.  Elishu  B.  WasU- 
burn,  of  Illinois,  was  chosen  Secretary  of  State,  Alexander  T. 
Stewart,  of  New  York,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  General  J.  M. 
Schofield,  of  Illinois,  Secretary  of  War,  Adolph  E.  Porie,  of 
Pennsylvania,  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  Jacob  D.  Cox,  of  Ohio, 
Secretary  of  the  Interior,  E.  R.  Hoar,  of  Massachusetts,  At- 
torney-General, and  J.  A.  J.  Creswell,  of  Maryland,  Postmaster- 
General. 

The  next  National  Republican  Convention  convened  at  Phila- 
delphia, June  5th,  1872,  Mr.  Grant  was  re-nominated  for  a 
second  term.  Henry  Wilson,  of  Massachusetts,  received  the 
nomination  for  Vice-President.  The  Liberal  Republicans  met 
early  in  the  season  at  Cincinnati,  and  nominated  Horace 
Greeley,  of  New  York,  and  B.  Gratz  Brown,  of  Missouri.  The 
Democrats  met  in  Baltimore,  July  9th,  and  united  with  the 
Liberal  Republicans.  The  Republicans  were  again  the  victors, 
and  Grant  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  second  term  in  the 
spring  of  1873.  There  were  several  changes  in  the  Cabinet 
which  we  have  not  space  to  enumerate.  Mr.  Grant  is  the  only 
ex-president  now  living. 

The  political  campaign  of  1876  is  fresh  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  The  Republicans  assembled  at  Cincinnati  in  May,  and 
chose  Rutherford  B.  Hayes,  of  Ohio,  and  William  A.  Wheeler, 
of  New  York.  The  Democrats  held  their  convention  in  St, 
Louis,  and  nominated  Samuel  J.  Tilden,  of  New  York,  and 
Thomas  A.  Hendricks,  of  Indiana.  The  contest  was  sharp  and 
exciting.  The  election  came  oft'  November  7th,  and  so  close 
was  the  vote,  that  both  parties  claimed  the  victory.  It  re- 
mained undecided  till  February,  when  the  Electoral  Commis- 
sion, composed  of  an  equal  number  of  members  of  the  House, 
Senate,  and  Supreme  Court,  decided  in  favor  of  3Ir.  Hayes,  who, 
therefore,  became  the  nineteenth  President. 


378 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


PLAYMATES. 

BY  J.  G. 

Two  puppies  upon  the  floor  ; 
Whoever  would  wish  for  more 

Or  better  playmates  than  they? 
Harry,  coming  from  school,  looks  out, 
To  see  what  his  puppies  are  about, 

And  finds  them  both  at  play, 
Tumbling  over  each  other  in  glee, 
Happy  and  lively  as  puppies  can  be; 
Tray,  the  black,  and  Trim,  the  white, 
Having  in  fun  a  regular  fight. 
Uppermost  now  is  Tray,  the  black, 
Now  he's  sprawling  upon  his  back — 
Now  Trim's  rolling  upon  the  ground. 
And  then  they  both  start  up  with  a  bound 
After  a  ball  that  they  both  have  found, 
Now  in  this  corner,  and  now  in  that. 
Until  they  are  joined  by  the  tortoiseshell  cat. 
Who  is  quite  as  fond  as  they  of  play, 
And  the  three  go  rolling  and  tumbling  away. 
One  at  the  top,  and  two  below, 
Eound  and  round  the  kitchen  they  go, 
And  Harry  enjoys  the  fun,  I  know. 
Better  playmates  he  does  not  need; 
They  never  quarrel,  but  all  are  agreed 

To  have  as  much  fun  as  they're  able. 
And  when  the  puppies  are  hungry  and  tired, 
Harry  gives  them'the  food  that  is  required. 
And  as  good  a  bed  as  can  be  desired, 

Auu  shuts  them  in  the  stable; 
And  'mongst  the  straw  they  sleep  away 
Until  it  is  time  to  get  up  next  day 
To  have  another  game  of  play. 


Slumbering  Plants. 

ii,  is  well  known  that  plants  sleep  at  night ;  but  theii 
uom-s  of  sleeping  are  a  matter  of  habit  and  may  be  dis- 
turbed artifically,  just  as  a  cock  may  be  waked  up  to 
crow  at  untimely  hours  by  the  light  of  a  lantern.  A 
French  chemist  subjected  a  sensitive  plant  to  an  exceed- 
ingly trying  course  of  discipline  by  completely  changing 
its  hours — exposing  it  to  bright  light  at  night,  so  as  to 
prevent  sleep,  and  put  it  into  a  dark  room  during  the 
day.  The  plant  appeared  to  be  much  puzzled  and  dist 
turbed  at  first.  It  opened  and  closed  its  leaves  irregu- 
larly, sometimes  nodding,  in  spite  of  the  artificial  sun 
that  shed  its  beams  at  midnight,  and  sometimes  waking 
up,  from  the  force  of  habit,  to  find,  the  chamber  dark  in 
spite  of  the  time  "of  day.  Such  are  the  trammels  of  use 
and  wont.  But  after  an  obvious  struggle  the  plant  sub- 
mitted to  the  change,  and  tiimed  day  into  night  without 
'<ay  apparent  ill  effects. 


Vinegar. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Vinegar  consists  of  a  chemical  called  acetic  acid  ;  this 
chemical  making  it  a  favorite  addition  to  food,  and  at 
the  same  time  assisting  for  its  digestion.  The  acid  is 
formed  from  alcohol  by  the  absorption  of  oxygen,  and 
may  be  obtained  from  any  spirituous  beverage  by  allow- 
ing it  to  sour  gradually  by  exposure  to  the  air  in  imper- 
fectly closed  vessels.  On  the  large  scale,  however,  it  is 
generally  made  by  allowing  the  air  to  have  access  to- 
weak  alcohol  spread  in  a  thin  layer  over  a  very  great 
surface.  This  operation  is  conducted  in  large  casks 
filled  with  shavings  of  wood,  over  which  the  alcoholic 
liquid  (as  cider,  whiskey  or  brandy,)  diluted  with  water 
slowly  trickles.  The  cask  is  furnished  with  a  false  bot- 
tom, and  with  a  head  perforated  with  small  holes  which 
serve  to  distribute  the  alcohol  evenly  over  the  shavings. 
Air  enters  the  cask  through  holes  in  the  sides,  and 
escapes  through  tubes  in  the  head.  The  liquid  which 
runs  out  of  the  cask  may  be  returned  to  the  top  until 
the  alcoholic  liquid  is  entirely  converted  into  acetic  acid. 
The  cask  may  be  made  of  such  size,  and  the  flow  so 
regulated  that  the  conversion  of  the  alcohol  into  vinegar 
is  complete  after  one  operation. 

In  order  to  increase  the  sour  taste  of  the  vinegar,  the 
admixture  of  a  thousandth  part  of  sulphuric  acid  is  per- 
mitted in  some  places.  If  added  in  a  larger  quantity 
the  sulphuric  acid  is  injurious. 

As  acids  are  capable  of  transforming  starch  into  sugar, 
the  vinegar  added  to  salad  is  likewise  to  be  regarded  as 
a  promoter  of  digestion.  Only  in  soups  of  peas  or  beans 
vinegar  is  to  be  rejected,  as  by  it  even  if  added  in  excess, 
the  legumin  is  brought  into  an  undissolved  state. 

Beverages  containing  vinegar  have  a  dissolving  action 
on  the  blood,  and  are  cooling ;  and  in  milk  the  propor- 
tion of  caseine-cells  containing  the  butter  decreases  if 
the  mother  take  much  vinegar. 

Because  of  this  solution  of  the  most  important  con- 
stituents of  the  blood,  it  would  appear  a  lamentable 
ignorance  in  young  girls,  from  vanity,  to  produce  by 
means  of  vinegar  an  artificial  thinness.  In  attaining  thi* 
aim  it  very  often  happens  that  they  incur  dangerous  dis- 
eases which  only  too  often  carry  the  victim  of  vanity  to 
a  premature  grave. 

Battle  With  a  Grizzly  Bear. 

A  few  weeks  ago,  Dr.  Swain,  of  Sacramento,  went  on 
a  hunting  expedition  to  a  point  about  one  hundred 
miles  from  there  in  the  eastern  part  of  Monterey  county. 
In  the  company  was  an  old  mountaineer  called  * 'Rocky, 
who  had  become  famous  as  a  bear  hunter.  One  morn- 
ing Rocky  started  out  of  camp  and  was  laboriously  toil- 
ing along  a  narrow  trail  on  the  side  of  a  deep  canyon. 
When  in  a  wild  portion  of  the  mountains,  he  saw  on  the 
other  side  of  the  canyon  two  young  grizzlies  playing  on 
a  grassy  beach  of  land.  Immediately  his  splendid  re- 
volving rifle  was  at  his  shoulder,  and  he  fired.  One  cub 
he  killed  instantly,  but  the  other  lived  long  enough  ta 
cry  almost  like  a  child  for  the  mother  bear.  Soon  a 
crackling  of  bushes  was  heard  behind,  and  Rocky  turned 
just  in  time  to  see  the  mother,  enraged  and  excited,  al- 
most upon  the  slayer  of  her  oifspring.  The  bold  hunter 
again  raised  his  riiie,  but  before  he  could  use  it  the  bear^ 
by  one  stroke  of  her  powerful  paw,  hurled  it  far  out  of 
his  reach.  A  hand-to-hand  encounter  was  now  the  only 
way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  Rocky  drew  his  huge  knife. 
He  raised  it,  and  swiftly  it  descended,  gleaming  through 
the  air  into  the  heart  of  the  bear,  and  none  to  soon,  for 
as  he  struck,  the  bear  also  dealt  him  a  powerful  blow  on 
his  side,  which  stretched  him  insensible  some  distance 
from  the  scene  of  the  encounter,  the  knife  remaining 
buried  to  the  hilt  in  the  bear's  shaggy  side.  After  a 
time  the  hunter  recovered  sufficient  to  drag  himself  to 
camp,  where  he  was  obliged  to  remain  for  several  days 
before  he  recovered  from  the  terrible  blow  he  had  re- 
ceived. Other  members  of  the  party  went  to  the  place 
and  found  the  cubs  dead,  and  a  short  distance  from 
them  the  old  bear,  also  dead.  The  gun  and  knife  were 
recovered,  and  for  several  days  bear  steaks  were  the 
bill  of  fare  in  that  camp.  Dr.  Swain  says  the  meat  of 
the  cubs  was  delicious — fat  and  tender.  There  are  many 
grizzlies  in  that  section,  and  only  the  most  experienced 
hunters,  like  Rocky,  have  any  business  hunting  them. 
There  is  probably  no  animal  in  the  world  more  danger- 
ous or  difficult  to  kill  than  the  grizzly  bear  of  California. 


UmnCJY  jf  ILLINOIS 


THE  GROPt^ING  JVORLD. 


BARON  MUNCHAUSExY 

AND 

HIS  WONDERFUL  STORIES. 


Hieronymu8  Karl  Friedrich  von  Munchausen,  Baron; 
«ra8  a  German  soldier,  bom  in  1720  on  his  paternal  estate 
of  Bodenwerder,  Hanover,  and  died  there  in  1797. 
He  was  descended  from  the  so-called  vi^liite  branch  of 
the  Munchausen  family,  served  in  his  youth  as  a 
cavalry  officer  in  the  Russian  army,  and  passed  his 
latter  days  in  Hanover. 

He  delighted  in  telling  the  most  wonderful  stories 
of  his  adventures  im  the  campaign  against  the  Turks 
in  1737-9,  which  gained  for  him  in  Germany  the  re- 
putation of  one  of  the  greatest  liars  living.  The 
stories  themselves  were  soon  repeated  from  one  end 
of  the  country  to  the  other,  and  created  then,  as  now, 
universal  merriment.  They  are  said  to  have  been 
first  compiled  by  Rudolph  Erich  Raspe. 

The  last  German  edition  of  the  Adventures  of 
Baron  Munchausen  contains  an  able  introduction  by 
Adolf  Ellisen,  upon  the  life  and  writings  of  the  au- 
thor, the  sources  and  originals  of  the  Munchausens, 
and  the  literature,  and  fictitious  travels  in  general. 
The  tradition  of  the  baron's  story-telling  is  supported 
in  the  work  by  the  evidence  of  a  clergyman  who 
lived  much  in  his  society,  and  who  informed  Mr. 
Ellisen's  father,  a  medical  man  of  Gottingen,  who 
himself  visited  the  baron  in  his  latter  days,  that  the 
old  officer  used  to  relate  his  most  surprising  adven- 
tures "  in  a  cavalier  manner,  with  a  military  empha- 
sis, but  without  any  passion,  and  with  the  lazy 
humor  of  a  man  of  the  world,  as  things  which  re- 
quired no  explanation  or  proof." 

When  I  was* a  boy,  I  used  to  delight  in  the  ad- 
ventures of  Baron  Munchausen,  although  I  knew 
they  could  not  be  true,  and  were  written  only  to 
amuse.  They  are  now  frequently  alluded  to  in  the 
current  literature  of  the  day,  and  it  is  well  to  know 
something  about  these  remarkable  stories.  I  shall 
therefore,  repeat  some  of  his  most  wonderful  adventures 
for  the  entertainment  of  our  youthful  readers,  for  whom 
this  article  is  especially  written. 

Baron  Munchausen  owned  a  white  horse.  He  had 
been  crossing  a  marsh,  in  which  his  horse  sank  and  stuck 
fast.  How  do  you  think  he  got  him  out?  Why,  he 
said  that  he  took  hold  of  his  hair  queue  (queues  were 
fashionable  In  the  last  century)  and  pulled  it  straight  up 
till  he  dragged  his  horse's  legs  and  body  out  of  the  marsh, 
and  thus  set  it  free  !  As  if  any  man  could  do  such  a 
thing  I 

At  another  time  he  leaped  his  horse  through  a  chaise 
which  crossed  his  way.  He  declared  that  he  once  did 
so,  and  took  off  his  hat  as  his  horse  was  flying  over,  and 
begged  pardon  of  the  ladies  for  disturbing  them. 

"  Once,"  said  the  baron,  "  1  was  lighting  against  the 
Turks,  and  charged  up  to  the  gate  of  the  town.  Just  as 
I  got  through,  however,  the  iron  portcullis — a  heavy  gate 
let  down  from  above— fell  behind  me.  I  did  not  care, 
and  galloped  on.  When  in  the  city,  my  horse  flew  to  a 
water  fountain,  and  began  to  drink  eagerly.  It  drank 
and  drank,  and  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  stop.  All 
at  once  I  heard  the  sound  of  water  behind  me,  and, 
looking  round,  saw  to  my  surprise,  that  there  was  only 
half  of  my  horse  left— the  other  half  had  been  cut 
off  at  the  gate  of  the  city — and  the  water  was  rushing 
out  behind  me  as  fast  as  he  drank  it,  (see  cut)  without 
refreshing  or  doing  him  any  good  I  How  it  could  have 
happened  was  quite  a  mystery  to  me,  till  I  returned  with 
him  to  the  town-gate.  There  I  saw,  that  when  I  rushed 
in.  the  portcullis  had  totally  cut  off  his  hind  part,  that 
still  lay  quivering  on  the  outside  of  the  gate.  It  would 
have  been  an  irreparable  loss  had  not  our  farrier  con- 
trived to  bring  both  parts  together  while  hot.  He  sewed 
them  up  with  sprigs  and  young  shoots  of  laurel  that 
were  at  hand.  The  wound  healed ;  and  what  could  not 
have  happened  but  to  so  glorious  a  horse,  the  sprigs  took 
root  in  his  body,  grew  up,  and  formed  a  bower  over  me 
so  that  afterwards  I  could  go  upon  many  other  expedi 
tions  in  the  shade  of  my  own  and  my  horse's  laurels. 


The  baron  was  once  engaged  in  the  siege  of  a  city 
which  was  very  hard  to  take.  No  plan  could  be  had 
of  the  works,  so  as  to  know  where  to  make  an  attack. 
What  do  you  think  the  baron  said  he  did?  He  de- 
clared that  he  jumped  astride  a  cannon  ball  and  rode 
on  it  over  the  city,  and  that  while  it  was  flying 
through  the  air,  he  drew  a  full  plan  of  the  whole  for- 
tress. He  got  back  again  the  same  way,  by  jumping 
across  a  bomb  that  was  fired  at  the  ships  in  which  he 
had  come  to  the  j^lace. 

When  dining  with  some  Russian  officers  once,  a 
bomb  shell  fiew  into  the  tent.  You  may  think  what 
terror  every  one  was  in.  But  the  baron  took  the 
bomb,  tied  some  cords  quickly  over  it,  and  slung  it 
back  into  the  Turkish  camp  before  it  burst.  In  fact, 
it  burst  among  the  Turks,  and  did  great  damage. 

Another  time,  the  baron  told  his  friends  that  he  set 
ofE  from  Rome  on  a  journey  to  Russia,  in  the  midst 
of  winter.  The  snow  was  very  deep.  Night  and 
darkness  overtook  him.  No  village  was  to  be  seen, 
so  he  tied  his  horse  to  a  post  to  keep  it  from  straying, 
and  lay  down  on  the  snow  to  sleep  until  morning. 
He  says:  "It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  my  astonish- 
ment to  find  myself,  when  I  awoke  at  daylight,  in 
the  midst  of  a  village,  lying  in  a  church  yard  ;  no- 
where was  my  horse  to  be  seen,  but  I  heard  him  soon 
after  neigh  above  me.  On  looking  upwards,  I  be- 
held him  hanging  by  his  bridle  to  the  weather-cock  of 
the  church  steeple.  Matters  were  now  very  plain  to  me. 
The  village  had  been  covered  with  snow  over-night. 
A  sudden  change  of  weather  had  taken  place;  I  had 
sunk  down  to  the  church-yard  while  asleep,  gently,  and 
in  the  same  proportion  as  the  snow  had  melted  away,  and 
what  in  the  dark  I  had  taken  to  be  the  stump  of 
a  little  tree  appearing  above  the  snow,  to  which  I 
had  tied  my  horse,  proved  to  have  been  the  cross  or 
weather  cock  of  the  steeple.  Without  long  consider- 
ation, I  took  one  of  my  pistols,  shot  the  bridle 
in  two,  brought  down  the  horse,  and  proceeded 
on  my  journey.  He  carried  me  well.  Advancing 
into  the  interior  parts  of  Russia,  I  found  traveling  on 
horseback  rather  unfashionable  in  winter ;  therefore,  J 
submitted,  as  I  always  do,  to  the  custom  of  the  country, 
took  a  single-horse  sledge,  and  drove  briskly  toward  St. 
Petersburg.  I  do  not  exactly  recollect  whether  it  was  In 
Eastland  or  Jugemanland,  but  I  remember  that  in  the  midst 
of  a  dreary  forest,  1  spied  a  terrible  wolf  making  after  me  with 
all  the  speed  of  ravenous  winter  hunger.  There  was  no  possi- 
bility of  escape.  Mechanically,  I  laid  myself  down  flat  m  the 
sledge,  and  let  my  horse  run  for  our  safety.  What  I  wished, 
but  hardly  hoped  or  expected,  happened  immediately  after. 
The  wolf  did  not  mind  me  in  the  least,  but  took  a  leap  over 
me,  and  falling  furiously  on  the  horse,  began  instantly  to  tear 
and  devour  the  hind  part  of  the  poor  ammal,  -which  ran  the 
faster  for  his  pain  and  terror.  Thus  unnoticed  and  safe  my- 
self,  I  lifted  my  head  slyly  up,  and  with  horror  I  beheld  that 
the  wolf  had  ate  his  way  into  the  horse's  body ;  it  was  not 
long  before  he  had  fairly  forced  himself  into  it,  when  1  took 
my  advantage,  and  fell  upon  him  with  the  but-end  of  my 
whip.  This  unexpected  attack  in  his  rear  frightened  him  so 
much,  that  he  leaped  forward  with  all  his  might;  the  horse's 
carcass  dropped  to  the  ground,  but  in  his  place  the  wolf  was  in 
the  harness,  and  I,  on  my  part,  whipping  him  continually,  we 
both  arrived  in  full  career  safely  to  St.  Petersburg,  contrary 
to  our  respective  expectations,  and  very  much  to  the  astoniso- 
ment  of  tne  spectators. 

The  baron  also  gives  a  description  of  how  he  was  nearly  lost 
in  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  He  says:  "I  was  bathing  in  that 
Dleasant  sea,  near  Marseilles,  one  summer  afternoon,  when  I 
discovered  a  very  large  fish  with  his  jaws  quite  extended,  ap- 
proaching me  with  the  greatest  velocity.  There  was  no  time 
to  be  lost,  nor  could  I  possibly  avoid  him.  1  immediately  re- 
duced myself  to  as  small  a  size  as  possible  by  closing  my  feet 
and  piacmgmy  hands  also  near  my  sides,  in  which  position  1 
passed  directly  between  his  jaws,  and  into  his  stomach,  where 
1  remained  sometime  in  total  darkness,  and  comfortably  warm 


as  you  may  imagine.  At  last  it  occurred  to  me,  that  by  giving 
him  pain  he  might  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me ;  as  1  had  plenty  of 
room  I  played  my  pranks,  such  as  tumbling,  hop,  step  and 
\  jump,  &c.,  but  nothing  seemed  to  disturb  him  so  much  as  the 
I  quick  motion  of  my  feet  in  attempting  to  dance  a  hornpipe. 
I  Soon  after  I  be^n  this  dance,  he  put  me  out,  by  sudden  tits 
I  and  starts,  but  I  persevered.  At  last  be  roared  horridly,  and 
j  stood  up  almost  perpendicularly  in  the  water,  with  his  head 
I  and  i;'ioulder8  exposed,  by  which  he  was  discovered  by  the 
I  oeople  on  boaid  an  ItaUan  trader,  then  sailing  by,  who  har- 
!  booned  him  in  a  few  minutes.  As  soon  as  he  was  brought  ot 
.  board  I  heard  the  crew  consulting  how  they  should  cut  him  Vl^ 


382 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


so  as  to  preserve  the  greatest  quantity  of  oil.  As  I  understooa 

Italian,  I  was  in  most  dreadful  apprehensions  lest  their  weap- 
ons emploj'ed  in  this  business  should  destroy  me  also ;  there- 
fore, I  stood  as  near  the  centre  as  possible,  for  there  was  room 
enough  for  a  dozen  men  in  this  creature's  stomach,  and  I  natu- 
rally imagined  they  would  begin  with  the  extremities;  how- 
ever, my  fears  were  soon  dispersed,  for  they  began  by  opening 
the  bottom  of  the  belly.  As  soon  as  I  perceived  a  glimmering 
of  light,  I  called  out  lustily  to  be  released  from  a  situation  in 
which  I  was  now  almost  suffocated.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
do  justice  to  the  degree  and  kind  of  astonishment  which  sat 
upon  every  countenance  at  hearing  a  human  voice  issue  from 
a  lish,  but  more  so  at  seeing  a  naked  man  walk  upright  out  of 
his  body :  in  short,  gentlemen,  I  told  them  them  the  whole 
story  as  I  have  done  you,  whilst  amazement  struck  them  dumb. 

"After  taking  some  refreshment,  and  jumping  into  the  sea  to 
cleanse  myself,  I  swam  to  my  clothes,  which  lay  where  1  had 
left  them  on  the  shore.  As  near  as  I  can  calculate,  I  was  near 
four  hours  and  a  half  confined  in  the  stomach  of  this  animal." 

He  also  relates  the  experience  of  his  father  in  crossing  the 
English  Channel  to  Holland,  as  he  declares  he  heard  him  relate 
it,  as  follows :  "  On  my  arrival,"  says  my  father,  "  at  Helvoet- 
eluys,  1  was  observed  to  breathe  with  some  diificulty ;  upon 
the  inhabitants  inquiring  the  cause,  I  informed  them  that  the 
animal  upon  whose  back  I  rode  from  Harwich  across  to  their 
shore,  did  not  swim.  Such  is  their  peculiar  form  and  disposi- 
tion, that  they  cannot  float  or  move  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water;  he  ran  with  incredible  swiftness  upon  the  sands  from 
shore  to  shore,  driving  fish  in  millions  before  him,  many  of 
which  were  quite  different  from  any  I  had  yet  seen,  carrying 
their  heads  at  the  extremity  of  their  tails.  I  crossed,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  one  prodigious  range  of  rocks,  equal  in  height  to 
the  Alps,  (the  tops  or  highest  part  of  these  marine  mountains 
are  said  to  be  upwards  of  one  hundred  fathoms  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea)  on  the  sides  of  which  there  were  a  great  variety 
of  tall,  noble  trees,  loaded  with  marine  fruit,  such  as  lobsters-, 
ci-abs,  oysters,  scollops,  muscles,  cockles,  i&c,  &c.;  some  of 
which  were  a  cart-load  singly,  and  none  less  than  a  porter's  I 
All  those  whiCLi  "e  brought  on  shore,  and  sold  in  our  markets, 
are  of  inferior  vlwarf  Tdnd,  or  properly,  waterfalls — fruit 
shook  off  the  branches  of  the  tree  it  grows  upon  by  the  motion 
of  the  water,  as  those  in  our  gardens  are  by  that  of  the  wind. 
The  lobster-tree  appeared  the  richest,  but  the  crab  and  oyster 
were  the  tallest.  The  periwinkle  is  a  kind  of  shrub ;  it  grows 
at  the  foot  of  the  oyster  tree,  and  twines  round  it  as  the  ivy 
does  the  oak.  I  observed  the  effect  of  several  accidents  by 
ship-wreck,  &c.,  particularly  a  ship  that  had  been  wrecked  by 
striking  against  a  mountain  or  rock,  the  top  of  which  lay  within 
thi'ee  fathoms  of  the  surface  ^s  she  sunk,  she  feU  upon  her 
side,  and  forced  a  very  large  lObster-tree  out  of  its  place.  It 
was  in  the  spring  when  the  lobsters  were  very  young,  and  many 
of  them  being  separated  by  the  violence  of  the  shock,  they 
fell  upon  a  crab-tree  which  was  growing  below  them ;  they 
had,  like  the  farina  of  plants,  united,  and  produced  a  fish  re- 
sembling both.  I  endeavored  to  bring  one  with  me,  but  it  was 
too  lively  and  cumbersome,  and  my  salt  water  Pegasus  seemed 
much  displeased  at  every  attempt  to  stop  his  career  whilst  I 
continued  upon  his  back ;  besides,  I  was  then,  though  gallop- 
ing over  a  mountain  of  rocks  that  lay  about  midway  the  pas- 
sage, at  least  five  hundred  fathoms  below  the  surface  of  the 
sea,  and  began  to  find  the  want  of  air  inconvenient :  therefore, 
I  had  no  inclination  to  prolong  the  time.  Add  to  tnis,  my  sit- 
uation was  in  other  respects  very  unpleasant ;  I  met  many  large 
fish  who  were,  if  I  could  judge  by  their  open  mouths,  not  only 
able,  but  really  anxious  to  devour  us.  Now,  as  my  Kosinante 
was  blind,  I  had  these  hungry  gentlemen's  attempts  to  guard 
against,  in  addition  to  my  other  difliculties  in  reaching 
Uolland." 

It  is  well  known  that  travelers  have  told  a  great  many  things 
that  never  happened,  but  Munchausen  went  so  far  beyond  any 
one  else  in  his  narratives,  that  he  seems  to  have  made  them 
more  careful  ever  since  his  adventures  were  published.  No 
one  wished  to  be  classed  among  such  dreadful  inventors  as  the 
baron,  so  they  adhered  more  closely  to  facts.  Baron  Munchau- 
sen's stories  have,  then,  accomplished  some  good.  No  one 
entertains  a  thought  of  their  truth,  and  their  very  absurdity 
se  rves  to  amuse,  and  create  a  laugh  without  doing  any  harm. 
We  wish  we  could  say  as  much  of  many  boys'  and  girls' 
papers  of  the  present  day.  Equally  absurd  and  improbable  are 
the  adventures  and  experiences  of  their  story  characters ;  but 
without  a  practical  knowledge  of  life  as  it  is,  youthful  readers 
iml)ibe  from  them  entirely  eiToneons  ideas  of  the  world  and 
their  surroundings. 

We  read  not  long  since  an  account  of  three  boys  who  ran 
away  from  good  homes  and  kind  friends  in  search  of  adventure. 
They  managed  to  get  some  distance  from  home,  but  on  the 
way  encountered  no  thrilling  adventure  and  no  opportunities 
for  distinguishing  themselves  by  a  display  of  valorous  courage 
or  daring  exploit.  They  found  themselves  strangers  in  a 
Western  city,  without  money  or  food,  and  very  glad  to  commu- 
nicate with  their  anxious  friends,  and  return  to  the  homes  left 
with  such  disdain  a  few  weeks  before— not  as  heroes,  but,  we 
trust,  with  an  experience  that  will  be  of  service  to  them  in  the 
future. 

Much  harm  is  the  result  of  unprofitable  reading.  A  taste  for 
Instructive  literature  is  lost ;  the  mind  becomes  in  a  measure 
diseased,  and  a  distorted  imagination  overlooks  the  quiet  com- 
fort of  practical  everyday  life  which  most  of  us  experience, 
and  look  vaguely  beyond  to  an  existence  aglow  with  interest 
and  excitement.  When  real  life.,  with  its  manifold  carss,  and 


common  place  routine  Is  attained  with  manhood  and  woman- 
nood,  disappointment  and  dissatisfaction  with  their  condition 
IS  the  result.  To  settle  down  to  any  daily  employment,  or 
ordinary  method  of  earning  bread,  is  utterly  distasteful.  May 
not  this  fact  alone,  account  for  many  of  the  cases  of  shiftless- 
ness,  want  of  energy  and  determined  idleness  afllictiT>g  many 
young  men  and  women  of  to-day?  Because  a  brilliant  or 
notable  career  is  not  accessible  to  all,  many  lead  an  idle  life  of 
pleasure,  unsatisfactory  to  themselves,  burdensome  to  their 
friends,  and  disastrous  to  the  commonwealth  of  the  nation. 

A  taste  in  the  young  for  healthy  reading  should  be  by  every 
possible  means  encouraged.  Biography,  natural  history  and 
instructive  literature  should  be  presented  in  attractive  form. 
The  Growing  World  is  intended  to  wield  its  influence  in  this 
direction.  Every  pains  is  taken  to  have  its  columns  filled  with 
interesting,  instructive  and  elevating  reading  matter.  No 
better  paper  or  periodical  can  be  introduced  into  the  family 
circle  of  American  homes. 

The  following  amusing  aflldavit  with  which  Baron  Munchaa- 
sen  introduces  his  marvelous  narrative  to  the  public,  may 
prove,  in  conclusion,  interesting  to  our  readers  : 

At  the  City  of  London,  England  : 

We,  the  undersigned,  as  true  believers  in  the  profit^  do  most 
solemnly  aflirm  that  all  the  adventures  of  our  friend,  Baron 
Munchausen,  in  whatever  country  they  may  ^ie,  are  positive  and 
simple  facts.  And  as  we  have  been  believed,  whose  adventures 
are  ten  times  more  wonderful,  so  we  do  hope  all  true  believers 
«vill  give  him  their  full  faith  and  credence. 

GULLrVER, 

SlNBAD, 

AliADBIK. 

Sworn  at  the  Mansion  Emise, ) 
9th  November,  in  the  absence  > 
of  the  Lord  Mayor.  J 

John,  {the  porter) 


Nitric  Acid. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

One  of  the  most  important  combinations  of  nitrogen 
with  oxygen,  is  that  of  nitric  acid.  This  liquid,  two 
abundant  sources  of  which  are  found  in  nature  and  are 
familiar  as  articles  of  commerce,  is  very  extensively 
used,  and  has  a  wide  application  in  the  useful  arts  as  a 
solvent.  The  two  sources  from  which  it  is  mostly  pro- 
cured are  saltpetre  and  soda-nitre. 

Saltpetre,  or  nitre,  is  a  whitish  crystalized  substance, 
much  resembling,  both  in  taste  and  appearance,  common 
salt.  The  principal  source  of  its  supply  is  India.  Soda- 
nitre  is  collected  on  a  desert  tract  in  Peru  and  Chili,  and 
forms  a  source  of  much  profit  to  the  person  engaged  in 
exporting  it.  It  differs  from  saltpetre  only  in  the  fact 
that  it  contains,  as  the  chief  element,  potassium,  whilst 
that  of  saltpetre  is  sodium.  Nitric  acid  is  obtained  from 
either  of  these  by  means  of  the  reaction  of  sulphuric  acid 
on  them,  as  is  shown  by  the  experiment  which  illustrates 
the  obtaining  of  the  acid. 

Into  a  glass  retort,  shaped  somewhat  like  a  pipe,  with 
the  exception  that  the  bowl  is  round  and  has  no  external 
opening,  530  grains  of  either  soda-nitre  or  saltpetre  are 
Introduced.  One  and  a  half  ounces  of  strong  sulphuric 
acid  are  then  poured  in  the  retort  through  the  neck, 
there  being  but  this  one  opening  in  it.  The  bottom  of 
the  retort  is  then  placed  on  a  small  pan  containing  enough 
sand  to  steady  it,  and  leave  a  film  under  it  of  about  one 
inch  of  sand.  Heat  is  then  applied  to  the  bottom  of  the 
pan.  A  vessel  called  a  receiver  is  now  immersed  three- 
quarters  in  a  vessel  of  water,  and  then  connected  with 
the  neck  of  the  retort  so  that  as  the  substances  in  the 
retort  are  boiling  the  vapor  of  them  will  pass  into  the 
receiver,  which  is  simply  a  glass  vessel  having  two  open- 
ings, one  of  which  is  similar  to  the  neck  of  the  retort, 
the  other  resembling  that  of  a  bottle.  Soon  after  apply- 
ing, reddish  vapors  appear  for  a  moment  in  the  retort 
and  then  disappear,  and  a  yellow  fuming  liquid  begins 
to  condense  and  run  into  the  receiver,  which  is  kept 
covered  with  wet  cloths,  the  top  opening  being  loosely 
covered  with  a  bit  of  glass.  When  the  substances  in 
the  retort  become  tranquil,  the  heat  is  withdrawn  and 
the  operation  is  completed.  The  acid  thus  obtained  is 
pure,  and  has  but  a  very  faint  yellow  color.  It  is  about 
one  and  one-half  times  as  heavy  as  water,  possesses  an 
intensely  sour  taste,  and  in  all  manipulations  with  it  care 
should  be  taken  to  avoid  getting  it  on  the  skin,  as  it 
turns  the  same  to  a  deep  yellow  color.  With  hydro- 
chloric acid  it  forms  aqua  regia,  the  only  liquid  that  will 
dissolve  either  gold  or  platina.  If  cotton  wool  be  di- 
gested in  strong  nitric  acid,  its  characteristics  will  be 
entirely  changed,  for  after  washing  it  with  water  and 
then  drying  it,  it  will  become  highly  explosive,  forming 
the  gun-cotton  now  so  much  used  for  military  purposes. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD.  383 


The  Future  of  Animals. 

BY  M.  ERWIN. 

In  considering  the  probability  of  a  future  existence 
for  the  lower  animals,  one  is  constantly  met  with  the  as- 
sertion, that  "animals  are  actuated  exclusively  by  in- 
stinct." This  is  not  true,  nor  is  it  often  claimed  by  the 
close  student  of  Natural  Science,  but,  as  one  of  those 
popular  phrases  which  so  often  catch  the  ear  of  public 
credence,  when  the  most  finished  and  elaborate  chain  of 
reason,  deduced  from  facts  established  by  years  of  deep 
and  careful  research,  fails  to  create  a  wave  upon  the  sea 
of  public  sentiment 

When  the  assertion  before  mentioned  has  been  made 
to  me,  I  have  seldom  failed  to  ask  for  a  clear  definition, 
as  the  author  understood  it,  of  the  term  instinct,  and  in 
no  single  instance  have  I  received  an  expression  embody- 
ing the  idea  properly  conveyed  by  the  word.  I  believe 
the  term  to  be  popularly  used,  to  designate  the  intelli- 
gonce  of  animals  with  whom  we  cannot  hold  an  inter- 
change of  thought,  for  want  of  the  conducting  medium 
of  speech,  or  other  mode  of  mutual  comprehension. 

That  the  mentality  of  such  animals  is  relatively  much 
lower  than  our  own,  is  demonstrated  in  a  thousand 
ways.  Popular  prejudice  has  magnified  the  dividing 
space  into  a  yawning  gulf,  and  assuming  it  to  be  the 
boundary  between  the  mortal — the  things  that  perish 
utterly — and  the  immortal  which  endures  forever,  has 
posted  it  with  warning  finger-boards  proclaiming  it  im- 
possible. 

The  foe  most  formidable  to  the  acknowledgment  of  a 
future  for  animads,  as  to  other  advances  of  knowledge, 
is  not  the  want  of  ability  on  the  part  of  the  masses  to 
understand  the  subject  when  impartially  considered,  but 
a  lack  of  thought ;  an  unwillingness  to  consider.  Let 
us  draw  the  line  as  nearly  as  possible  between  in- 
stinct and  reason.  Instinct  is  disposition.  It  operates 
unthinkingly  ;  ii  you  will  allow  the  phrase,  mechanical- 
ly. It  learns  nothing  by  experience  ;  it  borrows  nothing 
from  example.  It  is  an  inheritance,  an  endowment  to 
each  individual,  from  the  stores  of  vrisdom  inherited  or 
acquired  by  its  progenitors.  Instinct  cannot  be  educa- 
ted ;  much  less  is  it  capable  of  self-development.  That 
animals  may  be  educated,  and  in  some  instances  are 
capable  of  developing  wisdom  by  observation  and  rejlec- 
tion,  is  established  by  presumptive  evidence,  so  strong 
that  few  persons  are  rash  enough  to  couple  it  with  doubt. 
And  it  is  furthermore  established,  that  when  domestica- 
ted animals  are  educated  in  any  one  particular  branch  of 
service,  their  young  are  more  easily  trained  to  the  same 
branch  of  service  than  to  any  other,  and  learn  in  much 
less  time  to  perform  the  duties  required  of  them,  than 
do  the  young  of  animals  bred  in  another  branch  of  ser- 
vice. This  is  not  true  in  every  instance,  for  among  ani- 
mals as  among  humans,  individuals  differ  in  tractability, 
but,  as  a  general  proposition,  it  may  be  easily  verified. 
When  animals  subsisting  upon  certain  kinds  of  food  are 
removed  to  remote  localities  where  they  cannot  obtain 
the  same  varieties,  and  are  obliged  to  subsist  on  proven- 
der to  which,  at  first,  they  perhaps  exhibit  dislike,  they 
acquire  by  continued  use  a  taste  for  it  which  they  trans- 
mit to  their  young  who  instinctively  crave  the  same  food. 
These  examples  clearly  show  that  the  education  or  tastes 
acquired  by  the  parents  are  developed  in  the  offspring 
as  instincts,  or  in  other  words,  that  instinct  is  partially, 
if  not  wholly,  transmitted  reason.  Instinct,  then,  exists 
only  as  an  arbitrary  title  for  inherited  intelligence.  The 
moment  that  surrounding  circumstances  modify  or  qual- 
ify its  action,  it  loses  its  distinctive  features,  and  is  no 
longer  pure  instinct. 

Instinct  is  often  spoken  of  as  a  sort  of  subtle  divina- 
tion divinely  bestowed  upon  the  lower  animals,  a  species 
of  innate  prescience,  the  special  gift  of  the  Creator. 
Accepting  the  theory  of  creation,  it  seems  reasonable 
that  the  aaiimals  created  and  placed  upon  the  earth  to 
gain  a  subsistence,  should  have  been  gifted  with  such 
powers  of  choice  and  discrimination  as  were  necessary 
to  their  preservation  and  well-being.  We  have  ample 
evidence  that  man  was  thus  Divinely  endowed.  Placed 
in  a  world  abounding  in  that  which  might  work  good  or 
evil  according  to  its  use,  the  need  of  a  matured  intelli- 
gence was  imperative,  and  it  was  supplied.  Had  not 
this  knowledge  been  absolutely  necessary  to  existence, 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  beings  endowed  with 
reasoning  powers  would,  by  the  exercise  of  their  facul- 
ties, have  acquired  the  same  intelligence.  Granting  that 


animals  were  created  with  instinctive  knowledge,  does 
this  preclude  or  even  diminish  the  probability  of  their 
immortality  ?  Quite  the  contrary.  This  act  of  creation 
was  no  more  aud  no  less  miraculous  than  the  creation  of 
their  physical  structures,  and  the  propagation  of  both 
was  made  for  future  time  dependent  upon  the  concur- 
rence of  natural  laws.  To  establish  the  fact  that  instinct 
is  in  reality  reason  (inherited)  is  to  destroy  the  chief  ar- 
gument urged  against  the  future  life  of  animals.  Proof 
18  accumulating,  and  error  will  soon  be  crushed  under 
its  weight.   Swift  speed  the  day. 


Occupation. — What  a  glorious  thing  it  is  for  the  hu- 
man heart !  Those  who  work  hard  seldom  yield  to 
fancied  or  real  sorrow.  When  grief  sits  down,  folds  its 
hands,  and  mournfully  feeds  upon  its  own  tears,  weav- 
ing the  dim  shadows  that  a  little  exertion  might  sweep 
away  into  a  funeral  pall,  the  strong  spirit  is  shorn  of  it? 
might,  and  sorrow  becomes  our  master. 

An  Old  New-Englander's  "Will. 

A  well-known  artist  of  San  Francisco  has  on  exhibi- 
tion in  his  studio  the  copy  of  a  curious  will,  which  de- 
serves to  be  framed  and  hung  up  in  the  New-England 
kitchen.  It  was  made  by  his  grandfather,  Silas  Tappen, 
in  1782,  and  admitted  to  probate,  although  not  without 
contest,  in  Salem,  Mass.,  in  1787.  Not  drawn  after  the 
most  approved  model,  the  old  gentleman's  hard,  com- 
mon sense  was  manifest  in  it,  and  the  law  found  no  se- 
rious defect.  After  the  usual,  "By  the  grace  of  God  I, 
Silas  Tappen,  being  of  sound  mind,  etc^"  he  comes 
directly  to  the  point:  "I  bequeath  to  Betsy  Ellen  Pringle, 
daughter  of  Catherine  Pringle — as  I  have  had  oppor- 
tunity since  my  marriage  with  her  to  find  out — my  second 
wife,  now  living,  my  buckskin  purse,  together  with  §1  in 
good  and  lawful  money,  the  same  to  be  given  to  her  by 
my  hereinafter-to-be-appointed  executor  as  soon  as  the 
breath  shall  have  left  my  body — the  aforesaid  lawful 
dollar  as  an  equivalent  for  the  peace  and  quiet  brought 
into  my  house,  by  her,  and  my  purse  as  an  object  long 
admired  by  her  and  according  to  her  tastes.  To  her 
sisters  and  aforementioned  mother,  and  various  other 
relatives,  found  by  me  after  my  aforesaid  marriage  to 
have  passed  to  me  as  part  and  parcel  of  my  second  wife, 
I  do  give  and  grant  to  them  forever  that  right,  which  1 
have  never  been  disposed  to  deny  them,  of  sojourning 
elsewhere  than  in  my  house  and  upon  my  providing;  and 
I  do  most  devoutly  pray,  for  the  sake  of  any  misguided 
man  deserving  of  sympathy,  and  before  proposing  mar- 
riage to  the  said  sisters,  mothers,  or  my  wife  then  widow, 
he  shall  have  become  so  demented  as  they.  To  my  old- 
est son,  John,  who  seems  from  his  cradle  to  have  en- 
deavored to  nullify  any  parental  and  filial  feeling  which 
was  natural  between  us  by  means  of  an  incessant  and 
remorseless  application  to  the  fiddle  and  fiute,  I  do  be» 
queath  the  little  which  I  have  left  of  love  for  musi(v 
together  with  my  fiddle  long  since  worn  out  by  him,  and 
do  devise  to  him  subject  to  his  step-mother's  right  of 
dower,  for  which  right  the  law,  and  not  his  father,  is 
responsible,  all  of  my  right,  title  and  interest  in  my 
homestead  at  Salem,  where  at  this  herein  date  I  do  re- 
side, together  with  everything  real  and  personal  and  by 
way  of  easements  to  its  belonging,  to  him  and  his  heirs 
forever.  To  my  other  children,  Samuel  and  Mary,  I  do 
bequeath  all  my  personal  property  and  assets,  with  the 
exceptions  herein  noted,  after  the  payment  of  my  debts, 
of  which  I  have  none,  save  the  debt  of  nature,  all  in  the 
amount,  of  moneys  deposited  in  the  bank  of  Salem,  and 
other  chattels,  of  $8,000  of  lawful  money ;  and  to  my 
children  I  do  devise  and  bequeath  these  things  only  upon 
one  condition,  viz.,  that  in  respect  to  my  memory  they 
or  any  of  them  shall  not,  in  any  manner,  contribute  to 
the  support  of  Catherine  Pringle  or  her  daughters.  In 
which  event,  I  direc\.  my  executor  hereinafter  mentioned 
to  make  over  to  the  Massachusetts  Insane  Asylum,  every 
dollar  and  all  property  herein  given  to  them," 

The  testator  finished  by  directing  his  executor  to  give, 
if  there  was  no  objection  offered  by  his  heirs,  certain 
things  of  small  value  to  his  friends,  and  then  named  as 
his  executor  the  musical  son.  It  was  signed,  sealed, 
witnessed,  and  acknowledged  in  the  most  elaborate 
form,  and,  although  contested  by  the  widow  on  the 
ground  that  at  the  time  this  will  was  made  the  testator 
was  insane,  the  jury  decided  that  there  was  nothing  un- 
natural in  his  ill-feeling  toward  his  mother-in-law  and 
family,  and  that  he  was  competent  to  make  a  will. 


384 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


«  HOLD  ME  TJP  HIGHER,  FATHER." 

"Hold  me  up  higher,  father— higher  still — 
The  highest  are  the  best." 
So  the  father  held  her  higher  up  until 
The  child  Lad  gathered  to  her  young  heart's  will 
And  lAft  the  rest. 

The  morning  dew 
Lay  heavy  on  the  grass,  and  the  pale  light 

Upon  che  garden  spaces  brighter  grew 
As  the  great  sun  rolled  slowly  into  sight. 

Two  mornings  meeting  there  beneath  the  trees 
Smiled  on  each  other  for  a  day  begun. 

Whose  hour's  to  end  the  soonest?  hers  or  these 
'T'hat  lay  along  the  pathway  of  the  sun? 

None  knew,  for  hidden  in  the  mid-day  light, 

The  future  lies  in  thickest,  darkest  night. 

Upon  a  cottage  roof  and  lattice  fell 
The  red  sun's  rays. 

Ending  that  one  of  many  autumn  days, 
The  light  ineffable. 
Within,  upon  a  tiny  cot,  there  lay 
That  child's  form,  still  and  pale;  her  life  had  fled, 
And  left  her  silent,  numbered  with  the  dead. 
Before  the  sun  had  reached  his  eventide 
Her  sun  had  set  in  darkness  and  she  died. 
Her  heavenly  father  drcAV  her  up  until, 

In  his  fair  garden  blest, 
Prom  off  the  tree  of  life  at  will 
She  should  pluck  fruit,  and  find  that  still 

The  highest  was  the  best. 

The  Freedmen's  Memorial  of  Lincoln. 

The  statue  of  Emancipation,  unveiled  at  Washington 
April  14th,  to  the  memory  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  is  a  tes- 
timonial of  the  appreciation  of  the  colored  people  of  the 

freat  service  rendered  them  by  the  martyr  President, 
he  subscription  to  the  fund  was  begun  on  the  morning 
after  the  assassination  by  a  contribution  of  five  dollars 
by  Charlotte  Scott,  a  colored  washerwoman  of  Marietta, 
Ohio.  The  colored  soldiers  increased  the  fund  by  liberal 
contributions,  and  the  colored  people  all  over  the  United 
States,  added  their  mite  until  sufficient  was  secured. 
The  original  cost  of  the  monument  was  seventeen  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  this  and  the  transportation  and  other 
incidental  expenses  have  all  been  paid  by  the  subscrip- 
tions of  the  colored  people.  The  last  congress  gener- 
ously appropriated  three  thousand  dollars  to  erect  the 
pedestal,  and  the  President  directed  that  the  monument 
should  pass  the  Custom  House  free  of  duty. 

The  statue  was  designed  and  executed  by  Thomas 
Ball,  an  American  sculptor,  who  has  resided  for  many 
years  in  Florence,  Italy,  and  is  decidedly  the  best  figure 
of  Lincoln  yet  made.    It  is  in  bronze,  colossal  in  size. 


being  twelve  feet  high,  resting  upon  a  pedestal  ten  feet 
high,  and  represents  Lincoln  standing  beside  a  monolith, 
upon  which  is  the  face  of  Washington  in  bas-relief\  hold- 
ing in  his  left  hand  the  proclamation  of  emancipation, 
his  right  hand  outstretched  over  the  kneeling  figure  at 
his  f(!et.  The  eyes  of  the  martyr  president  are  looking 
down  upon  the  figure  of  an  African  slave,  almost  pros- 
trate, whose  shackles  still  encircle  his  limbs,  ajthough 
the  chains  which  connect  them  have  been  broken. 

A  Horse's  Sense  of  Smell. 

An  African  pony,  unlike  Job's  war  horse,  "  smell  eth 
not  "  the  battle  afar  off,"  but  he  will  smell  a  poisonous 
snake  at  a  sufficient  distance  to  avoid  him. 

An  English  gentleman  was  leading  his  pony  one  day 
in  South  Africa,  when  he  saw  his  Kaffir  servant  suddenly 
jump  on  one  side.  Knowing  that  it  was  a  snake  that  had 
alarmed  him,  the  gentleman  dropped  the  reins  and  went 
forward  to  kill  it.  It  was  a  puff-adder,  the  reptile  which, 
it  is  thought,  Cleopatra  used  to  commit  suicide.  Killing 
it  with  a  stone,  he  examined  its  glands  and  found  them 
filled  with  poison. 

On  returning  to  the  pony  and  aovancing  his  hand  to 
take  the  reins,  the  horse  shied  back  in  great  alarm.  For 
several  minutes  he  would  not  allow  his  master  to  ap- 
proach. Some  of  the  odor  of  the  adder  had  attached 
itself  to  the  gentleman's  hands,  and  the  cautious  animal, 
being  warned  by  his  sense  of  smell,  was  afraid  that  there 
was  danger  even  in  his  master's  touch. 

The  horse's  nose  is,  as  every  boy  who  has  trained  a 
colt  knows,  one  of  kis  means  of  gaining  knowledge.  If 
a  horse  is  afraid  of  an  object,  the  best  way  to  remoY« 
his  fear  is  to  let  him  smell  of  it. 

Ingenuity  of  Smugglers. 

All  kinds  of  devices  are  often  brought  to  light.  Ele- 
gantly-dressed passengers,  and  often  persons  of  good 
.standing  in  society,  find  themselves  in  strainge  predicar 
ments  as  the  result  of  these  searches.  The  only  safe 
rule,  say  the  inspectors,  is  to  search  every  piece  of  bag- 
gage thoroughly.  This,  however,  is  seldom  done.  The 
officers  grow  to  be  confident  in  judgment  of  human 
nature,  and  often  the  search  is  merely  formal.  Women 
are  employed  to  search  women,  and  they  have  the  repu- 
tation of  being  more  thorough  than  their  brother  de- 
tectives. These  women  are  often  marked  characters, 
Contrary  to  one's  expectations,  the  best  women, 
searchers  come  from  the  South  and  not  from  the  sternei 
atmosphere  of  New  England.  This  is  said  to  be  owing 
to  a  kind  of  business  ability  inherited  from  the  French 
ancestry  of  many  Southern  families,  especially  in 
Louisiana  and  Maryland.  In  France  nearly  all  of  the 
•smaller  shops  are  conducted  by  women.  Some  of  the 
female  inspectors  are  very  lady-like  in  appearance  and 
fashionably  dressed.  The  majority,  however,  affect  the 
severe  in  style.  The  ordinary  type  is  dressed  in  gray  or 
other  sober  colors,  with  a  meagerly-trimmed  jocKcy 
tat,  and  is  from  forty  to  fifty  years  old.  She  has  a 
business  manner,  and  there  is  emphatically  no  nonsense 
about  her.  She  will  compel  a  lady  to  take  out  her  false 
teeth  with  the  most  malicious  nonchalance.  In  this 
privilege  of  minute  examination  of  another  woman's 
dress  and  personal  make-up  she  is  the  subject  of  envy 
by  her  whole  sex. 

She  has  oftentimes,  however,  met  with  women  even 
sharper  than  herself.  The  professional  female  smug- 
gler is  a  being  to  be  admired  from  a  distance.  She 
brings  to  bear  all  the  virtues  and  vices  of  her  sex  to  ac- 
complish her  purpose.  She  utUizes  whatever  there  is 
womanly  in  herself  and  acquires  all  the  strength  of  pur- 
pose and  assurance  of  a  man.  The  reputation  of  her  sex 
for  modesty,  for  unwordliness  and  for  fainting  at  the 
mere  thought  of  suspicion ;  the  peculiar  formation  of 
her  dress  and  her  personal  beauty — what  there  may  be 
of  it — all  of  these  count  as  capital  in  her  unlawful  busi' 
ness. 

The  devices  made  use  of  by  these  women  have  often 
elicited  admiration  for  their  ingenuity.  Not  only  do 
they  wear  false  teeth,  great  cavities  in  which  are  filled 
with  valuable  diamonds,  but  they  bring  over  diamonds 
set  in  hollows  of  their  natural  teeth.  A  skillful  detec- 
tive must  be  able  to  recognize  the  difference  between  a 
boil  or  contusion  and  a  sore  made  by  the  insertion  of  a 

Erecious  stone  beneath  the  skin.    Mustard  plasters  have 
een  torn  off  and  hundreds  of  dollars'  worth  of  laces 
revealed  folded  in  a  pamphlet-shaped  sack  of  oiled  silk. 


385 


Young  Men  who  Sit  on  the  Sidewalks. 

We  have  our  own  private  opinion  of  young  men  who 
daily  seat  themselves  on  the  sidewalks  of  our  town, 
gazing  with  all  their  might  as  if  afraid  Robinson's  circus 
should  parade  the  streets  and  they  should  lose  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  it.  The  world  is  in  no  great  need  of  so 
many  self-appointed  guards  to  see  that  it  goes  on  right, 
especially  such  as  the  class  of  which  we  speak.  Still 
they  sit  there  day  after  day  as  if  anxiously  on  the  look- 
out for  some  one  whom  they  expect  to  pass,  and  seem 
to  find  fresh  interest  in  the  same  throng  each  time  it 
passes.  The  stately,  well-to-do  man  hurrying  along  to 
his  commercial  pursuits,  the  poor  laborer  going  home 
after  the  day's  work  is  over,  with  his  scanty  supply  of  pro- 
visions from  the  market,  the  richly  dressed  lady,  engaged 
In  the  delightfully  fatiguing  task  of  shopping,  the  child 
beggar  tottering  along  with  a  cry  for  alms,  are  alike 
objects  of  the  penetrating  gaze  of  these  street-loungers, 
whose  sole  aim  in  life  seems  to  be  to  stare  other  people 
out  of  countenance,  expending  their  energies  on  nothing 
unless  it  be  to  puff  away  vigorously  at  a  ten  cent  cigar. 

Young  men  of  this  class  are  not  only  a  nuisance  to 
working  people,  but  actually  lower  themselves  in  the 
social  as  well  as  the  moral  scale.  Nothing  is  more  em- 
barassing  to  a  modest  female  than  to  walk  along  the 
streets  with  a  dozen  or  more  pairs  of  eyes  riveted  on  her. 
Besides,  the  influence  which  they  exert  over  their  younger 
brothers,  is  more  or  less  demoralizing.  They  seem 
so  happy,  this  do-nothing  class,  that  they  are  apt  to  create 
a  discontent  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  are  compelled  to 
work  for  a  living.  Idleness,  if  habitual,  soon  becomes  a 
part  of  their  nature,  and  growing  upon  them,  renders 
them  unfit  for  the  duties  of  life. 

Young  men,  go  to  work.  If  fortune  has  rendered  it 
unnecessary  for  you  to  earn  your  own  livelihood,  don't 
become  stumbling  blocks  to  those  who  are  less  favored. 
At  least  don't  station  yourselves  on  the  sidewalks  unless 
you  have  some  object  in  view.  The  great  laws  of  the 
universe  do  not  require  that  you  shall  gravitate  toward 
that  point  in  order  to  keep  the  world  in  motion,  and  the 
pavements  of  our  streets  will  keep  their  places  just  as 
Well  without  your  weight  as  with  it. 


How  They  Pull  Teeth  in  Japan. 

Those  wonderful  islands  in  the  North  Pacific  that  make 
up  the  empire  of  Japan  are  full  of  interest  to  Americans. 
They  form  a  rich  and  beautiful  country  of  hills  and 
valley  and  vegetation  ;  and  among  the  people  there  are 
plenty  of  bright  eyes  and  ready  wits  and  nimble  fingers. 
But  the  Japanese  are  what  we  call  a  great  way  behind 
the  age."  They  have  been  slow  to  learn  new  inventions 
because  they  have  thought  themselves  wiser  than  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  have  kept  the  art  of  the  world 
shut  out  of  their  empire. 

These  singular  people,  who  carve  and  design  so 
cleverly,  are  very  ignorant  of  medicine  and  surgery. 
Like  other  people,  they  have  many  aches  and  pains ; 
and,  as  every  body  knows,  one  of  the  most  torturing 
pains  is  an  aching  tooth.  These  poor  creatures  in  Japan, 
like  all  the  world  beside,  now  and  then  want  a  tooth 
pulled ;  and  their  only  contrivances  for  this  are  a  wooden 
mallet  and  a  stick.  The  professor  of  dentistry  instead 
of  sitting  in  his  office  with  a  stock  of  mysterious  and 
frightful  instruments,  goes  traveling  over  the  country, 
carrying  a  box  covered  with  brass  ornaments,  and  con- 
taining some  little  mallets  and  wedges.  When  he  meets 
with  a  person  who  wishes  to  part  with  an  aching  tooth, 
the  wedges  are  pressed  in  between  the  tooth  and  gum, 
and  are  then  forced  down  with  the  mallet,  until,  by 
hammering  and  prying,  the  tooth  is  made  so  loose  that 
it  can  be  ptdled  out  with  the  finger.  The  poor  patient 
aufCers  very  much.  Sometimes  pieces  of  the  jaw  are 
broken  away  with  the  teeth,  and  it  is  said  the  patient 
dies  from  the  wound. 

And  yet  these  singular  people,  so  intelligent  in  some 
things,  so  stupid  in  others,  make  very  beautiful  artificial 
teeth,  even  complete  sets,  carved  from  marine  ivory,  and 
mounted  on  hard  gourd-shell.  They  are  made  to  fit  the 
wontb  Tery  perfectly,  and  are  kept  in  place  by  atmo- 
spheric pressure,  very  much  as  with  us.  The  invention, 
however,  is  their  own,  and  has  been  one  of  their  arts  for 
many  generations.  These  teeth  are  not  what  we  call 
expensive,  a  complete  upper  set  costing  only  about  one 
dollar  and  a  half. 


Magnesium 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Magnesium  is  a  lustrous,  shining  metal,  having  an 
appearance  similar  to  silver,  and  possesses  properties 

f eculiar  to  itself,  and  by  which  its  presence  is  known, 
f  a  piece  be  immersed  in  almost  any  acid  it  will  dis- 
solve very  readily,  and  at  the  same  time  give  out  hydro- 
gen. If  it  be  brought  to  a  low  red  heat  it  will  melt,  and 
can  then  be  readily  distilled,  if  the  heat  bo  continued. 
In  damp  atmospheres  it  becomes  coated  with  a  film  of 
magnesium  hydrate  ;  but  dry  air  does  not  affect  it.  If 
a  piece  be  dipped  in  very  hot  water,  the  formation  of 
magnesium  oxide  will  immediately  take  place,  hydrogen 
being  at  the  same  time  given  forth. 

On  account  of  the  brilliancy  with  which  it  bums  in 
the  air,  and  the  beautiful  bluish-white  light  which  it  at 
the  same  time  gives  out,  it  is  considerably  utilized  by 
photographers  in  illuminating  dark  and  secluded  places 
of  which  views  are  taken.  It  is  also  sometimes  used  by 
them  in  cloudy  weather  as  a  substitute  for  daylight.  It 
is  often  for  this  purpose  pressed  into  wire,  and,  some- 
times, ribbons. 

Magnesium  forms  the  base  of  the  well-known,  and 
somewhat  abundant,  earth  magnesia.  It  is  obtained  in 
the  form  of  a  white  powder  by  burning  magnesium  in 
the  air,  as  follows  : 

Roll  four  or  five  inches  of  thin  magnesium  w;re  around 
a  small  pencil,  in  the  form  of  a  coil ;  now  t'^b.e  out  the 
pencil  and  place  a  knitting-needle  in  its  Stead.  Hold 
the  needle  horizontally  and  apply  a  light  lo  the  end  of 
the  wire  ;  it  will  burn  brightly  and  leave  the  magnesia 
in  the  form  of  a  white  powder  clinging  to  the  needle, 
and  shaping  an  imperfect  coil. 

e  3  are  but  few  combinations  of  magnesia  with  the 
other  elements,  and  these  are  most  used  lor  medicinal 
purposes.  The  principal  one  is  the  sulphate,  commonly 
called  Epsom  salts,  which  are  made  from  various  min- 
erals containing  magnesium.  The  name  is  taken  from 
the  town  of  Epsom,  England,  in  the  wells  near  which  it 
is  found. 


People  with  Donble-Barreled  P  aces. 

I  was  once  sitting  in  a  cool  underground  saloon  at 
Leipsic,  while  without  people  were  ready  to  die  from 
the  heat,  when  a  new  guest  entered  and  took  a  seat  op- 
posite me.  The  sweat  rolled  in  great  drops  down  his 
face,  and  he  was  kept  busy  with  his  handkerchief,  till  at 
length  he  found  relief  in  the  exclamation,  Fearfully 
hot!"  I  watched  him  attentively  as  he  called  for  a 
cool  drink,  for  I  expected  every  moment  that  he  would 
fall  from  his  chair  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  The  man  must 
have  noticed  that  I  was  observing  him,  for  he  turned 
toward  me  suddenly,  saving:  "  I  am  a  curious  sort  of  a 
person,  am  I  not?"  "Why?"  I  asked.  "Because  I 
perspire  only  on  the  right  side."  And  so  it  was  ;  the 
right  cheek  and  the  right  half  of  his  forehead  were  as 
hot  as  fire,  while  the  left  side  of  his  face  bore  not  a  trace 
of  perspiration.  I  had  never  seen  the  like,  and  in  my 
astonishment  was  about  to  enter  into  conversation  with 
him  regarding  this  physiological  cur.iosity,  when  his 
neighbor  on  the  left  broke  in  with  the  remark,  "  Then 
we  are  the  opposites  and  counterparts  of  each  other,  for 
I  perspire  only  on  the  left  side."  This,  too,  was  the 
fact.  So  the  pair  took  seats  opposite  to  each  other,  and 
shook  hands  like  two  men  who  had  just  found  each 
other  was  his  other  half. 

"Weill  this  makes  an  end  of  natural  history,"  ex- 
claimed another  guest,  who  had  hitherto  quietly  gazed 
on  this  strange  performance  as  thougn  it  were  a  play; 
md  every  one  that  had  overheard  what  was  said  came 
to  this  novel  wonder.  "  This  makes  an  end  of  natural 
history  I"  This  expression  excited  me  to  laughter,  and 
involuntarily  I  exclaimed,  "No,  sir,  this  is  just  the  be- 
ginning of  natural  history  ;  for  nature  has  many  strange 
caprices  even  as  regards  her  symmetry."  I  then  men- 
tioned the  case  of  a  man  I  had  kno\vn  in  my  boyhood, 
who,  Janus-like,  had  two  totally  different  faces — on  one 
side  laughing,  on  the  other  crying.  Naturally  I  dreaded 
this  strange  double  face,  with  its  one  side  smooth, 
plump  and  comely,  like  a  girl's  cheek,  while  the  other 
side  was  all  scarred  by  small-pox.  This  side  of  the  face 
denoted  churlishness  ;  while  the  other  side  wore  a  smile, 
this  boded  mischief.  In  this  instance  disease  had  been 
unsymmetrical. 


386 


THE  GR014  ING  WORLD. 


A  Trip  to  the  Hermitage. 

BY  B    G.  BKAZLETON. 

We  left  Mount  Juliet,  a  small  village  on  theTennesse 
and  Pacific  Railroad,  eighteen  miles  from  Nashville  an 
fourteen  from  Lebanon,  May  23d,  1876,  for  the  purpo^ 
of  visiting  the  Hermitage.    We  reached  the  Nashvil! 
and  Lebanon  Turnpike  about  two  miles  north-  fn'-" 
down  the  pike  ■westward  we  soon  pass  through  the  little 
village  of  Green  Hill ;  next,  after  traveling  a  few  miles 
further,  we  passed  down  a  long  hollow  where  we  found 
ourselves  in  a  little  village  called  Scott's  HoUovr ;  pass- 
ing through  this  little  hamlet,  we  still  journey  on  our 
way  westward  through  a  nice  farming  country,  until 
soon  we  were  driving  along  by  the  side  of  an  old  fence 
about  seven  rails  high,  much  overgrown  by  bushes  and 
briers.    I  was  informed  by  my  company  that  this  was 
the  farm  and  near  by  the  residence  once  owned  by  him 
who  protected  our  Tand  from  the  scalping-knife  of  the 
savage  Indians  of  the  West,  and  drove  Britain's  braves 
from  the  shores  of  Louisiana. 

We  left  the  pike  and  traveled  a  short  distance  down  to 
the  house,  where  we  were  met  by  an  old  negro  man, 
whose  name  is  Alfred,  and  his  wife,  Gracy,  both  once 
the  property  of  President  Jackson.  These  negroes  in- 
formed me  that  visitors  were  not  allowed  to  enter  the 
house  on  Sunday,  but  anything  outside  of  the  building 
that  we  wished  to  see  they  would  gladly  show  us.  This 
was  a  little  disappointing  to  us,,  for  we  wanted  to  see  the 
relics  and  presents  of  Old  Hickory  ;  but  we  could  not 
stop  on  this,  and  so  we  decided  to  view  the  tomb,  which 
is  in  the  southeast  corner  of  the  garden.  We  entered  and 
passed  through  several  nice  walks,  adorned  on  each  side 
by  beautiful  flowers.  Gracy  led  the  way  until  we  came 
to  where  the  noble  remains  were  deposited.  We  learned 
that  Jackson  had  this  tomb  erected  long  before  his  death; 
his  wife  dying  first,  was  buried  in  the  ground ;  after  the 
tomb  was  erected  she  was  taken  up  and  placed  in  the 
vault  prepared  for  her,  which  is  in  the  north  side  of  the 
tomb  ;  in  the  south  side  lies  the  remains  of  the  hero  of 
New  Orleans.  Near  by,  and  south  of  the  tomb,  in  the 
ground,  lie  the  remains  of  Andrew  Jackson,  Jr.,  his  two 
email  children,  Captain  Jackson,  his  son,  who  died  dur- 
ing the  rebellion,  and  Mr.  Earl,  the  general's  architect. 
Around  this  residence  of  the  dead  are  beautiful  trees 
and  rich  flowers,  which  send  forth  their  sweet  odors  to 
the  many  who  come  to  gaze  on  this  silent  city. 

Reflecting  on  the  past  history  of  this  great  man,  and 
letting  the  mind  fly  back  in  the  past  ages  of  the  world 
when  Alexander  styled  himself  a  god  of  earth ;  when 
Caesar  became  ruler  of  three  hundred  nations,  and  Bona- 
parte thought  himself  proof  against  Arabian  sands, 
Polar  snows  or  Russian  foes,  and  the  generations  after 
generations  of  the  human  race  that  have  passed  away, 
the  brevity  of  human  existence  and  the  insignificance  of 
individual  influence  becomes  apparent.  True,  there  are 
instances  of  men  whose  names  and  actions  are  still 
quoted  for  their  power  and  influence  in  their  lives,  but 
to  each  of  these  are  millions  who  lived  and  died,  for- 
gotten centuries  ago,  or  whose  names  now  live  only 
upon  a  crumbling  tombstone. 

Each  one  filled  for  a  time  his  niche  in  the  world,  per- 
formed his  portion  of  labor,  felt  his  share  of  pain  and 
pleasure,  and  then  passed  away  to  the  grave  that  waits 
for  all.  Only  a  short  time,  and  the  end  -will  come  to  us, 
as  it  has  come  to  our  predecessors.  Only  a  little  while, 
and  the  throbbing  heart  will  be  still,  the  busy  brain  will 
cease  to  plan,  and  the  hand  will  be  passive.  Only  a 
short  span  of  pain  and  pleasure,  and  the  coflBn-lid  will 
close  above  us.    Then  might  one  ask— what  is  life  ? 

The  question  was  well  answered  by  the  poet,  who 
compared  life  to 

"A  gulf  of  troubled  waters — where  the  soul 
Like  a  vex'd  bark,  is  tossed  upon  the  waves 
Of  pain  and  pleasure  by  the  wavering  breath 
Of  passion. 

We  left  the  tomb  and  proceeded  to  take  a  general  view 
of  the  garden.  We  found  that  it  was  laid  by  walks  into 
squares,  and  planted  in  strawberries,  peas,  and  a  few 
Other  vegetables.  On  either  side  of  the  walks  are 
planted  email  trees  and  rose  bushes  of  various  kinds, 
bearing  most  beautiful  flowers  ;  everything  seemed  to 
have  been  cultivated  by  a  skillful  hand.  We  learned  that 
Alfred's  grandson  was  the  gardener.  We  left  the  gar- 
den, passed  out  into  the  yard,  where  we  met  All  red 
ready  to  give  any  information  we  wished.   I  bescau  to 


question  him,  but  soon  found  that  be  knew  better  what 
would  satisfy  my  mind  than  I  did  myself.  He  said  he 
had  been  born  and  raised  hsre,  was  seventy-two  years 
old ;  his  wife — who  perhaps  la  as  old  as  he,  was  bought 
by  Jackson  in  Washington  City,  while  he  was  President, 
and  has  been  living  on  this  place  ever  since — said  she 
wished  to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  life  here.  Alfred 
said  he  assisted  in  putting  up  the  building  here,  was 
ipresent  when  the  much-loved  Lafayette  came  to  visit  and 
dine  with  his  once  loved  master  ;  he  saw  him  conveyed 
from  the  landing  in  the  general's  large  carriage,  drawn 
by  Jackson's  four  big  grey  horses.  When  the  carriage 
arrived  at  the  yard-gate,  a  band  was  ready,  which 
marched  the  friend  of  our  nation  through  two  files  of 
soldiers  to  the  mansion,  where  he  was  received  by  the 
family  and  numbers  of  ladies  and  farmers  from  the 
neighborhood,  whom  Mrs.  Jackson  had  invited  to  par- 
take of  the  entertainment  she  had  prepared  for  General 
Lafayette. 

Lafayette  seems  to  have  enjoyed  his  visit  finely,  but  his 
secretary,  Mr.  Levassear,  was  astonished  at  the  simpli- 
city of  General  Jackson's  building.  After  hearing  what 
the  negro  had  to  say  about  Lafayette's  visit,  we  went 
around  on  the  north  side  of  the  house  ;  there  we  saw  the 
old  ice-house.  Passing  out  of  the  yard,  on  our  left  we 
saw  two  brick  houses,  one  was  used  for  negroes  to  live  in, 
the  other  was  the  general's  carriage  house  ;  the  tops  of 
both  are  off— were  blown  off  by  a  storm  just  after  the 
rebellion.  On  our  right  is  the  general's  first  office,  a 
small  frame  building,  one  story  high  ;  behind  it  stands 
the  first  old  school  that  was  ever  built  near  this  place, 
moved  here  perhaps  for  a  negro  cabin,  and  it  is  now 
fast  decajing.  About  two  hundred  yards  northeast  still 
stands  the  old  houses  first  occupied  by  General  Jackson. 
Oh,  would  not  Lafayette's  secretary  have  wondered  if  he 
had  visited  President  Jackson  v/hen  he  occupied  these 
old  log  cabins  ?  But  we  must  know  that  greatness  does 
not  depend  on  the  houses  that  we  first  inhabited. 

Distinguished  men  of  all  ages  and  countries,  as  a  rule, 
are  men  who  have  struggled  to  eminence  from  conditions 
of  positive  poverty.  After  gazing  for  a  short  time  on 
these  old,  though  noble  cabins — consisting  of  two  one- 
story  houses — one  consists  of  two  rooms,  and  was  form- 
erly two-stories  high ;  one  story  has  been  taken  off  for  a 
negro  cabin,  the. other  is  a  small  house,  and  was  used  by 
Jackson  for  a  kitchen — we  went  about  one  hundred 
yards  west  to  see  Jackson's  big  spring  and  milk  house. 
The  stream  is  strong,  the  water  boils  up  and  runs  imme- 
diately under  a  stone  house  about  ten  feet  square,  thence 
out  and  down  through  the  old  grass  lot.  Looking  a  few 
hundred  yards  north  from  the  spring,  we  beheld  the  old 
stables  where  Jackson  kept  his  race  stock  ;  east  of  these, 
now  in  a  nice  field,  were  his  race  tracks.  A  cloud  was 
rising  in  the  west  which  threatened  rain,  compelling  us 
to  return  to  the  mansion  for  shelter.  We  went  on  the 
piazza  where  were  two  old  benches ;  one  in  particular 
we  learned  was  occupied  a  great  deal  by  President  Jack- 
son ;  this  one  of  course  we  chose  for  a  seat,  and  while 
sitting  here  we  were  informed  that  near  the  window  at 
our  backs  was  where  the  general  breathed  his  last.  This 
house  is  now  occupied  by  Colonel  Jackson,  his  mother, 
and  her  sister,  the  widow  Adams. 

The  principal  trees  in  the  yard  are  cedars,  which  are 
set  in  rows  north  and  south,  and  planted  by  the  widow 
Jackson  ;  they  arc  low  about  twenty-five  ftet  high. 

On  the  east,  north  and  west,  lying  around  the  house, 
and  belonging  to  the  Hermitage,  are  old  fields,  which 
look  as  if  they  were  worn  out,  though  they  are  still  cul- 
tivated. On  the  south  side  the  land  is  thickly  timbered 
and  level ;  on  the  east  and  north  are  fine  farms  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  see ;  but  the  greatest  view  is  to  the  \vest, 
where  one  can  see  far  above  the  timber  in  Cumberland 
River  bottom  to  the  high  hills  beyond  the  river  near 
Edgefield.  We  learned  that  the  general's  nice  farm  of 
two  hundred  acres  lay  one  mile  southwest.  The  rain 
having  ceased,  and  the  bright  orb  of  day  shed  forth  its 
bright  rays,  which  showed  that  night  was  drawing  near, 
we  entered  our  buggy  and  dj-ove  for  home,  well  satisfied 
with  our  visit. 


Thus  a  certain  wise  man  replied  to  one  who  safd  :— 
**Such  and  such  thoughts  have  come  into  my  mind,"  by 
saying,  Let  them  go  again."  And  another  wise  oracle 
said : — "  Thou  canst  not  prevent  birds  from  flying  above 
thy  head,  but  thou  canst  prevent  their  building  their 
nests  in  thy  hair." 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD. 


387 


Hydrochloric  Acid, 

BY  JAS.  p.  DUFFY. 

Hydrochloric  acid,  sometimes  called  muriatic  or  sea- 
ualt  acid,  is  a  liquid  which  has  been  long  known  to 
chemists,  and  is  at  pi'esent  a  valuable  article  of  com- 
merce, on  account  of  its  fi-equent  use  in  the  arts.  It  is 
manufactured  by  mixing  equal  parts  of  sodium  chloride, 
common  and  sulphuric  acid,  in  large  iron  cylinders, 
which  are  then  subjected  to  an  intense  heat.  The  re- 
action which  takes  place  furnishes  the  hydrochloric 
acid  in  the  form  of  a  gas,  which  is  absorbed  by  water 
contained  in  stone-ware  bottles  counected  with  the 
cylindei's.  If  the  water  be  heated,  the  gas  may  be  ob- 
tained pure,  and  possessing  strongly  characteristic  prop- 
erties, one  of  which  is  that  it  is  nut  combustible,  nor 
will  it  support  combustion.  It  is  also  strongly  acid  in 
taste,  and  provokes  violent  coughing,  and  is  wholly 
irrespirable.  It  is  a  little  heavier  than  the  air  we  breathe, 
is  very  soluble  in  water,  in  which  state  it  is  generally 
sold,  and  mostly  always  used. 

The  operations  and  processes  in  which  hydrochloric 
acid  is  used  are  very  numerous.  Of  them,  the  most  im- 
portant, is  of  a  solvent  (in  connection  with  nitric  acid)  of 
gold,  platinum  and  other  metals,  by  which  their  chlo- 
rides are  produced.  To  perform  this  operation,  place  a 
small  piece  of  genuine  gold  leaf  on  a  vessel  and  pom- 
over  it  some  hydrochloric  acid  ;  put  some  gold  leaf  on  a 
second  vessel,  and  pour  over  it  a  little  fuming  nitric  acid. 
The  gold  will  remain  undissolved  in  the  vessels,  and 
could  be  left  there  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time  with- 
out undergoing  any  change  whatever.  But,  if  the  con- 
tents of  both  vessels  be  brought  together,  the  gold  leaf 
almost  immediately  dissolves,  forming  what  is  known  as 
fJdoride  of  gold,  a  chemical  substance  much  used  by 
metallurgists. 

When  the  two  acids,  above  noted,  are  brought  to- 
gether for  the  above  purpose,  they  are  mixed  in  the  pro- 
portion of  two  parts  of  hydrochloric  acid  to  one  part  of 
nitric  acid,  both  being  concentrated  as  highly  as  possi- 
ble.   The  mixture  is  called  Aqua  regia,  (royal  water). 

Hydrochloric  acid  is  also  used  in  making  chlorine,  the 
operation  having  already  been  described  in  these  col- 
umns ;  it  is  also  made  use  of  in  the  manufacture  of 
chloride  of  lime,  and  of  gelatine,  and  altogether,  it  is 
one  of  the  most  useful  acids  the  chemist  handles. 


"  Annie  Laurie." 

''If  you  want  to  hear  'Annie  Laurie'  sung,  come  to 
my  house  to-night,"  said  a  man  to  his  friend.  "We 
have  a  love-lorn  fellow  in  the  village,  who  was  sadly 
vrecked  by  the  refusal  of  a  girl  whom  he  had  been  pay- 

g  attention  to  for  a  year  or  more.    It  is  seldom  he  will 

^empt  the  song,  but  when  he  does,  I  tell  you  he  draws 
viai's  from  eyes  unused  to  weeping." 

A  small  select  company  had  assembled  in  a  pleasant 
rx.,rlor,  and  were  gaily  chatting  and  laughing  when  a  tall 
young  man  entered,  whose  peculiar  face  and  air  instantly 
arrested  attention.  He  was  very  pale,  with  that  clear, 
vivid  complexion  which  dark-haired  consumptives  so 
often  have.  His  locks  were  as  black  as  jet,  and  hung 
profusedly  upon  a  square  white  coRar.  His  eyes  were 
very  large  and  spiritual,  and  his  brow  such  an  one  as  a 
poet  should  have.  But  for  a  certain  wandering  look,  a 
casual  observer  would  have  pronounced  him  a  man  of 
Uncommon  intellectual  powers.  The  words  "poor  fel- 
low," and  "how  sad  he  looks,"  went  the  rounds,  as  he 
came  forward,  bowed  to  the  company,  and  took  his  seat. 
One  or  two  thoughtless  girls  laughed  as  they  whispered 
that  he  was  "  love-cracked  " — but  the  rest  treated  him 
with  a  respectful  deference. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  when  singing  was  proposed, 
and  to  ask  him  to  sing  "Annie  Laurie  "  was  a  task  of 
uncommon  delicacy.  One  song  after  another  was  sung, 
and  at  last  that  one  was  named.  At  its  mention  the 
young  man  grew  deadly  pale,  but  did  not  speak  ;  he 
seemed  instantly  to  be  lost  in  reverie, 

"The  name  of  the  girl  who  treated  him  so  badly  was 
Annie,"  said  a  lady,  whispering  to  the  new  guest — "  but 
oh  !  I  wish  he  would  sing  it ;  nobody  else  can  do  it 
justice." 

"  No  one  dares  sing  '  Annie  Laurie '  before  you, 
Charles,"  said  an  elderly  lady  ;  "  would  it  me  too  much 
for  me  to  ask  you  to  favor  the  company  with  it?"  she 
added  timidlv. 


He  did  not  reply  for  a  moment— his  iips  quivered  a 
little,  afid  then  looking  up  as  if  he  saw  a  spiritual  presr 
ence,  he  began.  Every  sound  was  hushed — it  seemed  as 
if  his  voice  was  the  voice  of  an  angel.  The  tones  vi- 
brated through  nerve,  and  pulse  and  heart,  and  made 
one  shiver  with  the  pathos  of  his  feeling ;  never  was 
heard  melody  in  a  human  voice  like  that — so  plaintive, 
so  soulful — so  tender  and  earnest  I 

He  sat  with  his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  half  closed 
— the  locks  of  dark  hair  glistening  against  his  pale  tem-- 

gles,  his  fine  throat  swelling  with  the  rich  tones,  his 
ands  lightly  folded  before  him  ;  and  as  he  sang — 
"And  'twas  there  that  Annie  Laurie 
Gave  me  her  promise  true — 
it  seemed  as  if  he  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  emotion. 
Many  a  lip  trembled — and  there  was  no  jesting,  no 
laughing ;  but  instead,  tears  in  more  than  one  eye. 

And  on  he  sung,  and  on,  holding  every  one  in  wrapt 
attention,  till  he  came  to  the  last  verse — 
"  Like  dew  on  the  gowan  lying 
I3  the  fa'  of  her  fairy  feet — 
And  like  winda  in  summer  sighing 
Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet, 
Her  voice  is  low  and  eweet — 
And  she's  a'  the  world  to  me — " 
He  paused  before  he  added — 

"And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie, 
rU  lay  me  down  and  die." 
There  was  a  long  and  solemn  pause.  The  black  locks 
seemed  to  grow  blacker — the  white  temples  whiter — 
almost  imperceptibly  the  head  kept  falling  back — the 
eyes  were  close  shut.  One  glanced  at  another— all 
seemed  awe-struck— till  the  same  person  who  had  urged 
him  to  sing,  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder,  say- 
ing— 

^'Charles,  Charles!" 

Then  came  a  hush — a  thrill  of  horror  crept  through 
every  frame— the  poor  tried  heart  had  ceased  to  beat — 
Charles,  the  love-betrayed,  was  dead. 

Nature. 

From  the  mighty  worlds  swinging  in  space,  to  the 
animalculee  in  water  vv^hich  cannot  be  seen  by  the  naked 
eye.  Nature  is  a  grand  and  wonderful  study. 

What  an  example  of  Nature's  power  is  the  active  vol- 
cano and  the  earthquake.  Who  would  think  that  air, 
so  harmless  and  pleasant  when  mild  breezes  are  blow- 
ing, could,  under  certain  circumstances,  become  so 
destructive  an  element  as  it  is  in  the  hurricane  and 
cyclone,  when,  sometimes,  thousands  of  people  and 
millions  of  dollars  worth  of  property  are  destroyed  in  a 
few  moments. 

What  changes  of  season  in  the  brief  space  of  a  year. 
Spring  comes.  The  brightening  sod,  the  opening  buds 
and  blossoming  trees,  the  awakening  insect  life,  the 
returning  birds,  and  the  placing  in  the  ground  of  ^eed 
for  a  future  crop  by  the  farmer,  all  tell  us  that  the  sea- 
son of  promise  is  here. 

In  Summer  nearly  everything  seems  to  possess  life  and 
animation.  You  can  see  the  birds  skimming  over  the 
fields,  or  hear  their  voices  in  the  trees  and  hedges  the 
whole  day  long.  All  nature  combines  to  make  the  land- 
scape beautiful. 

Then  comes  Autumn,  The  farmer  is  reaping  the  re- 
ward for  his  labor  in  the  Spring,  The  leaves  are  falling 
softly  and  steadily  ;  the  birds  are  flocking  together  for 
their  yearly  tour  South, 

The  gloomy  season  of  Winter  approaches  ;  Jack  Frost 
and  the  Storm  King  reign.  The  lakes  and  rivers  are 
covered  with  ice.  The  snow  falls  thickly,  and  old 
Boreas  piles  up  the  spotless  drifts  by  the  wayside  ;  but 
after  all  his  sternness.  Winter  has  beauties  equal  to  the 
other  seasons. 

Who  can  doubt  the  existence  of  a  Creator,  when, 
eveiy  way  that  our  eyes  turn,  we  can  see  His  handiwork. 

Mankind  has  accomplished  many  things  in  the  way  of 
art,  but  we  cannot  make  one  thing  without  Nature's 
materials. 

Think  of  the  many  planets  revolving  through  space 
without  getting  out  of  their  course  and  colliding  ;  an(3 
of  all  that  astronomers,  geologists  and  naturalists  have 
discovered.  Ignorant  or  thoughtless  must  be  the  per- 
son who  says  and  tUinka  that  he  believes  that  every- 
thing exists  by  chance  ;  and  often  must  the  thinking 
mind  exclaim:  "How  marvelous  are  Thy  works.  Oh, 
Lord  God  of  Hosts  I"  Lakry  Cummings. 


388 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  CHILD'S  WOBK. 

BY  ANGUS  M.  MACKAY. 

*•  Would  that  I  had  work  to  do, 
And  such  pleasant  work  as  you!  " 
Quoth  the  maiden  to  the  bee, 
•*  In  and  out  among  the  heather. 
All  the  golden  summer  weather; 
It  is  easy  labor  truly! " 

Quoth  the  maiden  to  the  bee. 
**  It  is  pleasant  to  the  seeming 
Of  a  wee  maid,  idly  dreaming, 
Every  flower  to  visit  duly," 
Quoth  the  bee. 
**Bnt  the  sweetest  rose  is  but  a  dusty  workshop  onto  met 
Work  away  with  strong  endeavor — 
Leave  your  play, 
Work  away, 
Summer  will  not  last  for  ever!  " 
Quoth  the  bee. 

"  Teach  me  what  to  undertake, 
Sweets  from  flowers  I  cannot  make." 

Quoth  the  maiden  to  the  bee. 
"  What  great  work  shall  I  be  doing? 
What  contriving,  what  pursuing? 
I  will  idle  be  no  longer!  " 

Quoth  the  maiden  to  the  bee. 
But  she  only  heard  hiin  droning. 
And  the  song  he  was  intoning, 
Growing  faint  or  growing  stronger, 

And  its  burden  seemed  to  be — 
'  Though  the  sweetest  rose  is  but  a  workshop  unto  me. 
1  must  toil  with  strong  endeavor; 

Work  away. 

All  the  day, 
dummer  does  not  last  for  ever! " 

Q.uoth  the  bee. 

"  Then  she  heard  the  sweetest  singing 
Of  a  lark  above  her,  winging 

Up  the  blue  sky  o'er  the  lea; 
Pretty  lark,  the  sun  pursuing, 
What  great  work  shall  I  be  doing? 
For  this  idleness  is  folly  I " 

Quoth  the  maiden  on  the  lea. 
"Sing,  be  gay,  enjoy  tlie  weather, 
Like  tiie  wee  lark  o'er  the  heather; 
Sing,  and  chase  dull  melancholy 

From  thy  dear  ones— copy  me. 
By  a  silver  thread  of  music  to  my  nest  upon  the  1m 
I  am  teathercd;  so  endeavor 

To  be  gay. 

While  you  may. 
Summer  does  not  last  for  ever!  " 

Quoth  the  lark  above  the  lea 

"  But  I  cannot  always  sing, 
I  would  do  some  greater  thing! ' 


Quoth  the  maiden  on  the  letL 
"  Then  the  blue-bells  'mong  the  heather " 
Bent  their  little  heads  together- 
How  they  whisper  to  each  other! " 

Thought  the  maiden  on  the  lea. 
And  they  answered,  bowing  lowly, 
"  To  be  sweet,  and  pure,  and  holy 
Is  our  way:  there's  not  another 

Half  so  lovely,  all  agree! 
"  For  a  gentle,  winning  childhood,  is  the  fairest  thing  can  be; 
To  he  qood  make  thy  endeavor. 

Childhood's  hours 

Are  life's  sweet  flowers, 
And  childhood  cannot  last  for  ever," 

Quoth  the  bluebells  on  the  lea. 


A  Man  Worth  Knowing. 

Sitting  two  places  to  the  left  of  Chief  Justice  Waite, 
in  the  Court,,  sits  Judge  David  Davis,  Everything  about 
the  man  betokens  originality,  rude  strength,  and  positive 
convictions.  His  face  is  almost  a  typical  Anglo-Saxon 
one.  His  features  are  not  finely  cut,  nor  is  their  expres- 
sion intellectual ;  but,  though  coarse,  they  are  harmo- 
nious, and  there  is  a  look  of  good  humor,  common  sense 
and  careless,  self-confident  manhood  in  the  whole  coun- 
tenance. There  is  a  narrow  frill  of  gray  whiskers  run- 
ning round  the  Judge's  face  and  under  his  chin,  and  the 
frosty  color  sets  off  his  hale,  ruddy  complexion  to  ad- 
vantage. His  judicial  robe  conceals  his  figure  to  some 
extent,  but  it  is  plain  that  he  is  tall  and  powerfully  built. 
He  has  an  air  of  perfect  fearlessness  befitting  one  never 
cowed  or  broken  by  sickness  or  defeat.  At  times  it 
almost  dumounts—favete  Unguis — to  a  swagger.  In  fine  I 
should  sum  up  the  matter  by  saying  that  Judge  Davie 
seems  to  be  moulded  of  a  piece  of  the  same  clay  and 
kindled  with  a  spark  of  the  same  spirit  as  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice of  the  New  York  Court  of  Appeals.  Every  glance 
and  movement  suggest  Sandford  E.  Church— as  he  was 
in  1872  before  sickness  touched  him — bold,  self-reliant, 
and  hopeful.  As  a  jurist.  Judge  Davis  is  careless  oi 
subtle  distinctions  or 'legal  precedents  and  looks  to 
broad,  general  principles  and  the  equities  involved  in  a 
case.  He  aims  "to  do  substantial  justice  always — some- 
times doing  it  even  at  the  expense  of  the  law.  He  has 
all  the  legal  knowledge  that  becomes  a  member  of  the 
highest  court  in  the  country,  but  he  is  more  noted  for 
his  independence  than  for  his  legal  scholarship. 

But  a  few  particular  incidents  will  illustrate  peculiari- 
ties of  his  character  better  than  a  volume  of  analysis. 
At  Indianapolis,  which  is  within  his  circuit,  a  lawyer 
named  Ketchum  was  ready  when  his  case  was  called, 
but  his  opponent  was  absent  and  had  sent  word  that  he 
couldn't  arrive  for  an  hour  or  two.  Ketclmm  insisted 
upon  proceeding  at  once.  The  Judge  remonstrated  in 
favor  of  the  absent  lawyer,  but  to  no  purpose.  "Well,"^ 
said  he,  finally,  "if  you  insist  upon  going  on,  Mr.  Ketch- 
um, you  have  of  course,  the  technical  right  to  do  so; 
but  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  urge  the  matter.  Over  at 
Springfield,  the  other  day,  there  was  just  such  a  case, 
and  the  lawyer  would  insist  upon  going  on  with  the  trial; 
and  so  I  had  to  look  after  the  interests  of  the  other  party 
myself — and,  do  you  know,  curiously  enough,  Mr. 
Ketchum,  we  beat  him  1"  It  is  needless  to  add  that  Mr. 
Ketchum  concluded  to  wait.  A  well  to-do  farmer, 
who  had  fallen  into  bad  company  and  bad  courses,  was 
convicted  before  him  of  having  counterfeit  United  States 
notes  in  his  possession  with  the  intention  of  passing 
them.  The  Judge  called  him  up,  and  before  senten- 
cing him  asked  if  he  had  arranged  his  affairs  in  antici- 
pation of  his  enforced  absence.  The  culprit  replied  that 
conviction  was  a  surprise  to  him,  and  nothing  was  in  or- 
der ,  but  that  he  could  settle  his  business  affairs  in  about 
ten  days.  As  the  criminal  could  find  no  one  to  go  on 
his  bail  bond,  the  Judge  allowed  him  to  depart  on  his 
own  recognizance,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  law- 
yers in  the  court,  who  laughed  at  the  idea  of  the  man 
being  fool  enough  to  come  back  again  ;  but  Mr.  Davis 
insisted  that  tne  fellow  had  not  "taken  to  the  tail  tim- 
ber." His  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  justified, 
for  at  the  appointed  time  the  farmer  returned,  Kke  Reg- 
ulus,  and  the  Judge  sentenced  him  to  the  penitentiary. 
He  was  Abraham  Lincoln's  warm  personal  friend  and 
one  of  his  most  active  partisans  in  the  convention  that 
nominated  him  for  the  presidency.  After  Lincoln's 
death  he  acted  as  one  of  the  administrators  of  his  estate. 
He  has  lately  been  spoken  of  as  being  a  candidate  for 
Ihe  presidency. 


THE  GROIVING  PVORLD. 


389 


HORSES  AND  THEIR  MASTERS. 


*0h,  I  hope  a  kind  master  haa  bought  them! 

How  quiet  and  patient  they  stand; 
Yet  ready  to  move  at  the  bidding. 

The  touch  of  the  gentlest  hand." 


These  questions  aie  of  as  much  importance  to 
horses  as  to  human  kind — their  comfort  and  happi- 
ness greatly  depend  upon  the  character  and  dispositioa 
of  the  man  who  owns  them.  Naturally  affectionate, 
they  greatly  enjoy  being  appreciated  and  caressed, 
and  form  strong  attachments  to  persons  and  places- 
conceiving  as  strong  an  aversion  to  others. 


"SOLD  I' 


Will  their  lot  be  to  dtag  heavy  wagons,  or  great  lum- 
berins:  stone  laden  drays;  or  to  draw  carts  burdened 
with  hay  through  green  fields  and  sweet  meadows  ? 
Will  they  be  spoken  to  kindly  and  much  made  of — 
gently  led  to  do  what  is  required  of  them— provided 
with  a  comfortable  stable,  with  plenty  of  good  food 
and  drink,  or  will  their  life  be  nne  of  hard  work, 
tbwacks.  kioks  and  abuse  ? 


My  own  horses  during  nine  months  of  the  year  are 
kept  in  the  city — the  stable  being  at  some  distance 
from  the  house,  they  are  seldom  visited.  During  the 
summer  season  they  are  taken  to  my  place  in  the 
country,  where  the  stable  is  daily  visited  by  the> 
different  members  of  the  family,  who  give  them 
pats,  kind  words,  and  sometimes  apples,  bits  of  sug. 
1  ar  and  other  choice  delicacies-    Although  tU^i-  b»t 


390 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD. 


three  months  in  the  year,  they  express  the  greatest 
delight  on  going  back  in  the  spring — whinnying  and 
snorting  when  within  sight  of  the  spot  and  mani- 
festing impatience  to  enter  the  stable;  but  there  is 
no  such  gladness  exhibited  upon  returning  to  the 
city  stable,  where  they  spend  the  greater  part  of  the 
year,  although  everything  is  done  for  their  comfort. 
They  love  the  country  home.  Whether  it  is  because 
of  the  increased  attention  they  receive,  or  the  pleas- 
ant, large,  airy  stable,  I  cannot  say. 

Horses  are  subject  to  many  of  the  diseases  that 
afflict  humanity, — heart  disease,  asthma  (known 
jis  the  heaves),  rheumatism,  worms  orbots,  inflammation 
of  the  lungs,  etc.,  are  common  among  them,  and  the 
treatment  required  is  much  the  same,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  increased  doses  of  medicine.  Thank  heaven, 
they  have  never  been  dosed  with  calomel ! 

The  writer  lost  a  fine  mare  last  winter  with  inflamma- 
tion of  the  lungs— a  bright  golden  sorrel,  beautifully 
formed  creature,  weighing  about  twelve  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds.  Her  motions  were  like  music,  and  none 
could  behold  her  without  admiration. 

When  a  colt  we  bought  and  named  her  Lady  Moscow, 
and  for  years  she  was  a  favorite  tenderly  cared  for. 
Last  winter  we  sent  her  into  the  country  until  spring 
should  open.  Perhaps  she  was  not  kept  warm  enough, 
or  was  exposed  to  draughts— at  all  events  a  cold  settled 
on  her  lungs  which  brought  her  career  to  a  close.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  day  she  left  us,  with  evident  reluct- 
ance—her lofty  head  held  low,  as  if  foreseeing  her  fate. 

Many  of  her  peculiar  ways  and  capers  are  now  recalled 
to  mind.  She  was  a  proud  animal.  Attach  her  in  a 
heavy  harness  to  an  express  wagon  and  she  accepted 
the  situation,  exhibiting  little  spirit ;  but  dressed  in  a 
light  plated  harness  in  a  nice  carriage,  her  head  was  raised, 
her  neck  was  arched,  her  large  eyes  sparkled,  and  her 
style  and  motion  were  something  beautiful  to  behold. 
I  know  no  work  of  our  Creator's  hand  more  grandly 
noble  than  an  intelligent,  elegant  horse. 

Lady  Moscow  was  mated  with  a  great  gray  horse — a 
steady,  powerful  animal,  as  dignified  as  a  deacon. 
Sometimes  they  were  placed  in  a  paddock  together. 
Serenely  the  horse  walked  in — of  course  he  was  delighted 
to  be  allowed  his  freedom  in  an  open  field  and  expressed 
his  pleasure  by  kicking  up  once  or  twice,  but  immedi- 
ately remembering  his  dignity,  commenced  cropping 
the  grass.  The  mare,  always  frolicsome,  capered  about 
him  in  graceful  play,  pretending  to  bite  and  kick,  fol- 
lowing him  about,  as  he  tried  to  avoid  her  attentions. 
Presently  away  she  would  go,  running  at  a  tremendous 
speed  round  and  round  the  ten  acre  lot,  until  we  feared 
she  would  injure  herself.  Then  back  to  the  horse,  to 
browse  by  his  side  a  few  moments,  and  snuflang  the  air 
In  the  consciousness  of  her  magnificent  stren^h,  away 
again  like  the  wind. 

She  was  exceedingly  fond  of  tliis  horse — invariably 
pawing  and  snorting  when  he  was  taken  out, 
whinnying  to  him  a  gentle  welcome  on  his  return, 
and  an  immediate  rubbing  of  noses  took  place  upon 
his  entering  her  adjoining  stall,  which  he  occupied.  | 

By-and-by  we  mated  the  gray  with  a  black  horse, 
and  Lady  Moscow's  jealousy  was  terribly  aroused. 
When  he  was  first  brought  into  the  stable,  her  ears 
were  laid  back,  she  tried  to  bite  and  kick  the  new 
comer,  and  continued  to  do  so  whenever  an  oppor- 
tunity occurred.  Blacky  would  look  at  her  in  a  sort 
of  inquiring  deprecatory  way,  as  if  to  say,  "  Why  do 
you  hate  me  ?  "  but  never  was  he  treated  in  a  more 
friendly  manner,  though  they  were  inmates  of  the 
same  stable  ofE  and  on  for  several  years.  Once, 
being  taken  past  a  stall  she  occupied  (too  near)  he 
received  a  kick  in  the  breast  from  which  he  was 
several  weeks  in  recovering. 

The  mare  was  not  at  all  vicious — never  exhibited 
an  antipathy  toward  anything  else,  and  was  as  pleas- 
ant as  a  May  morning  when  old  gray  was  by  her 
side,  but  let  poor  Blacky  appear  and  she  expressed 
dislike  in  an  instant. 

Lady  Moscow  was  a  master  hand  at  slipping  a  hal- 
ter; and  although  carefully  tied  managed  frequently 
to  looeen  herself.    We  had  a  erarden  filled  with  all 


an  sorto  of  nice  vegetables.  Several  times  she  un- 
tied her  halter,  quietly  walked  out  of  the  stable, 
strolled  up  the  centre  walk  of  the  garden, 
nipped  o£E  an  ear  of  corn  on  the  way  ;  crossed 
a  side  path  and  returned  by  another  path  to 
her  stall,  and  the  footprints  'indicated  that  the 
walk  had  been  taken  four  or  five  times  during 
the  same  night,  without  stepping  on  a  bed,  a  hill  of 
potatoes,  or  doing  any  damage  whatever,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  pilfering  the  corn. 

We  thought  this  proceeding  a  singular  one,  as  she 
was  ever  ready  for  a  good  run,  and  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  sweet  corn,  and  might  have  revelled  in  both  had 
she  chosen  to  do  so.  The  walks  were  simply  cut  in  the 
soil  forming  a  square. 

At  another  time  during  the  day  she  wandered  to  the 
front  of  the  house  unseen,  and  finding  a  little  spot  about 
twelve  feet  square,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  a  fence, 
she  immediately  took  possession.  The  grass  and  clover  were 
tender  and  sweet,  and  after  a  luxurious  roll  Lady  Moscow  was 
enjoying  a  feast  indeed,  when  her  hiding  place  was  discovered, 
and  it  was  thought  best  to  return  her  ladyship  to  the  stable. 
We  had  visitors,  and  tliree  gentlemen  walked  promptly  toward 
the  spot.  As  the  first  one  drew  near,  a  pair  of  heels  were  raised 
about  six  inches  from  the  ground  and  he  stood  still,  amazed; 
as  the  next  drew  near,  the  heels  were  a^ain  raised  toward  him 
— not  enough  to  hurt  anybody,  but  simply  as  a  warning  to 
keep  at  a  proper  distance;  then  came  the  third-  quick  as 
thought  gently  up  went  the  heels  a^ain  in  his  direction,  while 
the  lovely  creature  never  interrupted  her  delicious  repast.  The 
three  men  stood  in  a  dilemma.  Whenever  either  made  the 
slightest  advance,  up  flew  the  nimble  heels  toward  that  person 
—her  body  moving  as  required,  back  and  forth  in  a  semi-circle, 
to  protect  the  entrance  to  her  clover  nook.  Presently  up  came 
Mr.  D.,  a  stalwart  man  of  six  feet  in  height,  who,  looking  dis- 
dainfully toward  the  three  checkmated  individuals,  said, 
"  What  are  fooling  about;  why  don't  you  go  right  up  to  her?" 
and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  he  made  a  bold  advance. 
The  next  moment  found  him  scrambling  up  the  piazza,  the 
parson  climbing  a  tree,  and  the  doctor  hiding  behind  it,  while 
peals  of  laughter  issued  from  the  open  windows  of  the  house. 
On  Mr.  D.'s  determined  venture  the  mare  had  wheeled  round, 
reared  her  great  self  aloft  and  pawing  the  air  with  her  forefeet, 
looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  demolish  somebody.  This  un* 
looked  for  maneuver  served  to  scatter  her  would-be  captors, 
and  this  being  accomplished  she  resumed  her  grazing  with  wary 
eye  that  no  one  approach  her  unaware.  As  I  came  near  with 
an  apple  in  my  hand,  speaking  soothingly,  she  however  came 
at  once,  yielding  herself  a  willing  captive  as  I  seized  her  fore- 
lock. 

It  was  aU  play.  She  would  have  injured  neither  of  the  par- 
ties willingly;  but  took  this  method  to  enjoy  for  a  time 
delightful  freedom.  I  never  think  of  this  playful,  knowing 
creature  without  a  sigh  of  regret;  but  it  were  better  to  die  than 
to  be  sold  to  an  unfeeling,  cruel  master. 

Good  common  sense  in  the  master  is  appreciated  by  the 
horse.  An  intelhgent,  bright  horse  will  soon  learn  whether  his 
master  is  his  equal  or  his  inferior  in  the  moral  qualities  which 
TO  to  make  up  character.  Not  to  know  that  horses  have  indi- 
vidual character  and  disposition  as  marked  and  varied  as  men, 
is  to  lack  the  first  essential  of  being  a  good  horseman.  Not  to 
recognize  the  possession  of  intellect  by  the  horse,  is  erroneous. 
Talk  of  instinct!  why,  I  have  known  horses  who  seemed,  from 
their  intellgence,  better  qualified  to  vote  than  many  who  exer- 
cise the  right  of  suffrage.  Then  as  to  affection  and  fidelity,  an 
average  horse  possesses  more  of  both  than  the  generality  of 
gallants  and  flirts  at  the  fashionable  watering  places. 

As  an  instance  of  memory  and  affection  in  a  horse,  a  gentle- 
man relates  the  following  incident: 

"When  I  was  a  boy  my  father  bought  from  a  neighboring 
farmer  a  gray  Galloway  pony,  which  was  very  vicious  to  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  except  myself.  The  way  in 
which  I  acquired  so  much  power  over  him  was  by  feeding  him 
with  bread,  and  showing  him  other  acts  of  kindness. 

"Some  years  afterward  I  left  home,  and  when  I  returned  to- 
my  father's  house  1  found  that  '  Donald '  had  been  sold,  and 
that  all  trace  of  him  had  been  lost  for  about  seventeen  years. 
At  that  period,  being  resident  in  a  village  in  a  neighboring 
county,  I  saw  an  old  white  horse  in  a  cart,  and  thinking  that  it  ' 
might  be  the  same  animal,  I  went  up  to  him  in  the  same  way 
as  1  used  to  do  in  boyhood,  and  said  '  Donald.'  He  immediately 
turned  his  head  to  me,  laid  it  on  my  shoulder,  pawed  the 
ground,  rubbed  his  nose  upon  my  arm,  and  showed  the  great- 
est possible  affection. 

"  The  driver  of  the  cart  came  out  of  a  shop,  and  warned  me 
to  keep  away  from  the  horse  or  he  would  bite  me.  I  moved  up 
the  street,  when  Donald  became  restive,  wrenched  the  reins 
out  of  the  lad's  hands,  followed  me  along  the  street,  and  it  was 
not  until  after  I  entered  a  nouse  that,  after  much  difficulty,  he 
was  induced  to  move  away." 

This  is  a  really  wonderful  act  of  memory  on  the  part  of  the 
horse,  and  not  at  all  a  bad  one  on  the  part  of  the  man;  and  the 
incident  affords  a  direct  proof  that  memory  is  a  common  pos- 
session of  man  and  beast.  That  the  man  should  recognize  the 
inimal  v/hich  he  loved  in  his  boyhood  was  a  tolerably  fair  ex- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


391 


erclse  of  memory;  but  that  the  horse  should  recognize  the 
man  is  even  more  astonishing.  From  boyliood  to  manhood  the 
lapse  of  seventeen  years  makes  such  changes  in  personal  ap- 
pearance that,  as  a  rule,  the  man  of  thirty  can  scarcely  be 
recognized  even  by  those  who  knew  him  well  as  a  boy  of  thir- 
teen. Nor  can  the  voice  give  any  help  in  recognition,  for  the 
deep  tones  of  the  manly  voice  are  as  unlike  the  slirill  sounds  of 
a  boy's  "treble  pipe  "  as  is  the  bearded  face  of  the  man  to  the 
smooth  cheek  of  the  boy. 

Dress  also  makes  a  great  difference  in  the  appearance  of  a 
human  being;  and  when  we  aonsider  that  the  dress  of  a  man  is 
quite  unlike  that  of  a  boy,  we  must  appreciate  the  strengtli  of 
memory  which  enables  the  horse  to  recognize  his  friend  in 
spite  of  so  many  alterations. 

To  the  intellect  and  allections  of  this  magnificent  animal 
you  must  address  yourself,  if  you  desire  to  secure  his  most 
valuable  and  beautiful  performances,  If  an  accident  cccurs 
to  harness  or  carriage  and  the  driver's  voice  betrays  fright,  the 
horse  will  instantly  discover  it,  and  become  friglitened  as  well; 
if  the  driver's  manners  and  tones  are  calm  and  firm,  the  horse 
is  reassured  and  passive. 

If  in  grooming,  harnessing  and  driving  the  average  horse, 
kindness  and  a  little  petting  are  habitual,  the  horse  soon  be- 
comes attached  to  his  master  and  stable,  and  will  exhibit  his 
affection  by  following  the  master's  call  or  returning  home  from 
a  distance  when  turned  loose  in  the  road;  he  will  come  up  and 
kiss  the  hand  which  feeds  him,  look  love  from  his  great  generous 
eyes  into  the  face  of  his  master,  and  dance  hornpipes,  circling 
about  on  the  lawn  with  a  lithe  and  f  Tacef  ul  movement  that  no 
Jack-tar  can  imitate. 

I  once  knew  a  horse  which  was  owned  by  a  lawyer,  and  driv- 
en by  him  only  in  the  warm  season.  He  fed  him  generously, 
and  was  not  cruel,  though  harsh  in  manners  and  voice.  During 
the  winter  a  quiet  old  gentleman  kept  the  horse,  using  him  only 
to  draw  light  loads  of  wood  from  a  neighboring  forest.  He  did 
not  feed  him  so  hi^h  as  the  lawyer,  although  he  gave  him  plenty 
of  hay.  Yet  his  kindness  and  tenderness  were  so  uniform, 
that  the  animal  became  greatly  attached  to  him,  and  would  re- 
sort to  many  tricks  to  get  away  from  his  owner  in  the  summer 
time  and  run  away  to  the  stable  of  his  old  friend.  His  pleasure 
at  the  old  man's  caresses  was  manifest  when  he  arrived  before 
his  door,  panting  from  his  race  thither. 

Horses  arc  sometimes  subjects  of  monomania: 

In  1806,  during  the  campaign  of  Austerlitz,  a  Piedmontese 
officer  possessed  a  beautiful,  and,  in  other  respects,  a  service- 
able mare,  but  which  one  peculiarity  rendered,  at  times,  very 
dangerous  for  the  saddle.  She  had  a  decided  aversion  to  paper, 
which  she  immediately  recognised  the  moment  she  saw  it,  and 
even  in  the  dark,  if  one  or  two  leaves  were  rubbed  together. 
The  effect  produced  by  the  sight  or  sound  of  it  was  so  prompt 
and  so  violent,  that  in  many  cases  she  unhorsed  her  rider;  and 
in  one  case,  his  foot  being  entangled  in  the  stirrup,  she  dragged 
him  a  considerable  way  over  a  stony  road.  In  other  respects 
this  mare  had  not  the  slightest  fear  of  objects  that  would  terrify 
most  horses.  She  regarded  not  the  music  of  the  band,  the 
whistling  of  the  balls,  the  roaring  of  the  cannon,  the  fire  of  the 
bivouac,  or  the  glittering  of  arms.  The  confusion  and  noise  of 
an  engagement  made  no  impression  upon  her;  the  sight  of  no 
other  white  object  affected  her;  no  other  sound  was  regarded; 
the  view  or  the  rustling  of  paper  alone  roused  her  to  madness. 
All  possible  means  were  employed  to  cure  her  of  this  extraor- 
dinary and  dangerous  aberration,  but  without  success;  and  her 
master  was  at  length  compelled  to  sell  her,  for  his  life  was  in 
continual  danger.  A  mare  belonged  to  the  French  Guard-Royal 
from  1816  to  1821.  She  was  perfectly  manageable,  and  betrayed 
no  antipathy  to  the  human  being,  nor  to  other  animals,  nor  to 
horses,  except  they  were  of  a  light  gray  color;  but  the  moment 
Bhe  saw  a  gray  horse,  she  rushed  upon  it,  and  attacked  it  with 
greatest  fury.  It  was  the  same  at  all  times  and  every  where. 
She  was  all  that  could  be  wished  on  the  parade,  on  the  route, 
in  the  ranks,  in  action,  and  in  the  stable;  but  such  was  her 
hatred  towards  gray  or  white  horses  that  it  was  dangerous  to 

glace  them  ^n  the  same  stable  with  her,  at  whatever  distance. 
\  she  once  caught  a  glimpse  of  one;  whether  horse  or  mare, 
she  rested  not  until  she  had  thrown  her  rider,  or  broken  her 
halter,  and  then  she  rushed  on  it  with  the  greatest  fury,  and  bit 
it  in  a  thousand  places.  She  generally,  however,  seized  the 
animal  by  the  head  or  the  throat,  snd  held  it  so  fast  that  she 
would  suffocate  it,  if  it  were  not  promptly  released  from  her 
bite.  As  she  grew  old,  the  mania  was  not  quite  removed,  but 
it  was  somewhat  weakened.  No  other  body  of  a  white  color 
appeared  to  make  the  least  impression  on  her.  A  mare  belong- 
ing to  the  Fifth  squadron  of  French  hussars,  feared,  on  the 
contrary,  all  white  inanimate  objects — such  as  white  mantles, 
coats,  or  even  the  sleeves  of  shirts  and  chemises  too  much  dis- 
played, and  particularly  white  plumes.  When  any  of  these 
white  bodies,  especially  in  motion,  were  first  perceived,  if  they 
were  of  any  magnitude,  and  their  motion  was  rapid,  she  was  in 
a  dreadful  fright  and  strove  to  escape;  but  if  they  wer3  of  no 
great  size  and  moved  more  gently,  she  rushed  furiout  l^  upon 
them,  struck  at  them  with  her  forefeet  and  endeavored  to  tear 
them  with  her  teeth.  No  other  colors  produced  the  slightest 
effect  upon  her,  nor  did  the  appearance,  however  sudden,  of 
White  horses,  or  dogs  of  the  same  color;  but  if  a  white  plume 
waved,  or  a  white  sheet  of  paper  floated  by  her,  her  fear  or 
rage  was  ungovernable.  These  three  cases  of  singular  and 
peculiar  aversion  possess  all  the  characteristics  of  true  mono- 
mania. 


How  to  Teach  a  Child  Honesty. 

I  am  not  sure  whether  I  did  right  or  wrong.  I  am 
sure  that  1  meant  right.  It  was  on  this  wise  :  Believing 
implicitly  that  the  bending  of  litile  human  twigs  should 
be  accomplished  during  the  early  stages  of  their  grovrth, 
I  concluded  to  commence  on  Vieve.  My  intention  was 
to  give  her  a  lesson  in  firmness.  Accordingly  I  filled  a 
box  with  chestnuts,  and  placed  them  within  her  reach, 
saying,  "Now,  Vieve,  dear,  you  must  not  touch  them 
without  my  permission." 

Well,  then,  I  dess  I'll  not,"  was  the  reply,  while  the 
brown-eyed  three-year-old  gazed  wistfully  toward  the 
sweet  temptation.    I  gave  her  six  or  eight. 

"  In  my  dear  little  potit,  fank'oo  !" 

I  went  to  my  work,  and  labored  with  all  the  cheerful- 
ness of  an  inventor  who  is  pretty  sure  his  machine  is  a 
success. 

During  the  afternoon  it  occurred  to  my  mind  that 
those  eight  chestnuts  were  lasting  a  remarkable  time. 
Assuming  my  blandest  tone  for  the  occasion,  I  asked : 

"  Vieve,  have  you  eaten  all  your  chestnuts?" 

''No,  I  fink  not." 

"  Come  here,  darling.    Where  do  you  get  so  many  ?" 

"Oh,  I  dits  'em  out  of  my  potit." 

"  Well,  there  are  more  than  I  gave  you  at  first,"  I  said, 
as  I  examined  the  dainty  receptacle.  "  O  !  Vieve,  have 
you  been  disobeying  me,  and  getting  more  out  01  that 
box?" 

"I  'spects  p'raps  I  have." 
"  But  are  you  sure  ?" 
"Yes,  I's  pitty  sure." 

"Oh,  dear  Vieve,"  I  cried  with  the  feelings  of  one 
who  discovers  his  invention  to  be  a  failure,  "  this  makes 
poor  mamma  feel  so  sad.  I  do  not  like  to  punish  you, 
but  what  must  I  do  ?  I  must  have  my  little  girl  obey 
me.    Oh  !  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

The  small  sinner  looked  reflective. 

"  Well,  Mamma,"  she  presently  said,  in  solemn  toneB, 
"  I  dess'oo  had  better  pray." 

Believing  her  suggestion  a  wise  one,  embodying  about 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  entire  affair,  I  acted  upon  it.  Re- 
turning to  my  occupation  after  our  session  had  ad- 
journed, the  first  thing  that  caught  my  attention  was  a 
scrap  of  old  newspaper,  containing  this  sentence  : 

"  He,  who  through  intention  or  neglect,  throws  be- 
fore another  a  temptation  is,  if  he  be  overcome,  equally 
guilty.  V 

I  put  away  the  box  of  chestnuts,  and  am  waiting  fur- 
ther light. 


A  Frog  Barometer. 

Out  at  the  Lafayette  Park  police  station,  St.  Louis, 
they  have  a  weather  pr  :phet  which  eclipses  Tice  and  all 
the  barometers  in  the  neighborhood.  It  is  a  frog  of  the 
genus  Eyla,  more  familiar  to  the  general  reader  as  the 
tree-toad.  Hunt,  the  Superintendent  of  the  Park,  was 
mildly  abusing  his  barometer  one  day  for  misleading 
him,  when  the  officer  on  the  beat,  an  old  frontiersman, 
said  he  would  show  him  a  trick.  He  took  a  glaf^s  jar 
and  threw  into  it  some  stones  and  a  couple  of  inches 
of  water.  Then  he  whittled  out  a  little  wooden  ladder 
and  put  it  in  the  jar.  After  some  lively  scrambling  a 
tree  toad  was  caught,  chucked  in  and  a  tin  top  screwed 
on.  The  weather  indicator  was  complete.  When  it  is 
going  to  be  fair  weather  that  toad  roosts  on  the  top 
round  of  the  ladder,  solemnly  blinking  the  hours  away. 
From  twelve  to  fifteen  hours  before  a  change  to  bad 
weather,  "the  general,"  as  they  call  him,  begins  to 
climb  down,  and  hours  before  a  storm  sets  in  he  squats 
himself  on  a  stone,  and,  with  his  head  just  above  the 
surface  of  the  water  peers  aloft  at  the  coming  storm. 

Let  the  weather  be  changeable  and  "shifting,"  as 
"  Old  Prob."  says,  and  the  toad  goes  up  and  down  that 
ladder  like  a  scared  middy.  When  it  is  fair  and  the 
toad  roosts  aloft  his  skin  is  of  a  light  grayish  green. 
When  the  change  comes  the  skin  turns  black  as  the  toad 
goes  down  the  ladder,  becoming  a  jet,  shining  black  by 
the  time  he  reaches  the  bottom.  The  fame  of  the  toad 
has  spread  through  Lalayette  Park  neighborhood. 


The  best  and  sweetest  flowers  of  Paradise  God  gives 
to  his  people  when  they  are  upon  their  knees.  Prayer  is 
the  gate  of  heaven  or  key  to  let  us  into  Paradise. 


392 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


SCENES  IN  THE  POLAR  RE&IONS ; 

OB, 

Life  Among  the  Arctic  Explorers. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 

Every  section  of  the  globe  furnishes  a  world  of  thought  and 
speculation  for  the  contemplative  mind  of  the  naturalist.  To 
the  student  of  nature  there  is  not  an  uninteresting  spot  on 
ef.rth.  Man  was  created  with  a  desire  for  discovery ;  and 
within  the  secret  avenues  of  every  thinking  brain  there  is  a 
constant  longing  to  know  more.  To  behold  the  natural  beau- 
ties of  creation,  the  wonders  and  sublimities  that  bear  upon 
their  faces  imposing  evidence  of  the  almighty  power  of  God, 
and  he  is  always  reaching  out,  and  striving  to  enter  new  fields 
of  observation,  where  new  and  hitherto  unheard  of  rays  of  truth 
and  knowledge  blaze  forth  in  effulgence,  to  illumine  his  under- 
standing and  enlighten  the  world. 

If  man  was  always  perfectly  contented  with  his  lot  and  con- 
dition, he  would  always  remain  the  same  ;  the  progressive  spirit 
that  rules  the  age  arouses  his  ambition  and  leads  him  on 
through  patient  toil  and  investigation,  to  higher  and  nobler 
achievements.  Hence,  even  a  discontented  mind,  though  it 
has  ruined  thousands,  by  leading  them  in  pursuit  of  objects 
they  never  attained,  is,  after  all,  the  potent  lever  that  is  raisini: 
the  world  higher  and  higher  up  the  sublime  hill  of  science 
everyday.  . 

It  was  the  discontented  mind  of  James  Watt  that  built  the 
steam  engine  ;  and  of  George  Stephenson  that  improved  and  ap- 
plied it  to  the  railway.  They  were  not  satisfied  with  what  their 
predecessors  had  done  ;  they  believed  they  could  make  an  im- 
provement ;  they  studied  long  and  earnestly ;  they  reached 
ahead  ;  they  took  the  step,  and  the  world  knows  the  result.  It 
was  the  discontented  mind  of  Christopher  Columbus  that  led 
him  on  to  the  discovery  of  the  New  World.  After  mature 
deliberation,  and  years  of  intense  thought  and  study,  he  reject- 
ed the  theories  of  the  learned  men  of  his  time  and  sailed  away 
to  establish  the  enduring  truth  of  his  own.  It  was  the  discon- 
tented minds  of  Ross,  and  Franklin,  and  Kane,  that  led  them 
to  defy  the  storms  and  severities  of  the  Arctic  winter,  and  face 
the  dangers  of  the  frozen  Polar  seas  in  their  attempt  of  the 
north-west  passage  and  exploration  of  the  Northern  regions. 

Tropical  explorations  have  revealed  to  us  the  tangled  jungles 
and  immense  masses  of  luxuriant  vegetation,  the  dark  visaged 
savage  and  indolent  native  ;  the  hissing  serpent  and  loathsome 
reptile,  and  the  fierce  and  blood-thirsty  beasts  of  prey,  that 
prowl  through  the  infested  forests  of  the  Torrid  zone.  Explo- 
rations in  the  Polar  regions  have  revealed  to  us  scenes  in  strange 
and  astonishing  contrast.  And  yet,  the  hand  of  God  is  displayed 
in  the  Arctic  regions  fully  as  much  as  it  is  in  the  Tropics.  Ani- 
mated life  in  these  regions,  are  by  nature's  wise  provision, 
fitted  and  prepared  for  the  rigorous  climate,  by  warm  coats  of 
fur  ;  and  they  could  not  exist  for  an  hour  beneath  the  burning 
sun  of  the  equator.  Animals  from  the  tropical  regions  trans- 
ported hither,  with  only  their  thin  covering  of  coarse  hair, 
would  perish  at  once,  and  be  frozen  to  an  adamantine  mass  in 
less  than  a  single  day.  Animals  are  not  as  numerous  or  fero- 
cious here  as  they  are  in  warm  climates,  but  the  reindeer,  seal, 
walrus,  white  bear,  etc.,  abound,  and  the  sable  and  marten  leap 
through  the  forests  with  all  the  vivacity  of  the  weasel  and  nim- 
ble squirrel  of  the  temperate  zone. 

About  the  first  of  February  the  edge  of  the  sun  is  discovered, 

Eeering  above  the  horizon  at  some  low  point  between  rugged 
ills  of  ice  and  rock.  A  few  minutes  only  is  it  visible,  and 
then,  having  passed  across  the  narrow  valley,  is  hid  from  view 
behind  the  intervening  hill.  For  nearly  twenty-four  hours  it 
sails  below  the  horizon,  and  then  it  appears  a  little  higher  than 
before,  where  it  is  a  little  farther  across  the  valley,  and  the  day 
is  a  little  longer.  Gradually  it  rises  higher  and  higher,  day  by 
day,  like  the  thread  to  a  screw,  and  the  days  become  an  hour 
long,  then  two,  four,  eight,  fifteen,  twenty,  and  then  the  sun 
only  dips  below  the  horizon  for  a  few  minutes,  where  some  tall 
dark  mountain  leans  against  it,  and  at  last  it  rises  above  all, 
and  rides  majestically  round  and  round,  and  for  weeks  there  is 
only  one  continual  day.  Having  reached  its  height,  it  descends 
in  the  same  manner  that  it  arose,  until  it  is  only  seen  skimming 
for  a  few  minutes  along  the  horizon,  over  some  low  valley, 
away  to  the  south,  and  about  the  last  of  November  it  entirely 
disappears  and  the  long  Arctic  night  commences.  For  weary 
months  the  dark  night  is  unbroken  by  a  single  ray  of  sunlight ; 
and  during  this  time,  when  the  sky  is  not  overcast  with  clouds, 
the  moon  and  stars  shine  perpetual.  The  cold  is  intense,  and 
the  Aurora  Borealis  or  Northern  Lights  flash  up  and  silently 
pass  along  the  heavens,  and  flit  and  glimmer  overhead,  combin- 
ing with  the  pale  light  of  _  the  moon  to  cast  their  wandering 
sickly  rays  upon  the  reflecting  surfaces  of  the  snov/  mountains 
and  massive  icebergs,  giving  an  apparent  slow  ghostly  motion 
to  all,  and  inspiring  the  Arctic  navigator  with  strange  emotion, 
akin  to  dread  and  terror. 

Among  all  the  different  expeditions  of  Arctic  navigators,  per- 
haps none  were  more  fraught  with  peril  and  adventure  than 
those  of  Sir  John  Franklin.  In  company  with  several  well- 
educated  gentlemen,  he  left  Gravesend,  England,  on  the  2:Sd  of 
May,  1819,  and  on  the  30th  of  August  following,  reached  York 
Factory,  the  principal  depot  of  the  Hudson's  Riy  Company. 
Having  made  al  I  necessarv  preparations,the  expedition  started  on 
their  long  river  Journey  iiito  the  interior  wilderness,  on  the  9th  of 


September.  For  forty-four  days  they  continued  on  their  event- 
ful journey,  occasionally  meeting  with  wolves  and  other  north- 
em  animals,  and  on  the  22d  of  October,  they  reached  Cumber- 
land House,  having  traveled  690  miles.  On  the  18th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1820,  he  set  out  for  Fort  ChepevsTran,  in  the  Athabasca 
region,  857  miles  beyond.  The  whole  distance  lay  through  a 
wild  barren  wilderness,  almost  wholly  uninhabited,  desolate, 
and  inhospitable.  The  snow  lay  deep  upon  the  ground,  and 
the  cold  wintry  blasts  swept  over  the  plains  and  bleak  hillsides 
with  unresisting  fury.  Tracts  of  pine  forest  which  they  passed 
now  and  then,  roared  and  wailed  in  the  grasp  of  the  heavy 
gale;  the  wind  whistled,  and  the  snow  sifted  down  upon  them 
so  fast  that  it  appeared  almost  dark  and  foggy  in  the  thick 
woods,  reminding  them  at  times  of  the  Alpine  storms  around 
the  great  St.  Bernard,  and  recalling  to  their  minds  the  old 
stories  they  had  heard  and  read  about  the  saving  of  lost  and 
perishing  travelers  by  the  pious  monks  of  the  convent  and  their 
noble  dogs:  With  the  passage  of  the  storm  the  sun  would 
come  forth,  but  its  rays  were  cold  and  feeble,  particles  of  frost 
filled  the  air,  rendering  the  sky  of  a  dull,  hazy  color,  and  great 
fleecy  clouds  flew  swiftly  overhead  in  the  roaring  gale.  All 
day  long  the  little  party  of  hardy  explorers  would  toil  through 
the  snow,  part  of  the  time  on  foot  and  part  of  the  time  seated 
in  their  sledges,  wrapped  in  furs,  and  drawn  briskly  over  the 
smooth  surface  by  their  faithful  dogs.  At  night  a  warm  or 
sheltered  place  was  selected  for  a  camp,  usually  in  the  thick 
forest,  the  snow  was  scraped  from  the  ground,  wood  collected 
and  a  fire  built,  a  pile  of  pine  branches  cut  and  placed  before 
it  for  a  bed,  the  dogs  were  unharnessed  from  the  sledges,  sup- 
per  cooked,  the  provisions  hung  on  the  trees  near  by,  where 
the  wolves  could  not  reach  them,  and  wrapping  themselves  in 
their  furs  and  blankets  they  threw  themselves  upon  their  rude 
couch  and  prepared  to  pass  the  niglit  comfortably,  even  in  the 
severest  weather.  In  a  little  more  than  two  months  the  jour- 
ney was  completed,  and  they  arrived  at  Fort  Chepewyan. 

In  the  spring  active  preparations  were  commenced  for  the 
advance  of  the  expedition,  and  on  the  18th  of  July  they  set  forth 
for  Fort  Providence,  which  they  reached  in  eleven  days.  On  the 
2d  of  August  they  set  out  for  the  mouth  of  the  Coppermine  river ; 
but  after  eighteen  days  of  hard  traveling  they  were  obliged  to 
establish  their  winter  quarters  at  Fort  Enterprise.  Here  they 
passed  the  long  cold  winter,  the  ground  covered  deep  with  the 
icy  mantle  and  the  branches  of  the  trees  loaded  and  bent  with 
snow.  It  was  feared  that  their  provisions  and  ammunition 
would  be  exhausted  before  the  long  winter  passed,  unless  some 
one  returned  for  more.  Mr.  Back,  one  of  the  most  enterprising 
members  of  the  expedition,  drew  on  his  snow-shoes,  and  bid- 
ding his  companions  be  of  good  cheer,  set  out  for  Fort  Chepe- 
wyan. He  was  gone  nearly  five  months,  and  his  friends  long  be- 
lieved him  lost.  No  wonder  his  return  was  hailed  with  joy,  for 
he  was  looked  upon  almost  as  one  resurrected  from  the  grave. 
He  had  passed  across  the  Great  Slave  Lake,  had  traveled  over 
1100  miles  in  snow-shoes,  and  had  passed  the  cold  wintry 
nights  in  the  woods,  with  no  other  covering  than  his  blanket 
and  deer-skin.  His  companions  gathered  about  him,  eager  to 
hear  his  story,  and  many  weary  nights  he  entertained  them  by 
recounting  the  perils  and  adventures  of  the  lonely  journey. 

It  was  the  14th  of  June,  1821,  before  the  expedition  was 
again  on  the  move.  It  was  a  bright,  balmy  morning  as  they  set 
forth  down  the  Coppermine,  and  the  grass-covered  banks  and 
slopes  were  lined  with  herds  of  deer,  musk-oxen,  and  wolves. 
At  the  end  of  a  month's  journey  they  beheld  from  the  summit 
of  a  gentle  eminence  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  open  Polar  Sea. 
On  the  21st  of  July,  the  party  embarked  in  two  birch-bark  canoes, 
with  provisions  for  fifteen  days.  Coasting  along  the  shore, 
where  they  could  procure  game  or  encamp  on  the  approach  of 
bad  weather,  they  proceeded  eastward  550  miles,  when  the  ap- 
proach of  winter  admonished  them  to  return.  It  was  the  16th 
of  August.  Naming  the  place  Turnagain  Point,  they  took  their 
last  look  of  their  fartherest  exploration,  and  turned  their  faces 
upon  the  homeward  course. 

The  suflerings  and  hardships  they  had  experienced  was  as 
nothing  when  compared  to  the  trials  that  now  lay  before  them. 
Proceeding  up  Hood's  River  they  endeavored  to  shorten  their 
route  to  Fort  Enterprise.  Long  lines  of  black  ledges  lined  the 
stream,  and  a  little  farther  up,  the  entire  river  poured  over  an 
immense  precipice  of  rock,  250  feet  in  height,  with  a  roar  that 
seemed  to  jar  the  ground.  Above  this  cataract,  now  known  as 
the  Wilberforce  Falls,  the  stream  was  smaller,  rough  and  unfit 
for  navigatiion,  and  the  explorers  were  obliged  to  leave  their 
canoes  and  baggage  behind,  and  strike  out  on  foot  across  the 
barren  wilderness  and  desolation.  It  was  now  the  31st  of 
August.  They  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  a  heavy 
snow  storm  set  in,  and  winter  appeared  commencing  in  earnest. 
They  had  no  means  of  making  a  fire,  and  the  weather  was  so 
extremely  cold  they  were  forced  to  remain  wrapped  up  in  their 
rude  beds  for  two  whole  days.  At  length  the  weather  moderated 
somewhat,  though  it  was  still  rough  and  boisterous,  and  the 
little  party  drew  their  furs  closely  around  them  and  plodded 
slowly  on  through  the  deep  snow  and  deeper  drifts. 

A  new  terror  now  stared  them  in  the  face.   Their  provisions 

tave  out,  and  starvation  seemed  already  whispering  a  doleful 
irge  in  their  ears.  Hardly  a  tree  or  shrub  appeared  to  gladden 
the  eye  or  furnish  material  for  building  a  fire.  Cold  and  deso- 
late marshes,  and  barren  rock-bound  hillsides,  along  which  the 
wind  rushed  impetuously,  bearing  clouds  of  light  snow  on  its 
raging  wings  and  hurling  it  into  ten  thousand  drifts,  met  the 
gaze  in  every  direction.  Almost  in  despair  they  toiled  on  more 
Iwd'^banali"^. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


393 


On  the  26th  of  September  they  reached  the  Coppermine  river. 
"The  stream  was  about  130  yards  wide,  and  the  farthereat  search 
revealed  nothing  but  a  few  rude  willows  with  which  to  con- 
struct a  raft  to  cross.  For  some  time  they  were  busy  binding 
the  faggots  together,  and  when  they  launched  their  intended 
float  it  sank  nearly  to  the  water's  edge,  and  without  oars  or 
poles,  in  an  unfavorable  wind,  the  raft  was  useless.  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson, with  almost  superhuman  energy,  tied  a  line  around  his 
body,  and  handing  it  to  his  friends,  plunged  boldly  into  the  icy 
current  and  endeavored  to  swim  across.  If  he  could  gain  the 
opposite  shore  the  frail  willow  craft  could  be  hauled  back  and 
forth  and  the  crossing  might  be  accomplished.  But  ere  he  had 
reached  the  shore  his  limbs  become  numb  and  powerless,  and 
he  sank  helpless  in  the  cold  water,  paralyzed  in  the  congealing 
tide.  His  comrades  hauled  him  quickly  ashore,  rolled  him  up 
in  warm  blankets  and  placed  him  before  a  slow  willow  fire,  and 
at  length  he  slowly  recovered.  His  effort  had  been  a  failure, 
and  had  nearly  cost  him  his  life. 

Their  sufferings  had  become  terrible  in  the  extreme.  For 
several  days  they  had  had  nothing  to  eat  except  a  few  unpala- 
table lichens,  plucked  from  the  cold  soil  over  some  frowning 
precipice.  Haggard  and  woe-begone,  they  staggered  about  like 
gaunt  spectres  or  living  skeletons,  endeavoring  with  their  little 
remaining  strength,  to  build  a  canoe  of  their  canvass  trappings. 
The  sun  just  skimmed  above  the  far  southern  horizon,  and  then 
sank  to  rest  after  shedding  for  a  short  time  its  cold  leaden  rays, 
and  the  long  dark  night  followed  ;  the  heavens,  studded  with 
bright  stars  that  glittered  and  twinkled  like  sparkling  diamonds 
in  the  blue  concave  above,  and  the  silver  moon,  riding  high, 
seemed  to  whisper  hope,  even  yet,  to  the  famishing  explorers. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  1st  of  October,  one  of  the  men  stag- 
gered in  with  the  antlers  and  back-bone  of  a  deer,  which  had 
died  or  been  killed,  probably  in  the  summer.  To  the  starving 
men  it  was  a  prize.  Captain  Franklin  says,  "  the  wolves  and 
birds  of  prey  had  picked  them  clean,  but  there  still  remained 
a  quantity  of  spinal  marrow,  which  they  had  not  been  able  to 
extract.  This,  although  putrid,  was  esteemed  a  valuable  prize, 
and  the  spine  being  divided  into  portions,  was  distributed 
equally.  After  eating  the  marrow,  which  was  so  acrid  as  to  ex. 
coriate  the  lips,  they  rendered  the  bones  friable  by  burning,  and 
ate  them  also." 

Three  days  longer,  during  which  the  feeble  sufferers  talked 
almost  incessantly  of  the  pleasures  of  eating,  and  the  canoe 
was  finished.  The  passage  of  the  river  was  accomplished  in 
safety,  and  they  struck  with  rising  spirits  for  Fort  Enterprise, 
then  only  forty  miles  distant,  where  Captain  Franklin  had  sent 
back  men  on  his  entering  the  Polar  Sea  to  await  his  return. 
But  their  hilarity  did  not  last  them  long.  The  driving  snow 
and  keen  frosty  air  seemed  to  pierce  the  very  marrow  of  their 
bones.  The  last  remains  of  their  old  worn-out  shoes  and 
scraps  of  leather  had  been  eaten,  and  again  they  were  famishing 
with  hunger.  In  despair  two  of  their  number  sank  down 
utterly  exhausted,  and  perished  in  the  snow. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  spot  where  a  few  sickly  lichens 
grew,  and  here  a  portion  of  the  men  declared  they  could  go  no 
farther.  Franklin  and  seven  others  pushed  on,  promising 
assistance  as  soon  as  it  could  be  obtained.  The  distance  was 
now  twenty-four  miles,  and  ere  he  reached  it  four  more  men' 
had  sank  exhausted  by  the  wayside.  It  was  on  the  evening  of 
the  11th  of  October,  that  the  captain  and  four  worn  and  weary 
men  staggered  up  to  the  Fort.  With  the  exception  of  a  single 
meal  of  miserable  lichens,  not  a  morsel  of  food  had  passed 
their  lips  for  five  days.  Here,  at  last,  they  expected  relief. 
Imagine  their  feelings  when,  on  entering  the  Fort,  they  found 
it  silent,  desolate,  and  deserted  1 

Mr.  Back,  who  had  preceded  them,  had  reached  the  house 
two  days  previously,  as  was  indicated  by  a  note  which  he  had 
left,  and  had  gone  in  pursuit  of  the  Indians,  from  whom  he 
hoped  to  obtain  assistance.  With  faltering  steps  the  starving 
party  proceeded  to  collect  the  bones  and  skins  of  deer  that  had 
been  killed  at  the  time  of  their  residence  there  the  previous 
winter,  and  prepare  them  for  food.  The  bones  were  pounded,  the 
hair  singed  from  the  skins,  and  the  whole  boiled  to  an  acrid 
soup,  which  rendered  their  mouths  sore,  and  sickened  them  to 
a  sad  degree.  Day  by  day  it  sustained  their  lives  ;  it  was  their 
only  food.  What  will  not  man  resort  to,  to  satisfy  the  pangs  of 
hunger  in  the  last  stages  of  starvation  1  For  eighteen  days  they 
lived  thus,  and  no  relief  came.  On  the  evening  of  the  29th,  as 
they  sat  around  the  fire  trying  to  look  on  the  bright  side  of 
thc:r  now  almost  helpless  situation,  Dr.  Richardson  and 
Hepburn,  whom  they  had  left  in  an  exhausted  state,  some  three 
weeks  before,  entered— in  amazement  they  gazed  upon  each 
other.  Hepburn  had  just  killed  a  partridge.  The  doctor  seized 
it,  tore  out  the  feathers,  held  it  for  a  few  moments  before  the 
fire,  and  divided  it  among  the  men.  Like  hungry  wolves  they 
ravenously  devoured  it ;  for  it  was  the  first  morsel  of*Tlecent 
flesh  they  had  tasted  for  thirty-one  days.  Richardson  and 
Hepburn  had  a  tragic  story  to  tell,  which  we  will  not  attempt 
to  lay  before  the  reader.  Neither  will  we  attempt  to  portray 
the  suffering  and  misery  that  followed.  Reduced  as  they  were, 
they  became  still  more  so.  They  moved  about  like  grim,  mel- 
ancholy spectres,  hollow-eyed  and  almost  fearful  to  look  upon. 
Their  voices  became  hoarse,  husky,  and  hollow,  scarcely  above 
a  whisper,  and  one  after  another,  they  sank  to  rise  no  more. 
At  length,  on  the  7th  of  November,  the  long-looked-for  aid 
arrived.  Three  Indians  came,  loaded  with  provisions,  and  the 
little  band,  almost  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  was  saved  Per- 
haps no  more  touching  scene  was  ever  witnessed  than  that  of 
the  starving  survivors,  with  streaming  eyes,  offering  up  their 
■orayer  of  thankgiving  for  their  timely  deliverance. 


After  having  become  sufficiently  recruited,  they  proceeded  on 
their  homeward  journey.  At  length  they  reached  the  coast  and 
Bailed  for  England,  where  they  arrived  in  October,  1822.  Thug 
terminated  the  first  journey  of  Dr.  Franklin.  He  was  born  an 
explorer.  The  perils  he  had  experienced  did  not  deter  him.  He 
sailed  again,  and  again  beheld  the  icy  regions  of  the  North. 
His  enthusiasm  finally  carried  him  too  far,  and  he  came  back  no 
more.  Experienced  navigators  followed,  and  his  remains  were 
found  in  1859.  His  ships  were  frozen  in  the  ice,  and  his  men 
had  perished.  The  naked  and  j^hastly  skeletons  told  their 
silent  melancholy  tale  more  forcibly  than  human  lips  could 
utter.  The  Northern  Ocean,  during  tlie  long  Arctic  night, 
when  the  Aurora  flashes  silently  across  the  sky,  lighting  up  the 
moving  mountains  of  ice  that  crash  and  jar  against  each  other 
with  the  thunder  of  an  earthquake,  produce  a  scene  never  to 
be  forgotten  by  the  bold  mariner.  The  scenery  in  the  fai 
frozen  seas,  where  Perry,  Kane,  McClure,  and  Hall,  dared  the 
surrounding  dangers,  amid  the  mighty  workings  of  Nature, 
forms  a  subject  ever  fraught  with  interest. 

Ups  and  Downs. 

There  are  three  senses  in  wliich  this  phrase  might  be  inter 
preted.  In  one  it  referred  to  men  who  having  been  rich  be- 
came poor,  or  who  rose  from  extreme  poverty  to  independence 
and  wealth.  In  another  it  might  allude  to  individuals  who 
having  been  unknown  and  unhonored,  became  by  a  turn  of  the 
wheel  of  fortune  men  of  high  ofiicial  position,  flattered  and 
fawned  upon  by  everybody,  or  to-those  who  having  been  among 
the  foremost  of  the  nation,  fell  into  obscurity  and  contempt. 
The  third  form  of  vicissitude  is  in  a  man's  own  self.  There 
are  some  seasons  when  men  are  contented,  brave,  and  cheer- 
ful, and  others  when  they  are  miserable,  finding  fault  with 
themselves,  and  with  everybody  else.  And  indeed  this  third 
condition  is  essentially  the  one  on  which  happiness  depended , 
for  a  man,  whether  rich  or  poor,  m  high  station  or  low,  will 
always,  if  indeed  a  man,  have  the  power  to  be  happy  between 
the  crown  of  his  head  and  the  sole  of  his  fuot.  But  with  re- 
gard to  those  visible  vicissitudes  of  human  life,  those  ups  and 
downs  which  all  could  see,  there  are  few  men  forty  years 
old,  and  residents  of  America,  who  could  not  recount  some 
examples  of  such  changes.  The  usual  explanation,  all  luck  I 
is  false,  and  the  expression  dangerous.  It  is  not  true  to  say 
that  it  happened  so,  because  the  fact  is  that  the  causes  which 
brought  about  the  results,  are  in  the  majority  of  the  cases  un- 
known  to  the  public.  Great  successes  conld  be  traced  to  well* 
recognized  qualities  of  successful  men;  tremendous  failurea 
pointed  to  either  some  fascination  by  some  glittering,  unsafe 
scheme,  or  some  entanglements  with  wicked  associates  and 
partners. 

Young  men  should  ask  themselves  deliberately  the  question : 
"  Is  it  to  be  up  or  down?"  Probably  all  young  men  did  so  at 
some  time  or  other  of  their  youth.  There  are  some  who,  at  th« 
outset  of  their  career,  fixed  their  eyes  steadily  upon  the  distant 
mountain  top  and  said  :  "  There  is  my  gaol ;  I  will  reach  that.'' 
And  some  of  these  succeeded,  and  reached  the  height  with 
consciences  unstained,  with  memories  unseared.  There  are 
others  who  also  succeeded,  but  at  the  expense  of  honor  and  of 
conscience  and  of  self-respect.  Yet  probably  the  majority  of 
those  who  made  their  way  to  the  top  did  so  with  no  set  pur- 
pose of  rising,  but  steadily  accomplished  the  task  set  before 
them,  doing  it  with  all  their  might.  By  steadfast  application 
to  duties  they  won  the  regard  of  employers,  and  found  them- 
selves continually  rising  without  an  effort  of  their  own. 
Probably  no  young  man  ever  deliberately  purposes  to  himself 
to  go  on  down,  but  unfortunately  he  insists  upon  having 
tobacco,  drink,  amusing  but  vicious  comrades,  too  pleasing  but 
disgraceful  female  friends.  These  were  all  weights,  which  if 
a  young  man  carried  he  could  not  rise,  but  must  be  swept 
downward  to  rum.  On  the  other  hand,  the  things  that  would 
help  a  young  man  to  go  up  in  the  world  are  good  temper,  a 
cheerful  way  of  looking  at  things,  a  sense  of  true  honor,  a 
feeling  of  sincere  honesty,  a  desire  to  be  personally  pure,  and 
a  keen  longing,  without  which  all  good  gifts  are  naught. 


Kecbeation  does  not  mean  idleness,  and  it  may  meat 
labor.  A  wise  man  will  so  arrange  his  labors  that  each  suc- 
ceeding one  shall  be  so  totally  different  from  the  last  that 
it  shall  serve  as  a  recreation  for  it.  Physical  exertion  may 
follow  mental,  and  then  give  place  to  it  again.  A  man  equally 
wise  in  all  other  hygienic  msasurcs,  who  could  nicely  adjust 
the  labors  of  mind  and  body  in  their  true  proportions  miglii 
hope  to  obtain  old  age  with  all  his  mental  faculties  fresh  and 
vigorous  to  the  last. 


394 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


"WHEN  WORK  IS  DONE. 

BY  G.  W. 

O'er  meadow-laHds  and  flowery  lea 

The  fading  sunlight  passes, 
And  rippling  waves  dance  tremblingly 
O'er  nodding  grasses. 

Back  from  the  fields  the  cattle  come, 

The  oft-trod  pathway  taking  ; 
And  bees  flit  by  with  lazy  hum, 

The  flowers  forsaking. 

And  now  the  trees,  gold-tipped  with  light, 

Fantastic  shades  are  flinging  ; 
And  wearied  birds  their  silent  flight 
Are  nest-ward  winging. 

Already,  seeking  quiet  home, 

The  sons  of  toil  have  wended. 
For  night  linear,  and  rest  has  come, 
And  labor's  ended. 

Beyond  the  hills  the  dying  day 

Hides  all  the  blue  with  blushes  ; 
Then,  like  a  babe  that's  tired  with  play, 
The  worn  world  hushes. 

*  *  4c  *  *  sK  « 

Thus  ends  the  day,  so  peacefully, 

So  free  from  moan  or  sighing, 
With  such  a  flood  of  light,  that  we 
Scarce  know  'tis  dying. 

And  we  lament  not,  for  we  know 

Another  day  must  follow  ; 
Again  the  golden  beams  will  glow 
O'er  hill  and  hollow. 

So,  too,  on  us  may  eve-tide  creep. 

Calm,  radiant,  free  from  sorrow  ; 
As  wearied  children  may  we  sleep 
To  walie  to-morrow  ! 


A  Railroad  Signal  Office. 

HOUIi  IN  THE  GRAND  CENTRAL  DEPOT  AT  NEW  YORK. 

The  signal  office  is  a  little  room  at  the  nothern  en- 
trance of  the  depot,  about  thirty  feet  above  the  pave- 
ment. It  is  reached  by  a  narrow  passage  way  from  the 
west  side,  and  when  you  get  into  it  you  see  a  sight 
which  made  Jonas  go  into  an  unmistakable  surprise. 
Looking  down  the  depot  there  was  a  space  of  more  than 
600  feet  extent  by  200  feet  breadth,  covered  with  an  iron 
roof  and  lighted  Irom  the  top.    Trains  of  cars  were 


^oming  and  going  incessantly,  but  no  confusion  wa» 
)erceptible,  and  everything,  as  my  friend  said,  "went on 
ike  clockwork."  There  are  two  operators  in  service 
lere,  relieving  each  other  during  a  tour  of  duty,  which 
xtends  from  5  a.m.  to  11  at  nignt,  their  motions  being 
•egulated  by  a  large  and  costly  clock.  The  gentlemen, 
.n  charge  received  us  very  politely,  but  before  we  had 
mrdly  thanked  him  we  heard  the  sharp  and  rapid  ring 
)f  a  bell  overhead.  It  was  marked  "Ninety-sixth  to 
Seventy-fifth  street."  "You  see,"  said  the  operator, 
'  there  is  a  train  coming  in,  and  it  wants  to  know  if  we 
ire  ready  for  it."  "But  how  does  it  ring  that  bell  ?" 
^aid  Jones.  "  By  electricity,"  was  the  reply.  "  This  Is 
iinll's  patent,  which  works  like  a  charm."  In  a  few 
niniites  another  bell  rang.  It  was  marked  Sixty-first 
CO  Fifty-sixth  street."  "The  train  now  reports  itself 
again,"  said  the  operator,  "  and  this  renews  notice  either 
to  prepare  for  it  or  to  signal  it  to  stop."  He  touched  a 
telegraphic  machine,  and  then  said,  "  This  throws  up  the 
signal  to  come  in,"  and  sure  enough,  in  a  few  minutes 
the  train  arrived.  One  hundred  and  forty  trains  arrive 
and  depart  in  a  day,  including  the  Central  Hudson,  the 
Hurlem,  and  the  New  Haven  Koads,  and  hence  the  signal 
service  is  one  of  incessant  activity.  The  operator  then 
informed  us  that  each  road  has  four  starting  bells  of 
different  keys,  all  of  which  were  rung  by  him  by  means 
of  electricity.  Three  started  passenger  trains,  and  one 
ordered  out  the  cars  as  soon  as  emptied.  "  You  see," 
said  he,  "this  train  which  has  just  come  in.  The  pas- 
sengers are  gone,  and  I  want  to  know  if  the  baggage  is 
taken  out."  He  touched  a  stop  and  rang  a  bell  (as  he 
said)  600  feet  distant.  In  a  moment  a  bell  overhead 
struck  twice,  "Baggage  is  out,"  he  said,  "otherwise 
he  would  have  struck  once,  and  I  would  have  waited. 
I  must  order  the  train  out.  Do  you  see  that  locomotive 
just  ahead?  Well,  now,  see  it  move."  He  touched  a 
stop  and  I  saw  the  letter  Z  displayed  at  a  window  in  a 
side  building.  "  He  hears  a  bell  ring,  also,"  said  the 
operator.  The  engine  backed  down  and  hitched  to  the 
empty  train  and  the  Z  disappeared.  "  I  shall  now  send 
him  out,"  said  the  operator,  as  he  touched  another  stop, 
and  the  empty  train  at  once  moved  forward  and  left  the 
station.  The"  letters  X  Y  Z  (I  may  add  parenthetically) 
designate  the  locomotives  of  the  Harlem,  Hudson  River, 
and  New  Haven  Roads,  and  are  the  signals  to  back  down 
and  connect  with  trains. 

"  I  am  now  about  to  send  out  a  passenger  train,"  con- 
tinued the  operator — "a  half  hour  ago  I  struck  twice 
to  open  the  doors  and  let  the  passengers  pass  from  the 
sitting-room  to  the  cars.  I  shall  soon  close  that  very 
door,  but  first  I  must  stop  checking  baggage."  A  small 
knob  was  touched  by  his  finger.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "the 
next  trunk  that  comes  must  wait  for  another  train." 
There  (another  touch  with  the  finger)  the  baggage  car 
is  hauled  out  and  switched  on  to  the  right  tracK.  Five 
minutes  more  and  she  is  off.  Here  goes  the  *  close  the 
door  bell ;'  (at  a  touch)  no  one  passes  in  after  this.  Now 
I  say  *  all  aboard,' (a  touch),  and  we  hear  the  distant 
voice  of  the  conductor  echoing  through  the  vaulted 
roof.  "Now  it  moves,"  (another  touch),  and  the 
rumbling  movement  was  immediately  perceptible,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  train  left  the  station.  As  the  cars 
go  up  the  road  they  signal  their  progress  by  ringing 
bells  in  the  same  ofiice  until  they  have  got  through" the 
city  streets,  and  give  assurance  of  a  clear  track  for  all 
that  may  follow.  The  station  will  contain  twelve  trains 
of  thirteen  cars  each,  and  by  means  of  this  wonderful 
system  all  are  managed  v/ith  dispatch  and  safety. 


The  Lemming. 

This  peculiar  little  animal  is  a  native  of  Sweden.  It 
has  long  hind  legs,  and  short  ones  before,  something 
like  the  jerboa,  and  is  about  the  size  of  a  dormouse.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  singular  little  animals  to  be  found. 
In  migration,  millions  move  together,  and  nothing  cai 
turn  them  aside.  They  will  perish  in  fire,  it  is  said,  oi 
attempt  to  swim  a  lake,  but  will  not  turn  to  the  right  or 
left.  They  hve  chiefly  on  roots,  and  after  passing  over 
a  meadow,  give  it  the  appearance  of  having  passed 
through  a  very  heavy  and  severe  drouth  and  then  har- 
rowed up.  They  often  go  to  battle  against  each  other, 
and  armies  of  them  will  enter  into  an  engagement  and 
continue  the  fight  until  one  side  is  entirely  vanquished. 
The  carcasses  left  after  the  battle  infect  the  air  for 
several  miles  aroup'l. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


395 


Obstinacy  and  Firmness.  i 

Obstinacy  produces  as  much  miachief  in  connection  with 
the  smallest  matters  as  with  those  of  the  greatest  importance. 
A  person  of  obstinate  disposition  insists  as  resolutely  on  hav- 
ing his  own  choice  in  the  most  trifling  aflfairs,  as  in  those  of 
the  utmost  consequence  to  all  concerned.  Firmness  is  a  wise 
and  noble  virtue,  which  shows  itself  when  the  occasion  is  of 
BUflacient  dignity  to  demand  it;  but  obstinacy  makes  no  dif- 
ference in  the  things  themselves ;  and  those  who  are  affected 
with  this  infirmity  will,  for  almost  nothing,  carry  things  to 
the  most  painful  and  alarming  extremes.  Love,  friendship, 
the  happiness  and  hopes  of  families,  they  will  dash  to  the 
ground,  rather  than  force  themselves  to  say,  ''I  submit;  let  it 
be  as  you  prefer."  The  matter  at  issue  is  sometimes  so  trivial, 
that,  looking  upon  i  t  on  all  sides,  we  are  unable  to  find  a  reason 
for  the  stubbornness  with  which  the  kind  of  people  of  whom 
we  are  speaking  adhere  to  their  side  of  the  subject  in  dispute; 
and  we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is  no  other 
reason,  than  a  blind  and  insuperable  reluctance  to  follow  any 
will  but  their  own.  They  are  slaves  to  whatever  their  own 
minds  happen  to  suggest  as  proper  to  be  done.  It  charms  them 
like  a  serpent,  and  they  are  utterly  impotent  to  resist  the  ma- 
lignant spell  it  throws  upon  them.  And  it  is  the  direct  fruit 
of  this  weak  and  abject  bondage  under  which  they  lie  to  their 
own  wishes,  that  they  attempt  an  intolerable  tyrannv  over  the 
minds  of  all  others  who  come  in  contact  with  them.  They 
seem  to  think  that  to  have  their  own  will  on  all  occasions  is 
happiness  itself ;  and  that  to  fail  in  this  point  is  to  suffer 
one  of  the  greatest  evils  of  which  the  present  life  admits. 
They  are  ignorant  that  there  are  a  thousand  things  which  are 
sweeter  than  to  have  one's  will ;  and  that  kindly  to  yield  to 
another's  pleasure  is  a  source  of  infinitely  purer  satisfaction 
than  can  result  from  the  fullest  success  in  having  things  ac- 
cording to  one's  mind. 


Effects  of  Vegetation  in  Cities. 

It  is  well  known  that  trees  absorb  carbonic  acid  gas  and  give 
off  oxygen,  the  first  being  as  injurious  as  the  last  is  indispen- 
eable  to  animal  life.  Men  and  animals,  on  the  contrary,  ab- 
sorb oxj'gen  and  give  out  large  quantities  of  carbonic  acid 
gas.  When,  therefore,  we  consider  the  immense  amount  of 
this  gas  given  off  from  the  lungs  of  the  inhabitants— human 
and  brute — of  a  large  city,  and  the  immense  amount  produced 
by  the  combustion  of  the  fuel  used  in  dwellings,  factories  and 
workshops,  we  may  form  some  idea  of  the  enormous  vitiation 
of  the  atmosphere  thus  produced.  It  has  been  estimated  by 
some  French  authorities  who  have  given  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject that  it  requires  more  than  two  acres  of  forest  to  purify 
the  atmosphere  vitiated  by  every  tliree  inhabitants.  Accord- 
ing to  this,  a  city  of  600,000  inhabitants  would  require  400,000 
acres  of  vegetation  to  take  up  the  carbonic  acid  and  other 
deleterious  gases  given  off  by  its  people.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  action  of  the  wind  in  removing  the  atmosphere  poisoned 
by  the  emanations  from  the  city,  and  replacing  it  with  a  purer 
atmosphere  from  the  surrounding  country,  the  city  would  soon 
become  uninhabitable ;  but  the  winds  have  not  such  full  sweep 
over  cities,  owing  to  the  height  of  the  buildings  and  other 
causes,  as  thoroughly  to  cleanse  the  atmosphere  brooding  over 
them.  Hence  the  necessity  of  encouraging  the  growth  of  as 
much  vegetation  as  possible  within  the  limits  of  the  cities 
themselves. 

So  nearly  exact  is  this  estimate  that  we  may  regard  it  as 
demonstrating  the  necessity  of  large  parks  and  squares  in 
cities.  But,  through  the  growth  of  the  city,  the  land  becomes 
two  valuable  to  provide  a  sufficient  area  of  parks  and  squares 
for  such  purposes.  Resort  must,  therefore,  be  had  to  the 
streets;  and  hence  all  streets  not  devoted  to  commercial  pur- 
poses should  be  planted  with  continuous  rows  of  trees  on 
either  side.  Paris  now  has  so  large  a  number  of  parks,  and  its 
streets  and  boulevards  are  so  profusely  planted  vsdth  trees,  that, 
according  to  very  reasonable  estimates,  the  death  rate  has 
been  thereby  reduced  from  one  in  thirty-four,  as  it  formerly 
was,  to  one  in  thirty-nine,  as  it  now  is.  Added  to  the  bene- 
ficial effects  produced  by  trees  in  absorbing  the  deleterious 
gases,  is  the  shading  of  gutters  and  roadways,  which  material- 
ly retards  and  prevents  the  action  of  the  sun  in  producing 
fermentation  of  the  fecal  and  other  offensive  matters  incident 
to  public  streets,  and  so  liberating  the  unheal/ul  gases  they 


contain.  The  roots  of  the  trees  also  take  up  large  quantities 
of  such  matters  as  they  are  washed  by  the  rains  into  the  in- 
terstices of  the  pavements.  Then,  again.  Is  the  comfort  to  be 
derived  from  the  shading  of  the  sidewalks.  It  is  the  glare  of 
the  sun  upon  these  when  unprotected,  which,  during  the  tropi- 
cal heats  of  our  sumraerH,  gives  nuch  an  oven-like  atmosphere 
to  our  streets,  and  causef  so  many  cases  of  exhaustion  from 
heat  and  the  often  fatal  sunstroke.  In  addition  to  these  sani- 
tary benefits  should  be  added  the  enhancement  of  the  beauty 
of  our  cities  by  tree- planting,  and  the  comfort  it  would  afford 
to  those  who  may  have  to  walk  through  them  in  the  ijotter 
parts  of  the  day. 

Besides  this  planting  of  trees  in  the  streets,  the  yards  of  the 
houses  stiould  have  trees  planted  in  them ;  or,  if  this  is  not 
desirable  on  account  of  a  grass-plot  being  considered  necessary 
for  laundry  purposes,  the  fences  should  be  covered  with  vines, 
or  the  borders  adjoining  them  planted  with  strong-growing 
plants,  such  as  sun-flowers  and  others  well  known  as  powerful 
absorbers  of  malarial  matters. 


Professional  Diversions. 

The  concurrent  pursuit  of  some  department  of  obser- 
vation, not  in  the  direct  line  of  the  necessities  of  a  pro- 
fessional man,  always  conduces  to  the  integrity  and 
health  of  his  mind.  In  the  words  of  a  great  orator,  "it 
calms,  elevates,  and  restores  the  jaded,  powers,  clears 
the  intellect,  cools  the  judgment  and  raises  the  moral 
tone  ;  it  makes  life  less  a  drudgery,  and  more  a  liberty 
and  a  jov,"  for  the  lawyer  or  the  physician  to  turn  aside 
from  professional  reward  and  anxiety  for  some  precious 
moments  every  day,  and  be  in  them  a  devout  and  happy 
scholar  and  ''freeman  of  the  universe."  Nor  are  the 
incidental  results  of  these  diversions  unimportant  in  the 
development  of  science.  In  many  instances  they  have 
contributed  directly  to  the  success  of  the  observer  in  his 
own  professional  pursuit.  Newton  was  lounging  in  an 
orchard  when  he  saw  the  apple  fall.  Hauy,  by  strolling 
among  the  plants  in  the  king's  garden,  became  permea- 
ted with  the  ideas  of  symmetry  which  Cuvier  tells  us 
led  him  to  the  discovery  of  the  laws  of  decrement  in 
crystals.  The  invention  of  the  suspension  bridge  by 
Sir  Samuel  Brown  sprang  from  the  sight  of  a  spider's 
web  hanging  across  a  path  along  which  he  was  taking 
his  morning  walk.  The  best  mechanic's  bit  is  said  to 
have  been  modeled  upon  the  natural  mechanism  of  a  little 
insect.  Some  of  the  most  wonderful  combinations  of  color 
achieved  in  art  have  been  gained  by  studying  entomolo- 
gy. The  shipworm  taught  Brunei  the  way  to  build  the 
Thames  tunnel.  A  lobster's  shell  suggested  to  Watt 
the  model  of  the  iron  tube  through  which  he  conveyed 
water  under  the  Clyde.  In  many  other  instances  they 
have  led  the  observer  to  generalizations  which  are  of 
boundless  importance  to  mankind.  Galileo  was  a  youth- 
ful medical  student  when  he  noticed  the  swinging  lamp 
in  the  Italian  cathedral.  Goethe  was  carelessly  wander- 
ing through  a  Venetian  graveyard  when  the  sight  of  a 
skull  suggested  the  train  of  thought  which  led  to  a  de- 
termination of  the  relations  of  the  bony  coverings  of 
the  head  and  the  spine,  which  even  the  English  natural- 
ists now  concede  to  be  an  unsurpassed  contribution 
toward  a  general  scheme  of  philosophic  anatomy. 

Ownership  of  Cattle  in  Texas. 

The  ownership  of  cattle  in  Texas  is  decided  by  regis- 
tered marks  and  brands.  To  get  a  mark  or  brand  regis- 
tered, one  must  own  ten  head.  Anything  one  year  old 
and  over,  belongs  to  the  man  who  will  brand  or  mark  it. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  for  a  man  owning  cattle,  to 
mark  his  calves  to  keep  others  from  appropriating  them. 
A  yearling  is  called  a  "Mavric;"  a  two  year  old  and 
over  is  called  a  "Conscript."  Some  cattle  live  and  die 
conscripts.  Cattle  branding  is  a  trade  which  gives  room 
for  excellence,  as  well  as  the  printing  business,  or  any  of 
the  mechanic  arts.  An  expert  will  mount  a  trained  horse, 
and  while  running  at  full  speed  by  a  yearling  or  even  a 
two  year  old,  will  catch  it  by  the  tail  and  with  a  quick 
jerk,  as  his  horse  passes  it,  throw  it  to  the  ground,  dis- 
mount and  catch  it  before  it  can  get  up  ;  he  will  then  tie 
it  and  build  a  fire  and  heat  a  horse-shoe,  or  any  old  iron 
he  may  have  with  him,  and  write  the  brand  very  much 
as  you  would  mark  a  grain  sack  with  a  paint  brush. 
When  many  are  to  be  branded,  they  are  taken  to  a  ranche 
and  corralled. 


396 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Delusive  Buoys. 

"  Every  winter  the  fields  of  ice  that  float  down  from  the 
Hndson  River  carry  several  buoys  seaward,  and  thus  destroy 
the  marks  which  render  the  navigation  of  the  bay  safe  and 
«asy.  Once  fairly  adrift,  the  buoys  enter  upon  a  roving  and 
mendacious  existence,  having  no  other  apparent  motive  than 
the  confusion  of  honest  sea  Captains.  The  skipper  of  a  Maine 
schooner  who  approaches  our  coast  in  December,  meets  miles 
out  to  sea  a  hollow  iron  globe,  bearing  in  large  letters  the  de- 
lusive legend  "  Sw^,"  or  perhaps  "  Frying-pan."  He  knows 
that  according  to  the  chart  this  buoy  is  to  be  found  only  in 
New  York  Harbor,  but  meeting  it  as  he  does,  when  out  of 
Bight  of  land,  he  is  compelled  either  to  abandon  his  faith  in 
the  infallibility  of  buoys,  or  to  believe,  in  spite  of  the  evidence 
of  his  senses,  that  he  has  already  passed  Sandy  Hook.  This  is 
a  terrible  dilemma.  If  the  skipper  once  permits  himself  to 
doubt  the  veracity  of  a  buoy,  he  has  no  security  that  he  can 
preserve  his  faith  in  sextants  and  chronometers.  If  he  blindly 
holds  fast  to  the  conviction  that  buoys  cannot  lie,  he  may 
wreck  his  schooner  on  Fire  Island  or  Absecom  Beach.  While 
he  thus  shrinks  back  from  the  conflict  between  reason  and 
faith,  the  mendacious  buoy  goes  merrily  on  its  way,  to  mock 
and  to  muddle  other  unhappy  skippers,  leaving  its  first  victim 
to  grope  his  way  blindly  into  the  harbor,  where  his  moral 
nature  receives  a  second  blow  on  perceiving  that  even  the 
«hart  is  no  longer  infallible,  and  that  in  places  where  it  asserts 
that  buoys  are  certain  to  be  found,  there  is  not  a  vestige  of  any 
-variety  of  buoy." 

These  remarks  suggest  a  train  of  thought  concerning  the 
boys  of  our  country.  They  are  coming  daily  into  the  world's 
arena  of  action,  to  lead  social  lives,  to  fill  business  and  pro- 
fessional situations,  to  assist  in  making  our  laws.  Many  of  the 
youths  of  to-day  will  hold  important  offices  in  the  land  ;  and 
for  an  example  to  follow  they  naturally  look  to  the  prominent 
men  of  the  day,  who  have  by  ability  and  energy,  aided  by  cir- 
cumstances, attained  honorable  position. 

With  eyes  just  opening  to  the  promises  of  life ;  not  yet 
perceiving  the  glamour  of  insincerity  and  fraud  hidden  under 
the  cloak  of  pretension  worn  by  many  men  who  should  be 
above  bribery,  high  above  deception  and  underhanded 
knavery :  individuals  who  should  scorn  to  enrich  themselves 
dishonestly  by  means  of  the  position  in  which  fortune  or  the 
nation  has  placed  them.  Wearing  a  face  and  manner  of  disin- 
terested and  honorable  intention,  they  should  be  found  staunch 
and  immovable  as  the  sea  rocks  on  the  shore ;  which,  though 
beaten  and  washed  by  the  angry  tides  of  centuries,  still  remain 
at  their  posts  undismayed.  Integrity  sJwuld  dwell  deep  in  the 
heart,  and  guide  each  transaction  and  speculation  hatched 
'neath  the  broad  thoughtful  brows  of  these  men. 

But,  boys,  it  is  not  always  the  case  ;  so  when  you  cast  ad- 
miring eyes  upon  apparently  straightforward  successful  men, 
or  adopt  their  conduct  as  an  example  by  which  to  direct  your 
own  course,  because  they  seem  to  your  senses  all  worthy  of 
imitation  and  leadership,  beware  lest  they  be  like  the  buoys 
alluded  to  above— drifting  about  without  firmly  rooted  princi- 
ples. Beware  I  lest  imperceptibly  you  follow  in  their  wake 
until  your  ambitiously  struggling  bark  glides  into  the  sea  of 
dissipation,  tossed  about  without  anchor  or  compass  amid  the 
dangerous  waves  of  fraudulent  speculation,  loose  morals  and 
disastrous  habits. 

There  are  high-souled  men  of  noble  purpose,  whose  lives 
would  bear  the  closest  scrutiny.  Study  closely  the  habits  of 
men;  be  not  altogether  won  by  the  words  they  speak;  look 
closely  at  motives  and  actions.  These  speak  louder  than  words, 
and  if  uprightness  exist  it  wUl  proclaim  itself. 

It  is  all  important  that  you  start  aright.  You  desire  to  be- 
come useful  members  of  society  ;  to  be  honored  by  your  fellow 
men  because  of  service  to  the  community  of  which  you  form  a 
member,  however  lowly  or  exalted  be  your  place. 

Quite  as  much  good  is  accomplished,  many  times  as  great  an 
influence  wielded  by  the  man  occupying  a  lowly  station,  as  is 
exercised  by  him  who  attains  to  the  loftiest  eminence  of 
power.  Did  you  ever  drop  a  pebble  into  the  river  and  note  the 
circles  widening  and  extending  to  a  great  distance  from  where 
the  little  stone  fell?  So  with  the  daily  actions  of  our  lives— 
their  influence  exter.d  far  beyond  our  ken.  They  creep  away 
to  cheer  or  cliscourago ;  to  aid  in  the  advancement  of  good,  or 
to  assist  in  degrading  poor  weak  fellow  mortals.  Then  again, 
i  say,  start  from  a  good  foundation,  which  will  grow  firmer 


I  with  years,  to  sastain  a  high  sense  of  honor  through 
prosperity  or  adversity,  from  youth  until  the  hoary  head 
of  age  shall  crown  you  with  honor.  Let  no  little  mariner  sail- 
ing withiu  the  circle  of  your  influence  now,  or  when  man- 
hood's strength  is  yours,  be  misgmded  or  directed  by 
your  example  to  drift  out  of  his  proper  course.  By  kind 
and  honest  endeavor  assist  him  to  pass  the  dangerous  shoala 
and  quicksands  that  gather  around  the  path  of  youthful 
feet.  Let  integrity  be  j'our  guiding  star,  good  will  to  all  sit 
at  the  helm,  elevating  habits  furnish  your  snowy  sails,  and  a 
Christian  life,  free  from  guile,  attend  your  daily  walk.  Then 
press  on  to  victory,  and  delusive  boys  will  not  mislead,  temp." 
tation  will  be  overcome,  untruthfulness  and  dishonesty  will 
hide  themselves  from  your  presence,  and  a  successful  career 
■will  be  yours.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  wealth  will  dwell  in 
your  home,  nor  Fame  be  your  welcome  guest,  nor  applause  of 
men  encompass  you ;  although  all  these  you  will  be  more  liable 
to  win  by  an  honorable  course.  But  this  mode  of  life  will 
fashion  your  character  into  a  beautiful  example;  a  shining 
light  to  all  who  may  be  associated  with  you ;  a  power  for  good 
that  will  flow  outward  from  your  life  into  the  lives  of  others, 
giving  strength  and  encouragement,  perhaps,  to  thousands 
Btruggling  with  temptation  and  sin. 

Be  undoubted  buoys  founded  on  a  rock,  triple  chained  and 
bolted  through,  so  that  no  bark  entering  port  where  you  re- 
side shall  have  any  doubt  as  regards  your  honor  and  reliability* 


Sleep. 

*'  Tired  nature's  sweet  restorer."  Take  enough  of  it— in  the 
fore- part  of  the  night,  if  possible.  Midnight  oil "  is  a  great 
humbug  and  health-destroyer.  Sleep  !  It  is  nature's  time  to 
carry  on  the  processes  of  assimilation— to  manufacture  food 
into  blood,  and  blood  into  healthful  tissue.  The  time  for  re- 
pose is  the  time  for  the  repair  of  waste.  A  man  is  taller  in 
the  morning  than  he  is  at  nightfall  •  his  brain  is  clearer,  his 
step  more  elastic,  his  nerve  steadier,  his  muscles  more  ener- 
getic. Give  children  plenty  of  sleep.  Put  them  to  bed  early. 
Shut  out  the  glare  of  gas,  and  resist  the  appeals  to  "sit  up," 
to  go  to  night  parties,  night  concerts,  night  Sunday-school 
exhibitions,  night  meetings.  Send  them  to  bed  betimes,  and 
give  them  sound  sleep,  sound  nerves,  sound  constitutions. 
Night-air  is  bad.  Malarias  are  abroad,  and  there  is  no  kindly 
sun  to  dispel  the  noxious  vapors,  and  war  upon  the  deadly 
venoms.  Sleep  in  the  upper  stories,  in  the  largest  rooms  of 
the  house,  and  the  best  ventilated.  Let  a  child  have  its  sleep 
out  in  the  morning.  Never  wake  it  till  it  wakes  of  its  own 
accord.  Some  young  men  and  young  women  have  to  get  up  at 
six  to  go  to  employments.  It  will  not  do  for  such  to  sit  up  till 
eleven  or  twelve  the  night  before.  Sleep  till  the  eyes  open  of 
their  own  accord.  It  is  hard  for  a  boy  or  girl  to  be  called  to 
dress  and  go  about  business  when  the  tired,  sleepy  and  un- 
rested  eyes  feel  as  if  they  were  "  full  of  sticks." 

Diff'erent  persons  require  difierent  amounts  of  sleep.  Some 
want  six  hours,  some  seven,  some  nine.  General  Grant  wants 
nine,  and  said,  at  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  he  could  get  but 
seven,  and  it  almost  killed  him.  John  Wesley  found  that  he 
could  do  with  six,  and  fixed  his  hours  of  rest  between  ten  and 
four ;  and,  by  example,  if  not  by  precept,  put  the  whole 
Methodist  preaching  fraternity  into  the  same  inexorable 
strait-jacket.  John  Wesley  became  thus  the  author  of  a  fear- 
ful waste  of  life  and  energy.  He  killed  off  whole  generations 
of  preachers,  who  undertook  to  sleep  six  hours  because  this 
exceptional  bundle  of  animated  iron-wires  could  do  with  six. 
The  strong  require  much  sleep,  the  weak  and  feeble  more. 

Sleep  should  be  graded  by  periods  of  life,  and,  perhaps,  by 
temperaments ;  but  no  one  man's  experience  is  a  guide  for  any 
other.  The  average  has  been  given  as  follows :  The  infant 
sleeps  twenty  hours,  and  wakes  four;  the  old  man  wakes 
twenty  and  sleeps  four;  in  middle  life  seven  to  nine  hours 
sleep  are  requisite  to  keep  up  the  balance  between  waste  and 
supply.  Nervoua  persons  find  it  difficult  to  sleep.  Such 
should  nurse  the  hours  of  rest  with  great  care ;  avoid  tea,  cof- 
fee, and  stimulants  before  retiring;  avoid  hard,  exciting 
studies  of  an  evening;  avoid  excitements  of  all  kinds,  and 
court  quiet,  music,  genial  conversation,  and  soothing  employ- 
ments or  meditations.  Above  all,  go  to  sleep  when  the  first 
fit  of  drowsiness  comes  on.  Roused  out  of  that,  one  may  lie 
awake  for  hours,  and  roll  and  toss,  and  not  be  able  to  entice 
I  Bleep  to  tb'    :pasy  pillow. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


397 


What  Shall  be  Done  with  the  Gi?-ls  ? 

The  question,  "What  shall  be  done  vdth  the  boys '"is,  to 
the  average  American  parent,  far  more  perplexing  than  that 
other  equally  momentous  one,  "  What  shall  be  done  with  the 
girls  ?"  The  boys  must  be  trained  to  some  profession  or  busi- 
ness by  which,  when  they  become  men,  they  can  earn  sufficient 
money  to  support  not  only  themselves,  but  too  often  the  idle 
and  almost  useless  women  they  are  foolish  enough  to  maiTy. 
As  for  the  girls,  it  is  only  necessary  to  educate  them  in  a 
showy,  superficial  manner,  to  dress  them  as  handsomely  as  the 
father's  means  will  permit,  and  in  due  time  to  pass  them  over 
to  the  young  men,  who  are  expected  to  hire  one,  or  two,  or 
three  servants  to  wait  on  the  dainty,  helpless  creatures. 

What  to  do  with  the  boys  is,  under  this  order  of  things,  be- 
coming every  day  a  more  and  more  difficult  question  to  deter- 
mine. The  cost  of  living  has  so  greatly  increased,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  multiplication  of  home  luxuries  in  the  shape  of 
fine  furniture  and  expensive  houses,  and  in  the  too  frequent 
abandonment  of  households  to  the  waste  and  destruction  of 
servants,  that  the  young  man  who  is  to  take  upon  himself  the 
maintenance  of  a  wife  and  family  must  be  thoroughly  edu- 
cated in  some  business  by  which  he  can  obtain  the  means  to 
enjoy  the  blessings  of  a  modern  home.  But  success  in  any 
business  or  profession  comes  only  after  years  of  patient  labor; 
and  the  father  knows  but  too  well  that  in  almost  any  choice 
of  a  life-pursuit  which  his  boy  may  make,  the  chances  of  a 
prosperous  result  are  largely  against  him.  He  finds  too  often 
most  of  the  promising  places  already  filled  by  more  favored 
ones,  and  is  forced  to  accept  a  position  that  ofl'ers  little  appa- 
rent advantage.  The  look  forward  ia,  in  consequence,  by  no 
means  hopeful  or  encouraging. 

If  the  question,  ''What  to  do  with  the  girls?"  was  more 
carefully  considered  and  more  wisely  determined,  this  other 
question  of  "  What  do  with  the  boys?"  would  be  one  of  easier 
solution.  Why  should  the  girls  be  raised  in  idleness  ?  Why 
should  work  and  service  be  a  disgrace  to  them,  and  an  honor 
to  their  brothers  ?  Why  should  the  home  be  filled  with  ignor- 
ant and  half-trained  servants  to  waste  and  annoy,  when  there 
are  two  or  three  almost  useless  daughters  in  the  household, 
who  would  be  healthier  in  mind  and  body  if  each  took  her 
share  of  the  work,  giving  order  and  comfort  to  every  depart- 
ment? The  father  and  brothers  devote  themselves  to  earnest 
service ;  but  the  wife  and  daughters  too  often  sit  in  compara- 
tive idleness  at  home,  demanding  to  be  served. 

It  is  just  here,  that  the  social  life  of  the  great  middle  class 
of  Americans,  especially  in  our  cities,  is  so  sadly  defective.  In 
this  false  home-ti-aining  of  our  girls  we  hurt  the  body  politic; 
for  in  that  training  lies  the  fruitful  source  of  one  of  the  most 
deplorable  of  all  social  evils.  Young  men  cannot,  unless  rich, 
or  in  prosperous  business,  aflbrd  to  marry.  The  cost  of  sup- 
porting a  woman  who  thinks  it  degrading  to  make  a  loaf  of 
bread,  cook  a  dinner  or  wash  the  dishes,  even  if  she  knew 
how,  and  who  must  have  silks,  and  laces,  and  jewels  like  the 
rest,  is  too  great  for  most  young  men  who  have  to  depend 
solely  upon  their  own  hands  and  brains  for  a  livelihood. 
Some  will  not  marry  at  all.  Others  take  the  risk  and  the  bur- 
den with  a  half-blind  confidence  that  all  will  come  out  right. 
But  too  many  of  these,  after  a  few  years,  find  themselves 
hopelessly  in  debt,  while  the  family  expenses  go  on  steadily 
increasing.  Then  come  shifts  and  expedients.  Some  break 
up  their  homes  and  try  boarding,  in  order  to  reduce  the  cost  of 
living.  Some  make  desperate  business  ventures,  and  fall,  in 
consequence,  even  more  hopelessly  into  debt.  While  others 
cheat,  rob  their  employers,  plunder  in  public  trusts,  or  join 
the  steadily  increasing  army  of  miserable  defaulters,  in  order 
to  keep  up  a  style  of  living  as  good  as  their  neighbors. 

But,  is  all  this  chargeable  to  the  false  education  of  our 
girls?  Too  much  of  it.  And  until  they  are  taught  that  work 
and  service  are  as  honorable  to  them  as  to  their  brothers,  and 
idleness  as  wrong  and  disgraceful,  we  shall  see  little  or  no 
change  for  the  better  in  onr  social  life.  Too  many  servants 
and  too  many  idle  women  are  the  curse  of  American  city 
homes. 

What,  then,  shall  be  done  with  the  girls  ?  Need  we  answer 
the  question  ?  Let  them  be  trained  from  the  beginning  to  re- 
gard all  household  work  as  good  and  honorable,  and  to  be 
ekiUed  in  every  department  of  home  economy  is  as  much  a 
womaa*8  duty  as  it  is  the  duty  of  a  man  to  be  skilled  in  th«i 


trade  or  calling  by  which  he  lo  to  become  the  bread-winner  for 
his  family.  Let  duty  and  service  be  set  before  them  as  the 
highest  end  of  life,  and  pleasure  and  self-indulgence  as  the 
lowest.  It  is  the  false  sentiment  which  reverses  all  this  that 
is  yearly  working  such  sad  disasters  in  so  many  beautiful 
homos ;  homes  built  npon  the  sands  of  pride  and  self-indulg- 
ence, instead  of  upon  the  solid  foundations  of  prudence,  in 
dustry,  economy  and  a  loving  self-sacrifice. 


Character. 

Character  is  a  fortune.  It  pays  a  better  dividend  than  bank 
or  railroad  stocks.  The  young  man  who  goes  forth  in  the 
world  with  an  unimpeachable  character,  can  never  sufl'er  per- 
manent defeat.  The  blows  winch  he  receives  from  his  antagon- 
ists will  bound  back  from  such  a  character,  and  all  the  iujary 
they  inflict  will  be  upon  him  who  gives  them.  In  every 
emergency  it  is  the  man  of  character  who  is  sought.  Those 
lacking  this  beautiful  jewel  may  for  a  time  crowd  themselves 
forward,  and  so  long  as  nothing  of  Importance  is  at  stake,  be 
permitted  to  enjoy  prominence  in  state  and  social  affairs;  but 
when  the  crisis  comes,  when  government  is  threatened,  when 
society  is  menaced,  when  it  is  a  special  honor  to  be  prominent, 
character  is  scrutinized,  and  only  he  whose  character  is  spot- 
less, is  selected  to  lead.  At  such  times  brilliant  reputations 
fade  as  the  meteor  fades,  and  their  possessors  find  that  repu- 
tation is  one  thing  and  character  quite  another.  They  then 
regret  that  this  important  difference  had  net  been  thought  of 
oefore.  But  the  world  seems  to  learn  lit'le  from  these  lessons 
that  individuals  so  often  learn  under  severe  circumstances. 

The  world,  as  a  rule,  is  careful  of  its  reputation — the  out- 
side cover  of  the  heart—the  mist  which  hides  the  soul ;  but  of 
its  character— the  heart  itself— the  object  of  God's  scrutiny,  i' 
is  deplorably  careless.  The  question  is  not  what  I  am,  buV 
what  will  the  world  think  me  ?  With  a  knowledge  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  character,  both  in  this  world  and  the  next,  may 
every  young  man  who  reads  this,  strive  to  live  in  such  a  way 
that  he  can  respect  himself,  and  be  utterly  regardless,  so  long 
as  he  is  right,  of  the  opinion  of  the  world. 

Another  most  important  thing  to  remember  Is  that  character 
once  lost  is  gone  forever.  A  shattered  character  may  be  re- 
trieved in  part,  but  can  never  be  restored  to  its  original  strength 
and  perfection.  However  uprightly  a  man  who  has  been  reck- 
less of  the  purity  of  his  character  may  live  after  reformation, 
the  world,  while  it  may  treat  him  kindly  and  even  honor  him 
to  some  extent,  will  regard  him  with  a  certain  degree  of  sus- 
picion and  fear.  Hundreds  and  thousands  have  found  this  to 
be  true  from  bitter  experience,  and  oceans  of  scalding  tears 
have  been  shed  because  it  is  true. 

All  this  is  in  the  hands  and  under  the  control  of  every  young 
man  whose  character  is  to-day  unblemished.  None  but  our- 
selves can  injure  us  in  this  respect.  We  can  build  up  our  own 
character  or  we  can  tear  it  down ;  and  with  the  pictures  of  sad 
failures  in  life  before  us,  the  thing  most  important  for  each  of 
us  to  do,  is  to  see  that  no  blot  shall  disfigure  our  individual 
characters.  

Tests  of  Character. 

A  great  many  admirable  actions  are  overlooked  by  us,  be- 
cause they  are  so  little  and  common.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
mother  who  has  had  broken  slumber,  if  any  at  all,  with  the 
nursing  baby  whose  wants  must  not  be  disregarded;  she 
would  fain  sleep  awhile  when  the  breakfast  hour  comes,  but 
patiently  and  uncomplainingly  she  takes  her  timely  sept  a* 
the  table.  Though  exhausted  and  weary,  she  serves  all  with 
a  refreshing  cup  of  coffee  or  tea  before  she  sips  it  herself,  and 
often  the  cup  is  handed  back  to  her  to  be  refilled  before  she 
has  had  time  to  take  her  own.  Do  you  hear  her  complain— 
this  weary  mother— that  her  breakfast  is  cold  before  she  ha? 
time  to  eat  it  ? 

And  this  is  not  for  one,  but  for  every  morning,  perhaps,  in 
the  year.  Do  you  call  it  a  small  thing  ?  Try  it  and  see.  How 
does  woman  shame  us  by  her  forbearance  and  fortitude  in 
what  are  called  little  things  I  Ah,  it  is  these  little  things 
which  are  tests  of  character ;  it  is  by  these  "  little  "  self-de- 
nials borne  with  such  self-forgotten  gentleness,  that  the  hum- 
blest house  is  made  beautiful  to  the  eyes  of  angels,  though 
we  fail  to  see  it,  alas !  until  the  chair  is  vacant  and  the  hand 
which  kept  in  motion  all  this  domestic  machinery  is  power* 
less  and  cold- 


39^ 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


hese,  the  creeper  produces  the  best  article  and  greatest 
aantity. 

The  cotton  is  prepared  in  the  following  manner: — The 
wny  stuff  in  the  pods  is  first  cleared  of  the  .ccut ,  by 
cans  of  spinners,  it  is  then  spun  into  il^tc^us.  These 
reads  aie  then  woven  into  cloth,    ix.8  cloth  may  be  of 
ifferent  thickness,  and  may  b  -  dyed  of  different  colors. 
Cotton  clothing  is,  jierhar..  worn  by  more  persons 
iian  any  other  kii  a.   Besides  bemg  warm  and  light,  it 
eeps  the  &\zl£.  diry,  and  is,  for  that  reason,  as  wholesome 
s  anyl/LAjLLg  that  can  be  worn. 

VOOL,— The  clothing  made  from  wool  is  adapted  to 
old  countries.  Many  persons  have  an  idea  that  wool 
en  clothes  warm  the  body ;  this  is  altogether  incorrect. 
'N ool  does  not  impart  warmth  itself ;  but  it  prevents  the 
warmth  of  our  bodies  from  escaping.  Wool  is  the  hairy 
covering  of  sheep ;  the  wool  of  the  Spanish  sheep  being 
extremely  fine,  aic  d  the  best  in  the  market. 

It  is  taken  from  the  living  animal  in  summer,  and  in 
that  condition  is  called ^ecce.  The  first  thing  done  with 
iLe  raw  material  is  to  pick  and  sort ;  this  process  being 
necessary  on  account  of  the  same  sheep  producing  wo(U 
of  different  qualities.  It  is  then  cleaned,  and  passed  to 
the  wool  comber^  who,  by  means  of  iron-spiked  combs, 
draws  out  the  fibres,  smooths  and  straightens  them.  It 
is  now  leady  for  the  spinner^  who  forms  it  into  threads, 
the  more  twisted  of  which  are  called  zvomted,  and  the 
less  twisted  yam.  It  is  then  used  in  weaving  various  ar- 
ticles of  clothing. 


Fmits  and  Flowers  of  Portugal. 

_  hey  possess,  indeed,  many  fine  orchards  of  fruit 

trcus,  and  groves  of  oranges  and  lemons,  of  olives  and 
^^■^ mulberries,  and  extensive  forests  of  pine,  chestnut,  and 
cork  trees  ;  but  they  are  far  behind  the  Germans  in  for- 
estal  science,  and  the  French — the  masters  of  us  all — in 
pomology.  The  Portuguese  oranges  grown  in  the  in- 
terior are  as  large  and  good  as  those  from  St.  Michael's, 
but  the  oranges  which  come  from  the  seaboard  districts 
— the  only  ones  ever  exported  to  Great  Britain— are  poor 
iu  quality,  for  which  I  can  give  no  reason  except  bad 
cultivation,  seeing  that  the  best  oranges  in  many  other 
countries  grow  within  reach  of  the  sea  breezes. 
The  olives  of  Portugal— an  important  food  of  the 

f>eople — are  gathered  riper  than  in  Spain,  France,  or 
taly,  and  are  small  and  dark  colored.    They  are 


And  old  faces  gaze  up  at  me,  shadow-like,  from  out  the  wave. 
And  I  listen  to  soft  voices  hushed  forever  in  the  grave; 
While  that  sweet  and  homely  music,  wafted  on  the  still  night 
air, 

Soothes  my  spirit,  jaded  somewhat  with  the  city's  toil  and 
care. 

*Tis  some  merry  boating  party,  landward  bound  at  close  of  day, 
Lightening  their  homeward  journey  with  a  happy  roundelay ; 
Now  it  trembles,  ebbs  and  wavers,  faint  and  fainter,  and  again  j 
Swells,  and  wakes  the  harbor  echoes,  and   1   catch   the  gladj 
refrain. 

Lo!  a  little  skiff  is  rounding  where  yon  headland  looms  in 
sight. 

In  her  wake  a  soft  and  shimmering  trail  of  phosphorescent 
light, 

Clear  and  clearer  swells  the  music  till  the  boat  has  gained  the 
strand. 

Dying  out  in  lingering  cadence  as  the  sharp  keel  cleaves  the 
sand. 


MUSIC  03Sr  THE  WATER. 

BY  R.  RICHARDSON,  B.  A. 

Slowly  by  the  beach  I  wander,  and  in  cadence  low  and  clear, 
O'er  the  mooa-lit  harbor  floating,  steals  the  music  on  my  ear; 
Soft  the  Austral  stars  are   glowing,  blending  all   the  tranquil 
scene. 

Rock,  and  wave,  and  dreaming  woodlands,  in  a  haze  of  silver! 

sheen.  ' 

As  I  watch  the  rippling  waters  creeping  up  the  sandy  shore, 
Through  my  brain  old  thoughts  are  wandering,  bringing  back 

the  days  of  yore,  .       c  ,    ,  i     .  .   .    -  « 

When  I  roved,  a  college  stripling,  by  the  Devon's  winding  tide,  Iprobably  more  wholcsomc,  and,  m  my  opmiou,  far 
And  the  world  that  spread  before  me  seemed  a  landscape  fair  as  better  to  eat  than  the  OliveS  of  any  other  country  ;  SO 
wide.  good,  indeed,  and  so  cheap,  that  it  is  a  wonder  they 

are  not  brought  to  this  country  in  place  of  the  hard, 
half-ripe  and  expensive  olives  of  France.  The  oil  made 
from  them  is  generally  badly  made,  but  when  purified  it 
is  probably  quite  as  good,  though  by  no  means  as  salea- 
ble, as  the  fine  oils  of  Italy. 

The  climate  of  Portugal  appears  to  be  identical  in 
many  respects  with  that  of  Japan ;  and  many  Japanese  ■ 
shrubs  and  flowers,  which  dwindle  and  fail  in  the  open 
air  in  France  and  England,  grow  magnificently  in  Portu- 
gal. Chief  among  them  is  the  camellia,  brought,  it  is 
said,  about  ninety  years  ago  from  Japan,  and  often  seen 
in  Portugal  of  the  size  of  a  full-grown  apple  tree.  The 
camellia  seems  to  require  a  rather  damp  climate,  and 
perhaps  a  granite  soil,  for  the  tree  is  a  weakling  in  the 
dry  air  of  Lisbon,  but  thrives  close  by  at  Cintra,  and 
still  better  at  Oporto,  where  many  new  and  beautiful 
varieties  are  grown — among  others  the  sweet-scented 
kind,  of  whose  existence  no  English  gardener  Ci  botanist 
to  whom  I  have  spoken  seems  to  be  aware.  Lovely  as 
the  flowers  of  the  camellia  are  singly,  the  tree  itself,  in 
full  bloom,  is  by  no  means  an  attractive  sight.  A  camel- 
lia tree  witl:  a  thousand  flowers  on  it  might  be  supposed, 
with  its  compact  growth,  its  shiny  leaves  of  rich  green, 
to  be  an  exquisitely  beautiful  object,  but  it  is  nothing  of 
the  sort.  The  flowers,  as  they  begin  to  fade,  get  to  be 
of  a  dingy  brown,  and  hang  a  long  time  on  the  tree, 
and  a  camellia  tree  in  full  blossom  has  by  far  the  largest 
proportion  of  its  flowers  withered  and  ugly.  As  a  flower- 
ing shrub  the  camellia  is  not  comparable  to  the  poinset- 
tia,  which  blossoms  to  perfection  in  the  Algarve  pro- 
vinces, with  its  mass  of  intense  scarlet  blOv^i  looking 
lilce  a  richly-colored  silken  drapery  hung  on  the  branches 
of  the  tree,  or  to  the  white  datura.  A  datura  shrub  is. 
full  bloom,  with  its  thousands  of  pendent  flower  bells 
reflected  in  a  pool  of  water,  is  a  thing  not  soon  to  be  for- 


Cotton  and  Wool. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Cotton. — A  piece  of  cotton  or  muslin  does  not  seem 
a  very  complex  affair;  but  how  many  among  our  young 
friends,  or  grown  friends,  either,  for  that  matter,  can 
trace  the  processes  of  its  manufacture.  And  yet  this  is 
not  a  hard  matter.    To  begin: 

Cotton  is  a  downy  stufi  in  the  pod  of  a  plant  called 
the  cotton  plant.  The  pod  of  the  cotton  plant  is,  in 
some  respects,  similar  to  the  bean-pod.  When  ripe,  the 
cotton-pod  is  black  on  the  outside,  whilst  the  inner  part 
contains  a  soft  down  in  which  the  seeds  lie.  Of  this 
down  stockings  are  made. 

There  are  three  sorts  of  cotton  plants.  One  is  a  short, 
bushy  tree ;  another  creeps  along  the  ground,  growing 
<n  this  manner ;  while  a  third  is  a  tall,  majestie  tree.  Oi 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


401 


''By  No  Means  a  Silly  Bird  T 
DEFENCE  OI^HE  GOOSE! 

ITS  CUNNING  AND  INTELLIGENCE 


"At  the  flour  mills  of  Tubberakeena,  near  Clonmel,  Ire- 
land, while  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Mr.  Newbold, 
there  was  a  goose,  which  by  some  accident  was  left  soli- 
tary, without  mate  or  offspring,  gander  or  goslings.  Now 
it  happened,  as  is  common,  that  the  miller's  wife  had  set 
a  number  of  duck  eggs  under  a  hen,  which  in  due  time 
were  incubated,  and,  of  course,  the  ducklings,  as 
soon  as  they  came  forth,  ran  with  natural  instinct  to 
the  water,  and  the  hen  was  in  a  sad  pucker  ;  her 
maternity  urging  her  to  follow  the  brood,  and  her 
instinct  disposing  her  to  keep  on  dry  land. 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  up  sailed  the  goose,  and  with 
a  noisy  gabble,  which  certainly  (being  interpreted) 
meant  'leave  them  to  my  care,'  she  swam  up  and 
down  with  the  ducklings,  and  when  they  were  tired 
with  their  aquatic  excursion,  she  consigned  them  to 
the  care  of  the  hen. 

"  The  next  morning,  down  came  again  the  duck- 
lings to  the  pond,  and  there  was  the  goose  waiting 
for  them,  and  there  stood  the  hen  in  her  great  fluster- 
ation.  On  this  occasion,  we  are  not  at  all  sure  that 
the  goose  invited  the  ben,  observing  her  maternal 
trouble,  but  it  is  a  fact,  that  she  being  near  the  shore, 
the  hen  jumped  on  her  back,  and  there  sat  ;  the 
ducklings  swimming,  and  the  goose  and  hen  after 
them,  up  and  down  the  pond. 

"  This  was  not  a  solitary  event  ;  day  after  day  the 
hen  was  seen  on  board  the  goose,  attending  the  duck- 
lings up  and  down,  in  perfect  contentedness  and  good 
humor — numbers  of  people  coming  to  witness  the 
circumstance,  which  continued  until  the  ducklings, 
coming  to  the  days  of  discretion,  required  no  longer 
the  joint  guardianship  of  the  goose  and  hen." 

The  above  remarkable  instance  of  communica- 
tion of  ideas  among  the  lower  animals  is  related 
by  the  Rev.  C.  Otway ;  and  he  goes  on  to  state,  that  on  the 
evening  of  January  15th,  1874,  he  received  a  corrobora- 
tion of  the  truth  of  the  story.  He  says: — <'I  was  narrating 
it  to  a  lady,  who  I  found  was  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  facts.  She  had  heard  the  story  told  by  a  friend  of 
hers,  who  had  witnessed  the  curious  alliance  between 
the  hen  and  the  goose." 

There  are  one  or  two  points  about  this  narrative  which 
are  deserving  of  notice.  That  language  was  employed 
by  the  goose,  the  hen,  and  the  ducklings,  is  evident 
enough  ;  but  it  is  a  curious  question  whether  the  duck- 
lings understood  the  hen  better  than  the  goose,  or  vice 
versa.  I  am  rather  Inclined  to  think  that  when  a  hen 
tries  to  call  from  the  water  the  ducklings  which  she  has 
hatched,  she  fails,  because  she  does  not  know  how  to 
express  herself.  Her  own  chickens  would  never  ven- 
ture into  the  water,  and^  she  has  no  words  in  her  voca- 
bulary to  suit  the  occasion. 

Ducklings  understand  a  duck  well  enough  ;  but  when 
they  are  in  the  water  they  do  not  pay  the  least  attention 
to  the  hen  on  the  land,  though  she  may  flutter  about 
in  the  greatest  distress,  and  use  every  means  in  her 
power  to  call  u2r  foster  children  to  the  shore.  It  seems 
in  this  case,  C3  if  the  aquatic  goose  could  talk  to  the 
aquatic  ducklings,  both  having  the  same  expressions  in 
their  vocabularies.  It  could  take  charge  of  them  as 
long  as  it  thought  proper,  and,  when  the  time  came,  or- 
der them  ashore,  and  deliver  them  over  to  th'^  hen. 
They  did  not  obey,  or  did  not  understand  the  hen,  when 
she  called  them  to  come  on  shore  ;  but  they  both  under- 
stood and  obeyed  the  goose. 

That  there  was  also  a  language  common  to  both  par- 
ties is  evident  from  the  action  adopted  by  the  hen.  She 
could  not  have  sat  on  the  back  of  the  goose  unless  in- 
vited by  the  latter,  which  is  a  bird  possessed  of  remark- 
able intelligence. 

How  completely  animals  can  make  themselves  under- 
stood by  man,  especially  when  they  wish  to  help  each 
other  by  the  aid  of  man,  will  be  seen  in  the  following 
case,  given  by  the  Rev.  J.  G,  Wood,  where  a  gander 
managed  to  convey  Ideas  to  human  beings. 


"I  was  sitting  at  my  window  reading',  when  a  gander 
came  up  and  stood  at  the  window,  uttering  th(!  most  dis- 
cordant screams,  and  making  the  strangest  gestures 
with  his  head.  I  was  aware  that  he  was  a  knowing  l)ird 
but  was  not  prepared  for  the  sequel.  As  soon  as  my  wife 
and  I  came  out  he  waddled  away  round  the  stables  and 
out-houses  until  he  came  to  the  mill-wheel.  Then  he 
stopped,  went  forward  a  few  paces  and  kept  looking 
around  at  us.  We  could  see  nothing  wrong ;  but  in  a 
short  time  we  heard  the  plaintive  voice  of  some  young 
goslings  which  had  fallen  through  the  mill-lock,  which 
had  been  left  open. 

There  was  no  possibility  of  rescue  except  by  putting 
on  sufficient  water  to  wash  them  through  the  conduit. 
I  did  so ;  ran  to  the  end,  caught  them  as  they  were 
washed  out,  and  restored  them  to  their  delighted  parent. 
The  gander  seemed  overjoyed,  as  could  be  seen  by  his 
action  as  he  strutted  off  to  a  place  of  safety,  con- 
scious that  he  had  done  great  things.    iSo  he  had." 

It  is  a  great  libel  to  accuse  a  goose  of  being  a  silly 
bird,  when  even  a  tame  goose  shows  such  instinci 
and  attachment.  Its  watchfulness  at  night-time  is, 
and  always  has  been  proverbial  ;  and  it  certainly  is 
endowed  with  an  organ  of  self-preservation.  You 
may  drive  over  dog,  cat,  hen  or  pig,  but  I  defy  you 
to  drive  over  a  tame  goose.  As  lor  wild  geese,  I 
know  of  no  animal,  biped  or  quadruped,  that  is  so 
difficult  to  approach.  Their  senses  of  hearing,  seeing 
and  smelling  are  all  extremely  acute,  independently 
of  which  they  seem  to  act  in  so  organized  and  cautious 
a  manner  when  feeding  or  roosting,  as  to  defy  aii 
danger.  Many  a  time  has  my  utmost  caution  been  of 
avail  in  attempting  to  approach  these  birds ;  either  2 
careless  step  on  a  piece  of  gravel,  or  an  eddy  of  wind, 
however  light,  or  letting  them  perceive  the  smallest 
portion  of  my  person,  has  rendered  useless  whole 
hours  of  manoeuvering. 

We  have  often  seen  them  in  the  great  swamps  of 
the  Bureau  Valley,  along  the  Illinois,  come  in  about 
dark,  when  it  was  just  too  late  to  draw  a  sight,  noise- 
lessly stealing  along,  so  as  to  avoid  the  random 
shot  of  the  hunter  returning  to  camp,  after  a 
long  day's  work.  So  attached  are  they  to  their 
old  grounds,  and  so  liable  to  be  pursued  at 
night  by  reckless  adventurers,  that  after  a  few 
warnings  they  baffle  the  most  intelligent.  Should 
their  line  of  entry  be  discovered  to-night  as  they  come 
across  the  marsh  from  the  south,  to-morrow  night,  if  you 
watch,  you  may  hear  the  vibration  of  their  wings  as  they 
pass  over  the  timber  to  the  north,  in  their  approach  to 
'the  old  rice  pond,  or  open  Avater  of  the  big  slough. 
Upon  all  other  occasions,  and  also  when  disturbed, 
they  exhibit  their  usual  propensity  to  indulge  in  gabble 
and  goose  talk. 

The  most  prominent  among  the  varieties  in  the  West 
'  is  the  Canada  goose.  The  next,  and  existing  in  great 
I  numbers,  is  the  white-fronted  or  laughing  goose,  called 
by  many  brant." 

It  is  amusing  to  watch  a  flock  of  laughing  geese  as 
they  approach  a  favorite  feeding  ground  or  resting 
place.  They  come  first  in  the  regular  acute-angle  line 
of  flight.  Suddenly  they  break  ranks,  and  with  one  ac** 
\  cord  the  whole  flock  begin  a  series  of  evolutions,  tumbling  and 
I  turning  hi^h  in  the  air,  and  then  descending  in  a  most  comical 
and  irregular  manner,  to  the  amusement  of  the  observer,  all 
the  while  indulging  in  a  jabber  more  resembling  the  merry- 
laughing  of  a  bevy  of  school  girls  than  anything  else,  from 
which  peculiarity  they  receive  their  name. 

The  flight  of  wild  geese  is  performed  with  an  order  which 
indicates  considerable  intelligence;  each  individual  keeps  ite 
place  in  the  ranks;  the  male  bird  at  the  head  of  the  triangle  or 
line,  when  it  becomes  fatigued,  retiring  to  the  rear,  and  the 
next  one  coming  forward  to  take  the  leading  and  most  fati- 
guing position  ;  they  follow  the  leader  blindly,  sometimes  to 
their  own  destruction.  Their  sight  and  hearing  are  acute,  and 
while  they  feed  or  sleep  a  sentinel  is  always  on  the  watch  to 
give  the  alarm  at  the  approach  of  danger.  From  the  height  at 
which  they  fly,  their  resting  on  the  water,  and  their  vigilance, 
they  are  very  diftlcult  to  obtain;  a  fact  which  has  found  expres- 
sion in  the  saying,  "a  wild  goose  chase,"  as  indicating  the 
hopeless  pursuit  of  any  object. 

The  Canada  goose  is  found  throughout  North  America,  and 
accidentally  in  England.  An  English  writer  says  :  "  In  this 
neighborhood  (neai  Derby)  we  are  frequently  vis'ited  by  small 
flocks  of  the  Canada  goose,  which  is  a  bird,  I  believe,  of  very 
local  distribution.   They  always  announce  their  approach  by  a 


402 


THE  GROlVlIsj^  IVORLD, 


loud  noise,  and,  after  wheeling  two  or  three  times  round  the 
pieie  of  water  near  the  house,  they  alight  and  commence  graz- 
ing. They  are  very  ornamental  objects,  stalking  about  the 
lawn,  tossing  their  heads,  and  making  curious  contortions 
with  their  long  necks.  It  frequently  happens  that  two  remain 
when  all  the  rest  are  flown.  After  reconuoitering  the  place  for 
a  few  days,  they  usually  fix  on  the  corner  of  an  island  as  their 
resting  place.  This  favorite  nook  of  theirs  is  not  far  from 
where  a  pair  of  moorhens,  year  after  year,  produce  their  young; 
yet  neither  goose  nor  moorhen  ever  interfere  with  each  other, 
but  keep  on  very  good  terms  ;  nevertheless,  the  former  does 
not  permit  her  sooty  companion  to  make  too  close  an  approach. 

After  the  female  goose  has  fully  made  up  her  mind  as  to 
the  locality  of  her  nursery,  she  begins  plucking  fe*hers, 
straws,  and  other  soft  materials,  until  she  has  at  last  con- 
structed a  feather  bed.  Having  laid  her  eggs,  generally  six, 
she  sits  with  most  exemplary  patience,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  proximity  of  the  water,  which  offers  a  great  temptation,  it 
is  rare  to  find  her  off  her  nest.  During  the  period  of  incuba- 
tion, the  male  is,  through  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  sailing 
in  measured  time  and  slow  over  the  water,  never  approaching 
his  mate  very  near,  nor  straying  very  far.  On  the  approach  of 
any  intruder,  he  displays  great  uneasiness,  and  his  tranquility 
does  not  return  till  the  danger  is  over.  Shortly  after  the  §;os- 
lings  have  extricated  themselves  from  their  little  covering, 
they  are  conducted  to  the  water  by  the  female,  when  they  are 
joined  by  the  male,  who  brings  up  the  rear.  The  little  family 
remain  together  till  the  return  of  the  flock,  when  all  mix  pro- 
miscuously, recruit  themselves  for  a  few  days  and  then  depart." 

The  spring  migration  northward  begins  with  the  melting  of 
the  snow,  from  March  20  to  April  30,  and  the  return  com- 
mences in  the  first  half  of  September;  the  birds  passing  along 
the  coast,  but  most  numerous  in  the  interior;  their  flight  is 
very  high,  their  "honk"  often  being  heard  when  the  birds 
cannot  be  seen.  The  food  consists  of  the  seeds  of  grasses  and 
aquatic  plants,  slugs  and  snails,  worms,  insects,  tender  blades 
of  corn  and  Crustacea,  shell  fish,  and  marine  plants  on  the  sea- 
shore. 

The  Canada  goose  is  not  often  found  in  company  with  other 
species;  their  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  are  very  acute,  and 
their  stratagems  for  avoiding  their  enemies  evince  great  cun- 
ning ;  they  rarely  dive,  unless  when  attempting  to  escape,  at 
which  time  both  old  and  young  quickly  disappear.  They  are 
shot  from  ambush  at  their  feeding  places,  and  may  be  attracted 
by  living  or  artificial  decoys.  Beside  man  and  the  animals 
just  mentioned,  their  worst  enemies  are  alligators  the  cougar, 
lynx  and  raccoon,  and  the  'Aliite-headed  eagle. 

Our  common  tame  goose  is  the  European  wild  bird  domesti- 
cated, from  which  it  varies  considerably  in  color,  though  less 
than  ducks  and  fowls  do  from  their  wild  originals.  In  Eng- 
land, Lincolnshire  is  famous  for  the  raising  of  geese;  on  the 
continent,  Hamburg,  Bremen,  Emden,  and  their  neighborhoods, 
raise  the  best  broods.  Before  the  time  of  railroads  many 
thousands  together  were  driven  from  distant  countries  to 
London,  travelling  eight  or  ten  miles  a  day;  the  price  used  to 
be  regulated  by  that  of  mutton,  being  the  same  per  pound,  and 
it  does  not  vary  much  from  this  now.  The  usual  weight  of  a 
fine  goose  is  fifteen  or  sixteen  pounds,  and  by  cramming  with 
nourishing  food  this  weight  may  be  doubled:  by  confining  the 
bird,  to  prevent  motion,  and  employing  fattening  diet  and  stu- 

f»efyiug  substances,  the  body  becomes  loaded  with  fat,  and  the 
iver  becomes  enlarged  and  fatty  from  disease,  forming  the 
Ipates  defoie  gras  so  much  esteemed  by  epicures.  Geese  are  in 
the  best  condition  for  the  table  about  Christmas  time. 

Before  the  days  of  metallic  pens,  goose  quills  formed  a  con- 
siderable article  of  trade,  the  live  bird  being  stripped  once  and 
sometimes  twice  a  year  for  this  purpose.  The  value  of  the  fea- 
thers for  beds  and  pillows  is  well-known;  the  living  birds 
being  plucked  from  three  to  five  times  a  year,  at  which  peri- 
ods, if  cold  weather  come  on,  many  die;  if  well  fed  and  cared 
for,  a  goose  will  yield  about  a  pound  of  feathers  in  a  season. 
They  generally  breed  only  once  a  year,  laying  every  other  day, 
and  depositing  seven  or  eight  eggs;  incubation  is  about  thirty 
days,  and  the  female  will  sometimes  produce  enough  for  three 
teroods,  if  the  eggs  are  taken  away  in  succession.  They  begin 
to  lay  early,  are  close  setters,  and  very  careful  of  their  young — 
fiercely  resenting  the  intrusion  of  anything  coming  too  near 
their  offspring. 

We  witnessed  an  example  of  this  when  spending  a  few  weeks 
in  the  country,  at  a  farm  house,  last  summer.  In  a  field  oppo- 
site the  house  was  a  spring  to  which  a  goose  and  her  little  ones 
made  daily  excursions.  One  day  a  sheep  wandered  from  the 
flock  into  her  vicinity  and  innocently  looked  over  the  little 
bank  at  Mistress  Goose  and  her  interesting  family.  She 
scolded  vigorously,  but  the  curiosity  of  the  sheep  was  evidently 
excited,  and  he  continued  to  peer  over,  when  with  a  loud  noise 
the  bird  flew  furiously  at  him,  flapped  her  wings  in  his  face, 
pecked  at  his  woolly  coat,  driving  him  before  her  until  satisfied 
that  he  was  sufticiently  punished  and  disarmed  of  evil  inten- 
tion, when  she  hastened  back  to  her  downy  babies  at  the 
spring. 

Of  the  attachment  of  geese  to  particular  persons  there  are 
many  instances.  A  farmer  in  Cheshire  County,  England,  had 
a  flock  of  these  birds,  when,  at  the  end  of  three  years,  one, 
without  any  apparent  cause,  showed  a  great  partiality  for  its 
master.  It  followed  him  to  the  mill,  the  blacksmith  shop,  or 
through  the  bustling  streets  of  a  neighboring  town;  and  so 
great  was  its  perseverance  that  he  was  compelled  to  fasten  it 
up  when  he  wished  to  go  out  alo'^<>.    Strange,  to  tell,  the  far- 


mer thought  this  attachment  ominous  of  evil,  and,  in  a  moment 
of  alarm,  killed  his  faithful  companion. 

The  horse  and  the  goose  have  been  known  to  be  excellent 
friends  for  a  long  time;  the  bird  rubbing  his  head  in  the  fond- 
est manner  against  that  of  the  horse. 

We  all  know  that  most  of  the  human  family  have  an  attach, 
ment  for  the  goose.  As  a  case  in  point  we  give  the  following 
amusing  anecdote: 

During  the  early  part  of  the  late  war,  in  the  year  1861,  shortly 
after  our  army  moved  from  Washington  out  beyond  Arlington, 
Levi  S.  Chatfield,  of  New  York,  went  over  to  visit  some  Ohio 
regiments,  when  the  following  incident  of  the  movement  was 
related  to  him:  As  they  went  along  on  their  way  over,  some 
of  the  soldiers  stepped  out  of  the  ranks  and  "confiscated"  a 
couple  of  geese,  and  at  the  suggestion  of  an  ingenious  fellow, 
and  a  natural  "bummer,"  one  of  the  drummers  unheaded  his 
instrument  and  put  the  captured  birds  in.  Shortly  afterward 
the  colonel  came  along,  and  noticing  that  the  boy  shirked  his 
usual  whacks,  rode  up  to  him  and  said,  "Why  don't  you  beat 
that  drum  ?"  " Colonel,"  said  the  startled  musician,  "I  want 
to  speak  to  you,"  The  colonel  drew  still  closer  to  him,  and 
bending  down  his  head,  said,  "  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 
The  drummer  whispered,  "Colonel,  I've  got  a  couple  of  geese 
in  here,"  The  colonel  straightened  up  and  gravely  said,  "Well, 
if  you're  sick  and  can't  play,  you  needn't,"  and  then  rode  on. 
It  is  needless  to  add  that  the  colonel  had  roast  goose  that 
night. 

In  the  United  States,  the  common  goose  of  Europe,  in  which, 
the  ganders  are  white  and  the  females  gray,  is  the  most  nu- 
merous, and  perhaps  as  profitable  as  any.    The  white  Bremen 


goose  is  of  larger  size,  handsome,  and  easily  raised,  but  less 
prolific  and  hardy.  The  China,  or  tchin-tchu  goose,  with  its 
variety,  the  Gumed  or  African  goose,  is  very  large  and  swan- 
like; at  maturity  weighing  fifty  pounds  per  pair.  A  cross  be* 
tween  the  last  and  the  Bremen  bird,  called  sometimes  the 
mountain  goose,  is  highly  prized  for  the  table,  and  attains  a 
weight  of  thirty-five  or  forty  pounds  a  pair;  it  comes  to  maturity 
early,  and  can  be  reared  in  sixteen  weeks  to  a  weight  of  four' 
teen  pounds,  dressed.  The  Canada  goose,  is  sometimes  tamed, 
especially  in  northern  and  thinly  settled  localities;  it  mixea 
with  the  common  goose,  though  of  a  different  ^enus,  and  the 
mongrels,  which  are  not  prolific,  are  considered  a  great  deli' 
cacy. 

Extraordinary  honors  were  paid  to  this  bird  in  ancient  times, 
and  it  is  still  held  in  great  veneration  by  some  of  the  Eastern 
nations.  The  figure  that  occurs  so  frequently  in  Buddhist 
monuments  is  the  Brahmanee  goose.  The  ancient  Britons,  ac 
cording  to  Caesar,  held  it  impious  to  eat  their  flesh. 

The  goose  is  a  very  long  lived  bird— its  age  having  been 
known  to  reach  one  hundred  years.  It  is  probable  that  many 
wild  species,  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  might,  hy  a  little 
care,  be  brought  into  a  state  of  domestication,  and  thus  increase 
the  number  of  these  useful  servants  of  man. 

•         The  Soldiers'  Dogs. 

Not  lonff  since  a  dog  named  Touton  "  came  to  Paris 
with  a  regiment  of  Zouaves  which  had  returned  from 
Italy.  The  soldiers  were  all  greatly  attached  to  him, 
for  he  had  passed  safely  through  a  singular  adventure 
which  deprived  them  of  all  other  dogs  belonging  to  the 
regiment.  When  the  war  commenced  the  Zouaves  em- 
barked for  Genoa ;  but  as  they  were  going  on  board  the 
ship,  they  saw  a  formal  order  forbidding  the  entrance  of 
all  dogs  upon  the  vessel.  As  they  were  very  much  at- 
tached to  their  dogs,  they  were  stricken  with  grief.  It 
was  not  easy  to  deceive  the  sharp  lookout  kept,  for  every 
soldier  advanced  along  the  narrow  gangway,  one  by  one, 
as  his  name  was  called.  Necessity  is  the  mother  of  in- 
vention. The  drummers  unscrewed  their  drums,  and 
the  best  dogs  of  the  regiment  were  concealed  in  the 
drums,  which  were  screwed  up  again.  When  regiments 
embark,  no  music  is  played,  but  on  this  occasion  the 
colonel  determined  there  should  be  music.  He  ordered 
the  trumpets  and  drums  to  take  the  head  of  the  column, 
and  to  play  a  lively  tune.  The  face  of  the  drummers — 
eyery  one  of  whom  had  a  dog  in  his  clrr.m — grew  very 
long  I  The  trumpets  sounded ;  the  drum^  -w  ere  all  silent. 
The  colonel  got  angry  and  bawled  to  know  why  the 
drums  did  not  beat.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do  and 
that  was  to  beat.  The  moment  the  drums  began  to  beat, 
innumerable  dogs  began  to  howl  and  to  bay,  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  everybody  but  the  Zouaves.  Everybody 
looked  right,  left,  backward,  forward — no  sign  of  a  dog 
anywhere ;  and  yet,  the  more  the  drummers  beat,  the 
more  the  dogs  howled.  At  last  a  spaniel  fell  out  of  a 
drum,  rolle(?  over  and  over  on  the  ground,  got  up  and 
took  to  his  heels,  howling  louder  than  ever.  Roars  of 
laughter  greeted  this  explanation  of  the  mysterious 
howls.  The  drummers  were  then  ordered  to  advance  on 
board,  one  by  one,  and  each  to  roll  the  drum  as  he  came. 
If  a  barking  was  heard,  the  drum  was  unscrewed,  and 
the  dog  put  ashore.  Only  one  dog  got  on  board ;  tfeis 
was  Touton,  who  kept  quiet  through  all  the  rolling:- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  403 


The  Strange  Experience  of  a  Minister. 

We  take  the  following  statement  from  Lossing's  Field 
Book  of  the  Revolution,  it  being  known  as  an  historical 
fact: — Almost  beneath  the  spot  where  I  stood  under  the 
middle  aisle  of  the  church  (Freehold,  N.  J.,)  rest  the  re- 
mains of  Rev.  William  Tennent.  On  the  right  of  the 
pulpit  is  a  commemorative  tablet,  with  the  following 
inscription:  "Sacred  to  the  memory  of  the  Reverend 
William  Tennent,  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
€hurch  in  Freehold,  who  departed  this  life  the  8th  day 
of  March,  1777,  aged  71  years  and  9  months.  He  was 
pastor  of  said  church  forty-three  years  and  six  months. 
Faithful  and  Beloved." 

Mr.  Tennent  was  one  of  the  most  faithful  ministers  of 
his  day ;  and  his  name  is  widely  known  in  connection 
with  curious  physiological  and  psychological  phenome- 
na, of  which  he  was  the  subject.  For  three  days  he 
remained  in  a  cataleptic  state,  commonly  called  trarice, 
or  apparent  death  of  the  body  while  the  internal  life  is 
active.  He  had  applied  himself  closely  to  theological 
studies,  until  his  health  suddenly  gave  way.  He  became 
emaciated,  his  life  was  despaired  of,  and  one  morning, 
while  conversing  with  his  brother  in  Latin,  on  the  state 
of  his  soul,  he  fainted  and  soemed  to  expire. 

He  was  laid  out,  and  preparations  were  made  for  his 
funeral.  His  physician,  who  was  absent,  was  much 
grieved  on  his  return.  His  skill  detected  symptoms  of 
Bf  e,  and  be  desired  a  postponement  of  burial.  The  body 
was  cold  and  stiff;  there  were  no  signs  of  life  to  the 
common  apprehension,  and  his  brother  insisted  that  he 
should  be  buried.  But  the  entreaties  of  his  physician 
prevailed;  the  funeral  was  postponed.  On  the  third  day 
after  his  apparent  death,  the  people  were  assemt^'ed  to 
bury  him.  The  doctor,  who  had  been  at  his  side  from 
the  beginning,  still  insisted  upon  applying  restoratives. 

The  hour  appointed  for  the  burial  arrived,  and  the 
brother  of  Tennent  impatiently  demanded  that  the 
funeral  ceremonies  should  be  performed.  At  that  mo- 
ment, to  the  alarm  of  all  present,  Mr.  Tennent  opened 
his  eyes,  gave  a  dreadful  groan  and  relapsed  again  into 
apparent  lifelessness.  This  movement  was  twice  re- 
peated after  an  interval  of  an  hour,  when  life  permanent- 
ly remained,  and  the  patient  slowly  recovered.  Abso- 
lute forgetfulness  of  all  knowledge  marked  his  return  to 
consciousness.  He  was  totally  ignorant  of  every  tran- 
saction of  his  life  previous  to  his  sickness.  He  had  to  be 
taught  reading,  writing,  and  all  things,  as  if  he  were  a 
new-bom  child.  At  length  he  felt  a  sudden  shock  in 
his  head,  and  from  that  moment  his  recollection  was 
by  degrees  restored.  These  circumstances  made  a  pro- 
found impression  on  the  public  mind,  and  became  the 
theme  of  philosophical  speculation  and  inquiry." 

Mr.  Tennent  has  left  on  record  the  following  graphic 
account  of  his  feelings  while  his  body  was  in  a  state  of 
catalepsy : 

While  I  was  conversing  with  my  brother  on  the  state 
of  my  soul,  and  the  fears  I  had  entertained  for  my  fu- 
ture welfare,  I  found  myself,  in  an  instant,  in  another 
state  of  existence,  under  the  direction  of  a  Supreme  Be- 
ing, who  ordered  me  to  follow  him.  I  was  accordingly 
wafted  along,  I  know  not  how,  till  I  beheld  at  a  distance 
an  ineffable  glory,  the  impression  of  which  on  my  mind 
it  is  impossible  to  communicate  to  mortal  man. 

I  immediately  reflected  on  my  happy  change,  and 
thought,  Well,  blessed  be  God  I  I  am  saved  at  last,  not- 
withstanding all  my  fears.  I  saw  an  Lanumerable  host 
of  happy  beings  surrounding  the  inexpressible  glory,  in 
acts  of  adoration  and  joyous  worship;  but  I  did  not  see 
any  bodily  shape  or  representation  in  the  glorious  ap- 
pearance. I  heard  things  unutterable.  I  heard  their 
songs  and  hallelujahs  of  thanksgiving  and  praise  with  un- 
speakable rapture.  I  felt  joy  unutterable  and  full  of  glory. 

1  then  applied  to  my  conductor,  and  requested  leave 
to  join  the  happy  throng;  on  which  he  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder  and  said,  "You  must  return  to  the  earth." 
This  seemed  like  a  sword  wirough  my  heart.  In  an  in- 
stant I  recollect  to  have  seen  my  brother  standing  before 
me  disputing  with  the  doctor. 

The  three  days  during  which  I  had  appeared  lifeless 
seemed  to  me  not  more  than  ten  or  twenty  minutes. 
The  idea  of  returning  to  this  world  of  sorrow  and 
trouble  gave  me  such  a  shock  that  I  fainted  repeatedly." 
— Life  of  William  Tennent,  ^^y  Elias  Boudinot,  L.L.D. 

Mr.  Tennent  said  that  for  three  years  the  ravishing 
sounds  he  had  heard  and  the  words  that  were  uttered, 
Were  not  out  of  his  ears. 


Notes  ill  Tunis. 

BY  C.  M.  FALCONER. 

There  is  a  decided  free-and-easy  manner  about  the 
Tunisian  soldier's  way  of  doing  sentry  duty.  During  thg 
day  he  divides  his  time  between  sleeping,  sitting  doing 
nothing,  and  knitting  stockings.  The  latter  practice 
which  might  be  introduced  among  our  own  soldiers, 
since  it  would  keep  them  out  of  much  idleness  and  mis- 
chief, is  not  for  the  purpose  of  providing  for  their  own 
wear,  because  they  go  barefoot,  but  to  eke  out  their  scanty 
pay.  At  night,  as  the  fourteen  public  lights  furnished 
by  the  English  Gas  Company  are  insuflficient  to  illumin- 
ate the  whole  town,  the  soldiers  can  no  longer  see  to 
knit  stockings;  so  they  philosophically  roll  themselves 
up  and  go  to  sleep.  After  the  black  hats  and  coats  of 
Western  Europe,  the  diversity  of  costume  in  Tunis  is 
very  attractive  to  the  traveler,  and  it  is  well  worth  while 
to  stand  in  any  of  the  narrow  streets  and  study  the  people 
as  they  pass,  taking  care,  however,  not  to  be  knocked 
down  by  a  camel,  since  these  animals  have  an  unpleasant 
knack  of  stealing  unawares  upon  you  with  their  cushion- 
ed feet. 

The  ladies,  who  have  hidden  away  their  charms  behind 
black  masks  or  richly  diapered  silk  handkerchiefs  are 
Moorish;  the  Jewish  maidens,  on  the  contrary,  display 
their  personal  attractions  in  gorgeous  apparel,  including 
any  amount  of  old  embroidery.  The  Jews  were  once 
greatly  persecuted  here,  but  now  hold  most  of  the  busi- 
ness of  the  town  in  their  own  hands,  from  the  money- 
changers who  sit  at  the  street  corners  with  small  piles 
of  copper  piastres,  to  wholesale  merchants  and  dealers. 

The  cake-seller  proclaims  his  wares  by  a  loud  cry 
which  startles  the  stranger  from  Europe  ;  nor  does  the 
European  stomach  relish  the  oil  or  rancid  butter  which 
the  said  cakes  contain,  but  they  are  quite  to  the  taste  of 
the  ladies  dressed  in  dark  blue  stuffs,  fastened  here  and 
there  with  great  brooches  and  pins.  They  are  Bedouins, 
or  country  Arabs,  and  have  probably  come  to  town  to 
fill  their  jars  with  the  oil  so  ir.Tich  used  in  their  cookery. 

Many  of  the  narrow  streets  heing  impassable  for  carts, 
porters  are  indispensable  fuuctionaries.  They  may  be 
seen  staggering  under  chests  of  drawers  or  iron  bed- 
steads, when  people  are  changing  house;  or  sometimes 
carrying  in  their  capacious  baskets  some  Moslem  who 
has  broken  the  prophet's  law  by  indulging  in  strong 
drink.  As  a  rule,  however,  the  Tunisians  are  an  ab- 
stemious race.   

The  Road  to  Success. 

The  young  man  who  thinks  he  can  carry  his  boyish  pranks 
into  the  serious  business  of  life  is  not  a  man,  and  defrauds 
himself  and  his  employer.  "After  work,  play."  That  should 
satisfy  the  most  sanguine.  "  Business  before  pleasure,"  is 
the  motto  of  every  prudent  man  whose  guide  is  experience, 
and  it  is  sufficient  for  the  novitiate  in  active  life. 

But  it  is  despicable  to  see  the  young  man  just  starting  in  life 
so  wedded  to  his  former  enjoyments  as  to  place  them  above 
present  duties.  Yet  this  is  often  the  case.  The  young  man, 
w^ho,  to  steer  his  own  bark,  launches  forth  on  the  sea  of  life, 
too  often  looks  back  on  the  pleasures  he  leaves  behind,  and^ 
forgetful  of  present  duties,  steers  hack  to  past  enjoyments. 
There  is  no  royal  road  to  success  any  more  than  to  knowledge. 
He  who  would  succeed  must  work;  and  after  all  there  is  more 
real  enjoyment  in  work,  which  has  a  worthy  object,  than  in 
play  or  pleasure,  intended  to  kill  time.  We  remarked  a  f  ew 
days  ago  to  a  business  man  whose  present  means  are  amply 
sufficient,  but  who  worked  really  harder  than  any  of  his  em- 
ployes, that  he  ought  to  "  take  it  easy."  Said  he,  "  I  am 
never  so  happy  as  when  I  have  more  than  I  can  do.  I  may 
wear  out  in  working,  hut  I  dread  to  rust  out  in  idling."  He 
was  right.  His  work  was  a  part  of  himself,  a  part  of  his  life, 
and  it  was  always  faithfully  done.  To  apprentices,  especially 
this  earnestness  and  interest  in  their  work  is  necessary,  if  sue 
cess  is  ever  to  be  attained. 


Op  how  many  cheap,  exquisite  joys  are  these  five  senses 
the  inlets  1  and  who  is  he  that  can  look  on  the  beautiful  scenes 
of  the  morning,  lying  in  the  freshness  of  the  dew,  and  joyful 
light  of  the  risen  sun,  and  not  be  happy?  Cannot  God  create 
another  world  many  times  more  fair  ?  and  cast  over  it  a  mantle 
of  light  many  times  more  lovely  ?  and  wash  it  with  purer  dew 
than  ever  dropped  from  the  eyelids  of  the  morning  ? 

BlDWAKD  IbVINQ. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


404 


The  Knight  and  the  Fair  Ladye. 

A  gallant  knight  of  the  First  Crusade,, 

A  liou  in  battle  was  he, 
And  she  with  rarest  beauty  crowned, 

A  ladye  of  high  degree. 

Long  had  they  loved  with  a  love  unknown, 

In  the  days  of  chivalrie, 
And  many  a  doughty  deed  was  done 

For  love  of  that  fair  ladye. 

For  thus  doth  the  strongest  passion  move; 

It  binds  with  golden  bands 
Hearts  whom  a  ruthless  fate  has  thrown 

In  earth's  far-distant  lands. 

Sir  Hubert,  wrought  by  his  spirit,  thus 
To  the  Lady  Constance  spoke— 
"In  battle  my  arm  hath  proved  its  might, 
And  the  spear  and  the  lance  hath  broke; 

' '  But  never  a^ain  in  the  tented  field 
Shall  my  helmet  proud  be  seen. 
If  thy  heart  refuse  my  proffered  love, 
Mine  own  heart's  love  and  queen!" 

And  he  who  had  conquered  oft  in  war 

Was  conquered  now  in  love; 
For  their  troth  was  plighted  beneath  the  staus 

Which  gleamed  in  the  vault  above. 

Once  more  to  the  East  Sir  Hubert  went, 

But  soon  as  the  strife  was  o'er. 
Returned  to  claim  the  ladye  fair— 

His  bride  for  evermore!" 


Icelanders  in  Alaska. 

A  good  use  is  at  last  found  for  this  province.  At  first 
It  seemed  a  huge  elephant,  incapable  of  doing  service. 
Its  arctic  climate  and  perpetual  rains  presented  no  at- 
traction for  American  emigrants.  The  seal  fishery  was 
the  only  magnet  to  draw  enterprise. 

But  at  last  Alaska  is  winning  a  good  class  of  citizens. 
The  Icelanders  take  to  it,  as  ducks  take  to  water.  Their 
ovm  island  is  gi-owing  uninhabitable,  less  productive 
than  in  former  years,  and  the  people  are  suffering  many 
hardships.  They  begin  to  sec  that  emigration  is  a  neces- 
sity, and  Alaska  is  just  such  a  home  as  they  covet.  Some 
of  them  settled  m  our  western  States,  but  found  the 
climate  too  warm  for  them.  They  sent  a  delegation  to 
examine  Alaska,  who  reported  enthusiastically  in  its 
favor ;  and  it  is  probable  that  a  large  emigration  will 
turn  that  way,  both  from  our  own  country  and  from  the 
ancient  island.  They  will  make  excellent  citizens,  and 
develop  the  resources  of  this  romantic  territory. 


Camphor. 

BT  JAMES  P.  DUPFT. 

Camphor  is  a  kind  of  essential  oil  in  the  form  of  a 
solid  resin  composed  of  different  ingredients.  Its  ap- 
pearance is  that  of  a  whitish  substance,  through  which 
faint  rays  of  light  are  emitted.  It  has  a  bitter  spicy 
taste  ;  is  somewhat  greasy  to  the  feel,  and  is  a  great  in- 
centive to  sweating. 

The  trees  from  which  it  is  obtained  are  known  as 
camphor-trees,  and  are  found  in  China,  Japan,  Borneo, 
Ceylon  and  Sumatra ;  those  of  Borneo,  however,  seem 
to  yield  the  best  results. 

In  form,  the  trees  generally  possess  a  thick  stem,  with 
strong,  close  branches,  and  a  brownish-colored  bark.  As 
the  wood  is  soft  and  easily  worked  it  is  largely  used  for 
many  purposes. 

To  obtain  the  camphor  the  tree  is  cut  down  and  sawn 
in  pieces,  when  the  camphor  may  be  observed  near  the 
centre  in  streams  of  whitish  flakes.  The  pieces  of  wood 
are  distilled  with  water,  and  the  camphor  passes  into 
the  receiver  of  the  still,  leaving  the  wood  in  a  state 
which  is  utilized  after  being  dried. 

The  following  experiment  will  illustrate  the  difference 
between  water  and  alcohol  as  solvents  of  this  sub- 
stance, which  it  may  be  here  stated  is  very  inflamma- 
ble, being  on  this  account  much  used  for  illuminating 
purposes : 

Obtain  a  tall,  narrow  beaker  capable  of  holding  about 
one  ounce.  Place  in  it  thirty-five  grains  of  raw  camphor 
and  fit  into  the  top  of  the  beaker  a  long,  conical  cap,^ 
made  of  paper.  Now  obtain  a  strong  ring  of  five  or  six 
inches  diameter,  and  attach  to  it  a  rod  fastened  to  a 
heavy  iron  foot,  so  that  a  vessel  can  be  supported  on 
the  ring,  and  directly  over  a  spirit-lamp.  On  the  ring, 
place  a  small,  shallow  pan  (filled  with  dry  sand),  and 
insert  the  beaker  with  the  paper  cone  arrangement  into 
the  sand  Now  expose  the  bottom  of  the  pan  to  the 
heat  of  the  spirit  lamp.  In  a  short  time  the  camphor 
will  commence  to  boil,  and  its  steam  condense  on  the 
top  part  of  the  beaker  in  delicate  crystals.  In  this  ex- 
periment the  sublimation  of  the  camphor  affords  a 
beautiful  instance  of  crystallization,  the  crystals  being 
very  often  formed  even  on  the  paper  cone. 

Scrape  the  crystals  from  the  sides  of  the  beaker  and 
the  cone,  and  divide  them  into  three  parts ;  place  one 
part  in  some  clean  water,  and  observe  the  manner  in 
which  it  dissolves  therein.  It  will  be  slowly,  the  cam- 
phor moving  round  a  circle  until  dissolved. 

Place  a  second  portion  into  some  alcohol ;  the  cam- 
phor will  immediately  dissolve. 

Obtain  a  clean  brick,  place  the  third  part  of  camphor 
on  it  and  light  it.  It  will  burn  with  a  smoky  blaze.  The 
apparatus  described  with  these  experiments  is  known  as 
the  sand-bath,  and  is  much  used. 

Camphor  possesses  many  good  qualities  which  render 
it  useful  to  man.  Its  strong  scent  renders  it  valuable 
as  preventive  of  the  spread  of  contagious  diseases,  and 
its  use  for  preserving  articles  from  the  ravages  of  moths 
is  well  known. 


Explained. 

Many  people  have  been  puzzled  to  decide  why  the 
dark  wood  so  highly  valued  for  furniture  should  be 
called  rosewood.  Its  color  certainly  does  not  look  much 
like  a  rose,  so  we  must  look  for  some  other  reason.  Upon 
asking,  we  are  told  that  when  the  tree  is  first  cut  the 
fresh  wood  possesses  a  very  strong,  rose-like  fragrance, 
hence  the  name.  There  are  half  a  dozen  or  more  kinds 
of  rosewood  trees.  The  varieties  are  found  in  South 
America,  and  in  the  East  Indies  and  neighboring  islands. 
Sometimes  the  trees  grow  so  large  that  planks  four  feet 
broad  and  ten  in  length  can  be  cut  from  one  of  them. 
These  broad  planks  are  principally  used  to  make  the 
tops  of  pianofortes.  When  growing  in  the  forest,  the 
rosewood  tree  is  remarkable  for  its  beauty,  but  such  is 
its  value  in  manufactures  as  an  ornamental  wood  that 
some  of  the  forests  where  it  once  grew  abundantly  now 
have  scarcely  a  single  specimen.  In  Madras,  the  Gov- 
ernment has  prudently  had  great  plantations  of  this  tree 
set  out  in  order  to  keep  up  the  supply. 


It  Is  stated  that  3,000  grains  of  oats  have  been  pro- 
luced  from  a  single  oat ! 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


405 


AUTUMN  HAS  COME  AGAIN. 


"It  is  sunset,  and  I  am  sitting  on  tne  gnarled  trunk 
of  a  tree,  near  an  old-fashioned  country  house.  On  one 
3ide  are  large  trees — horse-chestnut,  lime  and  beech. 
From  these  a  golden  shower  of  leaves  come  sloping 
down  upon  the  lawn,  as  the  gentlest  breeze  cannot 
now  bend  their  stems  without  breaking  them  off. 
For  leaves  to  flutter  now  is  death,  and  tliey  are  fal- 
ling, falling,  falling  from  the  trees,  anon  to  rise 
again  in  new  life. 

"  The  golden  shower  has  spotted  the  green  grass 
with  a  thousand  dots  of  yellow,  red  and  brown,  that 
shine  like  gems  in  the  sunshine.  They  are  more 
beautiful  in  death  than  in  the  full  blood  of  summer 
strength,  and  suit  the  time,  the  day,  the  place.  I 
like  to  see  Mother  Earth  take  again  to  her  breast  the 
life  which  she  has  sent  up  from  her  stores  to  clothe 
the  trees  in  their  summer  dress."  And  though  there 
are  periods  in  her  processes  which  seem  simply  bleak 
and  desolute,  she  makes  the  change  from  the  glory 
of  summer  to  the  barrenness  of  winter  magnificiently 
beautiful." 

This  Autumn  day  is  bright  and  balmy — a  golden 
halo  bathes  nature  in  loveliness.  Apples  bend  the 
trees,  wheat  waves  in  the  fields,  birds  call  to  each 
other,  the  swallows  and  blackbirds  gather  in  great 
flocks  and  alight  on  the  fences,  evidently  preparing 
for  departure  toward  the  south. 

The  warm  days  are  going — soon  the  brook  will 
cease  its  musical  flowing  between  green  banks.  The 
Autumn  bees  are  humming — soon  all  will  be  silent  and 
still.  Nature  will  change  her  rustling  emerald  and 
crimson  robe  for  one  of  noiseless  white.  Each  sea- 
son is  beautiful;  but  Autumn  is  especially  brilliant 
and  fascinating.  Look  at  those  gorgeous  clouds  in 
the  west — the  bright  leaves  of  the  maple  trees  min- 
gled with  the  green  and  golden  foliage  to  the  right. 
See  the  reflection  of  gold  in  those  windows.  Can  one 
conceive  anything  more  splendid  than  this  ? 

All  about  me  hum,  fly,  buzz  and  crawl  the  inmates 
of  the  insect  world,  and  watching  them  I  wonder  if 
in  their  own  language  these  tiny  creatures  hold  com- 
munication with  each  other.  This  part  of  animated  na- 
ture, like  every  other,  is  eminently  calculated  to  direct 
the  mind  to  the  great  Creator.  "If,"  says  the  ancient 
writer,  Basil,  "you  speak  of  a  fly,  a  gnat,  or  a  bee,  your 
conversation  will  be  a  sort  of  demonstration  of  His 
power  whose  hand  formed  them.  He  who  has  stretched 
out  the  heavens  and  dug  up  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  is 
also  He  who  has  pierced  a  passage  through  the  sting  of 
the  bee  for  the  ejection  of  its  poison."  Nowhere,  in- 
deed, are  we  so  called  as  in  the  contemplation  of 
insects. 

"  To  trace  in  Nature's  most  minute  design 
The  signature  and  stamp  of  power  divine; 
Contrivance  intricate  express'd  with  ease, 
Where  unassisted  sight  no  beauty  sees; 
The  shapely  limb  and  lubricated  joint, 
Within  the  small  dimensions  of  a  point; 
Muscle  and  nerve  miraculously  spun, 
His  mighty  work  who  speaks,  and  it  is  done!" 

These  thoughts  absorb  my  attention,  and  as  a  long 
dark  green  worm,  dotted  with  yellow,  crawls  slowly 
past  at  my  feet,  I  think  of  the  curious  transformation  it 
will  soon  undergo.  Several  weeks  ago  I  found  just 
such  another  on  the  apple  tree  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
which  was  enclosed  in  a  box,  a  piece  of  tarleton  tied 
over  it  to  prevent  its  escape,  and  at  the  same  time  sup- 
ply it  with  air  and  light.  It  seemed  quite  torpid  at  the 
time  of  its  imprisonment,  being  full  grown.  In  a  few 
days  the  worm  began  to  gather  itself  into  smaller  di- 
mensions, and  one  morning  I  found  its  yellow,  spotted 
skin  in  one  comer  of  the  box,  while  a  hard,  cold,  light 
brown  object,  hung  suspended  to  the  side  by  a  silken 
thread  which  wound  around  the  chrysalis,  each  end  being 
attached  firmly  to  the  box.  There  it  will  probably  re- 
main all  winter  until  the  heat  of  spring  warms  it  into 
life  and  activity.   From  this  hard,  apparently  lileless 


shell  will  emerge  a  lovely  butterfly,  similar  to  that  flut- 
tering over  yonder  bed  of  petunias.  An  emblem  of  our 
own  lives,  which  seemingly  perish  ;  but  rejoice,  O  man 
of  infirmities,  for  you  shall  yet  live  a  more  satisfying, 
beautiful,  spiritual  life  beyond  all  the  shadows  and  un- 
certainties of  earth. 

Ah,  there  is  the  dread  of  the  farmer  close  by— a  hairy 
caterpillar.  It  requires  sound  knowledge  to  prevent  Itfl 
ravages.  Thus,  in  Germany,  the  gardeners  and 
country  people  have  been  accustomed  very  industri- 
ously to  gatlier  large  baskets  full  of  a  destructive 
cabbage  moth,  and  then  to  bury  them.  Now  this 
plan  adopted  in  reference  to  our  common  cabbage 
caterpillar  would  succeed;  while,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, it  is  just  as  if  one  should  attempt  to  kill  a 
crab  by  covering  it  with  water;  for  many  of  the  in- 
sects are  full-grown,  and  ready  to  pass  to  their  next 
state  as  they  do  underground,  so  that,  instead  of 
being  destroyed  by  this  maneuver,  they  actually  ap- 
pear again  in  the  following  year  in  greater  numbers 
to  destroy  the  crops  of  the  hard-working  farmer. 
"  In  the  caterpillar  there  is  a  most  capacious  stomach, 
which,  indeed  fills  a  large  portion  of  its  body;  but 
in  the  butterfly  the  stomach  is  diminished  to  a 
thread." 

"  As  the  '  blood  is  the  life,'  so  it  may  be  expected  to 
appear,  in  some  way  or  other,  throughout  animated 
nature.  There  is  not,  however,  in  all  cases,  a  real 
circulation.  If,  for  instance,  the  back  of  any  smooth 
caterpillar,  with  a  transparent  skin,  be  attentively 
examined,  an  evident  pulsation  will  be  perceived,  as 
though  a  fluid  were  pushed  along  a  narrow  tube,  at 
regular  intervals,  toward  the  head.  Dissection,  too, 
has  proved  that  most  insects  have  such  a  tube, 
placed  immediately  under  the  skin,  and  furnished 
with  numerous  air  vessels;  and  that  this  contains  a 
fluid  propelled  in  regular  pulsations  of  from  twenty 
to  a  hundred  per  minute,  varying  as  the  weather  is 
colder  or  warmer.  This  vessel  Kirby  describes  as 
the  'first  step  toward  a  heart.'  The  fluid  it  con- 
tains is  very  abundant;  in  the  insect  it  resembles 
water;  when  collected  in  drops  it  becomes  more  or 
less  yellow,  and  even  orange;  but  when  examined 
under  a  microscope  it  appears  filled  with  a 
prodigious  number  of  transparent  globules  of 
incredible  minuteness.  The  dispersion  of  this 
fluid  appears  to  be  universal,  so  that  all  the 
parts  and  organs  contain  it  in  a  greater  or  less  degree ; 
and  in  many  insects,  if  an  antenna  or  leg  be  broken,  a 
drop  of  fluid  flows  out  at  the  wound.  And  the  goodness 
of  the  Creator  is  manifest  in  the  fact  observed  by  Cuvier, 
that  as  the  blood,  for  want  of  a  circulating  system,  is 
not  able  to  seek  the  air,  the  air  goes  to  seek  the  blood." 

That  spider,  however,  there  in  the  shrubbery  has  cir- 
culating vessels.  Linnseus  placed  spiders  and  scorpions 
among  insects ;  but  later  naturalists  have  formed  of 
them  a  separate  class  of  animals. 

The  heart  of  the  spider  is  a  long  dorsal  vessel,  as  in 
msects,  but  is  supposed  to  be  confined  to  the  abdomen. 
On  each  side  of  the  heart  of  the  latter  are  vessels  which  may 
be  assimilated  to  veins,  while  others  cross  them,  and  are  tbo 
arteries.  These  creatures  on  being  liberated  from  the  egg,  are 
perfectly  formed,  though  very  minute,  and  they  do  not.  Ilka 
insects,  undergo  transformations.  All  of  them  breathe  through 
lungs,  and  hence  their  respiratory  apparatus  forms  another 
ground  for  distinction.  They  are  all  predaceous,  and  live  oa 
small  insects  which  they  are  able  to  overcome. 

Some  spin  the  webs  which  are  the  abhorrence  of  all  tidy 
housekeepers,  though  it  is  deeply  interesting  to  mark  the  pro- 
gress of  the  structoi'e.  Who  that  has  walked  abroad  on  a  fiaa 
autumnal  morning,  with  his  senses  alive  to  Nature's  thousand 
charms,  can  have  failed  to  notice  the  threads  and  circular  net 
of  the  garden  spider,  laden  with  pearly  drops  of  dew,  han^ng 
in  profusion  on  every  bush,  and  noticing,  can  have  failed  to 
reflect  on  Him  who  has  taught 

"The  wild  bird  to  build  its  nest. 
The  insect  weave  its  web  ?" 

"  And  what  a  wide  range  all  the  insects'have  for  food.  Th« 
vegetable  kingdom  presents  to  them  a  vast  field,  while  the 
larger  animals  are  limited  to  a  comparatively  small  portion. 
Separate  the  grasses,  and  a  few  herbs  and  shrubs,  and  of  the 
thousands  of  plants  which  cover  the  face  of  the  carth^he  reak 
are  disgustinsr  to  ttj.em,  or  absolutely  poisonous.    Yet  ho» 


4o6 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


pTenteous  is  the  feast  to  which  the  insect  tribes  are  invited. 
Fiom  the  gigantic  banyan,  which  covers  acres  with  its  shade, 
the  tiny  fungus,  which  the  eye  can  scarcely  perceive,  there  is 
one  immense  banquet  of  which  they  may  partake.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  not  a  tingle  plant  exists,  even  of  those  which  to 
others  are  most  nauseous  and  poisonous,  that  does  not  yield 
to  some  insect  or  other  delicious  food. 

'"The  World  before  the  Deluge'  contemplates  a  period  in 
the  earth's  history  when  its  natural  ornament  was  absent; 
when  its  surface  was  an  arid  desert— a  vast  solitude— the 
abode  of  silence  and  death.  Plants  preceded  animals  in  the 
order  of  creation,  when  the  great  animals  which  preceded 
man  were  created  by  the  wisdom  of  the  Eternal,  the  earth  was 
already  clothed  in  a  mantle  of  vegetation." 

We  learn  from  Holy  Scripture  that  God  said:  *'Let  the 
earth  bring  forth  grass,  the  herb  yielding  seed,  and  the  fruit 
tree  jaelding  fruit  after  his  kind,  whose  seed  is  in  itself  upon 
the  earth;  and  it  was  so.  And  the  earth  brought  forth  grass, 
and  herb  yielding  seed  after  his  kind,  and  the  tree  yielding 
fruit,  whose  fruit  was  in  itself,  after  his  kind;  and  God  saw 
that  it  was  good."   (Genesis,  i.,  II.,  12.) 

Yes,  it  was  good ;  for  plants  are  at  once  the  ornaments  of 
the  earth  and  the  means  of  existence — besides  furnishing 
remedies  to  restore  lost  health  to  the  beings  which  occupy  it; 
and  in  what  a  wonderful  manner  the  goodness  of  the  Creator 
has  diversified  this  natural  ornament,  so  that  no  part  of  the 
globe  can  be  said  to  be  deprived  of  it;  and  as  a  natural  conse 
quence,  plants  have  been  the  theme  of  great  writers  in  all 
ages.  "Homer  has  sung  their  praise:  Hesiod,  Theocritus, 
Lucretius,  Virgil,  Horace,  Ovid  and  Claudius,  among  the  La- 
tins, have  described  them ,  and  poets  of  all  countries  have  been 
inspired  by  them.  Infancy  loves  flowers,  they  are  charming  to 
the  young,  and  in  more  advanced  years  we  salute  them  for  the 
remembrance  they  awaken -perhaps  for  graver  reasons;  for 
who  can  watch  the  annual  return  of  the  leaves  and  flowers  and 
green  herbage  of  spring  without  wonder  and  astonishment? 

"  The  design  of  the  Creator  seems  to  have  been  to  embellish 
and  make  beautiful  all  which  was  to  be  exposed  to  our  eyes, 
while  that  whieh  was  to  be  hidden  was  left  destitute  of  grace 
and  beauty.  Leaves  suspended  from  their  branches  balance 
themselves  gracefully  in  the  breathing  air;  the  stems,  branches 
and  flowers  are  the  ornament  of  the  landscape,  and  satisfy  the 
eye  with  their  beauty ;  but  the  root  is  without  colors  or  bril- 
liancy, and  is  generally  of  a  dull,  uniform  brown,  and  performs 
in  obscurity  functions  as  important  as  tho&e  of  stem,  branches, 
leaves  or  flowers.  Yet  how  vast  the  diff"erence  between  the 
verdant  top  of  a  tree,  which  rises  graceful  and  elegant  into 
middle  air— not  to  speak  of  the  flower  it  bears— and  the  coarse 
mass  of  its  roots,  divided  into  tortuous  branches,  without  har- 
mony, without  symmetry,  and  forming  a  tangled,  disordered 
mass  I  These  organs,  so  little  favored  in  their  appearance, 
have,  however,  very  important  functions  in  the  order  of  vege- 
table action,  and  we  cannot  but  admire  the  roots,  which  by  a 
marvelous  faculty  imbibe  the  liquids  contained  in  the  earth,  and 
convey  the  nourishing  fluid  into  the  tubes  of  plants,  enabling 
them  to  ffrow  luxuriantly  and  bloom  sweetly  on  every  hand. 
Great  oaks  tower  like  giants 

*'  Standing  in  their  strength  erect. 
Defying  the  battled  storm." 

And  the  little  Autumn  flowei.  the  hareb^Jl,  on  Its  slender 
stem,  nods  :!  iid  bends  gontly  in  the  breeze  by  my  side.  I  gather 
a  few  of  their  bri^^^t  bells  from  mother  earth. 

"  Lo  I  Cho  best  flower  of  autufnn's  prime 
The  harebell,  which  the  year 
Gives  last  to  glad  a  darksome  time. 
And  warn  us  worse  is  near. 

By  chalky  hank,  near  rustling  beck. 

Or  at  the  cornfields'  edge. 
Each  waste  its  azure  blossoms  fleck, 

Or  gleam  beneath  the  edge." 

But  soon  the  frosts  will  come  and  no  green  leaf  or  pretty 
flower  will  si  jle  upon  us  amid  the  desolation  of  winter;  but 
we  know  that  the  roots  -vill  be  nurtured  and  kept  warm  by  a 
soft  colorless  robe  until  Spring  melt  i  away,  and  invite  all  this 
beauty  forth  agair  in  renewed  loveliness.   Then  let  us  sing  ; 

"  O  1  what  if  the  snows  are  white  and  cold. 
And  the  summer's  bloom  is  over? 
0 1  what  if  the  roses  flush  no  more. 
And  the  frost  has  killed  the  clover?'* 

*'  Let  us  turn  to  the  winter  a  smiling  face. 
And  welcome  the  pale  new  comer; 
Isn't  love  as  deep,  isn'  life  as  sweet. 
As  it  was  in  the  by-gone  summer?'^ 


A  Living  Bridge. 

There  was  a  little  courtyard,  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of 
a  large  city  in  France,  round  which  were  such  very  high 
houses  that  the  sun  could  never  be  seen  there,  even  on 
the  brightest  days  of  summer.  In  these  houses  dwelt  at 
least  thirty  families,  much  crowded  together.  The 
court  was  so  narrow  that  a  carriage  could  scarcely  drive 
through  it,  and  that  four  men  abreast  could  hardly  find 
marchine  room 


It  was  night,  and  all  had  retired  to  rest,  weary  with 
the  hard  work  of  the  day  ;  even  the  children,  who  had 
been  selling  newspapers  and  lucifer-matehes  in  the 
street,  had  in  their  sound  sleep  forgotten  both  hunger 
and  cold,  and  thought  not  of  the  sorrows  of  the  coming 
day. 

In  the  midst  of  this  dark  night,  there  was  a  terrible 
cry,  "  Fire  !  Fire  !"  All  in  the  house  had  awoke,  and  in 
a  moment  were  on  their  legs  ;  faces  pale  with  terror  ap- 
peared at  the  windows,  and  the  narrow  court  was  filled 
with  men  who  saw  the  conflagration  with  horror,  and 
had  made  several  vain  attempts  to  extinguish  it ;  it  was 
impossible  to  get  a  fire-engine  through  the  narrow  pas- 
sage which  led  up  to  the  court.  Already  large  red 
flames  were  rising  from  the  old  house,  the  staircases  and 
inner  walls  were  being  consumed,  and  every  now  and 
then  fell  in  with  a  crash.  The  people  hoped  that  every 
one  in  the  house  had  escaped,  but  now  a  child's  voice 
was  heard  from  the  highest  window  with  a  shrill  cry, 

Oh  !  father,  save  me." 

But  there  was  no  one  there  who  knew  how  to  help  or 
to  save  ;  the  women  sobbed,  the  men  wrung  their  hands, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  the  little  one  up  there  must  perish 
without  an  attempt  to  help  him.  At  this  moment  a  tall, 
strong  man  advanced,  and  looking  up  at  the  fire  he  ex- 
claimed, "Where  are  my  boys?  where  is  William? 
where  is  John  ?" 

Instead  of  any  answer,  he  hears  a  cry  of  agony  pro- 
ceeding from  the  house.  The  father  knows  at  once  from 
whom  it  comes  ;  he  rushes  into  the  house,  but  at  that 
very  moment  the  staircase  falls  with  a  crash ;  a  ladder 
is  nowhere  to  be  found  in  the  court. 

Utterly  appalled,  the  poor  father  stands  there  not 
knowing  what  to  do.  But  then  the  cry  is  again  heard 
from  the  flames,  "  Father  I  father  !  save  me.''  Then  an 
idea  seized  him  ;  he  rushed  into  the  house  which  stood 
opposite  to  the  burning  one  in  the  courtyard,  and  hurry- 
ing up  the  stairs  which  here  were  not  yet  burning,  he 
reached  the  room  which  was  opposite  to  that  in  which 
his  children  were.  Then  he  tore  out  the  window  and  its 
wood  work,  and  with  a  bold  jump  he  sprang  into  the 
opposite  room,  where  he  seized  the  children,  half  dead 
with  terror,  into  his  arms.  But  not  a  moment  is  to  be 
lost,  what  shall  he  do  now  ?  With  both  his  children  in 
his  arms  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  spring  across  again, 
he  will  not  leave  either  of  them  for  a  moment  behind 
.him.  Neither  can  he  venture  to  throw  them  over  into 
the  opposite  room,  where  there  is  no  one  to  catch  them 
in  their  arms.  He  stands  on  the  window-ledge,  and 
with  wonderful  skill  he  manages  to  stretch  across  from 
one  window  to  the  other,  here  holding  on  firmly  with 
his  feet,  there  with  his  hands,  so  as  to  form  a  bridge 
with  his  body.  Now  he  calls  out  to  his  lads,  ''John, 
my  boy,  you  can  trust  your  father,  can't  you  ?" 

'*  Yes,  father,"  replies  the  child,  with  tears. 

"  Well  then,  go  across  on  my  back.  Don't  be  afraid, 
but  do  exactly  what  I  tell  you.  Make  haste  !  trust  ia 
me." 

The  boy,  terrified  as  he  was,  knew  that  he  could  trust 
his  good,  brave  father,  so  he  boldly  placed  his  foot  upon 
him,  and  went  with  slow  but  certain  steps  across  into 
the  other  house. 

"  And  now,  you,  William  ;  you  have  only  got  one 
minute,"  cries  the  father  to  the  elder  boy ;  the  flames 
had  already  penetrated  into  the  room,  and  smoke  and 
heat  were  about  to  take  away  his  breath.  But  William, 
too,  full  of  love  and  confidence,  made  the  venture,  and 
hastened  over  the  living  bridge  formed  by  his  father's 
body  into  the  room,  where  he  is  safe. 

The  bystanders  when  they  saw  this,  burst  out  into  cries 
of  joy,  but  then  they  asked  themselves  how  the  father 
would  be  able  to  save  himself  after  he  had  saved  his 
children.  If  he  withdrew  his  hands  he  must  fall  down, 
and  he  could  not  return — the  flames  now  burst  forth  out 
of  the  window,  his  head  and  arms  were  scorched  by 
them.  He  could  only  cry  out  once  more,  I  commend 
you  to  God,  John  !  commend  you  to  God,  William  !  God 
bless  you  both  1"  and  then  he  fell  down  to  the  pave- 
ment of  the  street,  and  when  they  took  him  up  the  noble 
father  was  dead. 


The  rays  of  heat  are  more  readily  absorbed  when  they 
fall  upon  bodies  at  angles  near  the  perpendicular,  hence 
the  rays  of  the  sun  are  hotter  in  summer  than  in  winter^ 
.  hen  they  are  more  oblique. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


407 


A  "Wonderful  Dog. 

There  are  few  travelers  on  the  Harlem  Railroad  who 
have  not  heard  of  the  educated  dog  at  Scarsclale  depot. 
His  name  is  Knapp.  He  is  the  property  of  George  UU- 
man,  the  Station  Master.  Knapp  is  a  shepherd  dog, 
about  two  feet  high,  and  is  covered  with  r;  dark  brown 
shaggy  coat  of  fine  hair.  He  was  bom  in  the  Scotch 
highlands  nearly  four  years  ago.  In  his  infancy  Knapp 
was  imported  at  considerable  trouble  by  a  gentleman  of 
Scarsdale,  who,  being  suddenly  called  to  Eur(7pe  shov'ly 
afterwards,  gave  him  to  Mr.  Ullman.  Noticing  <^enius 
and  intelligence  in  Knapp,  Mr.  Ullman  began  to  train 
him.  Now  Knapp  can  perform  many  wonderful  feats. 
He  has  been  taught  to  assist  his  master  in  the  perform- 
ance of  his  duties  around  the  depot.  Knapp  has  learned 
to  tell  by  the  clock  when  a  train  is  due  ;  and  at  night, 
when  the  hands  point  to  the  proper  hour,  Knapp  takes  a 
lantern  in  his  mouth  and  stands  on  the  platform,  with 
the  light  guiding  the  engineer  to  th-^  stopping  place. 
Knapp  knows  an  express  train  from  a  mail  train,  and  a 
mail  train  from  a  way  train.  In  day  time,  when  an  ex- 
press train  approaches  the  station  and  the  track  is  clear, 
Knapp  shows  a  white  flag,  which  signifies  all  is  well. 

Not  many  days  ago  Knapp  appeared  with  the  white 
flag,  as  an  express  train  hove  in  sight,  but  seeing  two 
small  children  going  down  the  wagon-road,  ignorant  of 
the  approach  of  any  train,  he  saw  the  children  would 
reach  the  crossing  simultaneously  with  the  train.  Knapp 
dropped  the  white  flag,  and,  seizing  the  red  flag  in  his 
mouth,  he  darted  toward  the  crossing.  The  engineer 
saw  the  red  flag  and  shut  off  the  steam  before  the  ani- 
mal reached  the  children.  Arrived  at  the  crossing,  he 
stood  there  and  prevented  the  train  from  passing  until 
the  children  were  safely  over  the  track,  then  he  laid  the 
flag  down  and  the  train  went  on. 

On  another  occasion  Knapp  snatched  a  child  from  in 
front  of  a  way  train  just  as  it  was  stopping  at  the  depot. 
The  child's  clothing  was  torn  by  the  wheels  of  the  loco- 
motive, so  narrowly  had  it  escaped  death. 

Knapp  consults  the  clock  every  day  for  the  arrival  of 
the  mail  trains.  A  few  moments  before  the  mail  is  due, 
Kjiapp  stations  himself  at  the  mail  track,  and,  when  the 
bag  is  thrown  from  the  car,  he  carries  it  to  the  Post-office, 
and  if  it  contains  any  letters  for  his  master,  he  takes 
them  back  to  him. 

Wlien  freight  trains  begin  to  switch  cars  at  the  depot, 
Knapp  always  takes  a  red  flag  and  trots  up  or  down  the 
track,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  flags  any  train  that  heaves 
/in  sight.  Knapp  always  keeps  his  position  faithfully,  un- 
til called  in  by  signals.  After  the  departure  of  freight 
trains,  Knapp  often  walks  down  the  track  and  carefiSly 
examines  the  switches  to  see  that  the  brakemen  have 
left  them  all  right.  Satisfied  that  no  blunders  have  been 
made,  he  walks  to  the  depot,  and  if  the  clock  shows  him 
that  he  has  a  few  leisure  moments,  he  signifies  to  his 
master  a  desire  for  a  pipe.  Mr.  Ullman  has  taught  him 
to  smoke,  and  he  always  keeps  Bjiapp's  pipe  ready  for 
lighting  when  he  calls  for  it.  The  pipe  being  lighted, 
the  animal  sits  on  a  chair,  and  smokes  with  as  much  ap- 
parent ease  and  comfort  as  his  master. 

Mr.  Ullman  is  a  good  musician.  He  has  a  piano  in  the 
ladies'  room  of  the  depot,  and  often  performs  on  it. 
Knapp  has  been  taught  to  sing  or  whine  the  tunes  which 
Mr.  Ullman  plays.  The  dog  often  perches  himself  on  a 
chair  beside  his  master,  with  his  fore  feet  on  the  piano 
frame,  and  accurately  turns  the  sheets  of  music  with  his 
tongue.  Knapp  can  waltz,  dance  a  schottische  or  a  polka, 
as  well  as  any  one  can,  on  four  legs. 

Of  late  some  of  the  mischievous  brakemen  have  thrown 
snow-balls  at  Knapp,  just  as  the  trains  started,  or  have 
made  ugly  faces,  or  stamped  their  feet  at  him.  He  seem- 
ingly took  no  notice  of  these  insults.  One  of  the  brake- 
men  went  into  the  depot  to  get  a  drink  of  water,  and 
when  he  started  out  Knapp  stood  in  the  door  and  would 
not  allow  him  to  move.  He  made  a  movement  as  though 
about  to  administer  a  kick,  and  Knapp  opened  his  mouth 
and  uttered  a  growl,  which  convinced  the  brakeman  that 
such  a  proceeding  would  be  dangerous.  Knapp  kept  his 
prisoner  in  the  room  until  the  train  had  gone  so  far  that 
the  brakeman  couldn't  catch  it,  and  then  releasing  him, 
Knapp  walked  away  as  unconcerned  as  though  nothing 
unusual  had  occurred. 

Since  that  time  the  brakemen  have  been  exceedingly 
civil  to  Knapp,  but  he  treats  them  with  lofty  indiffer- 


Magnesia. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  a 
Roman  canon  exposed  for  sale  at  Rome  a  white  pow- 
der, which  he  called  Magnesia  Alba,  or  white  Magnesia, 
and  stated  that  it  would  cure  all  diseases.  He  kept  the 
method  of  preparing  it  a  profound  secret,  but  in  1707 
Valentine  announced  a  method  by  which  a  similar  pow- 
Ider  could  be  prepared,  and  in  1709  Slevogt  discovered 
another  method.  The  properties  of  this  powder  were, 
however,  so  little  known,  that  most  chemists  continued 
to  regard  it  as  nothing  more  than  a  preparation  of  lime, 
until  the  year  1755,  when  Dr.  Black  published  some 
admirable  experiments,  which  explained  its  real  nature. 
Magnesia  exists  abundantly  in  nature ;  it  is  found  in  sea 
water,  and  in  various  mineral  springs  in  union  with 
muriatic  and  sulphuric  acid.  Its  chief  locality  is  in  that 
class  of  rocks  called  magnesian  limestone  when  it  is  in 
union  with  lime.  It  is  also  found  in  some  minerals,  and 
its  presence  may  generally  be  detecte  d  by  the  touch— a 
soapy  feeling  pertaining  to  most  of  them  ;  indeed,  one  of 
these  minerals  has,  on  that  account,  obtained  the  name 
of  soapstone. 

An  impure  form  of  carbonate  of  magnesia  is  some- 
times found  native  in  Piedmont,  Moravia,  and  in  the 
East  Indies.  There  are  two  kinds  of  magnesia  used  in 
medicine,  common  magnesia,  or  carbonate  of  magnesia 
and  calcinated  magnesia.  The  chief  medical  use,  is  to 
neutralize  the  acid  of  the  stomach,  and  to  act  as  a  gentle 
aperient.  In  small  doses  it  is  effectual  in  some  cutaneous 
eruptions,  especially  in  pimples  about  the  chin,  nose  and 
forehead,  which  are  symptomatic  of  acidity  of  the 
stomach. 


The  Marriage  of  Great  Men. 

Byron  married  Miss  Millbank  to  get  money  to  oav  his 
debts.    It  turned  out  a  bad  shift.  j-     ^  uia 

Robert  Bums  married  a  farm-girl  with  whom  he  fell 
m  love  while  they  worked  together  in  a  plowed  field 
He  was  irregular  in  his  life,  and  committed  the  most 
senous  mistakes  in  conducting  his  domestic  affairs  but 
at  heart  he  was  one  of  the  noblest  of  men.  ' 

Milton  married  the  daughter  of  a  country  squire,  and 
lived  with  her  but  a  short  time.  He  was  an  austere  lit- 
erary recluse,  while  she  was  a  rosy,  romping  country 
lass  that  could  not  endure  the  restraint  imposed  upon 
her;  so  they  separated.  Subsequently,  however,  she  re- 
turned, and  they  lived  tolerably  happy  together 

Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  were  cousins,  and 
about  the  only  example  in  the  long  line  of  English  mon- 
archs  wherein  the  marital  vows  were  sacredly  observed 
and  sincere  affection  existed. 

Shakespeare  loved  and  wedded  a  farmer's  daughter 
She  was  faithful  to  her  vows,  but  we  could  hardly  say 
the  same  of  the  bard  himself.  Like  most  of  the 
great  poets,  he  showed  too  little  discrimination  in  be- 
stowing his  affections  on  the  other  sex. 

Washington  married  a  woman  with  two  children.  It 
is  enough  to  say  that  she  was  worthy  of  him,  and  they 
lived  together  as  married  people  should  live— in  perfect 
harmony  with  each  other. 

John  Adams  mamed  the  daughter  of  a  Presbyterian 
clergyman.  Her  father  objected  on  account  of  John  be- 
ing a  lawyer.  He  had  a  bad  opinion  of  the  morals  of 
the  profession. 

John  Howard,  the  great  philanthropist,  married  his 
nurse.  She  was  altogether  beneath  him  in  social  life 
and  intellectual  capacity,  and,  besides  this,  was  fifty-two 
while  he  was  but  twenty-five.  He  would  not  take  "No'^ 
for  an  answer,  and  they  were  marrried  and  lived  happily 
until  she  died,  which  occurred  two  years  afterward. 

Peter  the  Great,  of  Russia,  married  a  peasant.  She 
made  an  excellent  wife  and  a  sagacious  Empress. 

Humboldt  married  a  poor  girl  because  he  loved  her. 
Of  course  they  were  very  happy. 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  Andrew  Jackson  mar- 
ried a  lady  whose  husband  was  still  living.  She  was  an 
uneducated  but  amiable  woman,  and  was  most  devoted- 
ly attached  to  the  old  warrior  and  statesman. 

John  C.  Calhoun  married  his  cousin,  and  their  chil- 
dren fortunately  were  neither  diseased  nor  idiotic,  but 
they  do  not  evince  the  talent  of  the  great  State  Righta 
advocate. 


Riches  are  apt  to  betray  a  man  into  arrocance. 


4o8 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


CHILDBEN  AND  FLOWERS. 

BY  ALEXANDER  HUME, 

Tis  a  pleasant  sight,  in  this  world  of  ours, 
To  see  how  the  children  love  the  flow'rs: 
They  run  to  them  with  hasting  feet, 
As  if  in  some  more  holy  sphere 
They  had  already  held  them  dear. 
And  recognized  their  playmates  sweet 
With  wondering  pleasure  here. 

They  love  them,  and  they  know  not  why; 
The  fields  are  all  their  treasury, 
Stored  to  o'erflowing  every  one. 
Like  flow'rs  they  have  no  thought  or  care—' 
There  is  a  sweet  resemblance  there — 
Alike  they  blossom  in  the  sun, 
And  drink  the  summer  air. 

Their  young  minds  are  not  overcast 
By  carking  memories  of  the  past. 
Nor  is  their  future  dimmed  with  doubt; 
Enough  for  them  that  every  spray 
Bears  an  ambrosial  freight  to-day— 
The  butterflies  that  frisk  about 
Are  not  more  blithe  than  they. 

Ay  me!  ye  woods  and  fields  and  flow'rs, 
And  birds  that  people  all  your  bow'rs, 
We  loved  ye  when  our  years  were  few; 
And,  strangers  now  to  field  and  lane, 
Our  weary  hearts  are  often  fain 
To  quit  the  turmoil,  and  renew 
Our  childish  joy  a  again. 


Amber. 

BY  CAPTAIN  CABNES. 

Amber  is  found  on  the  sea-coast  of  Eastern  Prussia, 
and  on  the  shores,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  Fresh  anc 
Curish  HofEs.  It  is  fished  for  in  the  surf  with  nets,  oi 
dug  up  out  of  the  sands,  but  the  most  successful  methoc. 
is  to  dredge  for  it  at  the  bottom  of  the  water.  Formerly 
amber  was  only  procured  by  laboriously  picking  it  up  on 
the  sea  shore,  but  it  has  since  been  discovered  that  large 
amber  fields  exist  from  sixteen  to  thirty  feet  below  the 
surface  of  the  sea  in  a  tertiary  stratum.  The  digging  ud 
of  amber  yielded  fair  profits,  but  by  the  syslem  of 
dredging,  a  Memel  firm  in  one  year  obtained  17,500 
pounds  of  amber.  In  1863,  the  quantity  collected  by 
this  method  was  nearly  twice  as  large  ;  in  1865,  more 
dredging  machines  were  in  operation,  and  50,000  pounds 
were  raised  ;  in  1866,  the  quantity  increased  to  73,000 
pounds.  The  Prussian  Government  receives  a  certain 
sum  for  rent,  and  these,  the  firms  which  work  the  fields, 
have  all  the  rest  which  they  obtain.    It  is  not  possible 


to  know  the  exact  amount  of  amber  which  Is  year^  ob- 
tained from  the  sea,  as  the  fishermen  slyly  mtkt,  oft'  and 
sell  small  parcels  of  their  own  collecting;. 

The  amber  found  at  Memel  is  of  excellent  quantity  ; 
one  large  piece  was  found  which  weighed  nearly  five 
pounds,  and  was  valued  at  about  four  hnndred  Prussian 
dollars.  It  is  supposed  that  large  fields  of  amber  lie 
still  undiscovered. 


Forest  Leaves. 

We  put  a  single  forest  leaf  under  the  microscope,  and  dissect 
and  examine  it  with  scientific  accuracy  and  thoroughness,  and 
we  find  in  many  of  the  common  species  tens  of  thousands  of 
pores  entering  into  its  structure.  Some  trees  requiring  the 
occupancy  of  less  than  a  twentieth  of  an  acre  bear  on  their 
twigs  and  branches  four  or  five  acres  of  this  marvelous  leaf 
surface.  A  shelter  belt  of  a  few  thousand  acres  of  such  trees 
standing  to  the  windward  of  a  city,  or  between  it  and  some 
source  of  miasma,  presents  millions  of  acres  of  nature's  appa- 
ratus for  absorbing  excess  of  moisture,  and  exhaling  it  at 
times  when  the  opposite  conditions  prevail.  It  is  an  appara- 
tus well  adapted  to  contending  with  the  unseen  malarial  ene- 
mies in  the  air  which  plant  the  seeds  of  disease  and  death 
broadcast  and  by  the  wholesale.  An  apparatus  also  which 
lays  a  potent  though  gentle  hand  on  the  "  chill  wind  out  of  the 
sea  "  tempering  both  it  and  the  fiery  blasts  which  are  its  allies 
in  scourging  poor  mortals  with  the  most  destructive  extremes 
of  temperature. 

A  Chinese  Roger  Bacon. 

A  Chinese  scientist  has  established  at  Shanghai  a  scientific 
laboratory,  which  will  strongly  recall  the  famous  workshop  of 
Roger  Bacon.  With  an  extraordinary  energy,  in  the  possession 
of  which  he  seems  to  difl"er  greatly  from  the  generality  of  his 
compatriots,  this  wise  Celestial,  after  purchasing  the  appara- 
tus merely,  has  taught  himself  photography.  He  has  likewise 
studied  medicine  with  a  European  doctor,  and  invented  a  new, 
and  it  is  said  very  efficacious  antidote  for  the  opium  habit. 
In  his  laboratory  are  electric  bells,  a  printing  press,  and  a 
large  variety  of  ingenious  philosophical  apparatus,  mainly  of 
his  own  device  and  construction.  The  principal  object  of  his 
investigations,  however,  is  to  find  a  way  of  printing  Chinese 
books  in  movable  type.  With  the  aid  of  the  machinery  at  the 
Presbyterian  mission,  he  has  already  begun  the  manufacture  of 
the  matrices  or  moulds  for  the  type,  an  immense  undertaking 
when  it  is  considered  that,  for  each  single  sort  or  variety  ol 
characters,  no  less  than  6,664  matrices  are  required.  Moreover, 
there  are  over  20,000  Chinese  characters.  Each  matrix  must  te 
cut  from  wood  and  electrotyped.  It  will  require,  it  is  said, 
fourteen  years'  work  of  the  mission  machinery  to  make  24,000 
different  characters.  In  the  six  years  in  which  this  benefactor 
of  his  race  has  been  at  work,  he  has  produced  5,000  matrices  of 
little  characters  and  6,000  of  larger  ones.  With  what  he  has 
already  of  small  type,  he  has  printed  a  little  volume.  He  does 
not  expect  to  live  long  enough  to  complete  his  immense  task, 
and  therefore  is  educating  his  children  to  the  proper  degree  of 
skill  in  order  that  they  may  continue  the  undertaking. 


A  Famous  Bed. 

Perhaps  the  most  famous  bed  in  Englisn  history  is  the 
great  bed  of  Ware,  of  Hertfordshire.  Shakespeare  al- 
ludes to  it  in  'The  Twelfth  Night"— "Although  the 
sheets  were  big  enough  for  the  Bed  of  Ware."  Nothing 
is  now  known  of  the  origin  of  the  bed ;  but  in  Shake- 
speare's time  it  was  in  the  manor-house  at  Ware,  the 
residence  of  the  Fanshaws.  The  bedstead  is  ten  fee^J" 
nine  inches  in  length,  about  the  same  in  width  and  nine 
feet  six  inches  in  height.  It  is  covered  with  a  wooden 
canopy,  supported  by  panelling  at  the  head,  and  two 
massive  posts  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  The  entire  frame- 
work is  elaborately  carved,  and  especially  the  panelling. 
The  bedstead  was  transferred  from  Manor  Park  to  one 
of  the  inns  of  Ware,  where  it  became  a  popular  object 
of  pilgrimage.  A  few  years  ago  it  was  purchased  by 
the  proprietors  of  the  Eyre  House,  together  with  the 
tapestry  and  carved  fittings  belonging  to  the  chamber  in 
which  it  originally  stood. 


Hs  THAT  cheats  me  ance,  shame  fa'  him ;  he  that 
cheats  me  twice,  shame  fa'  me. 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD. 


409 


THE  FOOTPRINTS  OF  TIME. 


Time  is  relentless.  The  pendulum  swings  back  and 
forth  marking  the  steady  flight  of  the  moments.  The 
ticking  of  the  clock  is  the  blended  music  about  the 
cradle  and  the  dirge  about  the  grave.  Birth — death,  is 
the  language  of  the  time-piece  on  the  mantel.  Amidst 
the  laughing  glow  of  the  morning's  blushes  and  the  soft 
ohadows  of  the  evening  twilight,  amidst  the  bloom  and 
Iragrance  of  Springtime,  and  the  solemn  slumber  of  the 
Winter,  over  the  altar  and  the  bier,  the  pendulum  vi- 
brates with  the  same  solemn  steadiness — the  clock  ticks 
off  the  life  of  the  seconds — time  moves  swiftly  into  the 
past  and  we  move  swiftly  towards  the  future.  The 
clock  will  not  always  tick — the  pendulum  will  not  always 
swing  ;  its  constant  friction  against  the  past  and  present 


prattle — she  hears  it~smiles — tlien  woeps— she  hears 
only  the  echo  of  the  darling  s  voice-  -the  echo 
which  never  dies  in  a  mother's  heart.  Time  laid 
the  little  bud  in  the  cradle— time  bore  it  to  the 
little  grave  among  the  flowers  ;  time  thrust 
a  poignard  into  the  mother's  heart,  and  the 
wound  will  never  heal.  In  the  silence  of  the 
night  it  aches  ana  bleeds  as  the  mother  dreams  of  hef 
Bleeping  pet,  and  while  the  hands  move  in  search  of  the 
absent  one,  the  lips  part,  and  in  sweet,  tender  tones  she 
sighs:  <'Baby."  The  old  man  goes  back  to  the  home 
of  his  childhood.  He  left  it  but  yesterday,  but  oh,  how 
changed.  The  vine  that  crept  over  the  trellise  at  the 
door  is  dead ;  the  trellise  is  gone.  The  arbor  in  the 
garden  is  a  shapeless,  uninviting  mass  of  rubbish. 
There  is  the  spot  where  the  village  pastor  and  the 
mother  knelt  forty  years  ago  to  ask  God  to  bless  the 


"DO  YOU  DREAD  DEATH,  MY  SON?" 


will  wear  it  out.  By-and-by  we  will  listen  for  its 
salutation  to  the  coming  moments,  but  it  will  speak 
not.  Dumb  and  motionless  as  death  !  Like  the 
heart  of  the  dead  the  pendulum  sleeps — sleeps  in 
wakeless  slumber  ;  like  the  tomb,  the  old  clock  is 
speechless,  and  the  abode  of  unending  silence  ;  like 
the  stringless  harp  upon  the  wall,  its  labors  are 
ended — its  music  is  hushed — hushed  forever. 

But  the  flight  of  time  goes  on  the  same.  It  comes 
with  its  grey  hairs,  and  scatters  them  through  the 
raven  locks  of  youth — with  its  yawning  graves  and 
open  caskets — with  its  funeral  trains  and  tear-fioods 
— its  disappointments  and  heart-aches.  It  leaves  its 
footprints  on  the  hearthstone,  the  garden,  the  home- 
stead, the  heart,  the  cheek.  Mother  looks  into  the 
cradle,  but  baby  is  not  there  ;  she  listens  for  its  merry 


innocent  boy  who  was  going  out  into  the  world,  ffow. 
the  sunshine  of  mother's  love  into  the  cold  companion- 
ship of  strangers,  from  among  the  flowers  into  the  midsl 
of  brambles,  from  safety  into  danger.  That  boy  cornea 
back  to-day.  "With  wrinkled  cheek  and  frosted  brow 
he  sits  down  upon  the  crumbling  door-sill,  and  weeps. 
Mother  is  not  there  to  greet  him  ;  she  is  dead.  The  eld 
pastor  is  not  there  to  shake  him  by  the  hand ;  he  is  dead. 
Father's  voice  is  not  heard  among  the  hills  ;  he  is  dead. 
The  old  man  rises,  and  half  forgetting  that  he  is  old, 
goes  to  "  meet  the  boys,"  to  see  mother,  father,  and  the 
old  village  pastor.  Time  does  it  all.  It  touches  our 
lives  and  they  go  out ;  it  touches  the  flowers  and  they 
wither ;  it  kisses  the  granite  and  it  crumbles  ;  it  kisses 
beauty  and  it  fades ;  it  steals  over  scepters  ai_I  they 
rust ;  it  flows  over  thrones  and  they  totter.  ' 

The  moments  are  faithful  reapers — reapers  for  God 
They  come  with  messages  from  bf aven — the  decrees  of 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


death ;  but  not  with  these  alone.  Time  is  not  entirely 
dreary  in  its  flight.  It  fills  the  grave  but  it  fills  the 
cradle  ;  it  blights  the  rose,  but  it  fringes  the  forest  with 
golden  beauty  ;  it  crumbles  thrones,  but  it  gives  life  to 
republics  ;  it  robs  us  of  earth,  but  it  gives  us  heaven  ;  it 
raised  the  cross,  but  it  burst  open  a  locked  paradise  ;  it 
separates  loving  hearts,  but  it  again  unites  them ;  it 
covers  its  own  frowning  wrecks  with  loveliness  and 
bloom,  and  destroys  but  to  beautify  and  ennoble. 

This  is  the  last  day  of  the  year  1876,  and  the  stroke  of 
the  clock  at  midnight  will  herald  the  advent  of  its  suc- 
cessor. Throughout  the  earth  the  grim  reaper,  Death, 
has  mown  his  usual  wide  swath.  Many  of  the  beautiv 
ful,  the  gifted,  and  the  brave,  have  trodden  the  dark 
valley  over  wnich  droops  the  forbidden  gloominess  of 
his  reign,  since  the  dawn  of  1876,  Many  households  have 
been  made  desolate  by  the  loss  of  loved  ones,  yet,  never^ 
theless,  we  bid  the  Old  Tear  farewell  with  somewhat  of 
regret. 

In  the  eloquent  language  of  George  D.  Prentice,  now 
deceased,  uttered  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago. 
The  Old  Tear  will  vanish.  From  the  highest  summit  of 
the  Night,  amid  mourning  shadows  draped  in  white 
vapors,  and  the  wild  dirge  of  the  winds,  he  will  take  his 
last  leap  with  a  shriek  of  triumph  that  will  echo  among 
the  stars  like  the  scream  of  an  eagle  through  the 
dazzling  peaks  of  the  Alps.  He  will  go.  The  glorious 
old  prophet  will  prophesy  to  our  fond  hopes  no  more. 
He  will  sleep  with  his  fathers  in  the  pale  cemetery  of  the 
Past,  and  asphodels  will  soon  spring  thick  about  his 
tomb.  He  will  sleep  the  deep,  still  sleep  that  knows  no 
dreams  and  no  waking.  And,  oh  I  what  myriads  of 
tender  hopes  will  sleep  with  him.  We  do  not  marvel 
that  all  hearts  should  melt  in  one  soft,  sweet  wail  of 
grief  for  the  dear  departed.  He  will  lie  low  in  a  shroud 
of  sweetest  memories. 

What  a  transcendent  mystery  is  death  !  And  how 
fraught  with  tears  in  even  its  gentlest  and  most  beautiful 
forms  1  The  perishing  of  a  chosen  flower,  the  decay  of 
a  cherished  plant,  the  fading  of  a  Summer  cloud  on 
which  the  eye  and  fancy  have  been  riveted,  the  close  of 
a  bright  day,  brimming  with  enchanting  experiences, 
the  extinction  of  a  meteor  that  blazes  in  the  heavens  for 
a  moment  and  bursts  brilliantly  into  nothing,  the  fleeting 
away  of  a  sunbeam  or  of  a  shadow,  the  doom  of  any 
thing  that  attracts  and  fixes  the  soul,  though  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  vanishes  forever,  is  charged  and  full- 
laden  with 

"  Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears." 
But  if  the  bare  conception  of  passing  away  is  thus 
strangely  impressive,  how  deeply  mournful  must  be  the 
passing  away  of  an  object  robed  in  the  loveliest  associa- 
tions, and  lacerating,  as  it  goes,  the  heart's  rich  and 
delicate  affections.  If  death,  in  itself,  i«  sad,  how  ex- 
quisitely sad  it  must  be  in  all  things  else  that  are  fail 
and  blest.  Such,  and  so  deliciously  mournful  is  the 
death  of  the  vanishing  Old  Year. 

Death,  purely  as  such,  is  full  of  exquisite  solem- 
nity. The  simple  idea  of  the  cessation  of  existence 
is  one  of  the  most  sublime  and  touching  that  the  soul 
can  conceive. 

If  the  departed  father  could  return  to  the  son  in 
spirit,  he  might  say:  "  Do  you  dread  death,  my  son? 
Has  life  been  so  full  of  joy  and  pleasure  to  you  that 
death  still  fills  your  mind  with  all  the  horrors  of 
childhood?  Listen  to  me  awhile.  I  do  not  bring 
with  me  terror  nor  darkness,  but  quiet  and  lasting 
peace.  What  has  the  world  been  to  you  ?  In  every 
portion  of  it  is  deceit  and  woe.  One  cannot  live : 
without  meeting  vicissitudes  and  misfortunes,  and 
the  end  of  all  is  decay,  so  come  with  me  where  all  is 
"oeace." 

But  the  lingering  moments  haste  away  and  we  feel 
not  only  that  something  is  about  to  cease  to  be,  but 
that  a  lamp  of  joy  or  beauty  will  soon  go  out  in  the 
clear  gaze  of  men.  We  are  raised  in  a  twink- 
ling to  a  sense  of  immeasurable  and  irre- 
claimable loss.  We  perceive,  as  if  in  the 
revelation  of  a  glance,  that  another  chaplet  of 
pearls  has  slipped  off  the  unclasped  necklace  of  life, 
and  sunk  irrecoverably  into  the  depths  of  time — thai 
.mother  argosy  has  gone  down  on  the  shoreless  sea 


frelgnted  witn  the  overflowing  wealth  of  human  hearts— 
that  a  wholegalaxy  of  beaming  stars  have  shot,  one  after 
one,  from  their  stations  in  the  sky,  and  been  quenched  in 
the  eternal  wave— that  a  full  anthem  is  lost  from  the 
majestic  choral  song  of  nature.  Well,  indeed,  may  all 
hearts  blend  in  one  soft  plaint  above  the  grave  of  a  buried 
year,  for  much,  oh,  how  much  of  the  joy  and  beauty  and 
sweet  ventures  of  all  hearts  are  buried  with  it. 

Because  of  the  decadence  of  the  Old  Year,  we  welcome 
the  New.  We  greet  it  as  the  forerunner  of  a  more  genial 
and  enlightened  era  in  the  history  of  mankind.  A 
period  in  which  national  quarrels  shall  cease,  and  the 
apparently  diverse  interests  of  peoples  be  settled  by 
friendly  arbitration,  instead  of  being  decided  by,  the 
too  often,  unjust  influence  of  physical  superiority.  We 
welcome  it  as  a  period  bringing  us  yet  nearer  to  the 
hoped-for  Scriptural  time  when  "  the  wolf  also  shall 
dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leopard  shall  lie  down 
with  the  kid  ;  and  the  calf,  and  the  young  lion,  and  the 
fatling  lie  down  together,  and  a  little  child  shall  lead 
them.^' 


Sulphur. 

BY  JAS.  p.  DUFFY. 

At  the  ordinary  temperature  of  the  air,  sulphur  is  a 
brittle  solid  of  a  peculiar  light  yellow  color ;  having 
neither  smell  or  taste,  excepting  that  when  rubbed  it 
emits  a  faint  and  peculiar  smell.  Most  of  the  odors 
which  in  every-day  life  are  referred  to  sulphur  are  really 
the  odors  of  various  compounds  of  sulphur,  and  are  not 
given  out  by  the  element  itself. 

Sulphur  occurs  somewhat  abundantly  in  nature,  both 
in  the  free  state  and  in  combination  with  many  other 
elements.  Many  ores  of  metals  are  sulphur  compounds. 
Free  sulphur  is  found  generally  in  volcanic  districts. 
Generally  it  is  mixed  with  other  substances,  but  it  often 
forms  distinct  veins.  At  the  present  time  about  nine- 
tenths  of  the  article  comes  from  Sicily. 

It  is  usually  subjected  to  a  rude  purification  at  the 
place  where  it  is  found.  This  is  done  by  distilling  it  in 
large  earthenware  pots,  when  the  earthy  matters,  etc., 
sink  to  the  bottom,  leaving  the  pure  sulphur  on  the  top,, 
whence  it  is  removed  by  large  dippers  made  of  earthen- 
ware. Sometimes  the  sulphur  is  piled  up  in  heaps,  in 
kilns,  and  set  on  fire  ;  a  portion  of  the  sulphur  in  burn- 
ing furnishing  the  heat  by  which  the  rest  of  the  sulphur 
is  melted ;  the  melted  sulphur  flows  out  from  the  mass 
and  is  collected  in  receivers. 

Sulphur  unites  readily  with  oxygen  at  a  comparatively 
low  temperature.  When  heated  in  the  air  it  takes  fire  at 
250*^,  and  burns  with  a  peculiar  blue  light.  The  irrita- 
ting, suffocating  gas  which  is  produced  is  called,  when 
dissolved  in  water,  .mlphnroits  acid. 

Sulphurous  acid  is  much  used  for  bleaching  articles 
which  would  be  injured  were  they  bleached  by  the 
means  used  for  calicoes,  etc.  The  article  to  be  bleached, 
such  as  a  piece  of  silk,  is  first  moistened  with  water,  and 
them  immersed  in  a  solution  of  water  and  the  sulphur- 
ous acid. 

Sulphurretted  hydrogen  (hydrogen  sulphide)  is  a  col- 
orless gas  which  smells  like  rotten  eggs.  It  is  prepared 
by  treating  iron  sulphide  with  diluted  muriatic  acid.  It 
is  very  inflammable,  and  bums  with  a  blue  flame.  It  is 
very  poisonous  and  when  respired  it  quickly  proves 
fatal.  It  is  therefore  best  when  experimenting  with  it 
to  operate  where  there  is  a  free  circulation  of  air. 
1     Crystals  of  sulphur  may  be  obtained  as  follows  :— 

Place  a  little  brimstone  in  a  small  glass  jar  (Florence 
flask),  and  apply  a  gentle  heat  to  it  by  means  of  a  spirit 
lamp.  The  sulphur  will  rise  to  the  top  or  cool  side  of 
the  glass  in  a  yellow-colored  powder  formed  of  very 
minute  crystals. 

To  make  moulds  from  coins  :  Melt  some  sulphur  in  a 
ladle,  taking  care  not  to  overheat  it.  Pour  this  over  any 
coin  (except  silver,  which  would  be  spoiled) ;  first  fixing^ 
the  coin  in  a  small  pill  box  to  prevent  the  sulphur  run- 
ning away.  The  coin  should  be  first  oiled  to  prevent  the 
sulphur  from  adhering  to  its  surface. — As  an  article  of 
commerce,  sulphur  is  largely  imported  for  the  manufac- 
ture of  gun  powder,  Inciter  matches,  and  as  a  medicinal 
agent.  Its  use  in  matches  depends  on  the  low  tempera- 
ture at  which  takes  fire.  Being  ignited  by  the  burning 
phosphorus  it  burns  until  the  less  readily  combustible 
wood  is  set  on  fire. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


411 


Burton  and  Brougham. 

KEMlNISiJENOBS  OF  THE  OLD  CHAMBERS-ST.  THEATRE,  N.Y. 

Burton  and  Brougham,  the  "busyB's,"  made  a  good 
deal  of  uproarious  fun  at  the  old  Chambers  street  Theatre, 
New  York  City.  Brougham's  "  speeches  "  in  response 
to  calls  before  the  curtain  were  a  source  of  great  enjoy- 
ment to  the  frequenters  of  the  old  theatre,  who  were 
fond  of  a  good  hearty  laugh  now  and  then.  They  were 
very  rambling,  disjointed  oratorical  efforts  ;  but  they 
never  failed  to  produce  the  intended  result — a  general 
laugh,  under  cover  of  which  Mr.  Brougham  made  his 
bow  and  disappeared  behind  the  curtain. 

It  frequently  happened,  by  accident  or  design,  that 
Burton  and  Brougham,  being  called  out  together,  simul- 
taneously emerged  from  different  sides  of  the  curtain. 
Then  there  was  a  keen  encounter  of  wits,  hailed  by  up- 
roarious laughter  in  the  house.  Brougham  would  en- 
deavor to  speak ;  Burton  would  interrupt  him,  and 
finally,  using  the  nasal  whine  of  Aminadab  Sleek,  appeal 
to  the  audience  not  to  hear  the  wicked  Brougham. 

"  Don't  listen  to  him.  He  plays  in  the  theayter.  And 
he's  an  Irishman," 

Burton  was  very  fond  of  a  little  vulgarity  occasionally. 
In  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  when  (as  Tony  Lumpkin) 
he  led  Mrs.  Hardcastle  on  the  wild-goose  chase  after 
Constance  Neville  and  her  lover,  round  and  round  the 
stage,  he  stopped  her  suddenly,  and  raising  his  foot  as 
if  to  avoid  stepping  on  something  unpleasant,  cried : 

"Oh,  take  care,  mammy!  the  cows  have  been  here. 
The  nasty  creatures !" 

He  was  fond  of  letting  off  a  good  round  oath,  too,  when 
i)ccasion  presented  Itself.    He  was  by  no  means  chary  of 

damns."  His  audience  tolerated  this  as  an  eccentricity 
of  genius.  It  would  not  do  for  any  one  but  Burton  to 
indulge  so  freely  in  profanity  before  the  Chambers  street 
audience.  Mr.  Brougham,  who  was  very  popular,  migJit 
perhaps  have  ventured  something  in  that  way ;  but  I 
nave  never  known  him  to  pass  the  boundary  of  good 
taste  in  that  regard. 

When  Mr.  Brougham  left  Burton's  theatre  it  was  whis- 
pered before  the  curtain  that  Mr.  Burton  had  no  friendly 
feelings  toward  his  old  associate.  The  frequenters  of 
the  theatre  were  very  fond  of  Brougham.  They  gave  the 
palm  of  genius  to  Burton,  but  they  loved  Brougham  as 
a  man.  Some  time  after  Brougham's  withdrawal  from' 
the  Chambers  Street  Company,  a  farewell  benefit  was 
given  to  Mrs.  Eussell,  who  was  to  appear  for  the  second 
time  in  the  character  of  "  The  Wife,"  as  Mrs  Hoey ;  and 
retiring  from  the  stage  to  devote  herself  to  domestic 
life.  The  play  was  "John  Bull;"  Mr.  Burton  as  Job 
Thornhury,  Mr.  Brougham  as  Denis  Bulgruddery.  The 
house  was  crowded  from  the  footlights  to  the  dome. 
Mr.  Brougham's  api)earance  on  the  stage  was  the  signal 
for  a  perfect  ovation.  He  was  haUed  with  cheer  after 
cheer.  ^Ti.en  Burt.on  came  on,  and  the  two  actors  stood 
face  10  face,  the  cry  went  forth  : 

"  Shake  hands  1   Shake  hands  !" 

Burton  tried  to  go  on  with  his  part ;  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  repetition  of  the  cries.  The  actors  stood 
silent,  but  the  uproar  in  the  house  continued.  Mr. 
Brougham  then  came  forward,  and  characteristically 
spitting  on  his  hand,  held  it  forth  to  Burton,  saying : 

"Dhrop  it  there  !" 

Burton  hung  back  and  looked  sternly  at  the  audience. 
The  cries  of  Shake  hands  "  redoubled.  Burton  saw 
that  the  house  was  determined  to  be  obeyed,  and  he  at 
last  gave  his  hand — not  with  the  very  best  grace. 
Brougham  shook  it  with  a  will,  amid  the  enthusiastic 
cheers  of  the  spectators.  The  play  went  on.  Burton 
was  in  no  humor  for  gagging  that  evening.  He  played 
his  part  admirably,  stuck  to  the  text,  and  indulged  in 
no  fooling.  When  the  curtain  fell  on  the  piece. 
Brougham  was  the  first  called  out.  He  made  one  of  his 
characteristic  speeches,  gave  vent  to  his  emotions  on 
moving  again  among  the  "  old  familiar  scenes,"  and  re- 
tired from  the  stage  amid  shouts  of  laughter  and  ap- 
lause.  Burton  was  then  called  out.  It  was  some  time 
efore  he  answered  the  call.  He  evidently  did  not  relish 
a  compliment  en  second.  At  last  he  appeared  before  the 
curtain.  He  moved  with  a  stem  dignity  which  did  not 
fail  to  impress  his  audience.  He  bowed  stiffly,  and  was 
about  to  withdraw  immediately,  when  he  was  stopped 
by  calls  for  a  speech.  In  response  to  these  calls  he  al- 
luded to  the  separation  between  Mr.  Brougham  and  him- 
self.   Mr.  Brougham,  lie  said,  had  thought  he  could  do 


better  "  on  his  own  hook,"  and  had  a  perfect  right  to 
try.  He  had  heard  with  regret  that  Mr.  Brougham  had 
gone  off  the  track  a  little,  but  he  hoped  that  he  should 
not  burst  his  boiler,  etc.  Afterward  Mrs.  Russell  was 
led  before  the  curtain  to  make  her  adieu  to  the  audience. 
A  ring  was  presented  to  her  by  Mr.  Burton,  who  made 
a  very  touching  presentation  speech,  and  amid  cheers 
and  waving  of  pocket  handkerchiefs  the  actress  bade 
farewell  to  the  stage  for  a  time. 

That  was  an  historic  night.  In  the  course  of  a  rather 
nomadic  life  I  have  occasionally  met  on  the  plains  of 
the  far  West,  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Indian  Terri- 
tory, on  the  llanos  of  New  Mexico  some  lady  or  gentle- 
man who  was  in  the  old  Chambers  street  theatre  on  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  occasion.  Our  presence  there  and 
then  was  a  magic  bond  between  us.  It  made  us  old 
friends  in  the  first  half  hour  of  our  acquaintance. 


A  Trip  to  the  Sandwich  Islands. 

BY  MATILDA  TRAVERSE. 

All  the  fragrant  air  was  tremulous  with  the  sweet 
joys  of  life.  The  trilling  of  bird  music  and  the  hum 
of  honey  bees  among  the  dewy  flowers  were  woven 
through  the  sunny  atmosphere  like  the  rich  warp  and 
woof  of  some  fine  web." 

Arriving  after  a  very  pleasant  voyage  at  Honolulu,  we 
sought  the  far-famed  hospitality  of  mine  host  of  the 
Hawaian  Hotel,  and  we  found  the  advantages  of  clean- 
liness, comfort,  and  the  general  free  and  easy  air  that 
pervaded  that  institution  had  not  been  in  the  least  over- 
estimated. The  hotel  is  a  roomy  structure,  with  nume- 
rous windows  opening  upon  wide  verandahs,  seemingly 
built  with  a  desire  for  coolness  and  comfort,  rather  than 
a  display  of  costly  architecture. 

On  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  we  arose  betimes, 
and  after  partaking  of  a  tempting  breakfast,  we  started 
out  to  view  the  town.  The  Chinese,  with  their  usual 
shrewdness,  are  fast  monopolizing  the  different  branches 
of  business,  and  in  almost  any  direction  you  may  go, 
you  will  find  the  Mongolian  has  taken  the  precedence 
in  trade. 

The  native  quarter  of  the  town  reminded  us  of  the 
Chinese  quarters  in  San  Francisco,  only  it  was  not  quite 
80  filthy,  and  the  miserable  specimens  of  humanity 
dwelling  therein  were  not  quite  so  densely  packed  in 
their  wretched  hovels.  We  explored  the  beautiful  val- 
lies,  we  bathed  in  the  surf,  picnicked  in  the  generous 
ehade  of  tropical  trees,  some  of  which  are  bread  fruit, 
tamarind,  algarotras,  date-palm,  fern-palm,  cocoanut 
and  bananas.  We  roamed  the  fragrant  dell  in  search  of 
botanical  treasures,  of  which  we  procured  an  abundance 
of  interesting  specimens,  or  alpen-stock  in  hand,  we 
would  ascend  some  lofty  mountain,  from  whose  summit 
we  would  look  down  on  a  scene  of  surpassing  beauty, 
an  ever  changing  scene,  where  capricious  nature  now 
laughs  joy^ously,  casting  a  golden  halo  over  everything 
by  the  brilliancy  of  her  smile ;  then,  as  if  by  magic,  a 
cloud  obscures  the  fair  scene,  and  patter,  palter  the  rain- 
drops fall ;  but  the  lovely  bow  of  promise  spans  the 
emerald  valley  below,  and  we  know  that  nature  is  still 
SSniling  through  her  tears. 

We  visited  several  large  sugar  plantations,  which  are 
near  by,  all  owned  by  Americans,  who  are  fast  monopo- 
lizing the  land,  and  the  simple  Kanakas  are  being  re- 
duced to  a  condition  of  abject  slavery,  They  are  paid 
for  their  labor  or  not,  at  the  option  of  their  employers, 
and  their  food  is  of  the  simplest  kind  and  insufficient  to 
sustain  a  healthy  state  of  either  the  physical  or  mental 
system ;  and  because  of  this,  and  their  inordinate  use  of 
intoxicating  liquors,  the  race  is  rapidly  decimating. 

We  saw  King  Kalakaua,  who  did  not  strike  us  as  a 
person  capable  of  commanding  the  awe  and  reverence 
generally  conceded  to  be  due  crowned  heads ;  he  seemed 
to  us  merely  a  well-bred  gentleman.  Queen  Kapiolama 
is  seemingly  possessed  of  much  amiability.  She  is  ex- 
tremely handsome,  a  fitting  consort  for  the  gentlemanly 
King. 

Our  time  being  limited,  we  reluctantly  bade  adieu 

To  these  most  beautiful  isles. 

Where  Summer  perpetually  reigns- 

E'en  now  a  soft,  dreamy  languor 

Steals  over  my  senses  again. 

As  memorjr  once  more  recalls 

Those  fleeting,  joy-laden  hours. 

Spent  in  listening  to  thrilling  bird  music. 

Amid  the  sweet-scented,  bright-timed  flowers. 


412 


THE  GROWING  JVORLD. 


THE  AMERICAN 

LOVE  OF  FREEDOM. 


A  true  American  loves  freedom.  He  likes  liberty  as 
broad  as  our  rivers^  as  wide  as  tho  Western  prairies,  as 
free  from  restraint  as  the  falls  of  Niagara,  **  a  lib- 
erty larger  than  that  which  he  can  find  within  doors; 
for  a  house  is  a  kingdom,  and  a  crowded  one  at  that. 
It  has  its  laws,  and  he  who  breaks  them  must  bear 
the  penalties.  It  has  its  customs  and  usages,_its  pro- 
prieties, and  a  general  order  of  proceedings  as  re- 
lating to  its  inmates,  which  are  essential,  doubtless, 
but  which  forbid  a  man's  liberty.  There  are  chairs 
for  him  to  sit  in,  and  sit  in  them  he  must.  There 
is  no  chance  for  him  to  give  his  body  and  mind  to 
recreation.  He  must  drink  out  of  a  goblet,  perhaps, 
when  within  him  all  the  while  is  the  wish  that  he 
might  stretch  himself  at  full  length  on  the  turf,  and 
sink  his  lips  and  nose  in  the  running  stream.  The 
house  represents  law,  and  in  every  man  is  a  broad 
streak  of  lawlessness.  A  house  represents  tyranny  of 
custom  and  habit,  and  there  are  times  when  a  man 
feels  like  asserting  what  seems  to  him  an  inalienable 
right  to  do  strange  things — things  out  of  the  ordinary 
course — in  short,  to  do  what  he  has  a  mind  to. 

"  The  imp  of  the  perverse/'  as  the  poet  Poe  styled 
it,  "  is  a  power  with  most  of  us,  not  always  prompt- 
ing the  performance  of  disasterous  deeds,  like  the 
inclination  he  cites  to  plunge  into  a  cataract,  or  leap 
from  a  lofty  height,  to  be  sure;  but  continually 
manifesting  his  wicked  little  self  in  hints  and  sug- 
gestions of  the  supreme  enjoyment  of  breaking  away 
from  all  conventionalities,  shaking  off  the  irksome- 
ness  of  domiciliar  restraint,  and  embracing,  to  what 
extent  is  possible,  the  glorious  freedom  of  primitive 
days."  He  urges  upon  us  the  pleasures  in  which  the 
woods,  and  the  fields,  and  the  streams  are  so  rich,  as 
contrasted  with  the  monotonous  routine  of  every- day 
life:  he  keeps  us  humming  how  fine  a  thing  it  is  to 
throw  off  the  customs  of  society  and  to  plunge  at 
will  outside  of  them — to  seek  pleasure  jn  solitude  or 
to  do  something  outside  of  the  every  day  routine  of 
existence. 

"  The  restraints  which  custom  has  pro- 
nounced wholesome  become  absolutely  insupport- 
able; submitting  ourselves  to  the  ways  of  the 
house  we  chafe  in  the  collar;  the  set  dinner  be- 
comes a  bore,  for  we  would  dine  alfresco;  the  company 
of  philosophers  and  poets  delight  us  not,  for  our  model 
of  a  man  has  become  of  the  Daniel  Boone  type  ;  in  fact, 
the  nature  that  was  bom  in  us  begins  to  dominate  the 
ethics  of  society ;  we  must  do  something  out  of  the 
ordinary  or  stifle ;  unless  the  steam  that  is  pent  up  with- 
in us  finds  a  vent  in  the  direction  of  our  desires,  we  are 
in  a  fair  way  to  behave  in  some  decidedly  outre  fashion, 
or  at  least,  to  become  most  disagreeable  members  of  any 
well-regulated  family." 

Now,  Mother  Nature  understands  the  freaks  of  her 
children.  She  understands  the  peculiarities  of  their 
temperament ;  what  jollities,  and  rollicksomeness,  and 
eccentricities,  and  vagaries  of  mood  and  feeling  and 
conduct,  belong  to  them,  and  she  humors  us  in  these 
directions.  She  lets  a  man  lie  down,  or  sit,  as  he  pleases; 
stand  on  his  head,  or  his  feet  roll  over^  or  recline,  as  his 
mood  fs.  She  allows  him  the  greatest  liberty  to  do  as 
he  feels  inclined.  She  never  scolds  one  ;  she  never  frets  ; 
she  never  frowns  ;  she  never  counts  the  proprieties,  but 
allows  him  full  and  unrestrained  exercise  of  t,hose 
energies  within  him  which  bring  pleasure."  She  gives 
him  strength  of  body  and  mind  ;  develops  his  muscles  ; 
^ves  his  firm  tread  the  suppleness  of  the  panther.  Her 
Breezes  wrap  vigop^ound  his  frame  ;  put  fire  in  his  eye ; 
the  glow  of  health'  o'er  hite  countenance.  City  life  en- 
feebles— its  atmosphere  is  full  of  impurities — its  restraint 
is  irksome.  It  makes  the  body  languid,  weakens  the 
muscles  ;  makes  delicate  the  man  or  woman  designed  by 
the  Creator  to  be  strong. 

Our  prosperity  as  a  nation  has  been  great.   The  vast* 


natural  wealth  of  our  country  gave  us  overflowing 
money  coffers,  and  atonetime  we  were  in  danger  of  being 
surfeited  with  luxury.  Our  young  women  led  lives  of 
indolence  and  courted  delicacy  of  constitution  ;  while 
our  young  men  were  becoming  idly  effeminate,  lack- 
ing the  sterling  characteristics  requisite  to  make  the 
nation  powerful  among  nations;  while  many  of  them 
led  lives  of  ruinous  dissipation.  These  things  were 
a  source  of  intense  solicitude  to  the  more  experienced, 
who  seemed  unable  to  stem  the  tide  of  extravagance 
creeping  into  all  our  habits  and  modes  of  living. 

But,  "I  think  we  have  now  passed  through  the 
danger  which  came  to  the  youth  of  the  country,  by 
reason  of  excessive  increase  of  riches;  we  are  too 
young,  as  a  people,  to  be  effeminate."    Our  civili- 
zation is  too  fibrous,  too  pliant,  too  youthful,  to  tole- 
rate punk  at  its  heart,  and  juiceless  bark  for  the 
covering  ;  but  there  is  no  denying  that,  between  the 
years  1840  and  1870,  luxuries  did  produce  degener- 
ation ;  did  introduce  into  this  country  a  fictitiousness 
of  character  which  would  have  been  in  perfect  keep- 
ing with  the  last  century  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
but  which  was  entirely  out  of  place  in  this  young 
land.    We  have  however  recovered  from  the  shock; 
we  are  sick  of  our  own  falseness  to  manhood  and 
womanhood.    The  decade  of  idolized  indolence  in 
women,  and  effeminate  foppery  in  men  has  passed. 
Good  healthy  girls,  with  some  flesh  and  weight  to 
them  are  admired  to-day.    Men,  with  some  length 
of  limb  and  breadth  of  chest,  characteristics  of  body 
and  mind,  which  come  from  out-door  sports  and  out- 
door labor,  receive  the  suffrage  of  a  popular  admir- 
ation.   We  can  remember  when  to  be  known  as  a 
lover  of  the  rod  and  the  rifle  was  to  put  one's  self 
in  a  questionable  position  before  the  piety  of  the 
village.    We  can  remember  when  rifle  shooting  was 
an  amusement  delegated  to  a  class  of  inhabitants 
whose  character  and  pursuits  were  questionable. 
We  can  remember  when  a  fox-hunt  in  Connecticut 
was  scarcely  reputable  to  the  well-to-do  citizen,  and 
trapping  was  something  which  a  few  mysterious 
vagabonds,  that  had  their  cabins  in  some  out-of 
the- way  place  in  the  town,  were  supposed  to  be  pro- 
videntially adapted  for.  We  can  remember  when  for  a 
minister  to  have  owned  a  $1,000  J*ersey  cow,  or  to  have 
raised  a  $5,000  Duchess  calf,  or  driven  a  horse  a  two- 
forty  gait  on  the  road,  would  have  exposed  him  to  the 
rebuke  of  his  steady-going  parishioners,  and  scandalized 
him  through  all  the  towns  adjoining  his  parish.  But 
this  has  changed.    TL3  old  has  passed  away,  and  all 
things  have  become  new.    Men  are  adjusting  themselves 
to  a  new  state  of  things  ;  they  measure  less  by  the  tech- 
nical and  the  artificial,  and  more  by  the  natural.  Now, 
nature  is  a  great  liberalizer  of  character.   A  man  who 
lives  out-doors  may  think  wrougly,  but  Be  cannot  fUlnk  nar- 
rowly.  Bigots  are  made  by  the  eclucation  of  schools ;  they  are 
the  moral  fungi  of  libraries ;  they  are  creations  of  the  technical 
and  the  arbitrary.    Nature  is  tolerant  and  charitable,  and 
suave  with  the  suavity  of  true  kindness.   She  is,  moreover, 
thoroughly  good-natured,  and  good  nature  is  the  bane  of 
Phanseeism.    Phariseeism  never  laughs,  never  jokes,  never 
has  its  ribs  tickled  into  merriment  by  the  sly  fingers  of  fun- 
provoking  incident.  Nature  is  never  suspicious,  never  mean, 
never  persecuting.  Her  sun  shines  on  the  evil  and  the  good 
with  the  same  infinite  cheerlness.  Her  rain  falls  on  the  just 
and  unjust  with  the  same  benevolent  largeness.   Her  charities 
are  those  of  a  heart  which  feels  that  its  duty  is  to  love,  and  its 
mission  to  bless." 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  many  of  our  young  people  are  so 
anxious  to  forsake  the  dear  old  farm  for  the  confinements  of 
city  life.  Its  outside  glitter  and  promise  are  fascinating,  and 
some  do  succeed  in  wrestling  with  fortune  in  its  busy  marts 
of  trade ;  but,  where  one  thus  mounts  the  ladder  of  success, 
thousands  struggle  amid  the  crowd,  jostled,  snubbed,  and  de- 
feated in  every  attempt.  After  all  the  high  hopes  when  leav- 
ing the  home  on  the  hill-side,  they,  broken  down  and  discour- 
aged at  middle  age,  find  themselves  occupying  a  few  rooms  in 
Bome  tenement  house;  glad  to  get  food  to  sustain  life,  and 
this  is  the  fate  of  the  majority.  Who  would  leave  the  sweet 
odors,  the  balmy  breezes,  the  freedom  and  enjoyment  of  country 
life  for  this?  Boys,  cling  to  the  farm ;  develop  its  resources: 
fertilize  its  soil,  and  give  it  all  your  youthful  energy,  it  will 
amply  repay  your  efforts.  Don't  give  up  a  sure  living  for  a 
very  doubtful  one 


THE  GROPVING  WORLD. 


413 


The  Importance  of  this  subject  crowds  upon  me  when  I  am 
in  New  England.  Wh.H  used  to  be  a  very  garden  for  thrift 
and  enterprise,  is  filled  with  great  uncultivated,  neglected 
farms.  It  seems  to  be  :he  prevailing  opinion  that  farming  is 
no  longer  successful  there;  those  who  can,  go  West;  those 
who  remain  seem  to  cultivate  only  enough  land  to  supply  a 
living.  Now,  I  think  something  ought  to  be  done  for  New 
England,  the  birthplace  of  the  Liberty  of  our  country.  Her 
fields  should  teem  with  richness,  and  her  barns  and  store- 
houses overflow  with  the  great  harvest  from  her  generous 
bosom.  The  land  is  not  run  out ;  or  at  least,  it  only  needs 
labor  and  cultivation  to  change  the  entire  aspect  of  her  spread- 
ing meadows  and  dotted  fields. 

To  show  what  can  be  done  in  this  direction,  I  will  specify 
one  example  that  came  to  my  personal  notice.  There  was  in 
Manchester,  Conn.,  several  years  ago,  a  tract  of  land,  including 
several  largefarms  said  to  be  worn  out  and  useless.  The  fences 
were  broken  down ;  and  I  remember  well,  one  of  the  unpaiuted, 
windowless,  dilapidated  dwelling-houses  that  stood  alone  un- 
tenanted. Nature  in  her  lavishuess,  as  if  desirous  of  hiding 
man's  neglect,  had  grown  all  over  one  side  a  vine,  and  on  the 
other,  great  bushes  of  the  purple  lilac  threw  their  fragrance 
every  spring  through  the  broken  window  panes  into  every 
deserted  room,  and  peeped  in  at  the  upper  story  windows 
lovingly. 

At  the  rear,  the  shell  of  a  barn  tried  to  keep  its  tottering 
foundation;  while  beyond  spread  hundreds  of  acres  of  barren 
sandy  meadow-land.  One  day,  a  German  who  had  newly 
landed,  with  a  little  money,  to  seek  and  found  a  home  in  the 
new  country,stopped  in  front  of  the  neglected  place,entered  and 
surveyed  the  ground,  and  finally  sought  to  buy  it,  which  he  did 
for  a  trifling  sum.  Soon  he  came  with  his  own  and  several 
othei  families,  altogether  about  fifty  persons,  who  settled  on 
this  and  the  adjoining  farms.  Men,  women,  boys  and  girls  at 
once  commenced  to  draw  in  their  German  hand-carts,  the  de- 
cayed leaves  from  the  adjacent  woods  and  from  all  directions 
for  miles  around.  These  was  spread  over  the  barren  soil,  and 
in  addition,  whatever  they  could  get  to  use  as  fertilizers.  In 
a  year  or  two  their  labors  told— the  poor,  neglected  faces  of 
the  old  farm  lands  smiled  in  return  for  being  fed.  The  land 
had  been  starved  to  death.  For  years  it  had  yielded  great 
crops,  receiving  no  nourishment  in  return.  When  its  natural 
nutriment  was  exhausted,  it  was  abandoned  and  left  to  go  to 
waste,  with  all  its  wealth  of  meadow  and  rolling  hill-side,  left 
uncultivated  and  useless.  Now  the  Germans  tickled  and  fed 
the  famished  soil,  worked  early  and  late,  and  abundant  har- 
vests were  the  result.  A  ready  market  was  found  in  Hartford, 
and  the  large  number  of  the  employees  at  "Cheney's  Silk 
Mills  "  not  far  distant,  also  proved  good  f^ustomers.  That  re. 
jected  farm  district  became  the  finest  and  most  profitable  in- 
vestment for  the  Germans,  and  the  most  fertile  and  productive 
land  in  Connecticut— I  may  say  in  New  England  ;  and  remains 
in  a  high  state  of  cultivation  still,  under  the  German  manage- 
ment. 

I,  several  years  ago  bought  a  place  at  the  mouth  of  the  Con- 
necticut river ;  the  soil  was  sandy  loam,  in  a  very  impoverished 
condition.  Corn  grew  about  two  feet  in  height,  but  would  not 
produce  an  ear  of  corn. 

For  years  the  people  living  there  had  tried  to  cultivate  a 
row  of  currant  bushes,  but  without  success,  it  was  starved  to 
death :  had  given  continually  of  its  life  without  being  fed, 
until  It  had  no  nourishment  to  give.  I  fed  it  well;  brought 
Beaweed  from  the  shore,  saved  every  potato  paring;  every 
drop  of  soapsuds  from  the  kitchen,  made  a  compost  heap  at 
one  end,  carted  everything  to  it  during  the  year,  and  in  the 
Bpring  spaded  it  liberally  into  the  soil.  Now,  turn  it  over 
with  a  spade  and  great  angle  worms  squirm  and  wrilhe  in  the 
rich  loam.  Such  a  garden  as  it  is  now  for  profusion  is  a  rarity. 
Vegetables  of  all  descriptions,  great  luscious  strawberries  hide 
under  tender  leaves,  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes  are  loaded 
down  with  fruit,  and  my  garden  is  alive.  I  have  not  allowed  it 
to  starve. 

I  tell  you  it  pays  to  till  the  soil,  and  New  England  ought  to 
be  a  very  garden  of  luxuriant  vegetaiion.   Let  the  young  men 

§ut  their  muscle  and  youthful  energy  into  this  branch  of  in- 
ustry,  instead  of  seeking  in  the  overcrowded  city  a  success  in 
whose  pursuit,  thousands,  yes  tens  of  thousands,  have  toiled 
and  thrown  away  their  hves  to  obtain  without  reward.  Left 
the  untrammeled  life  of  remunerative  industry  their  fathers' 
led,  for  disaster  and  failure. 

It  is  a  man's  natm'nl  avocation  to  till  the  soil.  "In  all  the 
world  of  Nature  there  is  nothing,  I  think,  that  can  suggest  to 
our  minds,  more  good  and  useful  thoughts  than  a  field  of  com, 
ripening  in  the  summer  sun;"  and  it  is  so  with  all  growing 
tMngs. 

I  want  the  youtMul  readers  of  the  Growing  Woeld  to  learn 
to  find  intense  enjoyment  in  Nature,  who  will  never  prove 
B  treacherous  friend.  Tilling  the  soil  is  one  of  the  most 
HoT^orable  and  desirable  pursuits  vouchsafed  to  mankind ; 
^hile  he  who  has  conducted,  with  ability  and  discretion,  a 
breeding  farm,  may  be  said  to  have  received  a  liberal  educa- 
tion. His  knowledge,  not  only  of  markets,  of  local  causes 
that  aff'ect  sales,  of  influences  general  and  personal  which  en- 
hance values,  of  men  and  society  as  they  exist,  subject  to  pre- 
judices, and  potently  influenced  by  passion,  must  be  ample 
Deyond  what  most  men's  is;  but  he  must  also  have  been  a 
patient  and  reverent  student  of  the  laws  which  underlie  the 
propagation  of  animals,  of  the  influences  which  act  and  re-act 


upon  the  embryo  life,  and  of  the  origin  of  impressions  while 
the  life  is  yet  in  the  germ,  which,  being  received,  mar  or  make 
the  destiny  of  the  oflspring.  Looked  at  in  a  large,  philosophic 
way,  from  a  point  of  view  which  shows  us  the  possibilities  of 
endeavor,  it  is  safe  to  lay  it  down  as  a  rule  that  no  coarse, 
vulgar,  irreverent  man  will  ever  attain  in  the  products  of  his 
enterprise  the  finest  possible  results  of  breeding.  The  mystic 
thread  which  will  guide  us  breeders  through  and  out  of  the  laby- 
rinth of  speculation  in  which  we  are  all  now  groping,  is  too  fine 
and  silken  to  be  interpreted  to  the  touch  of  a  coarse  finger.  He 
who  finally,  feeling  around  in  the  dark,  finds  it,  will  be  one 
whose  hand  feels  for  the  face  of  the  first  cause  of  life,  as  a 
blind  mother  feels  for  the  face  of  her  babe.  "The  brutish 
man,"  says  the  good  book,  "  knoweth  not  God."  And,  cer- 
tainly, God  exists  nowhere  in  more  wonderful  expression, 
both  in  power  and  beauty,  than  when  we  see  him,  with  reve- 
rent eyes,  presiding  at  the  birth  of  things,  and  stretching  the 
guardianship  of  his  presence  over  the  cradle  in  which  all  young 
lives  may  be  said  to  be  rocked. 

It  is  in  these  honorable  and  interesting  emplojinents,  as 
truly  as  in  the  sports  and  amusements  of  the  out-door  world, 
that  men  will  ultimately  find  that  happiness,  and  that  profit, 
which  their  natures  crave  and  the  circumstances  of  their  lives 
require. 

For  the  last  fifty  years  the  tide  of  popular  movement  has 
set  with  eddj'ing  swiftness  towards  the  cities.  We  Ameri- 
cans are  city  builders,  as  the  Egyptians  were  before  us;  but 
the  time  will  come,  and  I  think  already  is,  when  the  tendency 
shall  be  checked,  when  the  charms  of  the  city  and  the  country 
shall  be  rationally  compared,  and  their  relative  values  accu- 
rately perceived." 

The  Poet  stood  in  the  sombre  town. 

And  spake  to  his  heart,  and  said— 
O  weary  prison,  devised  by  man  1 

O  seasonless  place,  and  dead  I 
His  heart  was  sad,  for  afar  he  heard 

The  sound  of  the  Spring's  light  tread. 

He  thought  he  saw  in  the  pearly  East 

The  pale  March  sun  arise. 
The  happy  housewife  beneath  the  thatch. 

With  hand  above  her  eyes, 
Look  out  to  the  cawing  rooks,  that  built 

So  near  to  the  quiet  skies. 

Out  of  the  smoke,  and  noise,  and  sin, 
The  heart  of  the  Poet  cried— 

0  God  1  but  to  be  Thy  laborer  there. 
On  the  gentle  hill's  green  side  I 

To  leave  the  struggle  of  want  and  wealth. 
And  the  battle  of  lust  and  pride  I 

He  bent  his  ear,  and  he  heard  afar 

The  growing  of  tender  things. 
And  his  heart  broke  forth  with  the  travailing  earth. 

And  shook  with  the  tremulous  wings 
Of  sweet  brown  birds  that  have  never  known 

The  dirge  of  the  city's  sins. 

And  later,  when  all  the  earth  was  green 

As  the  Garden  of  the  Lord, 
Primroses  opening  their  innocent  face, 

Cowslips  scattered  abroad, 
Blue-bells  mimicking  Summer  skies, 

And  the  song  of  the  thrush  outpoured— 

The  changeless  days  were  sad  to  him 

That  the  Poet's  heart  beat  strong. 
And  he  struggled  as  some  poor  caged  lark. 

And  he  cried,  "How  long,  how  long? 

1  have  missed  a  Spring  I  can  never  see, 
And  the  singing  of  birds  is  gone  !" 

But  when  the  time  of  the  roses  came. 

And  the  nightingale  hushed  her  lay 
The  Poet,  still  in  the  dusty  town, 

Went  quietly  on  his  way — 
A  poorer  poet  by  just  one"  Spring, 
And  a  richer  man  by  suffering. 

Water-Dust. 

Clouds  have  been  very  neatly  called  masses  of 
water-dust. "  In  them  the  condensation  of  the  vapor 
into  water  is  complete  ;  but  the  particles  are  so  minute 
that  they  float  on  the  air.  When,  however,  numbers  of 
them  coalesce,  the  drops  become  too  heavy  to  float,  and 
they  fall  as  rain.  It  is  generally  believed  that  loss  of 
heat  brings  this  about,  and  the  commonest  observers 
have  noticed  that  the  downpour  almost  invariably  in- 
creases after  every  discharge  of  lightning.  K  this  be- 
comes well  established,  it  may  lead  to  the  fitting  up  of 
apparatus  for  discharging  the  electricity  of  rain-clouds, 
and  thus  making  them,  by  the  loss  of  their  heat,  give  us 
rain  on  demand.  This  speculation  need  not  disturb  the 
faith  of  those  who  pray  for  rain.  The  Almighty  still 
sends  the  clouds. 


414 


THE  G ROWING  WORLD. 


CROSSINa  THE  STREAM. 

Across  a  mountain  streamlet  wild, 
A  mountain  maiden  bore  a  child; 
How  lovely  'mid  the  rufflin^^  air 
His  glistening  locks  of  golden  hair, 
And  cheeks  and  eyes  as  morning  fair  I 

The  stones  are  sharp— the  brooklet  deep— 

The  murmuring  eddies  foam  and  leap; 

A  shade  comes  o'er  the  baby  face, 

The  shade  of  fear— 'Oh!  Sister  Grace, 

The  water  frights  me  when  I  look, 

So  rough  the  waves— so  deep  the  brook,'  • 

A  kiss  the  smilin,^  sister  gave: 

'  Then  look  not,  darling,  on  the  wave ; 

The  daisy  and  the  buttercup 

Beside  the  water— they  look  up — 

And  though  it  wets  them  root  and  stem, 

The  water  never  frightens  them; 

So  don't  look  down,  my  little  love. 

Hold  fast  to  me,  and  look  above.' 

The  child  looks  upward  to  the  sky 
With  childhood's  sweet  docility, 
And  there  he  sees  the  sky-lark  soar. 
Still  chanting  round  the  hill-tops  hoar; 
And  joyful,  in  the  joyful  strain. 
Gives  back  his  sister's  laugh  again. 
Till  safely  borne  the  torrent  o'er 
He  hears  the  murmuring  wave  no  more. 

The  dearest  portion  life  can  give 

Is  like  such  little  ones  to  live; 

The  love  we  see  to  trust  and  prize, 

To  reach  the  unseen  with  heavenward  eyes 

For  Christ  will  bear  when  floods  o'erflow, 

His  own  through  every  wave  or  woe, 

To  walk  at  last  in  heavenly  light, 

'Mid  homes  of  joy  and  pastures  bright 

And  dwell,  '  dear  children,'  in  His  sight. 

  Beata  Francis. 

Gk)od  nature  is  the  best  feature  in  the  finest  face.  Wit  may 
raise  admiration,  judgment  may  command  respect,  and  knowl- 
edge attention.  Beauty  may  inflame  the  heart  with  love,  but 
good  nature  has  a  more  powerful  effect ;  it  adds  a  thousand  at- 
tractions to  the  charms  of  beauty,  and  gives  an  air  of  benefi- 
cence to  the  most  homely  face. 


More  Profitable  than  Diamonds. 

A  nobleman  had  been  showing  Ms  costly  jewels  to  a  friend, 
expatiating  on  their  beauty  and  richness,  and  telling  him  the 
vast  sum  these  precious  stones  had  cost.  "And  yet,"  he 
added,  though  their  value  is  so  great  they  yield  me  no  in* 
come." 

It  was  idle  riches  which  gave  back  no  returns  except  the 
simple  satisfaction  of  possessing,  and  the  pleasure  they  might 
give  to  the  eye.  But  familiarity  soon  makes  one  indifferent 
to  the  former,  and  the  eye  Is  very  quickly  satisfied  with  seeing, 
"  Come  with  me,"  said  the  friend,  and  1  will  show  you  two 
stones  that  cost  me  but  ten  dollars,  but  they  yield  me  over 
two  hundred  dollars  every  year." 

Curious  to  see  such  valuable  gems,  the  nobleman  walked 
with  him  to  the  banks  of  a  stream,  and  entering  a  structure 
near  at  hand,  a  pair  of  industrious  millstones  were  pointed  out 
Which  yielded  more  returns  than  all  his  diamonds. 

It  is  the  working  money  of  the  world  that  is  of  real  value  in 
it.  The  hoarded  money  might  just  as  well  be  hoarded  pebbles 
for  all  the  good  it  does  its  possessor.  How  much  good  a  single 
dollar  may  do  in  a  day  if  kept  rustling  about  from  hand  to 
hand.  Here  it  will  pay  the  washerwoman's  bill,  then  she  can 
pay  her  week's  rent.  The  landlord  can  pass  it  on  to  his  gro- 
cer; the  grocer  will  give  it  in  change  to  a  poor  man  who  pays 
for  his  sack  of  meal,  and  so  on  through  the  day,  until  that 
single  dollar  may  have  done  the  work  of  ten  dollars. 

Young  people  should  early  learn  the  lesson  of  "spending 
well,"  as  well  as  "saving  well."  It  is  quite  as  important  to 
learn  to  make  a  wise  investment  of  money  as  to  learn  to  save 
it.  Dr.  Franklin  gives  a  good  suggestion  to  all  when  he  say8» 
"  He  that  empties  his  purse  into  his  head  makes  an  invest- 
ment of  which  nothing  can  rob  him." 

Sulphuric  Acid,  or  Oil  of  Vitriol. 

BY  J  AS.  P.  DTJFFT. 

Sulphuric  acid  is  a  liquid  well  known  in  tbe  arts  and 
J  commerce.  It  is  one  of  the  most  important  products  of 
chemistry,  as  by  means  of  it  the  chemist,  either  directly 
or  indirectly  prepares  almost  everything  with  which  he 
has  to  deal.  It  is  made  in  enormous  quantities,  its 
source  being  the  combustion  of  sulphur,  whica  may  be 
in  the  ordinary  state,  or  as  produced  from  iron  i^nd  cop- 
per pyrites.  The  manufacture  of  it  has  become  of  the 
highest  importance,  as  it  is  largely  employed  in  produ- 
cing the  soda  of  commerce,  and  in  bleaching  and  calico 
printing.  The  process  depends  on  the  mutual  action  of 
sulphurous  acid,  the  vapor  of  steam,  and  the  steam 
from  water.  The  sulphurous  acid,  produced  by  the 
slow  combustion  of  the  sulphur,  is  allowed  together 
with  the  vapor  of  water,  to  meet  that  of  nitric  acid, 
produced  in  the  usual  manner,  and  being  allowed  to 
pass  in  at  the  same  time.  By  these  means  the  nitric  acid 
is  partly  decomposed,  and  binoxoide  of  nitrogen  is  pro- 
duced. The  latter  seizes  oxygen  from  the  air  and  im- 
parts it  to  the  sulphurous  acid ;  the  sulphuric  acid  is 
the  result  of  the  latter  operation. 

The  process  is  carried  on  in  large  leaden  chambers,  at 
the  bottom  of  which  water  is  placed,  which  condenses 
the  acid  fumes.  The  dilute  acid  thus  afforded  is  after- 
wards concentrated  by  boiling,  and  when  required  pure, 
is  subsequently  distilled  in  platina  stills,  from  which  it 
issues  as  an  oil-like  substance,  having  considerable  grav- 
ity. From  this  appearance,  sulphuric  acid  is  often  called 
oil  of  vitriol. 

At  the  ordinary  temperature  of  the  air  sulphuric  acid 
does  not  evaporate,  but  on  the  contrary,  it  increases  in 
bulk  by  absorbing  water  from  the  air.  In  moist  weather 
its  bulk  may  increase  to  the  extent  of  a  quarter  or  more 
in  the  course  of  a  single  day,  and,  by  longer  exposure, 
a  still  greater  quantity  of  water  will  be  taken  up ;  the 
acid  should,  therefore,  always  be  kept  in  tightly-stopped 
bottles. 

Sulphuric  acid  is  intensely  caustic  and  corrosive,  and 
quickly  chars  and  destroys  most  vegetable  and  animal 
substances.  It  was  formerly  prepared  by  distilling  the 
salt  now  known  as  ferrous  sulphate  in  earthen  retorts. 
Ferrous  sulphate  was  formerly  called  green  vitriol,  hence 
the  origin  of  the  name  vitriol,  which  come  to  be  applied 
to  the  common  sulphuric  acid.  The  acid  thus  obtained 
is  a  dense  fuming  liquid,  now  called  "fuming  sulphuric 
acid."  A  certain  quantity  of  it  is  still  made  for  dissolv- 
ing indigo- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


415 


Camp  Meetings.  | 

Those  who  have  never  attended  worship  at  these  open  | 
air  sanctuaries  have  missed  a  great  deal  in  the  religious  1 
phase  of  life.  Several  hundred  square  feet,  usually  i 
forming  a  parallelogram,  are  set  apart,  in  the  center  of  ! 
which  is  erected  a  "stand"  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
square,  with  a  white  pine  pulpit,  and  seats  enough  to 
accommodate  a  vast  concourse  of  people.  At  a  distance 
of  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  on  each  side  are  erected  a 
number  of  tents,  which  are  occupied  by  families  who 
move  there  temporarily,  with  servants,  provisions,  beds, 
and  everything  for  the  accommodation  of  themselves 
and  friends.  Funny  little  contrivances  these  latter, 
constructed,  as  they  are  sometimes,  of  canvass  cloth, 
or  unhewn  plank  set  upright,  and  without  chimneys. 
They  make  you  think  of  an  ordinary  sized  Indian  village. 
You  do  not  like  the  comparison,  but  the  resemblance 
will  thrust  itself  upon  your  mind,  and  on  first  approach, 
you  involuntarily  listen  for  the  whoop  of  the  red  man, 
and  when  you  see  the  blue  curls  of  smoke  rising  from 
behind  what  seems  to  you  a  collection  of  wigwams,  you 
are  almost  sure  it  arises  from  the  fires  used  in  the  roast- 
ing of  frogs,  snakes,  or  wild  animals.  You  instinctively 
hesitate  about  approaching  nearer,  but  when  you  arrive, 
and  see  the  white-haired  ministers  and  disciples  engaged 
in  their  devo^io-      11  your  fears  for  your  scalp  vanish. 

Services  -,0L./mue  from  morning  till  night  with  only 
an  intermission  long  enough  to  regale  the  appetite 
with  mortal  food.  The  sleeping  accommodations  in  the 
female  apartments  consist  of  several  mattresses  placed 
npon  a  wooden  frame  the  entire  length  of  the  room, 
with  coverin J  and  pillows,  and,  in  the  male  apartments, 
for  beds  are  substituted  straw  or  hay,  over  which  are 
spread  sheets,  covering,  etc.,  with  or  without  pillows. 
The  floors  (or  ground)  are  softly  carpeted  with  straw. 
If  you  are  a  worlding,  and  take  no  part  in  the  meeting, 
you  go  to  sleep  at  night  to  the  tune  of  the  good  sisters 
and  brethren,  who  sit  up  till  late  at  night  shouting 
praises  and  hallelujahs  either  under  the  stand  or  in  their 
respective  tents.  You  sleep  as  sound  as  it  is  possible  to 
sleep  in  a  bed  with  fifteen  or  twenty,  and  scarcely  turn- 
ing distance  between  yourself  and  neighbor.  The  next 
morning  you  are  aroused  from  slumber  by  what,  on 
first  awakening,  you  imagine  to  be  the  "seventh  angel " 
sounding  his  trumpet,  and  start  up  with  terror,  till  your 
companions  come  to  your  reUef  by  informing  you  that 
the  cause  of  your  alarm  was  only  the  trumpet  of  the 
"  chief  of  the  committee  of  the  grounds  "  calling  the 
tent  occupants  to  their  early  morning  services. 

You  usually  find  active,  industrious  people  at  these 
camp-meetings,  and  long  ere  the  sun  streaks  the  east, 
the  grounds  are  astir  with  men  moving  to  and  from  the 
various  springs  where  they  perform  their  ablutions, 
while  the  housewives  are  busy  superintending  the  cook- 
ing, which  is  performed  on  a  large  scale  in  the  rear  of 
the  tents.  The  whole  savors  of  camp  life,  and  possesses 
a  peculiar  relish  for  those  who  like  that  mode  of  living. 

Religious  worship,  if  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  is  the 
same  throughout  the  world,  but  the  grove  or  camp- 
ground seems  a  fitting  place  for  divine  services,  and  par- 
takes somewhat  of  the  nature  of  the  sacred  temples  of 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers  in  this  country  about  a  century  ago, 
or  the  mount  from  which  the  Savior  uttered  those  bless- 
ed truths  to  his  disciples  who  had  followed  him 
thither.  The  feelings  of  these  humble  seekers  after  the 
^'Word"  are  wholly  unrestrained,  and  they  enter  into 
spiritual  enjoyments  with  a  zest  unknown  to  congrega- 
tions who  listen  to  well-written  sermons  ?-ead  from  velvet 
drapcu  pulpits  in  magnificent  church  edifices. 


When  you  meet  the  gentleman  you  Inquire  after  his 
bride,  as  you  inquire  in  America  after  his  wife. 

The  next  week,  as  is  usual,  a  notice  appeared  in  the 
Berlin  papers  to  the  effect  that  Max  Beelitz  and  Johanna 
Hermann  were  engaged. 

How  it  has  come  to  pass  that  our  English  notions  and 
practices  in  regard  to  these  matters  are  objectionable, 
we  do  not  know.  The  plan  of  keeping  matrimonial 
engagements  secret  (happily  going  somewhat  out  of 
fashion)  seems  to  us  exceedingly  wrong  in  itself  and 
pernicious  in  its  consequences. 

Young  persons  ought  not  to  appear  in  society  in  a 
false  position.  A  lady  secretly  engaged  may,  without 
intending  it,  seriously  occupy  the  attention  and  thoughts 
of  another  person  to  his  injury,  and  perhaps  to  the  in- 
jury of  her  companion.  When  a  person  no  longer  is  at 
liberty  to  make  or  receive  offers,  it  is  wrong  to  appear  at 
liberty.  The  practice  diminishes  the  impression  that 
ought  to  prevail  of  the  sacredness  of  a  matrimonial  en- 
gagement; and  thus  leads,  on  the  one  hand,  to  hasty 
and  ill-considered  engagements,  and  on  the  other,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  to  the  violation  of  such  pledges. 
An  engagement  to  marry  ought  to  be  considered  as  mar- 
riage itself.  We  mean  what  we  sgf'.  Such  an  engage- 
ment cannot  be  rightly  made,  without  such  a  state  of  the 
mind  and  affections  as  must  often  render  its  fulfillment 
essential  to  the  well-being  of  one  of  the  parties ;  nor  can 
it  be  made,  or  at  least  long  continued  in  many  cases, 
without  interfering  seriously  with  other  plans'^of  life 
and  prospects,  which  the  parties  might  otherwise  have 
embraced.  The  engagement  ought  to  be  considered  as 
the  solemn  mutual  avowal  before  God  of  a  union  for 
life.  Were  engagements  always  to  be  made  public  at 
once,  and  with  such  public  sentiment  respecting  them, 
we  would  be  rid  of  suits  of  breach  of  promise,  sustained 
by  circumstantial  evidence,  and  often  involving  the  ex- 
posure to  scoff  and  ridicule  of  things  that  ought  to  be 
held  sacred. 

We  add  one  other  consideration  which,  though  it  may 
appeal  trifling  when  compared  with  the  preceding,  is 
yet  important  in  itself.  It  is  this :  the  temptation  that 
a  private  engagement  lays  the  parties,  and  sometimes 
their  friends,  under,  to  practice  falsehood  and  deception. 
In  fact,  as  remarked  in  the  outset,  the  parties  necessa- 
rily appear  in  a  false  position,  which  tends  of  itself  to 
operate  injuriously  upon  them.  They  are  also  tempted 
to  the  use  of  various  arts  of  conduct  and  language  to 
produce  a  false  impression.  This  cannot  be  practiced 
without  injury  to  that  character  of  open  truth  and  frank- 
ness which  ought  to  be  cherished. 


Betrothals  in  Germany.  ^ 

BY  J.   J.  WOBTENDYKE. 

While  travelling  in  Germany  I  arrived  at  Mentz  just 
as  the  beau  and  belle  of  Mendrick — a  town  of  several 
thousand  inhabitants— became  engaged  to  each  other. 
It  made  as  much  sensation  as  if  the  tovm  had  burned 
down.  As  is  usual,  notice  was  immediately  given  to  all 
the  neighbors,  and  the  next  day  the  engaged  pair  com- 
menced making  calls  in  their  new  relation  of  bride  and 
bridegroom.  For  you  must  know  that  when  an  engage- 
ment takes  place,  the  gentleman  is  called  the  bridegroom 
and  the  lady  the  bride.  The  parties  speak  of  each  other 
always  in  this  way. 


Old  Bones. 

The  fresher  kind  of  shank  bones  serve  for  making  the 
handles  of  knives,  forks,  and  tooth-brushes.  Irom 
some,  gelatine  is  extracted.  When  not  serviceable  for 
these  purposes,  they  are  crushed  into  powder  for 
manure.  Farmers  buy  it  in  large  quantities  for 
fertilizing  their  fields.  The  importation  of  this  con- 
venient fertilizer  from  foreign  countries  is  immense. 
Stories  are  told  of  battle-fields  being  plundered  for  the 
sake  of  the  decaying  bones  of  the  soldiers  who  had  fall- 
en. Researches  for  the  material  of  bone-dust  are  carried 
on  upon  a  large  scale  in  the  ancient  cemeteries  and  pyra- 
mids of  Egypt.  Long  ago,  when  the  people  of  that 
country  mummified  the  bodies  of  their  relations,  and 
stowed  them  ceremoniously  away  in  caverns,  they  were 
not  aware  that  they  were  only  preserving  them  for  man- 
ure in  a  distant  European  island.  A  correspondent  of 
the  TimeSf  writing  from  Alexandria,  facetiously  remarks  : 
"Fancy  mutton  fattened  on  ancient  Egyptians  !  The 
other  day,  at  Sakahara,  [  saw  nine  camels  pacing  down 
from  the  mummy  pits  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  laden 
with  nets,  in  which  were  femora,  tibiae,  and  other  bony 
bits  of  the  human  form,  some  two  hundred  weight  in 
each  net  on  each  side  of  the  camel.  Among  the  pits 
there  were  people  busily  engaged  in  searching  out,  sift- 
ing, and  sorting  out  the  bones  which  almost  crust  the 
ground.  On  inquiry  I  learned  that  the  cargoes  with 
which  the  camels  were  laden  would  be  sent  down  to 
Alexandria,  and  thence  be  shipped  to  English  manure 
manufacturers.  It  is  a  strange  fate,  to  have  one's  bones 
preserved  for  thousands  of  years  in  order  that  there  may 
be  fine  Southdowns  and  Cheviots  in  a  distant  land !  But 
Egy^*  ^8  alwavs  a  place  of  wonders." 


4i6 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Li  earning  by  Experience. 

Must  we  each  and  every  one  learn  by  our  own  experience? 
It  is  a  reliable  school,  though  sometimes  a  dear  one.  "Im- 
provement," "  Progression,"  yes,  "  Onward  forever."  We  can 
realize  no  cessation  of  time,  no  end  to  our  asj)irations.  Are 
we  not  living  in  an  age  of  extremeo  ?  Yes, -so  extreme  that 
life  is  robbed  largely  of  its  ovra.  natural  rounding  up,  and 
dwarfs  in  mind  and  body  take  the  place  of  what  should  have 
been  intellectually  bright,  and  strong,  and  beautiful  in  form. 

A  professor  says  to  his  students — "  If  you  would  be  success- 
ful learn  to  make  haste  slowly."  Is  this  the  course  universally 
pursued  ?  Alas !  quite  the  reverse.  Is  it  fancy,  or  are  the 
words  we  hear  the  admonition  of  wisdom,  admonishing  us  not 
to  crowd,  but  to  be  patient  ?  If  you  have  a  duty  to  perform 
(and  you  always  have),  give  it  time;  do  not  work  hastily  or 
incessantly,  beyond  strength  of  mind  or  body,  Many  a  valu- 
able production  has  failed  completion  thereby.,  many  a  needed 
work  has  fallen  into  ruins ;  never  reached  a  point  of  useful- 
ness, solely  through  injudicious  use  and  distribution  of  time. 
How  often  do  we  hear  the  reflection,  "The  youths  of  to-day 
do  little  else  than  run  to  school."  Does  this  infer  that  our 
children  are  idlers,  while  our  educational  halls  are  becoming 
the  veriest  "  workhouses"  in  the  land?  when  proper  rest  and 
recreation  are  abandoned,  and  the  midnight  lamp  kept  burn- 
ing, to  eke  out  the  day  that  has  become  quite  too  short  where- 
in to  complete  the  alotted  task  ? 

Parents,  do  you  ever  take  note  of  the  white  lily  cheeks  of 
the  pale,  far-oflT  eyes  that  seem  to  look  from  other  spheres ;  the 
sweet  lips  that  seem  so  mute  and  dumb ;  and  do  you  ever  ask 
yourself  why  this  change  ?  Yes,  many  parents  know  that  it  is 
the  ambitious  soul,  the  fire  within  that  is  consuming  the  once 
lithe  and  rosy  form — the  indomitable  will  to  achieve  knowl- 
edge, that  would  pull  down  the  stars  and  lay  them  at  their 
feet ;  upheave  old  ocean  to  unlock  her  mysteries  and  cast  upon 
the  insignificance  of  this  one  little  mite  of  dirt  on  which  we 
live.  Then,  how  very  soon  those  atoms  become  common- 
place, but  stepping  stones  leading  to  other  fields  of  investiga* 
tion ;  mind,  spirit,  eterr  J  duration,  source,  origin,  author  or 
Irst  cause,  until  the  young  aspirants  feel  that  they  stand  just 
without  the  vestibule  of  "  divine  wisdom"  and  even  here  de- 
mand to  be  "opened  unto"  and  accorded  scientific  explana- 
tion. 

Do  we  not  teach  our  little  ones  to  be  respectful  to  those  who 
serve  them,  yet  permit  them  to  neglect,  wrong,  and  not  un- 
frequently  cause  to  be  consigned  to  a  premature  grave  the 
servant,  the  physical  form  that  was  given  them  to  honor  and 
protect,  that  it  may  be  and  remain  a  fit  abiding  place  for  the 
spirit  through  a  long  lease  of  years  of  earth  life,  while  it  har- 
Tioniously  develops,  and  grows  ripe  and  fitly  fledged  for  other 
spheres?  We  *e:^  hat  God  is  mocked  and  His  wisdom  set  at 
naught  when  tne  physical  body  is  abused,  and  the  spiritual  or 
intellectual  extolled ;  and  that  it  displays  gross  ignorance  that 
we  shall  do  well  to  consider  as  we  come  to  realize,  which  we 
shall  in  the  near  futm-e,  how  dependent  soul  or  spirit  is  on 
matter.   

Born  a  Poet. 

BY  CORA  BELLE. 

If  there  was  ever  a  "  poet  born,"  it  was  Mrs.  Hemans« 
Yet  she  did  not  on  that  account  consider  herself  exempt 
from  a  necessity  to  labor  hard  and  unceasingly  to  fit  her- 
Bslf  for  her  chosen  calling.  She  was  a  hard  student  for 
years,  even  while  the  care  of  her  five  little  sons  was  left 
solely  upon  her  slender  hands,  which  must  provide  also 
a  maintenance  for  them.  The  notes  to  her  poems,  the 
mottoes  above  them,  and  her  many  beautiful  translations, 
show  how  diligently  she  studied  foreign  tongues,  thus 
acquiring  a  delicacy  and  felicity  in  expressions  rarely 
equalled.  The  critics  mention  as  one  of  the  most  marked 
peculiarities  of  her  literary  career,  the  astonishing  pro- 
gress revealed  in  her  successive  productions. 

It  was  mainly  by  reading  that  she  acqvdred  this  educa- 
tion of  her  powers.  Reading  with  a  purpose,  and  with  a 
diligence  which  few  scholars  put  on  their  severest  studies. 
This  is  the  kind  of  reading  that  tells.  Meditate  well 
over  "what  is  read,  give  yourself  wholly  to  it,  after  hav- 
ing first  assured  yourself  that  the  subject  is  worthy  your 
attention. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Byron,  when  preparing  his  great 
works,  to  read  somQ  kindred  work  of  the  highest  order 


to  excite  his  own  vein  by  Its  pulses.  His  own  Imagina- 
tion would  often  catch,  by  some  electric  spark,  some 
mere  hint  in  his  author,  and  a  whole  train  of  thoughts 
be  kindled  by  it. 

Mrs.  Hemans  states  that  her  thoughts  had  so  long  run. 
in  the  harness  of  rhyme,  that  it  was  difficult  for  them  to 
go  in  any  other.  Blank  verse  required  much  labor.  Her 
sweet  poems  often  ran  chiming  through  her  brain  for 
days  before  she  put  them  on  paper. 

Goethe's  poetry  flowed  forth  so  easily  it  seemed  almost 
to  be  improvised,  rather  than  composed.  The  exercise 
of  this  poetic  gift  flowed  forth  richly  and  joyously,  and 
almost  involuntarily.  He  would  so  often  lose  a  song  and 
not  be  able  to  gather  it  up  again,  that  he  frequently 
rushed  to  his  desk,  and,  without  taking  time  to  adjust  a 
sheet,  write  diagonally  from  beginning  to  end  without 
stirring  from  the  spot.  For  this  purpose  he  preferred  a 
pencil  to  a  pen,  as  there  was  no  delay  in  using  the  latter. 
The  gray  goose  shaft  w^ould  sometimes  distract  his 
thoughts  by  its  scratching  and  spluttering.  A  good 
fountain  pen  would  have  been  a  prize  to  him. 

There  are  a  great  many  would-be  poetizers  who  fancy 
that  to  imitate  some  of  the  habits  of  genius  will  some- 
how make  geniuses  of  them.  Disappointment  is  their 
usual  lot.  An  unappreciative  public  will  not  lend  them 
its  ears.  It  is  a  good  rule  a  kind  editor  lays  down— 
"Never  write  poetry  when  you  can  possibly  help  it." 


The  True  Lady. 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  woman  to  be  a  true  lady.  Brazer 
boldness  is  a  thing  which  girls  cannot  afFord  to  practice. 
Wildness  of  manner  and  an  open  defiance  of  all  those  whole- 
some laws  which  have  made  woman's  name  illustrious  both  in 
sacred  and  profane  history  from  the  beginning  of  time,  are  no 
more  becoming  in  girls  and  "  young  ladies,"  so-called,  than  in 
angels.  Delicacy  is  an  innate  quality  of  the  female  heart, 
which,  when  once  lost,  can  never  be  regained.  No  art  can  re- 
store the  grape  its  bloom  or  its  sweetness  to  the  taste,  when 
the  mildews  of  night  have  once  settled  dovm  upon  the  vine. 
Familiarity  without  love,  without  confidence,  without  regard 
to  the  common  rules  of  etiquette  even.  Is  destructive  of  all  that 
makes  woman  exalting  and  ennobling. 

'*  The  world  is  wide,  these  things  are  small ; 
They  may  be  nothing,  but  they're  all." 

Nothing  I  It  is  the  first  duty  of  woman  to  be  a  lady.  Good 
breeding  is  good  sense.  Bad  manners  in  women  is  immorality. 
Awkwardness  in  some  may  never  be  entirely  overcome  by 
graceful  action.  Baehfulness  with  some  is  constitutional,  and 
cannot  be  eradicated.  Ignorance  of  etiquette  is  the  result  of 
circumstances.  All  these  can  be  condoned,  and  do  not  banish 
the  true  gentleman  or  the  true  lady  from  the  social  amenities 
Delonging  to  their  respective  social  positions  in  life.  But  an 
assumption  of  self-haughtiness,  unshrinking  and  aggressive 
coarseness  of  deportment,  may  be  reckoned  as  a  semi-penal 
offence,  and  certainly  merits  and  should  receive  the  mild  form 
of  restraint  called  imprisonment  from  the  coteries  of  social 
life.  It  is  a  shame  for  women  to  he  twitted  on  their  manners. 
It  is  a  bitter  shame  that  so  many  need  it.  Women  are  the  um- 
pires of  all  good  and  refined  society.  It  is  to  them  that  all 
disputative  questions  In  ethics,  etiquette  and  fashion  are  re- 
ferred. To  be  a  lady  is  more  than  to  be  a  princess.  A  lady  is 
always  in  her  right  inalienably  worthy  of  respect.  To  a  lady, 
prince  and  peasant  alike  how  irresistibly. 

A  lady  should  not  cultivate  impulses  that  need  restraint. 

Young  lady  readers,  do  not  presume  nor  desire  to  "  dance 
with  the  prince  unsought."  Be  such  in  society,  and  more  es. 
pecially  at  home,  as  will  make  you  not  only  the  dispenser  of 
honor,  hut  an  altar  where  gifts  of  frankincense  shall  hum 
"both  day  and  night"  in  honor  of  your  own  exalted  personal 
worth.  Carry  yourself  so  womanly  that  men  of  high  degree 
will  look  up  to  you  for  approval  and  reward,  and  not  at  you  in 
rebuke. 

The  natural  sentiment  of  man  towards  woman  is  respect  and 
reverence— a  large  share  of  which  he  loses  when  he  is  obliged 
to  account  her  a  being  to  be  trained  or  whipped  into  propriety, 
A  man's  ideal  of  respect  Is  not  wounded  when  awomanfaiU 
in  wordly  wisdom;  hut,  if  In  grace,  in  sentiment,  in  delicacy, 
m  tenderness,  in  modesty,  she  should  be  found  wanting,  then 
-he  from  that  moment  becomes  an  object  unworthy  of  th« 
good  man's  respect  and  esteem. 


THE  GROWING  IFORLD. 


417 


Literature  as  a  Profession. 

Nothing  is  easier.  In  the  estimation  of  some  people,  than  to 
make  a  book  or  write  successfully  for  the  press.  ImpecuniouH 
people,  and  people  who  have  failed  at  everything  else,  arc 
especially  convinced  of  their  fitness  for  a  "literary  life."  Men 
whose  success  in  life  has  not  met  their  anflcipaiions,  are 
prone  to  think  that  their  failures  are  due  to  an  access  of  the 
literary  faculty,  and  they  too  fali  back  upon  the  pen. 

If  it  were  possible  to  see,  in  one  comprehensive  view,  all  the 
people  who  dabble  in  what,  for  the  want  of  a  better  word,  we 
must  call  literature,  there  would  be  brought  into  the  prospect 
a  very  motley  crowd.  There  would  be  persons  of  all  kinds,  re- 
presenting in  their  original  callings  every  possible  occupation, 
and  in  their  lives  every  degree  of  failure.  There  would  be 
scholars  of  the  highest  order,  and  many  more  whose  ignorance 
is  only  equalled  by  their  pretensions.  The  number  who  liavc 
voluntarily  made  pen-work  their  profession  would  be  found  to 
be  comparatively  small,  and  it  is  only  they  who  would  rightly 
measure  their  prospects.  All  the  rest  would  be  found  to  be 
building  castles  in  the  air;  looking  to  the  fortune  that  they 
think  is  sure  to  be  theirs  whenever  their  transcendent  ability 
shall  have  come  to  be  acknowledged  by  the  public.  Such  peo- 
ple are  encouraged  in  their  delusion  by  the  statements  that 
are  published  from  time  to  time  of  the  salaries  of  prominent 
journalists,  and  the  profits  of  popular  authors ;  but  with  these 
statements  the  other  side  of  the  picture  is  not  given.  The 
fate  and  sufferings  of  such  men  as  Cervantes,  Otway,  Johnson, 
Goldsmith,  Butler,  Campbell,  Dryden,  and  others,  are  readily 
forgotten.  It  may  be  answered  that  when  these  men  lived, 
literature  was  less  appreciated  and  the  profit  smaller.  That  is 
true ;  but  the  laborers  were  fewer  too. 

Mr.  Carlyle  has  said  that  literature  as  a  trade  is  neither  safe 
nor  advisable,  and  we  do  not  think  it  often  proves  much  bet- 
ter when  taken  as  a  last  resource.  Thackeray  pronounced  it 
one  of  the  greatest  evils  to  be  born  with  a  literary  taste. 
Charles  Lamb  declared  that  anything  is  better  than  to  become 
a  slave  to  the  booksellers  and  to  the  reading  public  ;  and  even 
in  the  "Arabian  Nights"  literary  labors  are  pronounced 
worthless  if  intended  as  a  means  to  buy  bread.  Miss  Mitford 
wrote  for  "hard  monej^,"  but  avowed  she  would  rather  scrub 
floors  than  suffer  its  penalties.  "Washington  Irving,  in  a  letter 
to  a  nephew,  hoped  that  he  was  looking  forward  to  something 
better  than  literature  to  found  a  reputation  on.  Southey  said 
the  greatest  mistake  in  life  a  man  could  commit  was  to  follow 
literature  for  a  livelihood.  Within  a  comparatively  recent 
period,  DoUglas  Jerrold,  Shirley  Brooks,  Mark  Lemon,  and 
scores  of  others  less  generally  known,  have  died  almost  in 
actual  poverty.  And  yet  they  worked  hard  all  their  lives. 
The  ranks  of  indifferent  writers  are  full  to  repletion.  If  all 
such  writers  could  be  convinced  that  their  efforts  cannot  lead 
to  the  goal  their  imaginations  foreshadow,  they  might  pos- 
sibly be  diverted  into  some  more  useful  path.  But  this  is 
almost  hopeless  while  their  persistence  depends,  as  it  gener- 
ally does,  upon  a  too  exalted  notion  of  their  own  powers. 

It  is  elsewhere  stated  that  "Planche,  the  great  French 
critic,  who  died  some  years  ago,  between  the  contending  forces 
of  his  life— celebrity  and  poverty— avowed  that  twenty-five 
years  of  literary  labor  had  not  produced  for  him  more  than  ten 
thousand  dollars — four  hundred  dollars  a  year ! — and  he  was 
no  corporal  in  the  army  of  the  pen,  but  a  marshal,  who  re- 
ceived his  baton  at  his  first  campaign." 

The  Value  of  Pluck. 

It  is  this  pluck,  this  bull-dog  tenacity  of  purpose  and  stub- 
borness  of  perseverance,  that  wins  the  battles  of  life,  whether 
fought  in  the  field,  in  the  mart,  or  in  the  forum.  "It  is  the 
half-a-neck  nearer  that  shows  the  blood  and  wins  the  race ; 
the  one  march  more  that  wins  the  campaign;  five  minutes 
more  of  unyielding  courage  that  wins  the  fight.  History 
abounds  with  instances  of  doubtful  battles  or  unexpected  re- 
verses transformed  by  one  man's  stubborness  into  eleventh- 
hour  triumphs.  It  is  opinion,  as  De  Maistre  truly  says,  that 
wins  battles,  and  it  is  opinion  that  loses  them.  The  battle  of 
Marengo  went  against  the  French  during  the  first  half  of  the 
day,  and  they  were  expecting  an  order  to  retreat,  when  Des- 
Baix,  consulted  by  Napoleon,  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said : 
"  The  battle  is  completely  lost,  but  it  is  only  two  o'clock,  and 
we  shall  have  time  to  gain  another."  He  then  made  his 
famous  cavalry  charge,  and  won  the  field.  Bi"ober.  th»  *  <- 


IUUU8  Prussian  general,  was  by  no  means  a  lucky  leader.  He 
was  beatten  in  nine  battles  out  of  ten  ;  but  in  a  marvellously 
brief  time  he  had  rallied  his  routed  army,  and  was  as  formid- 
able as  ever.  He  had  his  disappointments,  but  turned  them, 
us  the  oyster  does  the  sand  which  annoys  it,  into  a  pearl. 

Washington  lost  more  battles  than  he  won,  but  he  organized 
victory  out  of  defeat,  and  triumphed  in  the  end.  It  was  be- 
cause they  appreciated  this  quality  of  pluck,  that,  when  the 
battle  of  Cannui  was  lost,  and  Hannibal  was  measuring  by 
bushels  the  rings  of  Roman  knights  who  had  perished  in  the 
strife,  the  Senate  of  Rome  voted  thanks  to  the  defeated 
general.  Consul  Terreutius  Varro,  for  not  having  despaired  of 
the  republic,  In  the  vocabulary  of  such  men  there  is  no  such 
word  as  "fail."  Impossibilities,  so  called,  they  laugh  to 
scorn.  "Impossible I"  exclaims  Mirabeau  on  a  certain  oc- 
casion, "  talk  not  to  me  of  that  blockhead  of  a  word  1"  "  Im- 
possible 1"  echoed  the  elder  Pit,  afterwards  Lord  Chatham,  in 
reply  to  a  colleague  in  office  who  told  him  that  a  certain  thing 
could  not  be  done :  "I  trample  upon  impossibilities!"  Be- 
fore such  men  mountains  dwindle  into  mole  hills,  and  ob- 
stacles that  seem  unconquerable  are  not  only  triumphed  over,  . 
but  converted  into  helps  and  instruments  of  success,  by  their 
overwhelming  weight. 

Happiness  at  Home. 

It  has  been  said  by  a  philosopher  that  every  cross  word 
uttered  or  angry  feeling  experienced,  leaves  its  unerring  mark 
on  the  face.  This  can  be  verified  by  a  close  observation  of  the 
countenances  of  those  around  us  whose  tempers  and  habits  are 
familiar  to  us,  and  its  truth  thus  established.  And  if  the 
lineaments  of  the  face  show  traces  of  such  things,  how  much 
more  must  the  general,  moral  and  mental  system  be  affected 
by  them  ?  Nothing  is  more  susceptible  of  proof  than  the  state- 
ment that  one  angry  word  brings  on  another,  except  the  good 
old  biblical  saying,  that  "  a  soft  word  tumeth  away  wrath." 
Many  people,  really  possessed  of  a  sincere  desire  to  do  right 
in  all  things,  allow  themselves  to  fall  into  the  habit  of  using 
ungentle  and  even  unkind  words  to  those  around  them,  when 
if  their  attention  were  called  to  the  fact  in  the  right  way,  they 
would  be  astonished  at  themselves.  They  mean  no  harm,  but 
they  do  harm,  both  to  themselves  and  to  their  associates. 
More  especially  is  this  harm  perceptible  iu  the  family  circle, 
where  the  developing  child  is  the  proud  imitator  of  all  the 
acta  of  its  elders,  and  particularly  those  which  are  pronounced 
and  noticeable.  Here  is  where  the  carefully  sown  seeds  of  un- 
gentleness  are  eventually  ripened  into  a  harvest  of  harshness 
and  too  often  gathered  in  a  crop  of  vice  and  crime.  Too  fre- 
quently are  these  sins  of  the  parents  visited  upon  the  children, 
even  of  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

This  all  results  from  a  lack  of  full  appreciation  of  Happiness 
at  Home.  Happiness  is  made,  not  born.  It  may  with  reason 
be  argued  that  it  is  an  impossibility  to  be  happy  at  home  when 
one  is  crushed  by  the  cares  of  life— by  difficulties  crowding  on 
every  side.  But  that  brings  us  to  the  very  point  we  are  seek- 
ing and  leads  us  to  repeat,  that  happiness  is  made,  not  bom. 
If  a  man  firmly  resolves  to  throw  aside  the  vexing  cares  of 
business,  or  a  woman  the  aggravations  of  domestic  life,  when 
the  family  is  united,  as  most  families  are  once  in  twenty-four 
hom-s,  the  thing  is  done.  After  the  excitements  of  the  day 
the  nerves  are  naturally  pretty  "  high  strung,"  and  an  effort  is 
required  to  prevent  their  disturbance  upon  the  slightest  pro- 
vocation ;  but  each  effort  renders  its  successor  easier  of  accom- 
plishment. Thus,  a  habit  of  gentleness,  cheerfulness  and 
kindliness  can  be  acquired,  which  nobody  sees  but  to  appre- 
ciate, admire  and  desire.  The  children  acquire  it  in  youth  and 
are  saved  the  subsequent  efforts  at  self-control,  while  the 
neighbors  are  softened  by  contact  with  it,  and  the  result  is 
what  we  all  should  seek — Happiness  at  Home. 

We  may  have  but  a  few  thousands  of  days  to  spend,  perhaps 
hundreds  only— perhaps  tens,  nay,  the  longest  of  our  time  and 
best,  looked  back  on,  will  be  but  as  a  moment,  as  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye ;  but  yet,  we  are  men,  not  insects  ;  we  are  living 
spirits,  not  passing  clouds.  He  maketh  the  winds  Hi?  angels  ; 
the  flaming  fire  His  ministers.  And  shall  wo  do  less  than 
these?  Let  us  do  the  work  of  men  while  we  bear  the  form 
of  them,  and  as  we  snatch  our  narrow  portion  of  time  out  of 
eternity,  snatch  also  our  narrow  but  glorious  inheritance  of 
passion  out  of  immortality— even  though  our  lives  be  as  a 
vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time  and  then  vanishetli 
ttway. 


4i8 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


A  MxlY-DA^^  SCENE. 

A.  bevy  of  children,  a  charming  Spring  day. 

Met  to  choose  among  flowers  a  queen  of  sweet  Mr.y. 

They  formed  a  bright  circle  of  gins  on  the  green. 

To  see  who  would  make  the  most  beautiful  queen. 

Each  a  bright  blossom  brought  with  its  claims  to  the  crown, 

7rom  the  towering  catalpa  to  feathery  down. 

First:,  the  cowslip  and  daisy  preteuisons  did  bring. 

Because  it  is  they  who  bloom  firrt  in  the  Spring; 

Then  came  the  dahlia's  proud  boast  of  high  birth. 

Which  caused  'mong  the  flowers  an  innocent  mirth ; 

And  th-3  kind  mignonette  the  bright  jessamine  brought — 

'Twas  not  her  own  honor,  bui  her  friend's  that  she  sought ; 

Then  the  sunflower,  ra  '-ant  with  midsummer's  glow. 

Egotistical  came,  her  high  colors  to  show  ; 

And  the  peaceful  geranium,  with  virtuous  pride. 

Came  crowned  with  the  orange  as  if  for  a  bride, 

Then  the  mot  \  rose  in  gentleui  ss  showed  her  fair  face. 

With  the  myrtle  and  ivy  her  presence  to  grace  ; 

But  the  rose  and  the  lily  in  peaceful  array. 

Lingered  still  in  the  wildwood.  nor  sought  to  display 

Their  own  radiant  colors  to  vie  with  the  rest. 

Until  sought  in  a  chorus ;  the  flowers  request 

Them  to  come  in  their  beauty  so  pure  and  serene. 

As  they  could  not  make  choice :  they  crowned  for  a  queen 

First  the  Rose  for  her  beauty,  her  silence  and  grace. 

Then  next  the  Archbishop  iu  triumph  did  place 

A  crown  on  the  Lily,  which,  with  modesty's  dread, 

Hung  aloof  from  all  honors,  till  smiling  he  said, 

**  Sweet  emblem  of  purity,  chosen  to-day 

To  reign  with  the  Rose,  as  the  monarch  of  May ; 

Accept  of  this  crown,  it  will  rapture  impart 

To  thy  beautiful  face,  and  thy  innocent  heart!" 

Then  the  dance  'round  the  May-pole  began  in  high  glee, 

And  the  children  were  happy,  as  happy  could  be. 


Snail  Eating. 

Snail  eatinff  has  been  in  vogue  in  Italy  for  many  cen- 
turies. In  rliny's  time  Barbary  snails  stood  first  in  re- 
pute, those  of  Sicily  ranking  next ;  audit  was  the  custom 
to  fatten  the  creatures  for  the  table  by  dieting  them  upon 
meal  and  new  wine.  In  modern  Rome,  fresh-gathered 
snails  are  hawked  by  womin  from  door  to  door,  for  the 
benefit  of  good  housewives,  who  boil  them  in  their  shells, 
stew  them,  or  fry  them  in  oil.  An  Englishman  strolling 
about  Palermo  came  upon  some  people  gathered  roimd 
a  number  of  baskets  filled  with  what,  at  first  sight,  he 
took  to  be  white  pebbles.  Upon  nearer  acquaintance 
the  pebbles  proved  to  be  snails,  waiting  to  be  thrown 
into  a  large  iron  pot  standing  over  a  fire  made  between 
four  stones,  and  boiled  with  herbs  and  tomatoes,  for  re- 
tailing to  the  expectant  crowd.  Dining  afterwards  with 
a  Sicilian  gentleman,  he  was  invited  to  partake  of  some 
snails  treated  in  this  way,  and,  for  politeness  sake, 
forced  himself  to  swallow  a  couple  of  them,  although  he 
found  it  impossible  to  feign  the  delight  with  which  his 
host  and  his  daughter  sucked  the  molluscs  out  of  their 
B  hells. 


Nitrogen. 

BY  JA8.  P.  DUFFY. 

The  properties  of  nitrogen  are  almost  entirely  of  a 
negative  character.  It  does  not  support  combustion,  has 
no  smell  or  taste,  and  is  scarcely  absorbable  by  water.  It 
derives  its  name  from  nitre,  of  which  it  is  a  constituent ; 
it  is  occasionally  called  azote,  from  the  fact  that  animals 
cannot  breathe  it  in  a  pure  state.  It  has,  however,  no 
direct  poisonous  qualities  ;  and  fatal  effects,  resulting 
from  inspiring  it,  arise  from  the  absence  of  life-sustain- 
ing powers.  It,  however,  exerts  great  influence  in  ani- 
mal life,  as  it  forms  a  constituent  of  flesh,  and  various 
compounds  produced  or  consumed  by  animals.  It  is 
also  a  constituent  of  ammonia  and  nitric  acid.  For 
general  purposes,  nitrogen  can  be  procured  in  the  follow- 
ing manner:  Place  a  small  piece  of  phosphorus  on  a 
piece  of  cork  floating  in  a  basin  of  water,  and  having 
ignited  the  phosphorus,  invert  over  it  a  tall  glass  jar  full 
of  air,  pressing  the  mouth  of  the  vessel  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  the  liquid.  A  few  bubbles  of  air  will  at  first  es- 
cape, owing  to  the  expansion  of  the  air  by  heat.  Eventu- 
ally, however,  the  water  will  rise  inside  the  glass  jar  to 
the  extent  of  about  one-fifth  of  its  capacity,  leaving  the 
jar  four-fifths  filled  with  oxygen,  which  can  then  be  re- 
moved to  another  jar  for  convenience  of  use. 

The  most  important  use  of  nitrogen  is  that  found  in 
the  air  we  breathe,  which  is  composed  of  seventy-nine 
parts,  by  measure,  of  nitrogen,  to  twenty-one  parts  of 
oxygen.  Were  it  composed  entirely  of  pure  oxygen,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  extinguish  a  fire  which  had  once 
been  kindled.  All  animal  and  vegetable  life  would  be 
too  highly  stimulated,  and  our  present  state  of  existence 
rendered  impossible. 

The  most  important  combination  of  nitrogen  with 
oxygen  is  nitric  acid.  It  contains  five  equivalents  of  the 
latter  element  to  one  of  the  former.  In  its  ordinary 
condition  it  is  united  with  water,  and  forms  the  ordinary 
aqua-fortis  when  in  a  comparatively  diluted  condition. 
When  quite  pure,  it  has  but  a  very  faint  yellow  color. 
The  light  of  day  or  the  solar  rays,  speedily  decompose 
it,  and  deepen  its  color.  It  is  obtained  by  distilling  a 
mixture  of  nitre,  sulphuric  acid  and  a  little  water,  in  a 
retort,  receiving  the  vapor  which  passes  over  in  a  re- 
ceiver, which  should  be  kept  cool  so  as  to  condense  the 
acid.  It  has  an  intensely  sour  taste  ;  turns  the  human 
skin  to  a  deep  yellow  color ;  and  with  bases,  forms  the 
salts  called  nitrates.  Nitric  acid  is  largely  used  in  com- 
merce for  a  variety  of  purposes.  "With  hydro-chloric 
acid  it  forms  aqtia-regia,  which  is  used  to  dissolve  gold 
and  platina.  Nitric  acid  is  occasionally  present  in  the 
atmosphere  after  a  thunder-storm,  and  is  often  found  in 
water,  etc.,  through  which  animal  rratterhas  passed  in 
a  state  of  decomposition.  With  potass  it  forms  the 
ordinary  saltpetre  of  commerce,  which  is  largely  em- 
ployed for  the  manufacture  of  gun-powder.  When 
cotton-wool  is  digested  in  strong  nitric  acid  or  a 
mixture  of  nitric  and  sulphuric  acid,  (which  must  be 
cooled  before  being  used)  the  character  of  the  cotton  is 
completely  changed :  for  after  having  been  well  washed 
with  water  and  dried,  it  becomes  highly  explosive,  and 
by  these  means  gun-cotton  is  produced. 

Nitrogen  forms  also  an  explosive  compound  with 
iodine,  which  is  analogous  to  the  last.  This  iodide  of 
nitrogen  is  prepared  by  adding  liquid  ammonia  to  iodine, 
great  care  being  observed  in  the  process  to  prevent  any 
accident  from  a  premature  explosion. 

Buffaloes  Guarding  a  Boy. 

There  was  a  Malay  boy  near  Singapore,  who  was  em- 
ployed by  his  parents  in  herding  some  water-buffaloes. 
He  was  driving  his  charge  home  by  the  borders  of  a 
jungle,  when  a  tiger  made  a  sudden  spring,  and,  seizing 
the  lad  by  the  thigh,  was  dragging  him  off,  when  two  old 
bull  buffaloes,  hearing  the  shriek  of  distress  from  the 
well-known  voice  of  their  little  attendant,  turned  round 
and  charged  with  their  usual  rapidity.  The  tiger  thus 
closely  pre  sed,  was  obliged  to  drop  his  prey  to  defend 
himself.  While  one  buffalo  fought  and  successfully 
drove  the  tiger  away,  the  other  kept  guard  over  the 
wounded  boy.  Later  in  the  evening,  when  the  anxious 
father,  alarmed,  came  out  with  attendants  to  seek  his 
child,  he  found  that,  although  the  herd  had  dispersed 
themselves  to  feed,  two  of  them  were  still  there,  one 
standing  over  the  bleeding  body  of  their  little  friend, 
while  the  other  kept  watch  on  the  edge  of  the  jungle  for 
•  the  return  of  the  tiger. 


THE  EDDYSTONE  LIGHT-HOUSE. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


CONCERNING  LIGHT-HOUSES 


The  force  of  the  waves,  and  the  height  to  which 
they  dash  against  light-house  towers,  in  the  most  ex- 
posed situations,  are  astonishing  ;  and  we  cannot  con- 
template them  without  reflecting  how  great  a  triumph 
of  art  these  buildings  are,  and  how  strange  life  in 
them  must  be. 

They  are  necessarily  situated  on  headlands,  isolated 
rocks,  or  sands  and  pierheads  ;  and  from  the  benevo- 
lence of  their  design,  and  in  many  instances  from 
the  boldness  of  their  construction,  they  have  always 
been  objects  of  interest  independently  of  their  use  to 
mariners.  The  materials  used  in  the  construction  of 
light-houses  are  wood,  stone,  brick,  cast-iron  and 
wrouglit-iron.  Stone,  Ijrick  and  iron  are  the  most  im- 
portant, and  are  used  exclusively  in  all  large  light- 
houses. Cast  iron  light-houses  were  first  erected  by  Mr. 
Alexander  Gordon,  an  English  civil  engineer.  Two 
were  constructed  for  England  on  the  islands  of  Ber- 
muda and  Jamaica.  From  the  fact  that  every  part  of 
the  structure  can  be  completed  at  the  workshop,  cast- 
iron  light-houses  answer  admirably  for  positions  at 
points  remote  from  large  centres  or  manufactures,  and 
are  gradually  coming  into  use.  Several  light-houses 
of  this  kind  have  been  erected  at  various  places  on 
the  coast  of  the  United  States.  They  require  a 
lining  of  brick,  the  weight  of  which  prevents  oscil- 
lation or  swaying,  while  its  low  conducting  power  of 
heat  hinders  the  deposition  of  moisture  on  the  well 
room  of  the  stairs,  which  would  otherwise  be  occa- 
sioned by  the  difference  of  temperature  between  the 
inside  and  outside  of  the  tower.  To  further  this  lat- 
ter object  space  is  also  left  for  a  current  of  air  to  flow 
between  the  iron  and  brick. 

Another  kind  of  iron  light-house  is  the  wrought-iron 
pile  light-house.  The  lower  ends  of  the  iron  piles 
are  fitted  with  large  cast  iron  screws  where  thg  foun- 
dation is  sand,  and  the  piles  are  screwed  to  a  firm 
bearing,  or  these  ends  are  sharpened,  and  the  piles 
are  driven  into  the  rock  or  hard  ground  by  an  ordi- 
nary pile-driver,  until  they  come  to  a  firm  bearing 
upon  cast-iron  disks,  which  bear  upon  shoulders 
forged  on  the  piles.  This  kind  of  light-house  was 
first  built  in  England  ;  the  screw  pile  was  patented 
about  1836  by  Mitchell,  and  is  called  Mitchell's  Screw 
Pile.  It  was  introduced  into  the  United  States  in 
1845,  and  has  since  been  used  in  the  construction  of 
many  important  light-houses  on  the  coast,  but  expe- 
rience has  shown  them  unsuitable  for  foundations  in 
water  where  ice  is  formed — the  ice  moving  in  large 
fields  bends,  and  sometimes  breaks  the  piles.  They 
have  been  found  particularly  adapted  to  Southern 
coasts,  and  about  thirty  now  exist  in  the  States. 
Their  annual  cost  for  repairs  is  very  small,  a  yearly 
coat  of  paint  being  all  that  is  needed  to  keep  the  ex- 
terior in  order. 

Light-house  towers  are  generally  surmounted  by 
parapet  walls,  which  vary  in  height  from  three  to 
seven  feet,  according  to  the  order  of  the  light.  Upon 
the  parapet  wall  is  placed  the  lantern  in  which  the 
illuminating  apparatus  is  contained.  The  lantern  is 
glazed  frame- work,  made  of  brass  or  iron,  and  varies 
in  dimensions  from  six  feet  in  diameter  and  four  feet 
in  height,  to  twelve  feet  in  diameter  and  nine  feet  in 
height.  It  is  a  regular  polygon  and  can  be  made  of 
any  number  of  sides.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  dome 
constructed  of  copper  or  iron,  which  is  generally 
lined  with  some  other  metal  to  prevent  condensation 
of  moisture.  Heated  air  escapes  from  a  ventilator  in 
the  top,  and  the  supply  of  fresh  air  is  regulated  by 
registers  at  the  bottom.  The  first  light-houses  in 
America  were  lighted  with  tallow  candles,  and  solid 
wick  lamps,  suspended  by  iron  chains.    In  1812  tlie 


Argand  burners  and  reflectors  were  adopted,  and  were 
used  until  1852,  when  the  general  introduction  of  the 
lens  system  commenced.  In  only  one  case  in  the 
United  States  is  a  light-house  lighted  with  natural 
gas.  There  is  little  doubt  that  oil  will  be  eventually 
superceded  by  gas  or  the  electric  light,  but  in  the 
present  state  of  the  gas  manufacture  it  seems  impos- 
sible to  make  a  burner  that  will  give  the  proper  size 
and  shape  of  flame  for  the  large  order  of  lights. 

Little  is  known  of  the  early  history  of  light-houses, 
but  sea  lights  are  mentioned  by  Homer  in  the  Odys- 
sey, and  they  are  also  referred  to  in  the  Greek  poem 
of  Nero  and  Leanrler.  These  must  have  been  merely 
fires  kindled  upon  headlands. 

The  most  noted  light-house  in  the  world  for  size 
and  antiquity  was  the  Pharos  of  Alexandria.  "Jhis 
building  was  the  frustum  of  a  square  pyramid  sur- 
rounded by  a  large  base,  the  precise  dimensions  of 
which  are  not  known.  It  was  commenced  by  the 
first  Ptolemy,  and  was  finished  300  B.  C.  The  style 
and  workmanship  are  represented  to  have  been 
superb,  and  the  material  was  a  white  stone.  The 
height  was  about  550  feet,  and  it  is  stated  by  Joseph  us 
that  the  light  was  visible  about  41  miles.  It  was 
probably  destroyed  by  an  earthquake,  but  the  date  of 
its  destruction  is  not  known.  Enough  is  known, 
however,  to  make  it  certain,  that  this  tower  existed 
for  1,600  years.  The  island  upon  which  it  was  situ- 
ated was  named  Pharos,  and  the  stmcture  took  its 
name  from  its  site. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  modern  light-houses  is 
the  tower  of  Cordouan,  the  construction  of  which 
occupied  26  years.  It  was  completed  by  Louis  de 
Foix,  a  French  architect  and  engineer.  It  is  situated 
on  a  ledge  of  rocks  in  the  mouth  of  the  Garonde,  in 
the  Bay  of  Biscay.  The  ledge  is  3,000  feet  long 
and  1,500  feet  broad,  and  is  bare  at  low  water.  It  is 
surrounded  by  detached  rocks,  upon  which  the  sea 
breaks  with  terrific  violence. 

The  Eddystone  Light-house,  of  which  we  give  an  il- 
lustration, is  the  most  distinguished  in  the  world,  both 
on  account  of  the  difficulties  attending  its  construction, 
and  the  fact  that  it  is  the  type  of  all  structures  of  the 
kind  that  have  since  been  erected.  The  dangerous  reef 
of  Eddystone  rocks  are  in  the  English  Channel,  six  or 
seven  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  about  nine  miles  south-west 
from  the  Ramhead.  They  consist  of  three  principal  ridges, 
which  are  entirely  covered  at  high  water.  The  highest  part 
of  the  rock  upon  which  the  light-house  is  placed  is  about 
sixteen  feet  out  of  water  at  low  water  of  spiing  tides.  The 
first  here  built  was  commenced  in  1696,  and  finished  in  1699. 
This  building  stood  until  November,  1703,  when  Mr.  Wiustan- 
ley,  the  builder,  went  to  the  light-house  with  a  party  of 
workmen  to  make  some  repairs.  On  the  26th  of  the  month 
a  terrible  storm  arose,  and  not  a  remnant  of  the  light-house, 
nor  a  trace  of  its  iiunates  were  ever  seen  afterwards. 

The  fact  that  a  light-house  could  be  made  to  stand  on  the 
Eddystone  having  been  demonstrated,  another  was  built  by  a 
person  named  Rudyerd.  It  was  au  exceedingly  ingenious  com- 
bination of  wood  and  iron.  The  outside  casing  was  composed  of 
seventy-two  oak  posts  or  upricrhts,  the  lower  ends  of  which  were 
fastened  to  the  rock  by  heavy  irons  which  were  let  into  lewis 
holes.  This  building  was  completed  in  1709,  and  stood  well 
with  some  repairs  of  the  wood-work  until  175.5,  when  it  was 
destroyed  by  fire.  The  fire  commenced  in  the  lantern  in  the 
eaily  part  of  the  night,  and  the  keepers  retreated  from  room 
to  room,  until  they  reached  the  rock.  Early  in  the  morning 
they  were  brought  to  the  shore,  as  the  weather  was  good 
enough  to  permit  a  boat  to  land  at  the  rock,  although  the  vio- 
lence of  the  swell  at  the  light-house  renders  communication 
with  the  shore  extremely  difficult,  even  in  serene  weather. 

In  1756  the  present  edifice  was  commenced  by  the  celebrated 
engineer,  John  Smeaton.  The  material  employed  was  Port- 
land stone,  encased  in  granite,  partly  quarried  from  the  rock 
itself,  into  which  the  foundations  were  dovetailed.  The  ex- 
periments made  by  Smeaton  on  hydraulic  cements,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  construction  of  this  work,  were  particularly 
valuable,  and  are  quoted  to  this  day.  The  erection  of  this 
light-house  was,  on  account  of  its  position,  the  difficulty  of 
access  to  its  site,  and  the  fact  that  Smeaton  had  determined 
to  build  it  of  stone,  attended  with  the  greatest  difficulties. 
The  genius  and  energy  of  the  engineer  triumphed  over  all  ob- 
stacles, and  the  work  was  finished  in  1759.  It  is  between 
ei  - hty  and  ninetv  I'pet  high,  and  furnished  with  sixteen  pow 


422 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


erful  Argand  ■burners,  giving  a  ligbt  of  the  first  magnitude, 
visible  in  clear  weather  for  thirteen  milee.  It  has  stood  100 
years,  a  monument  of  the  skill  of  i  ts  designer,  and  an  exam- 
ple to  all  engineers.  The  sea  rises  frequently  above  the  light, 
the  strong  plate  glass  of  the  lantern  having  been  more  than 
once  broken  by  the  waves.  Three  light-keepers  are  employed 
here,  and  the  house  is  always  supplied  with  provisions  for 
three  months,  and  a  stock  of  500  gallons  of  oil. 

The  North  Unst  Light-house  is  one  of  the  most  recently 
erected  on  the  coast  of  Great  Britain,  and  is  of  special  interest 
as  being  situated  at  the  most  northern  point  of  land  in  the 
British  Islands.  It  is  built  on  stack  or  outlying  rock  of  coni- 
cal form,  of  nearly  two  hundred  feet  in  height,  at  the  north 
end  of  TJnst,  the  northernmost  of  the  Shetland  Isles.  The 
rock,  as  seen  from  the  south,  very  much  resembles  a  sugar-loaf 
in  form,  and  its  steep  slope  could  only  be  scaled  with  difficulty 
previous  to  the  cutting  of  steps  in  it.  On  the  north  it  is  nearly 
perpendicular,  and  exposed  to  the  full  "  fetch"  of  the  ocean. 
The  top  of  the  rock  affords  little  more  space  than  is  sufficient 
for  the  site  of  the  light  house.  There  is  only  one  part  of  the  rock 
wheroa  landing  can  be  effected,  and  that,  of  course,  only  in 
f avorfble  weather,  so  that  the  light-keepers  are  as  completely 
cut  off  from  communication  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  as  if 
their  islet  abode  were  many  miles  from  land.  The  dwelling- 
houses  of  their  families  are  on  the  Island  of  Unst.  The  first 
light  shown  here  was  from  a  temporary  tower  erected  in  1854, 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  Admiralty,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
North  Sea  squadron  in  the  Russian  war.  A  temporary  iron 
light-house  and  dwellings  were  constructed  at  Glasgow,  and 
carried  to  the  spot,  with  all  materials  and  stores,  by  a  steamer ; 
and  light  was  shown  after  little  more  than  two  months,  al- 
though landings  were  accomplished  with  difficulty,  and  every- 
thing had  to  be  carried  to  the  top  of  the  rock  on  the  backs  of 
laborers.  The  temporary  buildings  being  nearly  two  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  it  was  supposed  that  they 
would  have  nothing  but  wind  and  rain  to  withstand.  But  in 
December,  during  a  severe  gale  from  the  north-west,  the  sea 
broke  heavily  on  the  tower,  and  broke  open  the  dwelling-house 
and  deluged  it  with  water.  Similar  storms  occurred  during 
the  winter;  seas  fell  with  violence  on  the  iron  roof  of  the 
dwelling-house,  so  that  the  light-keepers  began  to  entertain 
serious  doubts  of  their  own  safety.  It  was  resolved,  therefore, 
to  raise  the  permanent  structure  fifty  feet  above  the  rock. 
This  light-house  was  completed  in  1858. 

Most  lonely  and  remote  from  all  the  ordinary  scenes  of  busy 
human  life  are  the  light-houses  of  SkerryvoreandDubh-iartaig; 
towers  of  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  high,  on  the  rocks  in  the 
Atlantic.  Dubh-iartaig  is  a  rock  of  considerable  size,  rising 
above  the  level  of  high  water,  but  over  which  the  waves  break 
in  a  moderate  gale.  It  lies  in  the  open  ocean,  twenty  miles 
from  the  Island  of  MuJl,  and  a  like  distance  from  that  of  Co- 
lonsay.  Skerry  vore  is  a  reef  of  low  rocks,  equally  in  the  open 
ocean,  about  twelve  miles  from  the  Island  of  Tyree,  where  the 
families  of  the  light-keepers  live,  and  about  twenty  miles 
west  from  lona.  At  the  Longships  Light-house,  on  the  top  of 
a  conical  rock  opposite  Land^s  End,  in  heavy  weather,  waves 
break  about  the  lantern  seventy-nine  feet  above  high  water 
mark;  and  on  one  occasion  the  sea  lifted  the  cowl  off  the  top 
BO  as  to  admit  a  great  deal  of  water,  by  which  several  of  the 
lamps  were  extinguished,  and  all  the  men  were  employed  in 
baling  till  the  tide  feU.  There  is  a  cavern  under  the  light- 
house at  the  end  of  a  long  split  in  the  rock,  and  when  there  is 
a  heavy  sea,  the  noise  produced  by  the  escape  of  pent-up  air 
from  the  cavern  is  deafening.  Concerning  the  Scilly  Bishops' 
Light-house,  on  a  rock  in  the  south-west  of  t^e  Scilly  Isles,  of 
which  the  building  is  perhaps  the  most  exposed  in  the 
world,  the  si)ray  goes  over  the  top  of  the  light-house,  the 
height  of  which  is  one  hundred  and  ten  feet.  At  the  South 
Bishop  Rock  Light-house  spray  occasionally  strikes  the  lantern, 
and  it  has  broken  the  lower  windows  of  the  dwelling-house— 
that  is,  of  the  part  of  the  tower  so  called.  Yet  the  South 
Bishop  Rock  Light-house  is  on  a  rock— off  the  coast  of  South 
Wales— of  such  size  that  there  is  a  patch  of  grass  before  the 
door,  and  the  tower  rises  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  forty- 
four  feet  above  the  sea.  The  Smalls  Light-house,  also  off  the 
coast  of  South  Wales,  is  on  a  low  rock  about  twenty'  miles 
from  land,  but  so  large  that  there  is  room  to  walk  about.  It  is 
above  high-water  mark ;  but  we  are  told  the  sea  breaks  all 
about  the  lantern  of  the  old  light-house  when  there  is  heavy 
weather. 

Many  of  the  light-houses  in  the  United  States  are  unsurpassed 
by  any  in  the  world,  and  are  of  exceedingly  difficult  con- 
struction. The  most  noted  is  that  of  Minot's  Ledge,  off  the 
coast  of  Massachusetts.  It  is  situated  about  eight  miles  E.  S. 
E.  of  Boston  light,  and  ffe  a  projecting  point  very  dangerous  to 
vessels  coming  into  Boston  from  seaward.  It  is  about  one 
and  a  half  miles  from  tlie  nearest  land,  and  at  low  water  the 
highest  part  of  the  rock  (a  circle  about  twenty-five  in  diameter) 
is  bare.  The  rise  of  spring  tides  is  about  twelve  feet,  so  that 
no  part  of  the  rock  is  ever  uncovered  more  than  a  few  minutes. 
The  difficulties  of  erecting  a  light-house  on  this  rock  cannot 
be  exaggerated.  The  attention  of  commercial  men  and  mar- 
iners was  drawn  to  the  dangers  of  this  point,  and  in  1847  an 
appropriation  was  made  by  Congress  for  the  construction  of  a 
light  house  on  the  rock. 

It  was  determined  to  erect  an  iron  pile  structure.  The  plan 
of  the  work  was  an  octagon,  the  side  of  which,  at  the  base,  was 
nine  and  a  half  feet,  the  diameter  of  the  circumscribing  circle 


being  twenty-five  feet.  Iron  piles  ten  inches  in  diameter,  where 
they  leave  the  rock,  were  inserted  five  feet  into  it,  at  each 
angle  of  the  octagon,  and  at  its  center.  These  were  firmly 
braced  and  tied  together  by  wrought  iron  braces.  At  a  height 
of  fif  ty^five  feet  above  the  highest  point  of  the  rock,  the  heada 
of  the  piles  were  secured  to  a  heavv  casting. 

The  structure  was  finished  in  the" Autumn  of  1849,  and  stood 
until  April,  1851,  when  it  was  carried  away  by  one  of  the  most 
terrific  storms  that  has  ever  occurred  on  the  Atlantic  coast. 
All  the  iron  piles  were  twisted  off  at  short  distances  above 
their  feet. 

In  1852,  Congress  appropriated  money  for  rebuilding  the 
light-house,  and  a  design  was  originated  by  the  light-house 
board,  and  approved  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  in  1855. 
The  design  is  a  granite  tower  in  the  shape  of  a  cone.  The 
base  is  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  whole  height  of  the 
Btone- work  is  eighty-eight  feet.  The  lower  forty  feet  are  solid. 
The  stones  of  the  courses  are  dovetailed  in  the  securest  man- 
ner, and  the  courses  are  fastened  to  each  other  by  wrought 
galvanized  iron  dowels  three  inches  in  diameter. 

The  work  was  commenced  in  1855,  and  an  idea  of  the  diffi- 
culties to  be  overcome  may  be  formed  from  the  fact,  that 
although  every  moment  in  which  it  was  possible  to  work  upon 
the  rock  was  taken  advantage  of,  it  was  not  until  the  last  part 
of  the  season  of  1857  that  any  stones  were  laid,  the  whole  of 
the  intervening  time  having  been  taken  up  in  leveling  the 
foundation  bed.  It  was  ready  for  illumination  about  the  last 
of  I860. 

The  early  history  of  light-houses  in  the  United  States  is  in- 
volved in  obscurity.  All  built  prior  to  1789  were  ceded  to  the 
Federal  government  by  the  respective  States,  near  the  time  of 
the  adoption  of  the  FederalC  onstitution,  and  the  records  of 
the  erection  and  maintenance  of  the  light-houses  before  that 
date  are  buried  among  the  archives  of  the  several  States.  It  is 
known,  however,  that  the  principal  ports  were  lighted  before 
1779.  The  buildings  were  generally  rough  stone  or  wood  tow- 
ers surmounted  by  large  iron  lanterns.  With  one  or  tv/o  ex- 
ceptions they  have  all  been  rebuilt. 

A  new  impulse  was  given  to  light-houses  in  this  country 
about  the  year  1845,  when  a  commission  consisting  of  two 
officers  of  the  navy  were  sent  abroad  to  examine  the  light- 
house establishments  of  European  governments.  About  the 
the  same  time  as  before  stated,  Mitchell's  screw  pile  was  intro- 
duced, and  the  style  of  reflectors  and  lamps  was  much  im- 
proved. 

On  June  30,  1859,  there  were  491  light  stations  on  the  coast 
of  the  United  States,  including  the  Atlantic,  Pacific,  Gulf  and 
Lake  coasts,  and  the  shores  of  the  various  bays,  sounds  and 
rivers. 

There  were  576  lights  shown  at  these  stations.  Of  the  491 
light  stations,  48  are  light  vessels,  which  show  64  lights;  the 
remainder,  443,  are  light-houses  which  show  512  lights. 

The  expenditures  on  account  of  the  maintenance  of  the 
light-house  establishment  for  the  fiscal  year  ending  June  30, 
1859,  were  nearly  as  follows: 

Light-houses  $594  033  99 

Light  Vessels   211  910  14 

Buoys  and  Beacons,  &c   26  988  77 


Total,   $932  932  90 

The  number  of  buoys  and  beacons  in  the  waters  of  the  Uni« 
ted  States  is  between  five  and  six  thousand.  The  buoys  must 
be  shifted,  cleaned,  and  painted  every  season,  and  those 
which  are  in  exposed  positions  are  frequently  carried  away 
by  heavy  seaa  or  ice.  The  cost  of  keeping  these  aids  to 
navigation  in  an  efficient  state,  is  no  small  item  in  the  an- 
nual expense  of  the  establishment. 

The  coasts  of  the  United  States  are  divided  into  twelve 
light-house  districts.  To  each  of  these  districts  is  assigned 
an  inspector,  who  is  detailed  from  the  officers  of  army  engin- 
eers and  the  navy.  They  are  furnished  with  schooners  in 
which  they  make  quarterly  inspections  of  the  light  stations 
in  their  districts,  and  which  are  also  used  for  taking  care  of 
the  buoys.  They  are  required  to  make  annual  reports  of  the 
condition  of  their  districts,  in  which  are  embodied  their  rec- 
ommendations of  new  lights. 

The  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  is  ex  q^cio  President  of  the 
Light-house  Board,  and  its  decisions  are  in  all  cases  subject  to 
his  control.  The  light-house  establishment,  therefore,  is  a 
branch  of  the  Treasury  Department,  and  its  annual  expenses 
are  estimated  for  by  that  department.  Meetings  are  held 
quarterly  at  Washington,  where  the  office  of  the  Board  is  situ- 
ated. In  all  governments  except  that  of  the  United  States, 
commerce  is  directly  or  indirectly  made  to  pay  for  the  ex- 
pense of  the  light-house  establishments.  In  Great  Britain,  a 
tax  is  laid  upon  every  vessel,  domestic  or  foreign,  that  uses 
the  particular  light  which  is  to  be  supported.  In  some  coun- 
tries a  light  due  is  levied,  which  is  constant,  whether  one  or 
more  light  s  have  been  used  by  the  vessel.  In  others,  as  France 
for  instance,  a  harbor  due  or  tax  is  levied,  with  the  proceeds 
of  which  the  lights  are  kept  up,  but  the  necessary  amount  is 
appropriated  from  the  public  treasury.  The  tax  is  always  a 
severe  exaction  and  restriction  upon  commerce,  and  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  foreign  governments  do  not  in  this  instance  fol- 
low the  example  of  the  United  States,  which  supports  its 
light-house  establishment  without  any  tax  upon  veseels,  do- 
mestic or  foreign.  The  foreign  vessels  reap  the  benefit  of  our 
Dolicv,  hut  do  not  return  the  favor  to  United  States  vessels. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


423 


The  Last  "Walk  to  Bethany. 

So  ended  that  great  discourse  upon  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  and  the  sun  set,  and  He  arose  and  walked  with 
His  apostles  the  short  remaining  road  to  Bethany.  It 
was  the  last  time  that  he  would  ever  walk  it  upon  earth  ; 
and  after  the  trials,  the  weariness,  the  awful  teachings, 
the  terrible  agitations  of  that  eventful  day,  how  deli- 
cious to  him  must  have  been  that  hour  of  twilight  love- 
liness and  evening  calm  ;  how  refreshing  the  peace  and 
affection  which  surrounded  Him  in  Lnat  quiet  village 
and  the  holy  home  !  Jesus  did  not  like  cities,  and  scarce- 
ly ever  slept  within  their  precincts.  He  shrank  from 
their  congregated  wickedness,  from  their  glaring  pub- 
licity, from  their  feverish  excitement,  from  their  feature- 
less monotony,  with  all  the  natural  and  instinctive  dis- 
like of  delicate  minds.  An  Oriental  city  is  always  dirty  ; 
the  refuse  is  flung  into  the  streets,  there  is  no  pavement, 
the  parish  dog  is  the  sole  scavenger ;  beast  and  man 
jostle  each  other  promiscuously  in  the  crowded  thor- 
oughfares. And  though  the  necessities  of  His  work 
compelled  him  to  visit  Jerusalem,  and  to  preach  to  the 
vast  throngs  from  every  clime  and  country,  who  congre- 
gate at  its  yearly  festivals,  yet  He  seems  to  have  retired 
on  every  public  occasion  beyond  the  gates,  partly  it  may 
be  for  safety — partly  for  poverty — partly  because  He 
loved  the  sweet  home  at  Bethany — partly  too,  perhaps, 
because  He  felt  the  peaceful  joy  of  treading  the  grass 
that  groweth  on  the  mountains,  rather  than  the  city 
stones,  and  could  hold  gladder  communion  with  His 
Father  in  Heaven  under  the  shadow  of  the  olive  trees, 
where,  far  from  all  disturbing  sights  and  sounds.  He 
could  watch  the  splendor  of  the  sunset  and  the  falling 
of  the  dew. 

The  exquisite  beauty  of  the  Syrian  evening,  the  tender 
colors  of  tlie  spring  grass  and  flowers,  the  wadys  around 
Him  paling  into  solemn  gray,  the  distant  hills  bathed  in 
the  primrose  light  of  sunset,  the  coolness  and  balm  of 
the  evening  breeze  after  the  burning  glare — what  must 
these  have  been  to  Him  to  whose  eye  the  world  of  na- 
ture was  an  open  book,  on  every  page  of  which  he  read 
His  Father's  name !  And  this  was  His  native  land. 
Bethany  was  almost  to  Him  a  second  Nazareth  ;  those 
whom  He  loved  were  around  Him,  and  He  was  going  to 
those  whom  He  loved.  Can  we  not  imagine  Him  walk- 
ing on  in  silence  too  deep  for  words.  His  disciples 
around  Him  or  following  Him,  the  gibbous  moon  begin- 
ning to  rise  and  gild  the  twinkling  foliage  of  the  olive 
trees  with  rich  silver,  and  moonlight  and  twilight  blend- 
ing at  each  step  insensibly  with  the  garnish  hues  of  day, 
like  that  solemn  twilight-purple  of  coming  agony  into 
tvhich  the  noon-day  of  His  happier  ministry  had  long 
since  begun  to  fade. — FarrarH  Life  of  Christ. 

The  Toilet  of  Sweden. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  northern  clime  are  distinguish- 
ed from  those  that  dwell  in  southern  lands,  by  having 
a  national  dress  which  was  established  in  1777,  doubtless 
With  the  wise  intention  of  repressing  or  totally  prevent- 
ing those  extravagances  and  luxuries  of  clothing  so  pre- 
valent among  other  nations.  "The  monster  fashion," 
says  Swinton,  in  his  Travels,  "  created  for  a  scourge  for 
mankind,  has  occasioned  every  evil  that  infests  the  age." 

Gustavus  III.  of  Sweden  has  shown  that  he  partici- 
pated in  this  opinion,  for  his  sumptuary  laws  regarding 
dress  are  very  determined  and  exact. 

By  the  edict  on  this  subject,  settled  in  1777,  the  men 
are  ordered  to  wear  a  close  coat,  very  wide  breeches, 
strings  in  their  shoes,  a  girdle,  a  round  hat,  and  a  cloak. 
The  usual  color  for  all  these  articles  of  dress  ic.  black  on 
ordinary  days ;  but  on  court  days  they  must  assume  a 
singular  appearance,  for  they  are  enjoined  to  wear  the 
cloak,  buttons,  girdle,  and  shoe-strings  of  jiame  color. 
The  women  are  obliged  to  wear  a  black  gown,  with 
puffed  gauze  sleeves  and  a  colored  sash  and  ribbons ; 
those  however  who  go  to  court  are  allowed  to  wear 
white  gauze  sleeves. 

Coxe,  in  his  Travels,  gives  a  more  detailed  account  of 
this  costume.  The  dress  of  the  men,  he  says,  resembles 
the  old  Spanish,  and  consists  of  a  short  coat,  or  rather 
jacket,  a  waistcoat,  a  cloak,  a  hat  with  feather  a  la  Henri 
IV.;  a  sash  round  the  waist,  a  sword,  large  and  full 
breeches,  and  roses  in  the  shoes.  The  cloak  is  of  black 
cloth,  edged  with  red  satin !  the  coat  or  jacket  and 
breeches  are  also  ornamented  with  red  stripes  and  but- 
tons; the  waistcoat,  sash,  pinks  at  the  knees,  and  roses 
for  the  shoes  are  of  red  satin. 


The  Rich-Poor  of  Paris. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  measuring  the  dimensions  of 
a  Frenchman's  house.  He  may  live  at  the  top  of  a 
magnificent  white  marble  palace,  in  six  rooms,  at  a  rent 
of  one  hundred  or  two  hundred  dollars.  And  yet  when 
you  have  climbed  up  there,  have  sounded  the  bell  and 
have  been  admitted  into  the  hall,  which,  with  its  highly 
polished  mirror,  will  deceive  you  at  once  in  regard  to 
the  size  of  the  little  box,  you  are  convinced  that  he 
revels  in  luxury.  Opposite  the  hall  glass  opens  the 
folding  doors  into  the  parlor,  which  is  a  long  room  with 
still  more  mirrors  to  aid  in  increasing  the  perspective. 
Off  of  this  room  are  yet  other  folding  doors,  two  of 
them  leading  into  the  dining  room,  which  is  always  fitted 
up  in  exquisite  taste,  and,  with  studied  carelessness,  left 
visible  to  the  caller.  Try  the  doors  at  the  other  side 
of  the  room  ;  it  is  hard  to  open  them.  Probably  locked  ? 
Most  effectually  locked  !  They  never  move  upon  their 
hinges.  Still  they  ai'e  not  quite  as  useless  as  "a  painted 
ship  upon  a  painted  ocean,"  for  they  serve  a  double 
purpose  :  they  dispense  with  the  necessity  of  pictures  to 
fill  up  the  bare  walls — for  who  would  hang  pictures  on 
the  doors  ? — and  they  give  one  the  impression  that  vast 
apartments  stretch  beyond. 

Madame  will  receive  you  in  the  most  charmingly  lan- 
guid manner  if  your  call  chance  to  occur  in  the  day  time. 
She  has  just  arisen,  won't  you  have  coffee  with  her  r 
This,  if  she  means  by  generous  courtesy  to  make  a  use- 
ful friend  of  you.  Now  you  find  your  way  into  what 
she  calls  her  private  apartment,  which,  like  the  othei 
rooms,  opens  into  the  the  parlor.  It  is  really  quite  a 
gem  in  its  way.  You  wish  you  were  French,  or,  at  least, 
that  you  might  understand  the  art  of  living  as  the  French 
people  do.  But  a  little  closer  acquaintance  and  a  mode- 
rate increase  in  your  experience  will  teach  you  that  these 
people  work  and  btrive  only  for  the  sake  of  the  appear- 
ance they  make.  They  comprehend  what  the  elegances 
of  life  consist  of,  and  they  will  live  without  the  com- 
monest necessities  in  order  to  deceive  you  as  to  their 
real  condition.  A  family  of  seven  persons  will  actually 
live  in  two  small  rooms,  and  make  their  beds  up  late  at 
night  on  the  floor  of  the  apartments  in  which,  but  a  few 
moments  before,  they  were  chatting  with  you  upon  the 
impossibility  of  economizing  in  Paris  since  the  war. 
Even  they,  in  their  modest  style  of  living,  find  that  it 
takes  a  fortune  to  spend  a  year  in  Paris.  You  are 
shocked  to  hear  them  suggest  that  theirs  is  a  simple 
mode  of  life — ^you  never  thought  of  being  so  fine  at 
home.  In  reality,  these  people  1  speak  of  live  like  pau- 
pers. They  sleep  on  the  floor  the  year  round,  and  often 
on  the  kitchen  floor  at  that.  The  last  is  convenient,  as 
they  can  get  up  and  put  the  coffee  over  the  spirit  lamp 
and  retire  again  until  it  is  prepared.  Coffee  is  taken  in 
bed,  of  course. 

For  the  benefit  of  the  girls  at  home  who  may  admire 
and  envy  this  lady  of  luxury  that  graciously  asks  you 
into  her  boudoir  at  eleven  o'clock,  declaring  she  has  just 
arisen,  and  invites  you  to  take  coffee  with  her,  I  will  tell 
them  something  of  her  toilets  and  the  singular  way  in 
which  they  change  with  the  hours  of  the  day.  Nobody 
is  out  early  in  the  morning — that  is  to  say,  nobody  before 
whom  she  cares  to  keep  up  an  appearance — and,  as  the 
market  people  always  measure  a  customer  before  setting 
a  price,  it  is  wise  to  go  to  market  shabbily  dressed,  not 
only  because  no  one  see  her,  but  as  a  matter  of  economy. 
So  the  toilet  of  the  day  is  not  made  until  this  duty  has 
been  performed.  In  exchange  for  the  great,  airy  bath- 
room, with  its  abundance  of  hot  and  cold  water,  and  its 
fresh,  clean  towels,  which  Americans  cannot  live  without, 
Madame  has,  in  a  little  dark  hole  between  the  kitchen  and 
her  bed-room,  a  pint  of  water  in  a  basin  the  size  of  a  finger 
bowl.  For  water  is  to  precious  a  commodity  to  be  used  un- 
less sparingly.  It  has  to  be  carried  from  the  street  up  five 
flights  of  stairs,  and  a  servant  must  be  paid  five  cents  an 
hour  to  do  it.  No  further  arguments  than  these  are 
necessary  with  Madame.  With  the  aid  of  a  dirty  little 
towel,  for  clothes  must  be  washed  away  from  home — there 
is  neither  room  nor  water  to  do  it  in  these  papier  mache 
boxes — our  lady  will  succeed  in  making  herself  very 
tidy.  I  have  really  begun  to  wonder  if  there  is  such  a 
l.hing  as  dry  wash.  At  ten  o'clock  the  coiffeur  comes  and 
Madame's  hair  is  dressed  as,  my  dear,  you  never  think 
of  having  yours  dressed  except  it  be  for  a  ball.  If  she 
chances  to  be  a  little  gray  the  hair  is  powdered  after  it 
has  been  arranged  in  its  intricate  puffs,  braids  an<^ 
I  frizzles. 


424 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


MY  BIRD. 

BV  G.  WEATHERLT. 

One  morn,  when  wintry  winds  blew  chill, 
A  bird  hopped  on  my  window-sill — 
A  little  bird  with  soft  brown  eyea 
That  looked  at  me  with  mute  surprise, 
As  wondering  why  I  did  not  rise 
And  haste  to  ope  the  window  wide. 

And  welcome  him  with  loving  word- 
It  was  so  very  cold  outside — 
Poor  hapless  bird  1 

And  so  I  welcomed  him  ;  and  he 
Hooped  gladly  in,  and  stayed  with  m© 
All  through  the  winter  dark  and  drear. 
And  every  day  he  grew  more  dear, 
Until  at  length,  for  very  fear 
Lest  he  perchance  might  stray  away. 

And  all  his  love  be  lost  to  me, 
I  made  a  cage  for  him  one  day, 
Ah,  miserie  1 

For  day  by  day  his  love  grew  less — 
His  freedom  was  his  happiness — 
And  soon  he  seemed  to  pine  away ; 
Until  at  last,  one  summer  day. 
The  cage  was  open,  and  away 
He  flew  upon  the  summer  wind, 

And  soared  the  waving  trees  above, 
Forgetting  all  he  left  behind— 

My  care  and  love. 
And  now  I  often  sit  at  eve. 
And  wandering  threads  of  fancy  weave 
Into  one  rhyme  that  lingers  long, 
And  speaks  to  me  like  some  old  song, 
Saying,  "True  love  is  trusting,  strong, 
Having  no  fears  of  what  may  be  ; 

But  weaker  love  brooks  no  restraints, 
And  when  it  seems  no  longer  free 
It  tires  and  faints," 

And  so,  perchance,  but  for  my  fear, 
My  bird  might  still  be  ling'riug  here  ; 
And  oft  I  think,  when  summer's  o'er, 
And  winter  comes  all  chill  and  hoar. 
Upon  the  sill  he'll  perch  once  more  ; 
And  I,  since  he'll  have  need  of  me. 

And  strong  pure  love  can  never  dim — 
Will  ope  my  window  willingly, 
And  welcome  him. 


Fishing  Through  the  Ice. 

I  visited  Bay  Ciiy  a  few  days  ago,  and  learned  that  the 
fishing  season  had  fairly  commenced,  and  that  fishing  par- 
ties were  daily  going  out  to  the  bay  with  their  shanties  and 
fishing  apparatus  to  commence  their  winter's  work.  I 


at  once  applied  to  a  livery  stable  for  conveyance  to  the 
curious  city.  I  was  informed  that  it  was  some  six  or 
seven  miles  to  the  fishing  grounds,  and  that  the  only 
road  by  which  I  could  reach  them  was  on  the  ice  on  the 
river.  I  was  assured  that  the  river  road  was  perfectly 
safe,  and  that  the  ice  was  at  least  eighteen  inches  in 
thickness. 

The  first  fishing  shanty  I  found  about  a  mile  above 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  in  this  neighborhood  were 
perhaps  a  dozen,  being  all  of  about  the  same  make  and 
size,  about  six  feet  square,  high  enough  for  a  man  to 
stand  up  in,  covered  with  a  roof,  and  built  on  runners, 
so  as  to  be  easily  moved  from  place  to  place,  as  the 
owner  might  desire.  A  small  stove,  and  blankets  for 
sleeping,  forms  also  an  important  part  of  the  outfit. 
The  material  mostly  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
shanties  is  thin  strips  of  timber  lined  with  thick  building 
paper.  Near  the  first  group  of  shanties,  and  on  the  high 
road  to  the  bay,  stands  a  new,  rough  board  building, 
about  12  by  16  feet,  built  also  on  runners,  and  labelled 
over  the  door,  "saloon."  Immediately  after  passing 
this  group  and  the  saloon,  the  road  leaves  the  river 
channel  and  passes  for  some  distance  over  an  overflowed 
marsh  to  the  shore  of  Saginaw  bay.  Here  could  be  seen, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  outward  toward  the  lake, 
these  small  abodes  of  the  fishermen.  I  could  see  from 
this  point  what  appeared  to  be  quite  a  large  building, 
ebout  a  mile  distant  from  the  shore,  and  started  at  a 
brisk  pace  to  reach  It.  I  found  the  distance  to  be  much 
greater  than  it  appeared.  When  once  there  I  discovered 
It  to  be  a  hotel,  which  affords  entertainment  for  man, 
and  stabling  and  hay  for  horses. 

The  sight  from  this  point  is  astonishing,  the  shanties 
dotting  the  surface  of  the  bay  in  all  directions  as  far  as 
I  could  see.  I  learned  that  the  number  of  these  shanties 
on  the  bay  was  about  300,  that  about  thirty  were  arriving 
and  being  put  up  daily,  and  that  the  average  number  of 
occupants  in  each  shanty  was  three  men  or  boys,  thus 
making,  including  the  larger  buildings  and  their  occu- 
pants, not  less  than  1,000  persons  already  living  on  the  ice. 
Mr.  Fuller  thinks  thinks  there  will  be  thrice  the  number 
on  the  ice  by  the  middle  of  February,  and  that  they  can 
remain  there  in  safety  until  the  middle  of  March.  Mr. 
Fuller  could  not  give  any  satisfactory  estimate  of  the  fish 
caught,  but  the  facts  that  teams  are  constantly  engaged 
in  gathering  together  and  hauling  the  fish  to  Bay  City, 
whence  they  are  shipped  to  all  parts  of  the  State,  and 
that  all  these  people  find  it  sufficiently  profitable  to  in- 
duce them  to  brave  the  perils  and  hardships  attending 
this  adventurous  life,  is  proof  that  the  aggregate  revenue 
of  the  business  must  be  quite  large. 

This  mode  of  fishing  seems  to  be  peculiar  to  Saginaw 
bay,  and  w  as  practiced  by  the  Indians  many  years  ago, 
but  it  has  been  but  a  few  years  since  it  has  grown  into 
such  enormous  dimensions.  


English  and  German  Canaries. 

The  great  breeding  places  for  canaries  are  Norwich, 
Yarmouth,  Yorkshire,  Lancaster,  and  Manchester.  These 
places  supply  the  London  market  with  canaries.  Canaries 
are  mostly  bred  by  shoe-makers  during  the  Summer, 
and  sold  to  the  London  trade  from  October  till  March. 
They  are  sent  up  in  "scores,"  one  score  being  twenty 
pairs.  If  you  were  to  send  for  a  "score"  of  canaries, 
they  would  send  you  forty  birds.  The  breeders  prefer 
sending  them  in  pairs.  Three  hens  are  charged  as  a 
"pair."  The  wholesale  price  in  the  Autumn  is  £4  per 
score.  The  price  rises  in  the  Spring  and  advances  to 
as  much  as  £7  per  score.  The  most  valuable  and 
delicate  canaries  are  the  Belgians.  When  undisturbed 
they  sit  "all  of  a  lump,"  but  when  the  cage  is  taken 
down  they  show  their  beauty  by  lengthening  themselves 
out  like  a  telescope,  and  bringing  themselves  into  form. 
Some  will  nearly  pass  through  a  large  weddmg  nng, 
and  birds  of  first-class  will  fetch  as  much  as  £10  per 
pair.  The  next  kind  of  canary  most  resemblmg  the  Bel- 
gians are  the  Yorkshire  birds.  These  are  also  very  long 
and  graceful.  They  vary  from  seven  shillings  and  six- 
pence to  thirty  shillings  per  pair.  Norwich,  as  a  ruxC^ 
produces  the  richest-color  birds.  The  motto  is  : 
Norwich  for  color 
Belgian  for  shape 
And  German  for  song. 

The  best  come  from  the  Hartz  Mountains.  German 
birds  are  not  much  to  look  at,  but  command  high  price 
on  account  of  their  beautiful  sonj. 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD,  425 


Newspapers  and  Periodicals. 

.-u  American  might  be  defined  by  naturalists  as  an  animal 
who  lives  upon  vegetable,  farinaceous  auJ  animal  food — and 
•newspapers  and  periodicals.  His  daily  and  weekly  journals 
are  as  indispensable  to  him  as  his  daily  bread  and  his  Sunday 
dinner.  If  he  misses  his  paper,  he  is  a  lost  man.  Deprive 

.him  of  his  natural  pabulum  for  a  few  days  and  he  becomes 

hank  and  melancholy,  like  that  lion  the  old  settlers  of  Ply- 
Snouth  saw,  which,  having  lost  his  jackal,  "  had  become  so 
poore"  as  to  excite  their  pity.   When  he  is  restored  to  his 

ypaper,  he  fastens  on  it  with  the  voracity  of  a  famished  wolf. 

^The  church,  school  and  printing  office  springs  up  simultane- 
ously in  every  new  settlement— the  Holy  Alliance  of  clergy- 
man, schoolmaster  and  editor  being  everywhere  recognized  as 

.essential  to  the  onward  march  of  civilization.  We  never  take 
up  one  of  the  little  frontier  papers,  printed  only  on  wrapping 
paper,  with  worn  out  type,  without  a  feeling  of  kindly  respect. 
Such  papers  increase  in  size  and  style  with  the  enlargement  of 
the  settlements  they  illuminate,  and  the  newspaper  of  any 
locality  is  a  sure  measure  of  its  prosperity.  How  many 
thousand  of  ardent  minds  are  engaged  in  this  labor  of  enlight- 
-enment— not  thankless,  though  often  ill-paid.  These  Buglesof 
Liberty,  and  Pine  Knots  of  Freedom^  and  Clarions^  and  Heralds^ 
and  Beacons,  on  the  verge  of  civilization,  if  they  bring  not 
wealth  to  their  projectors  and  conductors,  they  yet  yield  a  re- 
turn of  fair  fame  and  honor. 

If  a  man  who  makes  two  blades  of  grass  to  spring  up  where 
only  one  grew  before,  deserves  well  of  his  country,  what  re- 
ward would  and  should  be  his,  who  starts  a  newspaper  for 
the  first  time  in  a  howling  wilderness  ?  A  free  press  in  the 
van  of  civilization  is  of  more  account  than  an  "army  with 
banners."  A  family  group  gathered  round  a  blazing  fire  of 
wood  or  coal,  upon  a  rainy  evening,  is  a  pleasing  picture.  But 
with  all  the  appliances  of  comfort,  what  is  this  fireside  without 
a  paper,  udt  only  to  while  away  the  tedium  of  a  long  winter 
evening,  but  to  aid  in  the  great  business  of  family  instruction 
and  mental  improvements  ?  Books  are  good,  and  books  do 
much,  but  they  cannot  accomplish  everything.  They  deal 
more  with  the  past  than  with  the  present,  and  that  training  is 
of  little  value  which  does  not  embrace  the  everyday  aflfairs  of 
4he  world  going  on  around  us.  A  newspaper  is  the  contempo- 
rary history  of  the  world  we  live  in.  Its  greatness  and  its 
littleness,  its  gaiety  and  its  gravities,  its  sins  and  sorrows,  its 
occupations  and  amusements,  its  warringa  and  its  hopes  are 
there  spread  out  before  us.  Gathering  within  its  ample  pages 
the  treasures  of  the  east  and  west,  the  north  and  south.,  as  fast 
as  the  united  agencies  of  wind,  steam  and  electricity  can 
bring  them  to  a  focus,  it  afTords  the  very  material  wherewith 
to  form  practical  men  and  women  of  this  growing  generation. 

No  man  can  be  uninformed  who  takes  and  reads  a  well  con- 
ducted weekly  paper.  The  children  of  such  a  man  will  not 
be  found  hankering  after  frivolous  and  vicious  amusement. 
The  domestic  cat  in  such  a  family  will  never  be  found  abbre- 
viated of  her  caudal  appendage,  or  scouring  wildly  through 
the  kitchen  with  a  pyrotechnic  apparatus  affixed  to  that  useful 
member.  Peace  takes  up  her  abode  on  the  hearth-stone  of  the 
man  who  takes  a  paper — not  from  a  neighbor's  doorstep— but 
one  who  fairly  "faces  the  music,"  pays  his  subscription  like  a 
man,  and  enjoys  the  advantages  of  his  weekly  sheet,  because 
ke  is  fairly  entitled  to  them.  Therefore,  step  up,  sabecribe, 
and  be  happy. 


Failure  or  Success  in  Life. 

Take  two  men,  if  they  could  be  found,  exactly  alike  in 
mental  and  bodily  aptitudes,  and  let  one  go  on  carelessly  and 
idly,  indulging  his  appetites,  and  generally  leading  a  life  of 
pleasure,  and  let  the  other  train  himself  by  early  hours,  by 
temperate  habits,  and  by  giving  to  muscle  and  brain  each  their 
fair  share  of  employment,  and  at  the  end  of  two  or  three  years 
they  will  be  as  wide  apart  in  their  capacity  for  exertion  as  if 
they  had  been  born  with  wholly  difi'erent  constitutions. 

Without  a  normal  healthy  condition  there  can,  as  a  rule,  be 
no  good  work ;  and  though  that  qualification  cannot  absolute- 
l(y  be  secured  or  preserved  by  any  rules,  a  little  common  sense 
and  care  will  go  a  long  way  both  in  securing  and  preserving  it. 
On  that  point  I  would  give  you  these  hints :  First,  that  it  is 
not  mental  labor  which  hurts  anybody,  unless  the  excess  be 
very  great,  but  rather  fretting  and  fidgeting  over  the  prospect 


of  labor  to  be  gone  through ;  so  that  the  man  who  can  accus- 
tom himself  to  take  things  coolly,  which  is  quite  as  much  a 
matter  of  discipline  as  of  nature,  and  who,  by  keeping  well 
beforehand  with  what  he  has  to  do,  avoids  undue  hurry  and 
nervous  excitement,  has  a  great  advantage  over  one  who  fol- 
lows a  difi'erent  practice. 

Next,  I  would  warn  you  that  those  students  who  think  they 
have  no  time  for  bodily  exercise,  will,  sooner  or  later,  have  to 
find  time  for  illness.  Third,  when  an  opportunity  of  choice  ia 
given,  morning  work  is  generally  better  than  night  work;  and 
lastly— a  matter  which  I  should  not  stop  to  allude  to,  but  that 
I  know  the  dangers  of  an  over-driven  existence  in  a  crowded, 
busy  town— if  a  man  cannot  get  through  hiH  day's  labor,  of 
whatever  kind  it  maybe,  without  artificial  support  (that  means 
beer  or  Bourbon^,  it  should  be;  a  serious  consideration  for  him 
whether  that  kind  of  labor  is  fit  for  him  at  all. 


Harmful  Literature. 

More  harm  has  been  caused  by  sensational  novels  of 
all  kinds  than  can  be  calculated.  Tales  of  impossible 
love,  romantic  devotion,  unnatural  crimes,  lay  a  founda- 
tion in  the  minds  of  youth  for  all  sorts  of  weakness  and 
folly.  Would  there  be  so  many  disgraceful  experiments 
in  "  high  life,"  think  you,  if  circulating  libraries  were 
cleaned  of  yellow-covered  literature  ?  Or  so  many  atro- 
cious murders  if  shop-windows  were  not  hung  with 
pictorial  representations  of  the  ''last  awful  tragedy?" 
If  Satan  can't  set  a  man  to  killing,  he  will  do  the  next 
most  effective  thing,  set  somebody  to  describing  or 
painting  a  murder.  There  are  enough  to  take  the  hint. 
What  shall  we  do  about  the  evil  ?  First,  denounce  it 
unsparingly.  Use  the  pen  as  a  sword.  Then  give  young 
people  more  healthful  reading  ;  interest  them  in  some- 
thing higher  than  the  woes  of  Alonzo  and  Angeline,  or 
the  last  death  throes  of  Pirate  Jack.  Take  the  present 
generation  of  the  young,  and  so  educate  through  a  pro- 
per literature  that  its  taste  shall  be  permanently  healthy. 
There  are  thousands  of  standard  works  of  fiction  which 
are  pure  and  wholesome  in  tendency — educators  of  the 
mind.  Let  the  children  read  them  and  none  others. 
They'll  soon  grow  to  like  them,  and  condemn  the  float- 
ing trash  of  the  day — soon  discriminate  between  wheat 
and  chaff.  In  all  possible  ways  counteract  and  prevent 
the  evil  discussed.  Let  not  the  gallow's  beam  protrude 
its  shadow  across  the  pages  in  our  libraries,  and  the 
prints  in  our  shops,  hideous  as  a  nightmare  and  Satanic 
in  its  suggestiveness 


Promptness  in  Duty. 

"I  have  saved  myself  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  my  life,'' 
writes  a  practical  man,  "by  always  following  this  simple  di- 
rection :  When  you  have  anything  to  do,  do  it."  The  trouble 
with  the  majority  of  people  ia  that  when  they  have  something 
to  do  they  don't  do  it,  at  least  not  at  the  right  time.  They 
wait  and  put  oflf,  especially  if  the  duty  is  rather  disagreeable, 
until  fairly  pressed  into  a  corner  and  subjected  to  the  greatest 
inconvenience  for  the  want  of  it. 

It  depends  very  much  upon  how  you  begin  in  life,  how  you 
will  go  on  through  it.  Train  your  working  powers  to  be 
prompt,  and  to  go  about  your  work  with  dispatch.  If  you 
have  these  two  qualities  well  developed,  you  will  "be 
wanted."  There  will  be  situations  waiting  for  you  all  along. 
I  A  young  man  in  a  large  establishment  in  the  city,  received  a 
commission  one  day  to  get  out  a  vessel-load  of  cotton.  It  was 
his  first  commission  of  the  sort,  and  he  felt  pleased  to  be 
trusted.  He  resolved  to  be  especially  prompt  in  the  perform- 
ance of  it.  So  he  engaged  his  carts  and  men  over  night,  giv- 
ing orders  to  have  them  on  hand  at  an  early  hour.  He  at- 
tended to  the  business  with  so  much  energy  and  cheerfulness 
that  he  infused  a  like  enthusiasm  into  his  men.  The  businesa 
was  finished  with  such  dispatch  that  he  had  his  bills  all  right 
and  was  at  his  customary  post  by  ten  o'clock,  when  his  em- 
ployer came  in. 

He  looked  at  the  young  man  a  little  severely,  and  asked  11 
he  did  not  request  him  to  get  out  that  load  of  cotton. 

"I  have,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "and  ther?  are  the  bills." 

Such  promptness  was  not  unrewarded.  It  was  the  young 
man's  stepping  stone  to  preferment  and  a  large  fortune. 
Don't  take  all  day  to  do  what  might  be  finished  in  a  ftM 
hours. 


426 


Married  Life  in  G-ermany. 

In  Germany  the  husband  is  the  king,  the  wife  merely 
the  prime  minister.  He  sits  in  his  arm-chair  smoking 
perennial  pipes,  and  auditing  with  all  the  severity  of  a 
Lycurgus,  the  poor  little  woman's  abject  accounts.  He 
knows  all  about  the  butter  and  dripping,  swears  at  ex- 
cesses in  soap  and  sauerkraut,  is  abusive  as  to  fuel,  ty- 
rannical as  to  candles  and  red  herrings,  and  terrible  on 
eggs  and  bacon.  A  woman  is  no  more  mistress  of  her 
own  house  in  Germany  than  you  or  I  (despite  the  Lau- 
reate) are  masters  of  our  fate.  She  is  simply  an  upper 
servant ;  nay,  of  many  a  gently-born  and  gently-bred 
lady  it  may  be  said  that  the  dull  drudgery  of  her  life  is 
such  as  no  upper  servant  would  endure,  such  as  would 
be  scarcely  tolerable  to  "the  maid  that  does  the  mean- 
est chores."  The  maid  can  at  least  creep  into  dim  ob- 
scurity when  her  hours  of  work  are  at  an  end ;  but  the 
lady  has  to  clothe  herself  in  such  raiment  as  her  station 
is  supposed  to  demand,  and  to  leave  weariness  of  the 
flesh  and  vexation  of  spirit  in  the  kitchen  with  the  pots 
and  pans.  The  lady  in  black  silk  (really  an  "  upper  ser- 
vant") who  consents  to  superintend  the  Browns'  gor- 
geous establishment  for  the  moderate  consideration  of 
fifty  pound»a  year  (everything  found),  and  no  indelicate 
inquiries  as  to  perquisities),  would  scorn  to  employ  her- 
self in  the  menial  manner  common  to  many  noble  ladies 
in  Germany.    Do  I  not,  for  instance,  remember  my 

neighbor,  pretty  little  Baroness  B  ,  like  the  maid  in 

the  nursery  rhyme,  standing  "in  the  garden,  hanging 
out  the  clothes  ?"  Have  I  not  gazed  with  a  tender  ad- 
miration (of  which  to  this  day  she  is  unaware)  at  Frau 

von  C  's  fair  face,  as  1  watched  her  from  my  window, 

ironing  her  husband's  shirt  fronts  all  through  a  blazing 
afternoon,  while  now  and  again  a  diamond-drop  would 
roll  irom  her  brow  and  fall,  audibly  hissing,  on  the  iron? 
Have  I  not  seen,  with  a  sadness  I  dare  not  show,  the  in- 
defatigable Hauptmannin  von  Z         baking,  stewing, 

ponnding,  sifting,  weighing,  peeling,  with  an  energy 
that  positively  paralyzed  me  at  my  point  of  observation? 
She  would  chaffer  with  the  peasants  who  brought  butter 
and  eggs  to  the  kitchen  door,  cheapening  their  already 
cheap  offerings  ;  she  would  scold  the  slavey  (who,  as  we 
all  know,  is  no  slavey  at  all),  tap  her  girls  sharply  over 
the  shoulders,  and  rap  her  boys  over  the  knuckles,  and 
never  ask  for  change  or  rest.  Who  ate  all  the  good 
things  she  compounded  ?  I  suppose  her  husband,  a  big 
buriy  man,  with  a  red  face,  and  beery,  guttural  voice. 
I  could  hear  him  snoring  away  all  the  early  part  of  the 
Summer's  afternoon  (the  windows  were  open  toward  the 
garden),  when  at  four  o'clock  he  would  cast  his  Schla- 
frock  and  Pantoffelin,  get  himself  into  regimental  clothes 
again,  buckle  in  his  big  waist,  and  go  swaggering  down 
to  his  club,  ogling  every  girl  and  woman  he  met  by  the 
way.  I  saw  the  other  day  that  he  had  been  decorated 
with  I  know  not  how  many  stars  and  crosses,  and  had 
grown  into  a  Lieutenant-Colonel,  and  I  could  not  help 
wondering  how  it  was  with  his  poor  little  wife,  who  had 
been  under  fire  so  long;  had  marched  and  counter- 
marched, and  come  to  the  front  like  a  gallant  little  vol- 
unteer, always  obedient  to  the  word  of  her  superior  offi- 
cer, cheery  and  uncomplaining.  Has  she,  too,  got  her 
slow  promotion,  and  stepped  out  of  the  ranks  beyond 
the  kitchen  range,  beyond  the  whole  batterie  de  cuisine, 
with  the  order  of  merit  on  her  faithful,  modest  little 
breast  ?  I  doubt  it.  I  daresay,  if  I  could  look  in  upon 
her  now,  she  is  still  cuffing  supplementary  boys  off"  to 
school,  lest  they  should  disturb  the  paternal  post-pran- 
dial slumbers,  and  rating  the  slavey  as  energetically  as 
ever.  In  the  households  of  military  men,  or  in  those  of 
the  hohere  Beamten,  the  womenkind  gain  little,  compara- 
tively little,  by  the  promotion  of  their  lords.  No  greater 
independence  of  action  is  granted  them,  no  wider  sphere 
or  larger  interests.  Washing  days  come  around  as  be- 
fore ;  the  potatoes  have  to  be  peeled,  the  carrots  scraped, 
and  the  slavey  driven  ;  the  stocking  to  be  knitted,  the 
shirt  collars  to  be  ironed,  and  the  eternal  locking  and 
unlocking  to  go  on,  with  very  slight  modifications,  just 
as  it  did  five,  ten,  twenty  years  ago.  The  master  is  de- 
corated, he  has  new  titles,  becomes  more  expensive, 
generally  ornamental  and  sublime  ;  he  goes  to  the  Miuis- 
terium  or  the  Kamrner;  he  sits  upon  the  Bench,  or  he 
wrangles  in  Parliament,  or  he  elaborates  the  Kriegapiel; 
he  comes  in  contact  with  men  of  different  shades  and 
colors  of  opinion  ;  at  the  club  he  reads  the  daily  papers 
and  learns  how  the  world  wags  ;  he  plays  whist,  goes 
tbe  *heatre,  and,  if  he  have  nothing,  to  do,  returns 


home  again  about  nine  o'clock.  Having  discussed  so  far 
as  was  prudent,  all  the  political  news  at  the  club,  he  is 
hardly  likely  to  begin  on  the  state  of  the  outer  world 
when  he  finds  himself  once  more  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family.  Besides,  women  don't  read  the  newspapers ; 
what  is  said  and  done  in  their  infinitesimally  small  circle 
ts  more  to  them  than  all  the  huge  disasters  of  humanity ; 
the  Kaffeeclack  of  more  significance  than  Kings  or  Kai- 
sers toppling  to  their  ruin ;  the  rumor  of  a  scandal  is  of 
greater  interest  than  all  the  vast  problems  and  conflicts 
of  the  social  and  moral  universe.  And  so  a  little  local 
talk  is  likely  to  turn  up,  and,  as  it  is  very  local  indeed, 
and  as  it  has  been  revolving  for  the  last  thirty  years  (on 
his)  and  the  last  twenty  years  (on  her)  part  (for  at  five 
j  they  both  knew  a  fair  amount  of  town  gossip),  the  con- 
versation is  not  precisely  of  a  nature  to  make  them  for- 
get the  time,  or  be  heedless  of  the  coals  and  candles. 
We  are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  Germans  that  they 
are  a  domestic  people.  The  truth  is,  that  of  domestici- 
ties there  is  enough  and  to  spare,  but  of  domestic  life, 
as  we  understand  it,  little  or  nothing.  Beyond  eating, 
drinking,  and  sleeping  under  one  roof,  the  sexes  have 
little  in  common.  The  woman  is  a  slave  of  the  ring ;  for 
the  wife  the  baking  and  brewing,  for  the  husband  the 
cakes  and  ale ;  for  her  the  toiling  and  spinning,  for  him 
the  beer  and  skittles ;  for  her  the  sheep-walk  of  prece- 
dent and  the  stocking  of  virtue,  for  him  the  paradlngs 
and  prancings ;  for  her  the  nippings  and  screwings,  for 
him  the  pipings  and  dancings  ;  for  her  the  dripping-jar 
and  the  meal-tub,  for  him  stars  and  garters,  and  general 
gallooning,  glitter  and  sublimity. 


Toilet  in  Spain. 

The  dresses  worn  by  the  inhabitants  of  Spain  are 
varied  and  tasteful,  and  in  some  respects  totally  different 
from  those  belonging  to  other  nations.  In  a  work  en- 
titled, "A  Summer  in  Andalusia,"  we  find  the  follow- 
ing remarks  upon  the  dress  of  this  nation  : 

"  The  mysterious  mantilla  is  always  black  or  whitC;, 
the  former  being  the  prevalent  color,  and  invariably 
worn  in  winter  ;  the  white  has  a  very  pretty  effect,  espe- 
cially if  the  wearer  be  a  rubia  or  of  fair  complexion. 
The  white  are  always  of  lace  ,  but  the  black  are  of  all 
materials — from  the  rich  lace  of  the  upper  ranks,  the 
silk  with  a  wide  border  of  lace,  of  the  tradesmen's 
wives,  or  edged  with  velvet,  a  grade  lower,  to  the  coarse 
mantilla  of  panto  of  the  lowest  classes."  The  basquina 
of  Cadiz  is  pretty  much  like  a  modern  English  gown, 
with  full  slseves ;  though  these  are  short  and  do  not 
cover  the  arms.  It  was  formerly  adorned  with  deep 
flounces  and  trimmed  with  a  profusion  of  braid;  but 
such  are  now  rarely  seen  except  on  the  stage  or  in  the 
interior  of  the  country.  Though  in  winter  the  basquina 
as  well  as  the  mantilla  is  usually  black — the  ancient  and 
genuine  hue  of  the  whole  costume — still  in  summer 
gowns  of  other  colors  are  worn,  either  white  or  of  some 
dark  shade  of  purple,  crimson,  brown  or  green.  The 
legs  and  feet  are  cased  in  net-worked  stockings  and  san- 
daled slippers." 

One  peculiarity  in  the  dress  of  the  ladies  of  Spain  con- 
sists in  wearing  fresh  flowers  in  the  hair,  which  form  a 
beautiful  contrast  with  the  dark  complexions  and  man- 
tillas. The  comb  worn  in  the  hair  is  generally  about  the 
size  of  those  used  in  this  country.  The  fan  is  as  univer- 
sally seen  as  the  mantilla — a  Spanish  woman  is  seldom 
without  it,  even  within  doors.  The  favorite  fashion  of 
parting  or  dressing  the  hair  among  the  Andalusians  con- 
sists in  parting  it  in  the  middle,  smoothing  it  over  the 
forehead  and  bringing  it  down  into  one  large,  thin  curl 
flattened  against  each  temple,  and  called  the  love-twist. 

In  the  streets  the  women  wear  veils  instead  of  caps  or 
hats.  These  veils,  very  unlike  the  gossamer  texture  of 
those  worn  by  ladies  of  most  other  nations,  are  made  of 
blue  or  pink  flannel.  This,  with  a  black  petticoat  of 
stuff  forms  the  principal  part  of  the  costume. 

The  Catalonian  ladies  are  great  elegantea;  they  wore  » 
few  years  since  a  black  silk  petticoat  with  a  small  hoop. 
The  body  of  the  dress  was  made  so  low  in  front  that  the 
shoulders  were  quite  uncovered,  and  the  veil  so  stiffen- 
ed out  with  wine  that  it  formed  two  arches,  one  on  either 
^side  of  the  head. 

In  Castille  the  women  have  large  clumsy  sabots,  a  dark 
gown,  thrown  back  and  tied  behind;  an  apron  of  blue 
and  white,  and  a  large  veil  fastened  to  the  head  with 
streamers  of  blue  ribbon.  The  monster  caps  of  the  men 
are  frequently  faced  and  ornamented  with  red  or  blue. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


427 


Ozone. 

BY  J  AS.  P.  DUFFY. 

It  was  discovered  some  years  ago,  by  a  German  chem- 
ist, that  when  water  was  decomposed  by  voltaic  electri- 
city a  peculiar,  pungent  smell  was  developed.  More  re- 
cently it  has  been  observed  that  this  odor  is  similar  to 
that  evolved  by  wet  phosphorous  when  exposed  to  the 
air,and  that  it  is  due  to  a  peculiar  modification  of  oxygen, 
the  name,  ozone,  being  derived  from  a  Greek  word  mean- 
ing to  smell.  This  chemical  is  best  prepared  by  an  elec- 
mcal  machine  constructed  for  the  purpose;  but  it  can 
ttiso  be  secured  by  the  following  method,  which  will  be 
found  more  convenient  for  most  persons  : 

Place  a  piece  of  phosphorous  (the  surface  of  which 
has  been  scraped  clean  under  water  with  a  knife)  in  a 
clean  bottle.  Half  cover  the  phosphorous  with  water, 
close  the  bottle  with  a  loose  stopper,  and  place  it  in  an 
atmosphere  of  25"^.  In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  lit- 
tle column  of  smoke  will  be  seen  to  rise  from  the  phos- 
phorousj  and  the  peculiar  odor  of  ozone  will  gradually 
pervade  the  bottle. 

When  pure,  ozone  is  an  offensive,  poisonous  gas — air 
which  is  charged  with  it  being  irrespirable,  and  produc- 
ing effects  on  the  human  body  similar  to  those  produced 
by  chlorine,  and  which  have  already  been  described  in 
these  columns.  So  powerful  is  its  smell  that  it  can  be 
reco27]ized  in  air  containing  only  a  millionth  part  of  it. 
Upon  its  property  of  instantly  destroying  the  iodides  of 
the  metals,  is  based  a  ready  method  of  testing  its  pres- 
ence; the  plan  being  to  thrust  a  moistened  slip  of  blot- 
ting paper,  which  has  been  saturated  with  starch  and 
iodide  of  potash,  into  the  bottle  of  ozonized  air  above 
described,  when  the  paper  will  instantly  acquii  e  a  deep 
blue  tint. 

Ozone  bleaches  and  destroys  vegetable  matters,  is  a 
powerful  disinfectant,  and  possesses  an  intense  power 
of  rusting  all  thejnetals,  excepting  gold  and  platinum. 
Even  silver  is,  at  ordinary  temperatures,  rusted  by  it, 
and  covered  with  a  brown  coating  of  an  oxide  of  silver. 
When  such  substances  as  saw -dust,  charcoal,  or  milk,are 
thrown  into  a  vial  of  ozone,  its  odor  instantly  disap- 

{)ears.  Although  so  offensive  when  pure,  ozone  instant- 
y  destroys  a  great  many  offensive  gases,  and  is  recom- 
mended as  being  well  fittted  for  the  purification  of  sick- 
rooms and  hospitals. 


A  Debtor's  Prison. 

Old  fogies  sometimes  complain  of  the  degeneracy  of 
modem  times  and  the  heartlessness  of  modern  men* 
they  say  that  in  the  eager  race  for  riches  we  are  apt  to 
pay  no  attention  to  those  who  have  fallen  in  the  race, 
but  keep  on  right  over  them,  without  stopping  to  help 
them  on  theii  leet  again.  In  order  to  refute  this  charge 
we  have  but  to  contrast  the  manner  in  which  poor  debt- 
ors were  used  in  former  times,  with  that  of  the  present 
time.  When  a  person  was  arrested  he  was  first  carried 
to  a  sponging  house,  where  he  had  to  pay  the  most  ex- 
orbitant charges,  and  then  he  was  conveyed  to  prison. 
The  most  celebrated  prison  for  poor  debtoi-s  was  the 
Fleet.  There  the  person  arrested  had  to  pay  for  every- 
thing, even  lor. his  room.  The  office  of  superintendent 
was  sold  at  a  high  figure,  and  the  way  the  person  who 
bought  it  made  it  pay,  was  by  asking  extortionate 
charges  for  everything.  The  manner  of  living  in  this 
place  is  described  in  an  ancient  copy  of  verses.  The  first 
night  of  the  prisoner's  sojourn  is  passed  in  feasting  at 
his  expense,  provided  he  has  money  enough  to  pay  for 
it.  The  poor  people  were  in  the  utmost  distress  in  this 
place.  There  is  an  account  of  a  man  who  got  his  living 
by  training  a  pet  cat  to  catch  mice  and  bring  them  to 
him,  upon  which  he  lived.  A  man  who  dared  to  ask  the 
keeper  for  a  purse  of  money  that  had  been  taken  from 
him,  was  placed  in  a  hurdle  and  dragged  about  the  yard 
with  his  head  trailing  over  the  stones,  "by  v/hich  ill 
usage  he  became  not  altogether  so  well  in  his  intellec- 
tuals as  formerly."  Visitors  were  not  allowed  to  bring 
liquor  into  the  prison,  but  dram  shops  were  kept  within 
the  walls  under  the  name  of  tape  shops.  For  two  cen- 
turies this  prison  continued  to  be  a  very  hell  upon  earth, 
and  the  terror  of  all  poor  debtors.  The  most  conserva- 
tive man  alive  cannot  but  admit  the  superiority  of  the 
prisons  of  the  present  day  over  those  that  flourished  a 
century  ago,  while  the  condition  of  the  poor  of  our  day 
Is  not  at  all  comparable  in  wretchedness  with  that  of  the 
elden  time 


Lost  to  Society. 

I5Y  ROSA  V.  BALSTON. 

Under  this  head  may  be  classed  those  enthusiastic 
young  couples  who  experience  an  all-suilicient  bliss  in 
the  companionship  of  each  other,  and  a  feeling  of  sym- 
pathetic mental  composure  not  to  be  met  with  elsewhere. 
They  usually  eschew  society  altogether,  regarding  the 
pleasure  it  affords  as  entirely  too  insignificant  to  cope 
with  the  sublimity  there  is  in  a  dual  beatitude.  Their 
visiting,  whenever  they  do  deign  to  show  the  light  of 
their  countenances  to  their  fellow  beings,  is  mostly 
among  their  own  immediate  relations.  All  efforts  to 
draw  them  out  are  treated  with  an  indifference  that 
silences  any  further  attempts.  It  makes  no  difference  to 
them  what  is  going  on  in  the  outer  world,  so  long  as 
they  continue  to  enjoy  the  exclusive  blessings  contained 
in  this  absorbing  union  of  mind  and  sentiment.  A  death 
in  their  midst  disturbs  their  equanimity  about  as  little  as 
a  birth.  No  matter  who  is  born,  who  marries,  or  who 
dies,  they  go  round  and  round  in  the  tread-mill  of 
domestic  felicity  just  the  same.  They  regard  their  home 
as  an  earthly  paradise,  too  good  for  the  habitation  of 
common  mortals  other  than  themselves  ;  consequently, 
they  invite  but  few  visitors.  And  if  you  should  stray 
within  their  sacred  precincts,  you  are  ill  at  ease,  lest  you 
disturb  their  devotion.  Literally,  their  abode  is  a  place 
of  worship,  in  which  each,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
other,  is  installed,  the  one  a  god,  and  the  other  a  god- 
dess. 

Their  behavior  is  truly  mirth-provoking  to  the  out- 
sider, and  an  interesting  study  to  determine  the  cause  of 
this  affmity.  The  newly-made  bridegroom  may  be  as 
homely  as  D.  is  himself,  yet  the  affection  of  the  wife  is 
just  as  tender  and  clingins:  as  though  he  were  an  Apollo. 
He  may  be  what  in  the  opinion  of  the  world  constituesa 
dolt,  yet  her  satisfaction  in  her  treasure  is  just  as  su- 
preme as  though  he  were  endowed  with  an  intellect  of 
the  highest  order.  On  the  other  hand,  the  physical  con- 
struction of  the  wife  may  be  such  that  she  is  absolutely 
repulsive  to  most  other  people  ;  still  in  the  estimation  of 
her  husband,  she  is  as  lovely  as  Venus. 

It  is  the  delusion  under  which  these  apparently  ill- 
matched  couples  are  laboring,  that  makes  their  behavior 
so  ludicrous.  If  your  taste  is  so  easily  satisfied  that  you 
can  fall  in  love  with  a  pretty  hand  or  foot,  in  spite  of  th« 
doformity  of  the  face,  don't  let  the  world  see  that  you 
have  been  deceived  in  believing  the  face  pretty  also. 
They  may  then  think  you  have  been  captivated  by  some 
trait  of  character  that  they  have  never  discovered  ; 
hence,  you  may  keep  up  your  reputation  for  good  judg- 
ment. 

There  is  one  thing,  however,  that  will  save  this  neces- 
sary attachment — time.  Leave  the  devoted  couple  to 
themselves  for  a  few  years.  After  awhile  when  they 
would  enter  society  and  invite  social  intercourse,  they 
find,  alas,  that  they  have  few  friends. 


Bashan  Shepherds. 

"  As  we  sat  and  looked,"  writes  the  gifted  author  of 
"The  Giant  Cities  of  Bashan,"  ''the  silent  hillsides 
around  us  were  in  a  moment  filled  with  life  and  sound. 
The  shepherds  led  their  fiocks  forth  from  the  gates  of 
the  city.  They  were  in  full  view  ;  and  we  listened  to 
them  with  no  little  interest.  Thousands  of  sheep  and 
goats  were  there,  grouped  in  dense  confused  musses. 
The  shepherds  stood  together  until  all  came  out.  Then 
they  separated  ;  each  shepherd  taking  a  different  path, 
and  uttering,  as  he  advanced,  a  shrill  peculiar  call.  The 
sheep  heard  them.  At  first  the  masses  swayed  and  moved, 
as  if  shaken  by  some  internal  convulsion  :  then  points 
struck  out  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  shepherd  .  these 
became  longer  and  longer  until  the  confused  masses 
were  resolved  into  long  living  streams,  flowing  after 
their  leaders.  The  sight  was,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most 
vivid  illustrations  which  human  eyes  could  witness  of 
that  beautiful  discourse  of  our  Lord,  recorded  by  John  : 
'And  the  sheep  hear  the  shepherd's  voice;  and  he 
calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name,  and  leadeth  them  out ; 
and  when  he  putteth  forth  his  own  sheep  he  goeth  be- 
fore them  ;  and  the  sheep  follow  him;  for  they  know 
his  voice,  and  a  stranger  will  they  not  follow  ;  fo: 
they  know  not  the  voice  of  strangers. — John  x,  3-5." 


It  ttever  troubles  the  wolf  how  many  the  sheep  b6. 


428 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD, 


Difficulties  in  Learning  Foreign  Lan- 
guages. 

BT  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

If  there  is  anything  in  our  language  that  puzzles  a 
Frenchman,  It  is  the  many  significations  of  the  same 
word.  The  perplexities  of  a  persevering  Monsieur  aris- 
ing from  our  word  "fast,"  are  more  numerous  than  one 
would  at  first  suppose,  as  for  instance  : 

"  Zis  horse,  sair,  he  go  queek,  what  you  say  ? " 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  fast  horse." 

"Ah  !  pardon  Monsieur,  but  your  friend  say  he  make 
fast  his  horse,  and  he  tie  him  to  a  post  so  he  no  go  at 
all." 

"  Very  true,  he  is  made  fast  by  being  tied  to  the  post." 

"  Ah !  zat  cannot  be,  he  cannot  go  fast ;  but  what  you 
call  a  man  zat  keeps  fa»t  ?" 

"  O,  he  is  a  good  man  who  does  not  eat  on  fast  days." 

"But  I  have  seen  one  hoii  vivant,  who  eat  and  drink 
and  ride  and  do  everything.  Ze  people  say  he  is  a  bad 
man — he  is  fast." 

"Trae,  that  is  called  living  a  fast  life." 

"  Ah,  cet'tainment,  zen  all  ze  days  of  his  life  moost  be 
fast  days." 

"  Certainly,  they  are." 

^^E/i,  Men  !  does  he  eat  every  day  ? " 

"  Certainly  he  does." 

"  Zen  how  can  he  keep  fast  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  keeps  going,  to  be  sure." 

"  Main,  teiiez!  You  tell  me  to  stand  fast  when  you 
want  me  to  keep  still,  and  go  fast  when  you  want  me  to 
run,  and  keep  fast  when  you  no  want  me  to  eat,  and 
Lire  fast  when  you  want  me  to  eat.  What  absurd  lan- 
guage this." 

And  it  is  an  absurd  language.  Who  has  not  been 
puzzled  to  pronounce  hundreds  of  words  in  the  English 
language  ?  Where  is  the  person  who  can  correctly  spell 
a  list  of  one  hundred  catch  words  without  previous 
study  ?  In  order  to  learn  to  spell  correctly,  we  have  to 
learn  a  dozen  rules  and  a  thousand  and  one  exceptions 
to  those  rules,  and  even  then  not  one  person  in  a  hun- 
dred feels  competent  to  write  an  article  for  the  press 
without  he  has  Webster  or  Worcester  by  his  side.  In 
the  Spanish  Academies  it  is  customary  to  say  of  any  non- 
sensical project,  "It  is  as  absurd  as  English  spelling." 
And  it  is  no  wonder  that,  not  only  Spaniards,  but  all 
foreigners  make  so  much  fun  about  our  spelling,  our 
"ale  table,"  and  our  idioms 

Speaking  of  idioms  reminds  me  of  an  anecdote  I  once 
read.  A  Frenchman  just  from  France  landed  on  the 
shores  of  America.  He  was  soon  accosted  with,  "How 
are  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  How  are  I,"  replied  the  puzzled  Frenchman  ;  "vat 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"Do  vat,  sair?" 

"  How  do  you  find  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  no  lose  myseK ;  vat  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  how  do  you  feel  ? " 

"You  just  feel  of  me  and  see,  sair,"  said  the  enraged 
Frenchman,  stripping  olf  his  coat,  "vat  you  thinks  I  is, 
any  way,  sair?" 

It  is  strange  that  in  a  language  that  is  spoken  by  so 
many  people  and  which  will,  probably,  sometime  be  the 
universal  language,  if  a  universal  language  is  ever  adopt- 
ed, that  we  find  so  many  gross  absurdities.  What  we 
need  is  a  thorough  revision  of  the  English  language,  al- 
though it  is  true  that,  if  thoroughly  revised,  it  would 
almost  be  a  new  language.  But  it  is  not  the  French  who 
are  to  correct  us  in  this  respect,  for  their  language  is 
almost  as  "barbarous"  as  our  own,  as  the  following 
anecdote  may  show : 

A  clergyman  in  Virginia,  having,  as  he  supposed,  ac- 
quired a  perfect  knowledge  of  French,  visited  Paris. 
Expecting  to  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  French 
or  making  himself  understood,  he  went  to  a  hotel  where 
English  was  not  spoken.  On  telling  the  landlady  that 
he  wanted  a  room,  she  asked  him  if  he  was  a  "^a>-6Wi." 
This  was  the  first  question  he  had  been  asked,  and  it 
was  a  puzzler.  '■'■Qarcon  means  a  boy,"  said  the  clergy- 
man to  himself,  "but  I  am  forty-five.  It  also  means  a 
waiter,  but  she  surely  does  not  take  me  for  one  because 
of  my  white  cravat."  He  could  not  answer.  He  after- 
wards learned  that  "^arcwi "  also  means  a  "bachelor," 
and  the  landlady  simply  meant  to  inquire  whether  he 
wanted  a  single  or  a  double  room. 


And  this  reminds  me  of  a  little  adventure  which  I  had 
a  few  months  ago.  Taking  up  a  French  paper  1  read  an 
account  of  a  ball  in  Paris,  and  what  was  my  astonish- 
ment to  find  that  a  certain  lady  wore  a  dish-cloth  over 
her  shoulders,  and  that  her  dress  was  trimmed  with  the 
same  material.  Another  lady  had  her  entire  costume  of 
dish-cloth.  I  was  astonished.  I  had  heard  of  many 
strange  articles  of  apparel  worn  by  the  ladies  of  Paris, 
but  to  appear  at  a  baU,  clothed  only  in  dish-cloth,  cap- 
ped all  the  stories  1  had  ever  read  or  heard  of.  "  What 
will  they  wear  next,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  I  sincerely 
hoped  that  our  ladies  would  have  more  taste  and  good 
judgment  than  to  follow  the  example  set  by  those  ladies. 
The  word  used  was  "7\)rt'7io?i,"  and  the  only  definition 
given  in  my  dictionary  was  "dish-cloth."  I  examined 
four  other  dictionaries,  and  the  only  definition  given 
was  dish-cloth.  Thinking  there  must  be  some  mistake, 
I  carried  the  paper  to  a  French  dressmaker.  When  1 
told  her  of  my  difficulty,  forgetting  her  gentility,  she 
burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  then  told  me  that  "  Zbr- 
c^o« "  also  signified  "Cluny  lace,"  a  very  costly  and 
elegant  article  of  dress. 

One  great  difficulty  in  learning  to  converse  with  for- 
eign people  and  in  a  foreign  language,  is  that  very  few 
people  of  any  nationality  speak  correctly  and  grammati- 
cally.   For  instance,  in  English,  if  we  ask  an  ordinary 

Eerson  a  question  the  answer  of  which  he  does  not  know, 
e  will  say,  "I  dun  no,"  or  "I'dno,"  while  the  cor- 
rect answer  to  the  question  would  be,  "I  do  not  know." 
It  is  just  so  in  French  if  we  look  in  a  French  grammar 
for  that  expression,  we  shall  find  it  says:  "/<?  ne  sa 
pas,"  while  if  we  ask  a  Frenchman,  he  will  say,  ">Sa 

After  I  had  learned  to  read  French,  and  to  converse 
with  my  classmates  in  French  with  comparative  ease,  I 
went  to  Montreal  for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  French 
accent.  A  few  hours  after  my  arrival  I  attended  an  even- 
ing meeting,  and,  though  I  paid  the  closest  attention  to 
the  whole  sermon,  I  understood  but  four  words  during 
the  whole  evening,  and  this  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  pro- 
gress I  made  the  first  week.  By  constant  study,  I  was 
able  at  the  end  of  my  second  w^eek  to  understand  some 
of  their  lingo,  and  in  three  weeks  I  discovered  that,  ex- 
cept the  accent,  I  spoke  much  better  French  than  the 
Frenchmen  themselves. 

When  I  told  this  to  a  German  of  my  acquaintance,  he 
told  me  that  he  experienced  the  same  difficulty  in  learn- 
ing French,  and  also  English. 


Cycles. 

There  seems  to  be  a  curious  system  of  cycles  which  regulates 
almost  everything  m  the  material  and  even  moral  universe. 
We  all  know  that  insects  seem  to  have  their  particular  cycles 
and  thus  disappear  in  certain  localities.  One  year  the  greedy 
currant-worm  could  fairly  he  heard  munching  away  at  the  fine, 
thrifty  bushes,  and  leaving  them  as  hare  as  if  swept  by  a  fire. 
Another  year  I  remember  a  pest  called  the  fire-worm,  which 
devoured  almost  every  green  leaf  in  the  oak-woods  we  used  to 
ride  through.  One  would  suppose  they  would  have  left  be- 
hind them  millions  of  eggs  to  develop  another  season,  hut  that 
was  the  last  we  have  heard  of  them  or  the  currant-worm.  May 
be  the  little  germs  are  biding  their  time  and  waiting  their  next 
cycle,  but  we  hope  it  may  not  come  in  our  day. 

I  have  sometimes  wondered  how  it  was  that  boys  all  over 
the  country,  as  far  as  one  can  learn,  break  out  at  one  and  the 
same  time  in  an  epidemic  of  top-spinning,  marble-shooting' 
and  kite-flying.  It  is  not  always  when  the  season  would  seem 
most  propitious,  but  I  believe  it  is  about  universal. 

If  there  happens  a  fearful  disaster  at  sea,  there  is  almost 
sure  to  come  news  of  another  and  another,  from  remote 
quarters  of  the  globe,  dwindling  down  to  smaller  wrecks  on 
inland  waters,  until  the  cycle  seems  to  have  passed.  We  all 
know,  too,  how  fast  one  railroad  disaster  seems  to  follow  upon 
the  heels  of  another.  But  it  is  a  comforting  view  that  the  mis- 
chief will  not  be  of  long  duration,  and  even  the  "hard-times" 
cycle  is  passing  over  at  last. 


German  manufacturers  are  continually  engaged  in  purchasing 
fish-bones,  gathered  along  the  Norwegian  shores  near  extensive 
fish-curing  establishments.  These  are  pulverized  and  con- 
verted into  fertilizers.  It  is  suggested  that  arrangements  be 
made  for  utilizing  the  bones  from  the  establishments  in  New- 
foundland. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


SPIDERS  _4T  HOME. 

"  'Come  into  my  parlor,' 
Said  the  spider  to  the  fly." 

We  are  going  to  have  a  talk  about  spiders,  although 
people  think  they  are  ugly  things,  and  too  often  either 
run  away  from  them  or  kill  them.  There  are  spiders 
that  are  wonderful,  others  that  are  amusing,  others  use- 
ful, others  beautiful ;  and,  perhaps,  if  we  were  wiser, 
w^e  might  see  all  these  good  qualities  in  all  spiders. 

First  of  all,  they  are  wonderful.  The  large  precious 
stone  in  a  brooch  is  polished  and  cut,  so  that  it  has  many 
facets  turned  different  ways  to  reflect  the  light.  Well, 


fected.  Every  thread  is  arranged  in  order,  and  It 
looks  like  a  fairy  wheel  of  thinnest  gossamer,— 
When  the  spider  makes  it,  he  begins  with  the  threads 
that  would  be  the  spokes  of  the  wheel,  running  out 
from  the  centre  to  the  edges.  There  are  gener- 
ally between  twenty  or  thirty  of  these  and  he 
goes  over  them  again  and  again  to  make  them 
strong,  and  fastens  them  all  well  together  in  the 
centre.  Then,  going  to  the  outer  edge,  he  begins 
walking  around  it,  leaving  his  thread  after  him 
wherever  he  goes,  and  making  it  fast  to  every 
spoke  before  he  proceeds  to  the  next.  Thus  gradu- 
ally he  works  round  and  round,  the  circles  narrowing 


THE  GARDEN  SPIDER. 


in  the  same  way  the  eye  of  the  common  spider  has 
four  thousand  of  these  little  sides  or  facets.  He  can 
see  through  every  one  of  them,  yet  it  is  all  only  one 
eye,  so  small  that  you  would  have  to  look  closely  to 
see  it.  When  you  hear  that  he  has  eight  of  these 
eyes  you  can  imagine  how  little  trouble  it  gives  him 
to  see  the  flies  and  nudges  ;  although  he  rests  so 
seemingly  stupid  in  the  middle  of  his  web. 

The  silk  worm,  you  know,  produces  his  silk  out  of 
two  little  holes  in  his  mouth.  The  thread  the  spider 
spins  comes  from  hundreds  of  holes  in  his  body. 
Hundreds  of  threads,  too  small  for  our  eyes  to  see, 
are  twisted  together  into  every  single  thread  that  a 
spider  weaves. 

You  know  how  even  the  web  is  when  it  is  per« 


antil  he  and  his  thread  are  In  the  center,  and  the  web  is 
finished. 

There  are  some  spiders  that  construct  a  sort  of  ladder 
of  silk,  going  back  among  the  leaves  close  by,  and,  at 
the  end  of  it,  they  lay  hidden  till  their  prey  is  caught ; 
but  usually  the  spider  sits  in  the  middle  of  his  web, 
giving  it  a  shake  now  and  then  to  make  sure  that  it  is 
all  strong.  The  web  is  sticky,  every  thread  being  damp 
with  a  gummy  substance,  so  the  moment  a  fly  touches 
it  he  is  stuck  fast.  If  the  fly  is  a  large  one  the  spider 
clasps  it  with  his  long  legg,  and  strikes  his  sharp 
nippers  into  its  body.  Instantly  the  fly  ceases  to 
struggle  ;  it  is  dead.  The  spider  has  poisoned  it  by  a 
fluid  which  lies  hidden  in  his  front  claws.  Now  he  cuts 
away  the  threads  of  the  web  close  to  his  victim,  and 
then,  twirling  the  dead  fly  round  and  roimd,  swathes 
him  in  new  threads.    Having  thus  made  up  a  oomDaci 


430 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


bundle,  he  attaclies  it  to  himself,  and,  at  his  leisure, 
aarries  it  some  hiding-place  and  enjoys  his  meal.  Those 
"ery  small  flies,  called  midges,  which  whirl  about  in 
jwarms  under  the  trees  in  summer,  are  caught  in  vast 
Qumbers  on  the  gummy  webs.  Sometimes  more  than  a 
hundred  of  them  are,  in  a  single  day,  lodged  in  one  of 
these  traps,  and  when  the  owner  wants  them  he  collects 
several,  binds  them  together,  and  carries  them  off  in 
lots. 

Spiders  fight,  and  eat  each  other,  when  they  can ;  and 
for  all  sorts  of  insect  food  they  have  amazing  appetites. 
Here  is  the  account  of  the  bill  of  fare  of  one  which  a 
naturalist  watched  and  fed  with  dead  insects : — Half- 
past  five  in  the  morning,  an  earwig,  at  seven,  a  fly;  at 
nine,  a  daddy-longlegs ;  at  one,  a  big  blue-bottle  or 
olow-fly ;  and  after  that  the  spider  employed  himself  in 
carrying  off  in  lots  together,  and  eating,  more  thdih  a 
hundred  midges,  which  had  been  caught  in  his  web 
during  the  day.  The  gentleman  who  took  the  trouble 
to  watch  this  spider  says  that,  taking  into  account  the 
size  of  a  man,  compared  to  the  size  of  a  spider,  a  man 
with  a  similar  appetite  would  eat  thus  : — At  daybreak,  a 
small  alligator ;  at  seven,  a  lamb  ;  at  nine  o'clock,  a 
voung  giraffe  ;  at  one,  a  sheep  ;  and  after  that,  about  a 
hundred  larks.  But  after  all  it  is  hard  to  call  the  spider 
greedy,  when  we  learn  what  work  he  has  to  do.  The 
length  of  thread  a  spider  spins  in  a  week  making  new 
webs  (for  one  web  usually  only  lasts  a  day),  binding  up 
his  victims,  and  going  about  from  place  to  place,  always 
leaving  a  thread  after  him,  is  said  to  be  nearly  two 
hundred  yards,  and  all  this  comes  out  of  his  own  small 
body. 

Dr.  Lincecum  describes  the  marvellous  art  of  the  gos- 
samer or  ballooning  spider  in  the  construction  and  navi- 
gation of  her  aeronautical  ships.  In  Texas,  according 
to  the  author,  December  is  the  month  for  these  balloon- 
ing spiders  to  emigrate.  When  they  intend  to  make  an 
ascension,  they  fix  themselves  on  some  extreme  point 
of  the  branch  of  a  tree,  or  weed  or  corn-tassel,  then  care- 
fully spin  out  a  lock  of  white  gossamer,  five  or  six  inches 
long,  and  two  inches  wide  in  the  middle,  tapering  to- 
ward the  ends,  holding  it  all  the  timein  the  gentle  breeze 
by  a  thread  two  or  three  inches  long,  which,  being  at- 
tached to  the  end  of  the  selected  point,  detains  the  bal- 
loon until  it  is  finished.  They  then  spin  out  at  the  bow 
two  lines,  thirty  or  forty  feet  in  length,  and  another 
of  twenty  or  thirty  feet  at  the  stem,  then  cut  the  cable 
and  sail  away  on  an  inclined  plane.  There  are  a  mother 
and  half  a  dozen  or  more  young  spiders  aboard  every 
balloon,  and  thus  the  species  are  scattered  over  vast  dis- 
tricts. These  tiny  aeronauts  choose  for  starting  on  their 
voyage  a  clear  day,  temperature  60  deg.  Fahr.,  wind 
gently  from  the  south.  At  about  1  p.  m.  they  may  be 
seen  sailing  with  the  wind.  Toward  4  p.  m.  the  spectator 
will  observe  that  the  balloons  are  beginning  to  de- 
scend. When  the  streamers  strike  some  tall  weed 
or  grass  the  air  ships  are  made  fast  and  the  passen- 
gers instantly  leap  out,  spinnning  out  a  thread  as 
they  fall,  thus  landing  in  safety. 

When  a  spider  is  attacked,  he  saves  himself  by 
falling  from  his  web  and  hanging  by  a  thread  so  fine 
that  it  can  scarcely  be  seen.  The  danger  being  gone, 
he  climbs  up  the  thread  again,  hand  over  hand,  like 
a  sailor  going  up  a  rope.  At  other  times  he  drops 
from  the  web,  leaving  no  gossamer  rope  for  his  re- 
turn. He  lies  on  the  ground  below%  with  his  legs 
gathered  round  him  into  a  little  ball  that  can  scarcely 
be  distinguished  from  the  loose  earth.  If  you  pick 
him  up  he  often  keeps  perfectly  still  for  minutes 
together,  till  you  think  he  must  be  dead,  and  throw 
him  away.  Dead,  indeed  !  The  moment  you  are 
gone  he  spreads  out  his  eight  long  legs,  and  runs 
away. 

We  sometimes  are  inclined  to  believe  that  spiders 
can  fly ;  but  that  is  impossible,  for  tliey  have  no  wings. 
How  is  it,  then,  that  they  pass  through  the  air,  moving 
from  branch  to  branch,  or  rising  from  the  top  of  a 
garden  wall  ?  If  we  look  closely  at  a  spider  passing 
from  place  to  place,  we  can  see  that  he  is  climbing 
along  a  thread,  or  that  it  is  floating  up  witl>  him. 
When  he  wants  to  go  from  branch  to  branch, 
le  shoots  out  a  thread  from  his  body,  the  wind  car« 


rles  It  on,  and  its  gum  makes  it  to  adhere  to  whatever  It 
touches.   Then  the  end  being  fast  he  moves  along  it. 

Sometimes  this  thread  is  carried  up  into  the  air  and 
wafted  hither  and  thither,  and  the  spider,  letting  go  his 
hold  of  the  ground,  is  carried  upward— the  least  breath 
of  air  being  quite  sufficient  to  raise  his  floating  cord  and 
carry  him  away.  Without  the  assistance  of  this  filmy 
silk  he  cannot  ascend  an  even  surface  as  a  fly  can. 
If  you  put  a  spider  into  the  bottom  of  a  perfectly  clean 
well-polished  glass,  he  will  make  useless  attempts  to 
walk  up  its  sides,  and  then  he  will  spin  a  web  against  it, 
a  sort  of  ladder,  which  he  ascends  step  by  step  as  he 
makes  it.  You  will  require  very  good  sight  to  see  this 
web  against  the  glass,  but  a  strong  magnifying-glass  will 
show  it  to  you.  It  is  quite  a  different  thing  when  a  stray 
spider  stand  on  the  ceiling  back  downwards.  There  he 
has  an  uneven  surface  which  he  can  easily  seize  with  his 
claws. 

In  striking  contrast  to  the  jolly  open-air  life  of  the 
garden  spider  is  the  dismal  existence,  that  can  hardly  be 
called  life,  passed  by  the  common  house  spider.  Constr  acting 
a  web  of  strong  cloth-like  texture,  slung  like  a  hammock  in 
some  out-of-the-way  corner,  her  life  is  spent  in  a  state  of 
chronic  semi-destitution,  waiting  for  the  infatuated  fly  that 
may  accidentally  drop  in.  Her  powers  of  endurance  must  be 
something  wonderful.  When  hunger  can  be  borne  no  longer, 
this  spider— a  determined  cannibal  when  nothing  better  can 
be  had— will  start  on  a  hunting  expedition  after  other  spiders 
of  a  smaller  Idnd,  exercising  in  the  nefarious  quest  a  good 
deal  of  cunning. 

The  house  spider  passes  the  winter  in  both  the  egg  and  per- 
fect form.  The  writer  on  the  10th  of  February  roused  a  large 
torpid  house  spider  from  its  sleep,  which  slowly  and  wiih 
much  difliculty  made  its  way  up  the  wall  to  a  crevice  in  the 
ceiling,  evidently  thinking,  with  the  sluggard,  '  You  have 
waked  me  too  soon;  1  must  slumber  again.^'  On  the  same 
date,  February  10 — a  cold,  frosty  day— a  cocoon  that  was  ob- 
served to  be  turning  darker- colored  than  others  was  opened, 
and  found  to  be  full  of  perfectly  formed  young  spiders,  nearly 
black.  Some  of  them  began  to  move,  and  one  fell  out  of  the 
nest  on  to  some  paper  beneath,  when,  on  moving  the  paper, 
the  young  straggler  was  found  hanging  to  it  four  or  five  inches 
below,  proving  that  as  soon  as  spiders  are  hatched  they  have 
the  power  of  attaching  themselves  to  any  object  they  touch, 
by  a  line  of  their  own  making,  strong  enough  to  bear  them. 
They  evidently  knew  it  was  loo  early  to  separate,  for,  on  being 
left  to  themselves,  they  were  soon  after  found  huddled  to- 
gether in  a  round  heap,  each  in  the  shape  the  old  ones  assume 
when  simulating  death." 

There  are  Water  Spiders,  which  inhabit  shallow  stagnant 
pools  and  marshes.  When  they  dive  under  water  a  little  air  is 
retained  between  the  hairs  with  which  they  are  covered,  and 
this,  making  a  bubble  beneath  the  surface,  keeps  them  alive. 
The  female  spins  round  her  a  cell  of  silk,  of  a  form  something 
like  a  inimble,  or  half  a  small  bird's-egg.  It  is  filled  with  her 
bubble  of  air,  so  that  the  water  cannot  get  in ;  and  in  this 
silken  diving-bell  she  lays  her  eggs.  It  is  from  eggs  that  both 
land  and  water  spiders  come.  Often  the  mother  shows  great 
care  and  aflfection  in  her  own  insect  way,  carefully  guarding 
the  tiny  cocoon  in  which  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  her 
eggs  are  enclosed.  Some  species  carry  it  between  their  fore- 
claws;  some  keep  it  attached  to  their  bodies;  others  place  it 
in  crevices  of  walls,  or  roll  it  up  in  a  dead  leaf.  There  is  one 
kind  of  spider  that  lives  in  the  woods,  and  binds  together  the 
fallen  leaves,  spinning  its  threads  round  them  to  make  a  nest 
for  itself.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  dormouse,  when  it  is 
building  its  own  little  nest,  takes  these  spiders'- uests  to  make 
its  roof.  In  some  places  where  people  have  searched,  the  roof 
of  two  out  of  every  three  of  the  nests  of  dormice  were  formed 
of  a  spider' s-nest  of  leaves. 

The  following  touching  anecdote  is  told  by  Mr,  Moggridge, 
who  in  his  studies  in  Natural  History  has  been  in  the  nubic  of 
immersing,  for  preservation,  his  different  specimens  of  spiders 
and  ants  in  bottles  of  alcohol.  He  saw  that  they  struggled  for 
a  few  minutes;  but  he  thought  that  sensation  was  soon  ex- 
tinguished, and  that  they  were  soon  free  from  suffering.  On 
one  occasion  he  wished  to  preserve  a  large  female  spider  and 
twenty-four  of  her  young  ones,  that  he  had  captmed.  He  put 
the  mother  into  a  bottle  of  alcohol,  and  saw  that  after  a  few 
moments  she  folded  up  her  legs  upon  her  body,  and  was  at 
rest.  He  then  put  into  the  bottle  the  young  ones,  who,  of 
course,  manifested  acute  pain.  What  was  his  surprise  to  see 
the  mother  arouse  herself  from  her  lethargy,  dart  around  to, 
and  gather  her  young  ones  to  her  bosom,  fold  her  legs  over 
them,  again  relapse  into  insensibility,  until  at  last  death  came 
to  ner  relief,  and  the  limbs,  no  longer  controlled  by  this  ma- 
ternal instinct,  released  their  grasp  and  became  dead  1  The 
effect  of  the  exhibition  upon  mm  is  a  lesson  to  our  common 
humanity.  He  has  never  since  repeated  the  experiment,  but 
has  applied  chloroform  before  immersion. 

Judging  from  the  above,  the  spider  is  certainly  superior  to 
the  human  animal,  in  the  fact  that  alcohol  does  not  destroy 
her  nattual  affection. 

Besides  the  spiders  above  alluded  to,  there  are  many  other 
kinds;  for  instance,  the  Harvest  Spider,  which  appears  in  au- 
tumn,  itia  very  small,  with  long  hair-like  legs,  and  it  d«e8 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


431 


not  seem  to  mind  a  bit  If  it  loses  ita  legs,  they  grow  so  quickly 
again.  In  Hampton  Court  Palace,  near  London,  Eng.,  there  is 
a  race  of  spiders  which  is  found  nowhere  else.  They  are  called 
Cardinal  Spiders,  after  the  famous  Wolscy,  who  once  lived 
there.  There  seems  to  be  another  tribe,  which  live  in  the  great 
<jathedral8  and  churches  on  the  Continent,  and  find  their  food 
in  the  oil  which  adheres  to  the  lamps,  or  is  left  in  them  when 
they  are  put  out.  If  we  are  to  believe  all  the  stories  that 
are  told^  the  oil  agrees  famously  with  those  spiders;  for  in- 
stance. It  is  said  that  one  which  lived  long  ago  in  Milan  Cathe- 
dral weighed  no  less  than  four  pounds  I 

The  saying  that  no  created  thing  is  without  its  use  was 
somewhat  curiously  illustrated— at  any  rate  so  far  as  spiders 
are  concerned— at  a  sale  which  took  place  a  short  time  ago  in 
Loudon.  The  business  and  premises  to  be  disposed  of  were 
those  of  a  quill-pen  manufacturer,  and  the  presence  of  vast 
quantities  of  well  fed  spiders  in  the  establishment  was  ac- 
counted for  by  one  of  the  old  employes  in  a  somewhat  curious 
manner.  It  would  appear  that  the  feathers  of  the  goose-quiil 
are  infested  by  a  most  destructive  species  of  moth  for  which 
spiders  have  an  especial  predilection,  and  therefore  quill-pen 
manufacturers  keep  these  insects  upon  the  same  principle  that 
&  good  housewife  keeps  a  cat.  Since  the  days  when  the  per- 
severance of  a  spider  read  Robert  Bruce  the  lesson  he  after- 
wards utilized  so  well  at  Bannockburn,  no  pleasauter  story  has 
been  told  of  this  ill-favored  insect. 


A  Curious  Pair  of  Jaws. 

Don't  you  think  it  must  be  a  curious  pair  of  jaws  that 
can  bite  off  a  chunk  of  cold  iron  as  easily  as  you  can  bite 
a  stick  of  candy  ? 

You  can  hardly  believe  it  ?   Wait  till  I  tell  you. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  places  I  ever  visited  was  a 
room  filled  with  these  monsters  with  the  sharp  steel 
jaws,  called  nail-machines. 

In  the  first  place,  the  noise  made  by  several  of  these 
machines  in  one  room  is  something  absolutely  fearful. 
I  wanted  to  stuff  my  ears  with  cotton ;  but  I  thought 
that  would  not  be  very  civil  to  my  guide,  and  after  a 
little  I  got  used  to  it,  and  soon  found  myself  so  inter- 
ested that  I  really  forgot  the  noise. 

Some  machines  nip  off  the  tacks  so  fast  that  k  stream 
of  finished  tacks  run  down  a  An  tube  into  a  reservoir- 
thousands  in  a  minute. 

Listen  to  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  reflect  that 
every  time  it  ticks  at  least  twenty  tacks  are  snapped  off. 

But  I  must  tell  you  how  they  do  it. 

First,  the  iron  bar,  as  it  comes  from  the  iron-works,  is 
put  between  immense  rollers,  which  flatten  it  out  as 
nicely  as  cook  can  roll  out  pie-crust  with  a  rolling-pin. 
The  bar  of  iron  is  thus  made  into  a  sheet,  just  thick 
enough  for  the  nail-s  they  want  to  make.  It  goes  next 
to  the  slitting-machine,  which  makes  no  more  fuss  about 
slitting  it  into  the  proper  widths  for  nails  than  your 
scissors  make  about  cutting  paper. 

It  is  cut  a  little  longer  than  the  nail  is  to  be,  because 
the  heads  are  to  be  made. 

"When  the  strips  of  iron  are  all  ready,  a  man  takes 
one  and  slips  the  end  into  the  steel  jaws  I  told  you  of. 

These  jaws  are  worked  by  steam-power,  and  instantly 
they  bite  off  a  nail,  while  a  furious  little  hammer  springs 
out  suddenly,  and  with  one  blow  on  the  end  of  the  bit 
of  iron  flattens  it,  and  thus  makes  a  head. 

If  you  want  to  know  what  a  blow  that  must  be,  take  a 
piece  of  iron  and  try  to  pound  a  head  on  it  yourself. 

The  instant  the  head  is  made  the  jaws  open  and  the 
nail  drops  out  finished.  Of  course  it  is  done  much 
quicker  than  I  have  been  telling  you,  for  a  machine  cam 
make  brads  (which  I  needn't  tell  the  boys  are  small  nails 
without  heads)  at  the  rate  of  three  thousand  a  minute. 

It  is  said  that  "figures  won't  lie,"  and  I  hope  they 
wont ;  but  I  must  admit  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  story. 

After  the  tacks  come  out  of  the  machine,  they  are 
"blued,"  as  it  is  called.  It  is  done  by  heating  them  in 
an  oven  or  on  an  iron  plate. 

Then  they  go  to  the  packing-room  where  one  girl  can 
weigh  and  put  into  papers  two  thousand  paper  of  tacks 
in  a  day. 

That's  another  tough  story,  but  my  guide  assured  me 
it  was  true. 

How  many  kinds  of  nails  can  you  name  ?  You  will 
probably  be  surprised  to  hear  that  two  hundred  kinds  of 
nails  are  made  in  one  factory,  beginning  with  spikes 
which  weigh  nearly  half  a  pound  each,  and  ending  with 
the  tiniest  kind  of  tacks,  not  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long. 

Men  didn't  always  have  machines  to  make  nails  for 
them,  and  of  course  they  had  to  make  them  by  hand. 
That  was  no  such  easy  matter ;  and,  in  fact,  they 
couldn't  make  them  of  cold  iron,  but  had  to  heat  every 


In  some  parts  of  England  they  are  very  slow  to  get 
machinery,  and  the  ignorant  people,  thinking  their 
trade  is  to  be  spoiled,  will  break  up  and  destroy  any 
tnachincry  that  is  brought  there.  So  they  work  at  nail- 
making  as  their  frrandfathers  did. 

Every  man  lla^  a  little  forge — such  as  you  have  seen  in 
i  blacksmith's  shop,  it  you  live  in  a  village — and  a  small 
anvil.  Every  child  is  put  to  work  to  make  nails  at 
eight  or  nine  years  of  age,  because  they  earn  so  little 
that  every  one  of  a  family  must  help  earn  his  bread.  01 
course  these  children  have  no  time  to  learn  to  read,  and 
many  grown  men  and  women  can  neither  read  nor  write. 

This  is  the  way  they  make  the  nails  :  They  buy  iron 
rods  just  the  right  size  for  the  nails  they  make — for  one 
family  always  makes  the  same  size  of  nail.  They  take 
one  of  these  rods,  heat  it  red-hot  at  the  forge,  lay  it  on 
the  anvil,  and  cut  off  the  length  of  a  nail ;  then,  laying 
away  the  rest  of  the  rod,  they  take  the  piece  they  have 
cut  off,  pound  it  out  to  a  point  at  one  end,  and  pound 
on  a  head  at  the  other.  A  very  slow  operation,  you  see, 
when  you  think  of  how  the  machines  snap  them  on 
cold.  A  whole  family  scarcely  ever  earns  more  than  five 
dollars  a  week  at  the  work,  and  part  of  that  has  to  go 
for  the  coal  it  uses. 

One  of  the  nail  factories  in  our  country  that  I  have 
read  about  uses  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons  of  iron  in  a 
week,  all  of  which  is  bitten  up  into  nails. 


Business  at  the  New  York  Post  Office. 

The  amount  of  business  transacted  at  the  New  York 
Post-ofilce  is  marvellous  ;  it  is  nearly  double  that  of  any 
other  city  in  the  United  States.  The  average  number  of 
domestic  letters  received  and  distributed  daily  is  300,000; 
the  number  of  foreign  letters  received  daily  averages 
30,000,  and  the  number  dispatched  35,000;  while  the 
number  of  local  letters  received  and  distributed  is  about 
120,000.  No  wonder  that  many  facilities  and  con- 
veniences are  needed  for  such  an  extensive  business ; 
and  the  commodious  arrangements  of  the  new  Post- 
office  will  be  fully  appreciated  not  only  by  the  outside 
public,  but  by  the  inside  workers.  There  are  5795  lock- 
boxes for  letters,  and  372  lock-boxes  for  newspapers. 
In  the  Post-office  proper  there  are  600  clerks ;  and  at  the 
Post-office  and  the  stations  there  are  in  all  about  1300 
employes ;  and  no  less  than  390  carriers  are  employed. 
Great  executive  ability  and  exact,  detailed  system  are 
necessary  in  the  management  of  the  vast  and  complex 
affairs  of  the  postal  department.  In  order  to  faciltate 
the  distribution  of  letters,  arrangements  are  made  so 
that  the  public  can  help  a  little  in  this  matter  ;  and  it  is 
worth  while  for  every  one  to  understand  how  to  mail  a 
letter  in  this  great  Post-office.  On  the  Broadway  side  ol 
the  building  are  the  drops  for  domestic  letters.  There 
is  a  drop  for  every  State  in  the  Union,  and  beneath  it  a 
drop  for  the  principal  city  in  that  State.  Beneath  these 
is  a  slide,  into  which  is  inserted  a  card,  containing  at. 
announcement  of  the  time  when  each  mail  closes.  Nexri 
to  the  State  drops  is  the  drop  for  city  letters.  On  the 
Park  Row  side  of  the  building  are  arranged  drops  for 
foreign  letters,  there  being  a  separate  receptacle  for 
each  country.  Separate  drops  are  of  course  provided 
for  newspapers,  which  are  all  carried  to  the  basement, 
and  there  assorted  and  mailed.  If  the  letters  are  put 
into  the  proper  drops  by  the  public,  it  will  be  possible 
to  delay  closing  the  mails  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes  beyond  the  time  when  they  had  hitherto  been 
closed,  which  to  business  men  wovdd  be  an  important 
matter. 

In  this  connection  it  is  interesting  to  know  what  pre- 
cautions are  taken  against  the  loss  of  a  letter.  Every 
clerk  is  held  responsible  for  every  letter  found  under  or 
about  his  table.  There  is,  of  course,  a  great  deal  of 
waste  paper  in  the  Post-office,  but  all  the  debris  of  the 
department  is  thoroughly  searched  by  one  person.  It  is 
first  put  on  a  large  sieve  and  freed  from  dust,  and  then 
a  careful  search  is  made  for  any  letter  that  might  have 
been  dropped  among  it.  But  those  who  "lose"  letters 
ir  the  mail  should  be  careful  how  they  throw  the  blame 
upon  the  Post-office  Department.  Thousands  of  letters 
are  not  legibly  and  correctly  addressed.  Some  have  the 
Qame  of  the  person  wanting ;  often  the  town  or  State  is 
omitted ;  and,  strange  to  say,  many  letters  find  their  way 
into  the  Post-office  without  a  single  word  of  any  kuad  on 
the  envelope.  Letters  cannot  be  too  carefully  and 
plainly  addressed. 


432  '     THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


ABROAD  WITH  NATURE, 

OR,  OUT-DOOR  LIFE. 


Recreation  of  some  kind  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
health  of  the  human  body  and  mind,  and  in  summer 
we  prefer  ours  alono;  the  clear  running  streams  of  the 
woods;  or  the  hills  and  mountains  alive  with  Nature 
and  her  works.  One  important  part  of  this  recrea- 
tion is  to  get  away  from  the  congregations  of  human- 
ity, to  be  alone,  or  almost  so.    Byron,  when  he  said: 

*'  There  is  pleasure  In  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore; 
There  is  society  where  none  intrudes, 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar," 

expressed  perfectly  the  feelings  of  every  one  who  de- 
sires at  times  to  be  alone  with  Nature,  to  study  her 
moods,  delight  in  her  sequestered  spots  of  beauty, 
dressed  and  guided  only  by  her  lavish  hand.  What 
endless  joy  they  furnish  to  the  artist,  to  any  human 
soul  who  has  an  eye  to  appreciate  her  handiwork. 
Who  does  not  long  for  power  to  put  upon  canvas 
some  of  the  grand  panoramas — the  cosy  nooks  and 
pretty  pictures  that  are  spread  continually  before  our 
eyes.  Few  of  us  however,  are  thus  gifted.  But 
there  are  those  who  absorb  into  the  mind  and  trans- 
fer to  canvas  some  of  her  grandeur.  We  have  in 
mind  at  this  moment  the  pictures  of  Albert  Bier- 
stadt,  a  landscape  painter,  who  roams  over  the  moun- 
tains, dives  down  into  the  valleys,  and  studies  nature 
on  the  plains.  Last  winter,  accompanied  by  his 
friend  (Lord  Dunraven),  he  was  sketching  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  To  do  this,  he  leaves  a  beautiful 
home  on  the  Hudson,  regretfully  says  adieu  to  a  be- 
loved wife  and  children  to  satisfy  an  artist's  craving 
for  solitude  and  nature.  He  loves  it,  and  those  of  us 
who  have  seen  his  beautiful  paintings  can  realize 
with  what  pleasure  he  wooes  Dame  Nature  and  her 
works. 

"  The  man  who  oft  has  set  his  face 
In  many  a  solitary  place. 
Against  earth,  the  wind,  and  open  sky." 

tdth  intense  desire  to  transmit  the  brilliant  dyes  and 
effulgence  of  light  in  which  his  soul  delights  to  canvass. 
Jnow  he  stands  on  some  mountain's  brow,  enraptured 
with  the  magnificent  view  of  plain,  river,  and  woodland, 
extendmg  miles  on  miles  in  every  direction  ;  and  again 
in  some  narrow  gully  or  ravine,  of  which  one  side  may 
be  a  grassy  slope,  the  other  thickly  clothed  with  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  and  where  a  tiny  but  never-failing 
stream  in  the  bottom  keeps  the  shrubs  and  plants  that 
grow  m  profusion  around  it,  in  full  leaf  and  flower  until 
late  m  at  autumn. 

Round  and  about  this  silent  pool  the  ash  trees 

Bend  down  in  thirsty  eagerness  to  drink; 
Amid  their  gray-green  leaves  show,  keenly  vivid, 

Long  feathering  laurel-sprays  that  clothe  the  brink. 

High  up  in  air,  some  thirty  feet  or  over, 
A  wild  white  rose  above  the  footpath  clings, 

Fearless  she  clasps  a  tough,  unyielding  ash  trunk 
And  o'er  the  pool  gay  wreaths  of  blossom  flings. 
Here  seated,  perhaps,  on  some  mossy  stone,  or  the 
trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  he  feasts  his  eyes  on  the  picture 
before  him,  and  numbers  the  tints  so  exquisitely 
wrought  into  such  a  glorious  symphony  of  color.  He 
raises  his  eyes  to  the  rich  color  in  the  woods  alone— per- 
haps tinted  by  early  frosts.  Sees  the  great  oaks  with 
their  magnificent  leaves,  some  a  deep  crimson,  some 
scarlet,  others  still  green  ;  looks  at  the  dark  pines  and 
hemlocks,  tbeir  trunks  and  branches  twined  with  gaily 
colored  leaves  and  berries  of  some  bright  creepe^ ; 
marks  the  white  stems  of  the  birch  and  poplar,  and  the 
gray  and  mottled  trunks  of  the  other  trees.  Glancing 
up  at  the  lovely  blue  sky  overhead,  at  the  golden  sun- 
shine falling  evtry  where  with  such  soft  ethereal  radiance, 
he  longs  to  impress  the  picture  indelibly  on  canvass. 
Albert  Bierstadt's  artist  soul  loves  these  scenes,  and  be- 
cause his  mind  becomes  bo  absorbed  in  her  works,  he  is 
enabled  to  naint  such  pictures  as  *iis  "  Sunset  in  Cali- 


ftjmia,"  "  The  Storm  in  the  Rocky  Mountains/'  "Lara 
mie  Peaks,"  "  The  Cathedral  Rocks,  Yosemite," 
"  A  view  on  the  Sierra  Nevadas,"  exhibited  at  Berlin 
in  1869,  (where  it  received  a  golden  medal):  "  The 
Emeral  Pool,"  and  **  Donner  Lake,"  were  exhibited 
at  the  Vienna  Exhibition,  and  we  saw  at  our  own. 
Centennial,  his  "Big  Tree  of  California,"  and  the 
**  Settlement  of  California  at  Monkrey,"  These  won- 
derful paintings  were  copied  from  nature,  and  in  or- 
der to  paint  them  truthfully,  he  spent  months  in 
wandering  over  California,  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
the  West.  Morning  after  morning  he  arose  at  four 
o'clock  to  secure  the  desired  effect  in  light  and  shade. 
Mr.  Leland  Stanford,  the  Pacific  Railroad  millionaire 
of  San  Francisco,  has  recently  given  Mr.  Bierstadt  a 
commission  to  paint  a  picture  for  $10,000,  and  simi- 
lar commissions  are  frequently  given  him.  His  rep- 
utation is  made  and  his  fame  gone  abroad.  His  pic- 
tures are  sought  and  prized,  bringing  a  higli 
price,  and  why  ?  Because  he  loved  Nature,  and  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  painter,  studied  her  various- 
moods,  and  had  the  power  to  paint  them.  The  pos- 
session of  one  of  them  is  a  source  of  untold  pleasure 
— one  returns  again  and  again  to  drink  in  the  beau- 
teous landscape,  so  truthfully  and  artistically  por- 
trayed by  the  genius  of  the  artist.  Would  that  the^ 
city  people  saw  more  of  the  green  fields  in  sum- 
mer and  the  quiet  beauty  of  winter  scenery.  Nature 
purifies  and  ennobles  the  soul.  A  dear  friend  of  ours- 
frequently  says,  "  People  should  live  half  the 
year  in  the  country,  that  they  may  have  time 
to  think  and  become  humanized.  We  of  course 
cannot  all  become  great  painters,  but  we  caB 
appreciate  and  enjoy  the  beautiful  growing 
world,  spread  out  by  a  beneficent  Creator  for  the  ]oy  oi 
our  eyes.  He  offers  to  teach  us  by  the  most  wonderful, 
the  most  interesting  of  all  books,  which  is  simply  all: 
things  that  we  can  see,  and  hear,  and  touch,  from  the 
Eun  and  stars  above  our  heads,  to  the  mosses  and  insects, 
at  our  feet. 

"  Now,  America  is  full  of  appreciation  of  natural  out- 
door life.  The  cabin  and  tent  stand  so  near  the  cities 
that  they  are  a  constant  temptation  to  us  all  to  be  less 
urban  than  we  otherwise  would  be.  The  prairie  and  the 
hill  alike  invite  the  book-worm  and  the  banker  to  leave 
the  library  alcove,  and  the  seat  of  the  money-changer,  and 
come  to  the  smooth  level  and  the  green  spaces  that  they 
represent.  The  pointer  wags  enticement  to  his  master  to 
leave  his  office  and  tramp  through  the  brown  stubble.  The- 
horse  neighs  the  clergyman  an  invitation  to  mount  his  back^ 
and  scour  along  the  roadways  beyond  tlie  reach  of  pavements,, 
and  go  ambling  down  quiet  lanes,  with  fragrant  hedgerows 
on  either  side ;  with  the  scent  of  growing  woods  and  smelling, 
earth,  or  of  withered  leaves  and  dried  grasses  filliug  the  air. 
The  rifle  calls  the  mechanic  from  his  bench,  and  the  student 
from  his  study,  to  the  breezy  ranch,  where  it  teaches  him  self- 
control,  suggests  the  need  of  temperance,  and  stirs  his  blood, 
with  the  tingling  friendly  rivalry.  The  rod  looks  its  silent  ex-^ 
hortation  from  the  wall  along  which  it  is  stretclied,  full 
jointed  as  when  we  made  our  last  cast,  and  landed  the  last 
trout  or  salmon.  The  skates,  from  out  their  flanneled  encase- 
ment, say,  "Come  to  the  pond;  the  ice  is  blue,  the  wind  is 
keen,  the  possibilities  of  manly  and  exhilirating  pleasure  are 
superb.  Come,  leave  your  heated  rooms,  arm  your  feet  with 
my  shining  blades,  and  from  a  clumsy,  slow-moving  animal.. 
you  shall  be  in  motion  graceful  as  a  bird,  and  in  velocity  swift 
as  an  eagle."  And  so,  from  all  these  sources,  voices  sound 
forth  their  invitations  to  the  average  American  to  leave  his 
house,  and,  equipped  with  those  assistants  which  enable  him 
to  weave  pleasures  from  the  passing  hours,  to  go  forth  into- 
the  open  field,  and  reap  the  benefits  of  the  great  out-doors,  of 
the  free  and  the  liberal  education  to  be  acquired  as  contrasted 
with  the  bound  and  pent  life  of  the  book  student." 

Youth  strongly  craves  a  release  from  the  laborious  study 
and  rigid  discipline  of  our  present  system  of  schools ;  and 
how  many  weak,  delicate,  pale,  young  souls,  struggling  to  keep- 
up  with  their  more  robust  comrades  in  advancement,  long  to 
drop  the  burden  grown  too  heavy  for  their  rounding  shoulders 
and  cry —  ^ 

"O,  would  we  could  dive  and  run, 
Catch  the  wild  goat  by  the  hair,  and  hurl  our  lances  in  the 
sun. 

Whistle  back  the  parrot's  call,  and  leap  the  rainbows  of  the 

brooks. 

Not  with  blinded  eyesight  poring  over  miserable  books." 
Let  the  children  be  physically  as  well  as  mentally  trained  s 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


433 


they  will  need  etrong,  healthy  bodies  with  which  to  encounter 
life's  cares  and  the  hardships  of  the  race  of  life. 

Now,  the  amaaementP  and  recreations  of  the  out-door 
world  ;  and  the  sweet  wisdom  which  comes  to  one  who  studies 
its  changeful  mysteries,  are  not  associated  with  play  alone, 
nor  with  tho  recreation  that  is  connected  with  man's  amuse- 
ments. 

Nature  is  full  of  studies.  Albert  Bierstadt  studies  her  land- 
scapes; Rosa  Boiiheur  the  common  farm  animals,  and  we  all 
know  her  wonderful  success  in  painting  them.  Landseer 
loved  and  studied  dogs,  and  even  now  a  copy  of  his  picture 
"Dignity  and  Impudence"  looks  down  upon  me  from  my 
study  wall.  The  large  head,  and  keen,  intelligent  eyes  of 
Dignity  remind  me  strongly  of  the  great  Daniel  Webster. 
Agassiz  made  a  specialty  of  reptiles  and  fishes;  Audubon 
studied  the  habits  of  birds,  and  to  him  we  owe  much  of  the 
knowledge  we  have  of  the  ways  of  our  American  birds— wel- 
come little  strangers.  Martius  gave  especial  attention  to 
plants  and  flowers,  and  devoted  twenty-seven  years  to  the 
study  and  collection  of  palms  alone. 

These,  with  many  others,  have  found  infatuating  studies  in 
the  open  book  of  Nature.  Then  again,  this  dame  so  beautiful. 
Is  always  good-natured.  Wherever  you  look  in  the  range  of 
her  creation,  you  will  see  cheerfulness.  Do  not  the  brooks 
laugh  merrily ;  the  leaves  rustle  sweet  music ;  the  flowers  nod 
their  pretty  beads  and  smile  in  beautiful  content?  Nature  is 
also  mirthful.   Her  animal  creation  is  full  of  fun 

'  The  horse  loves  to  play.  Turn  a  dozen  colts  into  a  four- 
acre  lot,  and  see  them  go.  How  they  will  scamper  and  stream 
like  an  animated  current  across  the  level  expanse  I  How  their 
heels  will  fly,  and  their  joints  snap  1  How  their  young  lord- 
ships will  put  on  airs,  heads  up,  tails  lifted  over  their  backs, 
eyes  aflame,  necks  swinging  proudly  from  side  to  side,  and 
hoofs  that  spurn  the  earth,  as  if  they  were  too  kingly  to 
acknowledge  their  need  of  it  I  Who  can  see  a  dozen  lambs  at 
play  in  the  sunshine  of  early  summer,  and  not  feel  the  lines 
that  toil  and  care  have  cut  into  his  face  smooth  out  ?  What 
an  infinite  amount  of  fun  the  Creator  has  done  up  within 
the  skin  of  a  dog  I  Who  ever  saw  a  dog  that  didn't  love  his 
joke,  if  he  could  share  it  with  his  master.  A  dog  is  the  prince 
of  good  fellows,  and  doubly  gifted  for  merriment,  for  he  can 
laugh  at  both  ends  at  once.  And  kittens  1  How  they  will 
chase  each  other,  roll  over,  scamper  about  for  hours  at  play. 
Many  times  have  I  leaned  over  the  sides  of  my  boat  in 
Northern  waters,  where  the  trout  lay  beneath  me,  and  seen 
the  mottled  beauties  chase  each  other,  and  race  and  leap  in 
rivalry  of  sport,  until  their  bright  sides  irradiated  the  dark 
stream  with  glancing  light,  as  if  the  rays  of  the  sun  had  taken 
water,  and  were  at  their  bath.  The  awkward  bear  will  dance, 
or  try  to  dance,  and  I  think  I  have  seen  a  twinkle  of  humor 
even  in  the  eye  of  a  pig  t  Time  and  again  have  I  lain  hidden 
in  the  leaves  and  the  grasses,  and  laughed  until  my  e5'es  were 
moist  with  inward  fun,  lo  see  the  gambols  and  pranks  of  the 
furred  and  feathered  children  of  nature.  Man  makes  discord, 
hut  the  wide  world,  as  God  designed  it,  is  full  with  the  melody 
of  apleasantpsalm." 

"  One  of  the  happiest  signs  of  the  times  is  that  which  proves 
that  the  ancestral  characteristics  of  the  original  American 
have  not  been  efl"aced  from  our  popular  character.  We  come 
from  a  strong  brawny  stock  ;  from  men  who  tilled  the  fiolds, 
traversed  the  hills  and  valleys  in  pursuit  of  game ;  lined  the 
banks  and  streams  with  their  traps;  loved  the  compaEionehip 
of  the  ox  and  horse,  and  looked  upon  the  rifle  and  musket  in 
their  possession  as  symbols  of  their  manhood  and  bulwarks  of 
their  liberties.  Our  ancestors  were  not  puny  men ;  were  not 
eff"eininate ;  were  not  in-door  people,  pale  of  countenance,  and 
slender  of  build.  They  were  tall,  stalwart,  muscular ;  some 
of  them  awkward,  by  reason  of  excessive  development  in 
joints  and  bone  ;  but  none  of  them  were  feeble,  and  while  ex- 
cessive culture  might  laugh  at  them  on  the  sly,  yet  it  could 
but  admire  them  at  the  very  same  time,  because  of  that  which 
excited  their  mirth.  You  can  laugh  at  the  awkward  move- 
ments of  a  giant,  yet  you  can  but  be  impressed  with  the 
majesty  of  his  size. 

Nature  demands  industry,  and  she  tempts  us  with  oppor- 
tunity of  financial  reward.  Agriculture,  or  soil  culture,  in  the 
widest  sense  of  the  word,  includes  a  hundred  and  one  pur- 
suits, which  call  for  the  thoughtful  brain,  the  inventive  wit; 
and  the  skill  of  instructed  fingers.  There  is  no  employment 
which  demands  closer  observation,  a  finer  sense  of  climatic 
changes,  or  a  more  infinite  knowledge  of  the  life  and  growth, 
and  habits  of  creeping  things,  beyond  what  orcharding  re- 
quires. He  who  can  plant  a  tree,  and  supply  it  with  nourish- 
ing and  protecting  guardianship  through  the  years  that  inter- 
vene between  its  root  existence  and  the  first  full  harvest  of  its 
fruitage,  must  be  king  of  a  kingdom,  master  of  a  realm  of 
cause,  of  eflfect,  of  influence,  of  tendency,  whose  domains  are 
as  large  as  the  fruit-bearing  zone  of  the  globe.  He  who  takes 
a  sterile  farm,  with  its  lean  soil,  and  fences  out  of  joint,  and 
makes  it  productive,  has  won  a  victory  over  adverse  circum- 
stances—over impatience  and  despondency  within  himself — 
prouder  than  those  triumphs  which  the  sword  and  cannon 
gain. 

"  The  brightest  sign  of  the  times  is  the  fact  that  men  and 
women  are  beginning  to  turn  their  faces  toward  the  country, 
and  in  the  good  old-fashioned  way,  too.  They  are  beginning 
to  long  for  easier  liveSj  for  quietness,  and  the  absence  of 
parade.  It  is  a  hopeful  sign  when  the  wealthy  merchant  goes 
sack  to  his  ancestral  home,  to  the  little  farm  where  he  was 


bom,  and  finds  enjoyment  in  once  more  holding  the  plow  and 
mowing  the  meadow:  finds  delight  in  his  sieek  oxen,  his 
fine-bred  colts,  and  his  herd  of  Jerseys.  It  is  a  healthful  sign 
when  the  woman  of  fashion  leavi  s  her  Saratogas  at  home,  and 
tucking  a  few  necesnary  articles  of  comfortable  cloi  hing  into 
her  valise,  starts  with  her  husband  for  a  two  months'  trip  In 
the  Adirondacks.  It  is  a  healthful  sign  when  our  young  men 
take  to  boating  and  ball  playing,  when  the  pliant  rod  becomes 
a  fascination,  and  the  long  range  rifle  a  delight.  It  is  a  hope- 
ful sign  when  our  young  ladies  are  seen  studying  floriculture, 
learning  to  sit  a  saddle  properly,  acquiring  Pupplenees  of 
limb  on  graceful  skates,  and  laughingly  facing  after  breakfast, 
a  four  miles'  tramp.  It  is  a  hopeful  sign  when  men  are  begin- 
ning^ to  ask  themselves  why  the  old  fire-place  was  banished, 
and  to  demand  its  restoration;  to  ask  why  the  windows  of 
their  dwelling  are  drawn  by  the  architect  so  email,  and  why 

Earlors  are  made  so  gloomy,  more  fit  for  the  residence  of  a 
ermit  than  a  happy-heartea  man.  These  are  the  bright  erl- 
dences,  tho  rosy  tints  flushing  with  delicate  warmth  the  sky 
which  declare  that  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  is  at  hand  ;  a  day  im 
which  we  shall  get  back  to  the  simplicity  of  nature,  shall  put 
a  proper  value  upon  the  charm  of  quietness,  shall  bring  the 
light  and  purity  of  the  out  door  world  into  our  houses— aye, 
and  into  oar  souls  too." 


The  G-raves  of  the  Virginian  Presidents. 

Monroe  and  Tyler  are  buried  in  Hollywood  cemetry  la 
Richmond.  The  plainest  of  cenotaphs  covers  the  graye 
of  the  former,  and  rust  is  eating  off  the  dismal-colored 
paint  that  once  protected  the  Iron.  Tyler's  grave  is 
entu-ely  unmarked,  and  rank  weeds  and  tall  grass 
luxuriate  around  it  and  obscure  it  from  sight.  The 
Legislature  begged  his  family  to  allow  his  remains  to  be 
Interred  here,  and  promised  to  erect  over  them  a  suitable 
monument,  but  the  treasury  has  been  so  empty  and 
legislators  so  engaged  with  other  matter  that  no  steps 
have  yet  been  taken  in  that  direction.  Thanks  to  the 
ladies  of  the  Mount  Vernon  Association,  the  tomb  of 
Washington,  at  Mount  Vernon,  in  Westmoreland  county, 
is  well  cared  for,  and  is  still  visited  by  people  from  all 
parts  of  the  world  who  revere  the  memory  of  "The 
Father  of  his  Country."  Jefferson  is  buried  on  his  old 
estate,  Monticello,  near  Charlottesville.  The  simple 
shaft  that  covers  the  grave  has  been  pecked  and  chopped 
by  relic-hunters,  and  grass  and  weeds  are  allowed  to 
grow  about  it  undisturbed.  Madison  sleeps  in  Mont- 
pelier,  in  Madison  county,  and  nothing  but  a  simple 
monument  of  cheap  kind  and  poor  design  points  the 
curious  traveler  to  his  resting-place.  The  Virginians, 
while  holding  in  dear  remembrance  the  distinguished 
services  and  virtues  of  these  great  men,  have  been  un- 
accountably negligent  and  indifferent  in  the  way  of 
building  monuments  over  their  graves.  That  duty,  if 
3ver  done,  will  probably  have  to  be  performed  by  the 
nation.  Virginia  is  now  too  poor  to  spare  money  from 
her  treasury  for  any  other  purpose  than  to  carry  on  the 
necessary  expenses  of  government  and  pay  the  interest 
Du  her  huge  public  debt  contracted  in  building  railroads 
before  the  war. 

P3rramids  and  Ironclads. 

Contrast,  for  example,  two  works— the  Great  Pyramid 
)f  Egypt  and  an  ironclad  ship-of-war — each  the  product 
)f  enormous  energy  or  force.  In  bulk,  the  ancient 
itructure  is  imposing,  stupendous.  So  measured  and 
estimated  our  ironclad  is  an  insignificant  pigmy  ;  but 
^ivcn  the  two  problems,  to  build  a  pyramid  or  to  pro- 
luce  an  ironclad  and  its  contents,  modern  engineers  caa 
laugh  at  a  pyramid— the  ancients  would  stare  hopelessly 
it  a  Devastation.  Our  advantage  consists  in  great  part 
)f  our  command  of  mechanical  heat.  The  dispersed! 
,'nergy,  force,  or  heat  of  many  thousands  of  human 
jodies  was  consumed  for  ten  long  years  in  making  a 
5olid  roadway  to  carry  the  blocks  of  stone  from  the 
A.rabian  quarry  ;  and  then  twenty  years  more  were  spent 
oy  100,000  men  in  bringing  those  blocks  and  raising  the 
itately  pile.  I  repeat,  the  ancients  did  it  by  enormous 
expenditure  of  human  labor ;  in  other  words,  by  the 
3nergy  of  the  heat  dispersed  through  raultidutes  of 
luman  bodies,  and  spread  over  a  number  of  years. 
Moderns  would  do  it  by  the  products  of  the  concen- 
trated heat  of  our  furnaces,  and  the  beat-produced 
steam  of  our  engines.  And  those  thiity  years  of  wearj 
;  oiling  would  probably  be  exactly  represented  by  an  equal 
number  of  months.  I  believe  there  is  vastly  more  labor 
in  the  production  of  a  fully  equipped  ironclad  than  in 
the  building  of  a  pyramid ;  bnt  the  ancient  force  was 
spiead  out  and  displayed,  ours  is  concentrated  and 
hidden. 


434 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


THE  "WINTER  WOOD-FLOWER 

A  SONNET. 

Through  the  bared  forest,  by  its  dreary  ways, 
So  hard  and  rugged  in  the  grasp  of  frost, 
I  wandered  where  a  million  leaves  were  tossed, 

The  fading  trophies  of  dead  summer  days; 

There,  in  the  coldest,  gloomiest  nook,  ablaze 
"With  gorgeous  color,  like  a  fairy  lost 
In  some  lone  wild  by  fairy  feet  uncrossed. 

Bloomed  a  strange  flower  amid  the  woodland  maze. 

All  round  the  dimness  of  that  desolate  place 
It  shed  both  light  and  perfume,  its  fair  head, 

Swayed  by  the  gale,  still  bent  in  curves  of  grace. 

Bloom  on,  O  flower  1  the  blessed  type  thou  art 
Of  one  last  hope,  which  o'er  its  brethren  dead 

Shines  on  the  frost-bound  stillness  of  my  heart  I 

Vegetable  Alkalies— Strychnine. 

BT  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

In  preceding  articles  in  these  columns,  vegetable  acids 
have  been  described,  without  any  reference  to  the  basis 
of  the  same.  The  latter,  commonly  known  as  alkalies, 
form  the  subject  of  the  present  article. 

The  principal  point  of  difference  between  alkalies  and 
the  chemical  products  hitherto  described,  lies  in  the  fact 
that  they  all  contain  nitrogen  as  an  element  of  their  com- 
position, and  unite  with  acids  to  form  readily  crj  stal- 
lizable  salts.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  principles 
existing  in  small  quantities  in  the  plants  from  which  they 
are  procured,  and  of  which  they  constitute  the  acting 
part,  either  medicinal  or  poisonous,  as  the  case  may  be. 
Water  dissolves  them  but  slightly,  alcohol  being  their 
proper  solution.  Some  of  them  are  of  great  utility  in 
exerting  a  healthful  influence  on  the  human  system; 
others,  on  the  contrary  are  intensely  poisonous. 

The  principal  alkalies  are  Strychnine,  Quinine,  Cincho- 
nine.  Morphine,  Nicotine,  Narcotine,  Theine,  and 
Codeine. 

The  first  named.  Strychnine,  is  highly  poisonous  ;  it  is 
obtained  from  the  nux  vomica  and  St.  Ignatius  bean,  and 
in  most  cases  is  associated  with  an  almost  equally  poison- 
ous substance,  (brucine)  which  it  so  closely  resembles 
that  in  unskillful  hands,  one  is  often  mistaken  for  the 
other.  When  pure,  it  has  a  crystallized  appearance,  a 
bitter  taste,  and  does  not  readily  dissolve  in  water. 
Boiling  alcohol  is  generally  used  to  dissolve  it,  although 
when  it  is  desirable  to  separate  the  brucine  from  it  cold 
alcohol  is  used. 

The  terrible  use  made  of  strychnine  in  cases  of  poison- 
mg  and  suicide  is  familiar  to  all.   Even  in  quantities  of 


a  grain  it  is  the  most  poisonous  chenucal  that  can  De 
taken.  Its  use  seems  the  more  fearful  when  it  is  stated 
that  no  certain  remedy  has,  as  yet,  been  found  for  it. 
The  symptoms  of  its  victim  are  rigid  contortions  of  the 
muscles ;  though  racked  with  pain,  the  mental  powers 
are  undiminished,  until  convulsions,  terrible  to  witness, 
end  the  victim's  misery. 

The  following  is  the  principal  test  for  an  article  sup- 
posed to  be  strychnine  : 

A  grain  of  the  suspected  article  is  placed  on  a  plate 
with  a  little  powdered  bi-chromate  of  potass  near  it,  and 
a  small  drop  of  concentrated  oil  of  vitrol  let  fall  between 
them.  On  stirring  the  three,  a  rich  purple  color  which 
speedily  turns  to  a  red  tint,  will  be  produced  if  the  first 
article  employed  be  strychnine.  If  it  is  not  strychnin** 
the  described  change  of  color  will  not  take  place. 

A  loosing  G-ame. 

Gideon  Lee  was  a  man  well-known  in  business  circles 
years  ago,  and  no  one  who  knew  him  but  remembered 
his  staunch  integrity  and  his  detestation  of  all  under- 
hand dealing  and  trickery. 

"Every  trade  should  be  a  benefit  to  both  parties," 
was  his  motto,  and  a  person  who  cheated  he  always  re- 
garded as  the  gi-eatest  loser  in  the  long  run.  And  so  he 
was,  if  character  and  honor  are  to  count  for  anything. 
Mr.  Lee  felt  that  even  in  money  matters  the  dishonest 
man  was  a  loser.  A  snake  in  his  store  would  be  about 
as  welcome  as  a  man  of  an  over-reaching  turn. 

Such  a  man  came  in  one  day,  and  was  bragging  of  his 
smartness  in  this  line.  He  told  how  on  such  a  day  he 
had  got  the  better  of  that  neighbor,  who  must  have  had 
his  eyes  about  half -opened  to  let  himself  be  so  taken  in. 
And  then  he  laughed  a  jeering  laugh,  which  had  no 
contagion  in  it.  It  was  no  honest,  hearty  laugh.  The 
man  went  on  to  tell  still  other  smart  tricks  he  had  played 
off  on  people,  winding  up  by  saying,  "And  here,  to-day, 
I  have  even  got  the  advantage  of  Mr.  Lee  himself." 

"  Well,  that  may  be,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  "  but  if  you  will 
promise  never  to  enter  my  office  again,  I  will  give  you 
that  load  of  goat  skins."  The  man  made  the  promise, 
and  took  the  goat  skins 

Fifteen  years  after,  a  poor,  dejected  looking  man 
walked  into  Mr.  Lee's  office.  He  was  recognized  in  an 
instant,  and  Mr.  Lee  quickly  remarked :  "  Ton  have 
broken  your  promise — pay  me  for  my  goat  skins." 

The  man  was  rather  taken  aback  by  the  greeting,  but 
at  once  began  a  mournful  tale  of  his  misfortunes  and  his 
poverty. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  "  and  you  always  will  be  poor. 
That  miserable  desire  of  over-reaching  others  will  al- 
ways keep  you  so.**  K.  c.  Q. 

Billiard  Balls. 

It  is  singular  how  important  to  the  world  are  many  of  the 
little  things  we  pass  by  unnoticed.  A  young  English  manu- 
facturer was  once  asked  by  a  German  firm  to  take  charge  of 
the  glass  eyes  manufactured  exclusively  by  them  for  dolls. 
He  was  about  to  decline  the  commission  as  likely  to  give  him 
more  trouble  than  it  was  worth,  when  he  was  shown  by  the 
foreign  firm  that  the  trade  in  glass  eyes  amounted  to  some 
twenty  thousand  dollars  annually.  The  man  who  invents  a 
new  toy  that  becomes  popular,  makes  a  rapid  fortune,  though 
the  mechanism  may  be  of  the  slightest  and  cheapest;  the  man 
who  writes  a  taking  song,  however  foolish  it  may  be,  is  certain 
also  of  his  five  or  ten  thousand  dollars.  From  children  to  men 
we  must  be  amused,  and  we  are  willing  to  pay  the  price.  Look 
at  the  little  ivory  billiard  balls;  they  are  very  simple,  perfectly 
round— but  there's  the  defect.  Any  one  who  remedies  it  can 
sit  down  at  his  ease  and  have  money  poured  into  his  pocket. 
Balls  made  of  ivory,  even  when  they  are  quite  new,  are  not  of 
the  same  density  throughout,  and  consequently  do  not  run 
perfectly  true.  Making  them  of  glass  and  steel  has  been 
tried,  but  without  success.  The  nearest  approach  to  the 
"genuine  elephant"  thus  far  is  the  composition  balls,  made 
of  compressed  paper  for  a  core,  with  an  outer  coating  of 
collodion  and  other  materials.  Ivory  shrinks  exactly  the  same 
as  wood— with  the  grain ;  and  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  led 
I  to  the  abolishing  of  all  ivory  scales  formerly  used  in  the 
British  Survey  oflices.  Various  means  have  been  proposed  to 
season  the  ivory  in  addition  to  that  in  general  use— keeping  in 
I  perforated  boxes,  or  netting— but  the  result  is  only  skin 
I  deep  "  seasoning.  Another  plan  is  now  on  trial,  with  indit«r 
I  tions  of  u'*imate  success ;  but  the  process  is  a  trade  secrev. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


435 


How  it  Feels  to  be  Dying. 

I  was  crossing  a  bridge  over  a  wide  but  shallow 
stream,  in  a  lonely  place,  and  accidentally  fell  off. 
When  1  say  shallow,  I  mean  for  such  a  wide  body  of 
water.  It  was  over  my  head  by  two  or  three  feet.  I  saw 
nobody  near  me  and  could  not  swim  a  stroke.  I  knew 
how  deep  the  water  was,  and  gave  myself  up  for  lost. 
The  quickness  of  the  sences  when  sudden  death  seeraf 
impending  has  frequently  been  noted,  but  still,  without 
experience,  no  one  can  realize  it.  It  is  as  if  one's  whole 
life  were  spread  out  in  a  panorama  before  him,  ever} 
portion  of  which  was  visible  at  once.  Every  minute  de- 
tails of  things  long  forgotten,  and  which  when  thej 
happened  were  so  trifling  that  they  apparently  made  no 
impression  on  the  memory,  stand  out  in  sharp  and  bold 
outline.  I  remembered  for  instance,  games  of  marbles 
played  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  a  futile  attempt  I  once 
made  to  transmute  a  "  commoney  "  into  a  "  white  alley  " 
by  greasing  it  with  lard,  wrapping  it  in  a  rag,  and  roast- 
ing it  in  the  Are.  I  remembered  how  the  marble  bursted 
in  the  operation,  and  how  a  piece  of  it  struck  and  cut 
the  cheek  of  the  boy  who  had  beguiled  me  into  the  ex- 
periment, and  the  satisfaction  I  experienced  at  the  retri- 
butive justice.  It  seemed  as  if  everything  I  had  ever 
done,  suffered,  or  thought,  was  presented  to  my  memory 
^  2b  single  flash. 

Then  I  struck  the  water,  when  a  sound,  which  I  l^ave 
since  learned  to  liken  to  the  roar  of  Niagara,  burst  on 
my  ears  and  stunned  me  with  its  overwhelming  volume. 
I  remembered  a  brief  instant  of  struggling  and  clutch- 
ing, and  then  a  sense  of  sinking — sinking— sinking— 
until  I  had  reached  a  depth  of  thousands  of  fathoms.  I 
neither  suffered  pain  nor  felt  alarmed,  but  had  a  vague 
feeling  of  being  irrresistibly  borne  to  some  catastrophe, 
the  climax  to  which  would  be  terrible.  Suddenly  I 
found  myself  possessed  of  the  power  of  floating  or  waft- 
ing myself  along  by  mere  volition.  With  a  delicious 
feeling  of  languid  indolence,  I  suffered  myself  to  float 
about— not  in  the  water,  but  in  the  air — skimming  over 
the  surface  of  the  ground  in  whatever  direction  I  chose, 
hither  and  thither,  as  a  wayward  fancy  led.  I  was  con- 
scious that  it  was  a  new  power,  and  I  exulted  in  its 
possession  and  reasoned  on  its  natm-e.  I  found  that  my 
body  was  as  light  as  the  air  in  which  it  moved,  and  imag- 
ined that  a  thistle  down  would  feel  as  I  did,  if  possessed 
of  consciousness.  Then  I  was  in  the  water  again,  and 
everything  around  me  had  a  roseate  hue,  which  speedily 
changed  to  green,  then  to  violet,  and  finally  to  utter 
darkness,  and  then  all  was  blank. 

As  I  subsequently  learned,  some  men  in  a  skiff  a  half 
mile  away  had  seen  me  fall  into  the  water  and  hurried  to 
my  assistance,  but  I  had  disappeared  long  before  they 
reached  the  spot.  Many  minutes  elapsed  before  they 
found  me,  and  full  half  an  hour  afterwards  before  the 
physicians,  who  had  been  summoned,  arrived.  They 
pronounced  me  dead,  and  that  they  made  an  attempt  to 
resuscitate  me  was  due  solely  to  the  persistence  of  an 
intimate  friend  of  mine  who  had  accompanied  them. 

Nearly  a  dozen  years  after  the  above  experience  I  be- 
came a  citizen  of  the  West,  and  commenced  opening  a 
new  farm  in  a  sparsely  settled  country.  The  place  was 
About  ten  miles  from  the  nearest  tovm,  and  one  pleasant 
day  near  the  last  of  December,  I  went  to  the  latter  in  a 
light  spring  wagon  to  get  some  supplies  for  Christmas 
festivities.  The  day  was  so  mild  that  I  did  not  even 
wear  an  overcoat.  About  the  time  I  started  home, 
which  was  a 'little  after  sundown,  it  began  to  grow 
suddenly  cold,  and  presently  a  storm  almost  amounting 
to  a  hurricane  broke  from  the  North,  bringing  vdth  it  the 
temperature  of  Nova  Zembla.  In  this  region  of  marked 
climatic  vicissitudes  I  never  before  or  since  knew  any  so 
great.  The  mercury  fell  in  an  hour  to  forty  degrees 
below  zero.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  I  could 
easily  have  made  the  ride  home  in  that  time,  but  I  was 
going  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  ;  so  that  I  could  make  but 
little  over  half  the  usual  speed.  I  suffered  severely  from 
the  cold  but  not  more  than  I  had  many  a  time  before  and 
have  many  a  time  since,  but  as  you  may  imagine  was 
anxious  to  get  home  as  quickly  as  possible.  When  I  had 
got  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  there,  I  found  the  weather 
growing  pleasant  again.  My  ears,  that  had  stung  and 
smarted  with  the  cold,  no  longer  troubled  me.  My 
hands,  though  still  numb,  had  a  firm  grip  of  the  lines, 
and  seated  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  with  my  back 
and  shoulders  resting  on  the  seat,  I  would  have  been. 


quite  comfortable,  except  that  I  was  so  drowsy  that! 
could  scarcely  keep  awake.  I  comforted  myself  with  the 
reflection  that  I  would  soon  be  at  home  snugly  tucked 
in  bed,  where  I  could  sleep  to  my  heart's  content. 
While  indulging  in  this  pleasing  ravery  I  dropped  asleep, 
and  what  followed  I  only  learned  from  my  family. 

They  had  concluded  that  finding  the  sudden  change  in 
temperature,  I  had  either  determined  to  spend  the  night 
in  town,  or  had  returned  there  for  that  purpose  in  case  I 
had  started  home  before  the  cold  began.  At  eight 
o'clock,  having  given  me  up,  they  retired  to  bed  and  to 
sleep.  About  nine  o'clock,  my  wife  was  awakened  by 
the  repeated  whinnying  of  a  horse  in  front  of  the  house. 
She  never  suspected  that  it  was  ours,  but  took  it  for  a 
stray,  and  from  motives  of  humanity  called  up  one  oi 
the  men  and  ordered  it  to  be  put  in  the  stable.  When 
the  man  went  out  and  found  it  was  our  own  horse,  and 
that  1  was  in  the  wagon  apparently  dead  and  frozen 
stiff,  he  made  an  outcry  that  soon  brought  out  the  house« 
hold.  Fortunately  my  wife  had  recently  been  reading  ot 
the  proper  mode  of  treating  persons  partially  frozen, 
and  therefore  knew  that  I  must  not  be  taken  into  a  warm 
room,  but  must  be  rubbed  with  snow.  Plenty  of  snow 
had  fallen,  and  I  was  stripped  and  well  rubbed  with  it 
until  I  began  to  show  signs  of  animatioiL  Then  frictions 
with  coarse  cloths  were  used  until  I  was  sufliciently  re- 
stored to  scream  with  the  torture  they  were  putting  me 
to.  Every  portion  of  my  body  seemed  as  sensitive  as  a 
boil.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  stung  all  over  with  wasps  or 
hornets  until  I  was  a  swollen  pulp,  ready  to  burst  at  any 
point  like  an  over  ripe  cherry.  The  joints  of  my  fingers, 
toes,  ankles,  and  wrists  seemed  as  if  screwed  in  red  hot 
vises  till  the  blood  was  ready  to  oozg  out  from  the  ex- 
tremities, and  I  could  scarcely  persuade  myself  that  my 
finger  and  toe  nails  were  not  being  forced  off  by  the 
pressure.  I  soon  became  delirious,  and  a  raging  fever  set 
in,  from  which  I  did  not  recover  for  weeks.  But  when  I 
did  recover,  my  physical  condition  was  better  than  ever 
before.  I  had  been  slim  and  almost  puny  before,  but 
now  I  became  hearty  and  robust,  so  that  at  sixty  I  am^ 
strong  and  active  as  most  men  are  at  forty.  I  attribute' 
it  to  my  having  been  frozen  to  the  verge  of  death. 


"Resins." 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUTFT. 

Resins  are  obtained  by  making  cuts  in  the  wood  of  the 
trees  producing  them,  and  collecting  the  juice  which 
exudes.  The  principal  i:  ees  from  which  the^  are  ob- 
tained, arc  the  pine,  flr,  and  larch.  From  these  the 
resins  are  generally  obtained,  diluted  with  the  essential 
oil  of  tree.  They  are  all  insoluble  in  water,  but  may  be 
dissolved  in  either  oil  of  turpentine,  spirits  of  wine,  or 
naphtha. 

The  principal  and  most  valuable  of  them  are  shellac, 
ynin-copal,  mastic,  sandarcvch,  ambei^,  india-ttihher,  and 
gutta-jjercha.  The  latter  three  are  known  as  gum  resins, 
from  the  fact,  that  being  obtained  in  a  milky  state,  they 
afterwards,  on  being  exposed  to  the  air,  acquire  solidity, 
thus  forming  a  kind  of  gum. 

In  many  cases,  the  formation  of  resins  seems  to  be  due 
to  the  oil  of  trees  becoming  oxidized,  thus  forming  new 
substances.  The  greater  part  of  resins  consist  mainly 
of  several  acids,  the  principal  of  which  is  resinic  acid. 
From  the  presence  of  the  latter  in  resins,  the  chemist  is 
able  to  produce,  by  the  action  of  bases  on  the  resins, 
I  new  and  valuable  substances  known  as  resinates. 
I  As  an  illustration  of  this  fact,  sodium  resinate  may  be 
I  taken  ;  it  is  formed  by  the  action  of  the  base,  caustic 
'soda,  on  common  resin,  and  as  it  possesses  valuable 
detergent  properties,  and  is  soluble  in  water,  it  is  largely 
used  in  making  some  kinds  of  soap, 
j  The  three  resins  known  as  gum  resins  are  entitled  to  a 
j fuller  description,  inasmuch  as,  while  they  possess  the 
general  properties  of  resins,  they  also  possess  others 
J  which  are  the  cause  of  their  more  frequent  use. 

Although  chemically,  amber  is  a  resin,  as  it  consists 
of  several  resinous  bodies,  yet  strictly  speaking,  it  is  a 
fossil  body,  possessing  the  very  useful  attribute  of  be- 
coming highly  electric  on  friction.  It  has  been  fre- 
;  quently  obtained  from  beds  of  lignite,  but  the  principal 
sources  from  which  the  trade  is  generally  supplied,  are 
the  shores  of  the  Baltic  Sea. 

In  its  natural  state,  it  is  soluble  in  alcohol  to  the 
extent  of  an  eighth  part,  but  when  melted,  it  dissolves 
readily,  and  is  sometimes  used  for  making  varnish. 


436 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


Anger. 

BT  PROP.  WOODWABD. 

One  of  the  most  important  of  our  duties  in  life  is  the 

due  regulation  of  the  passions.  We  naturally  possess  cer- 
tain mental  afEections  called  propensities,  which;  when 
properly  restrained,  serve  a  good  purpose,  boiii  indi- 
vidually and  socially  ;  but  when  let  loose,  or  badly  reg- 
ulated by  the  understanding,  lead  to  the  commission  of 
many  vicious  and  abominable  actions,  which  in  moments 
of  calm  reflection,  and  when  our  conscience  is  aroused, 
we  deeply  lament  and  regret.  Irritability  of  temper,  as 
demonstrated  in  the  passion  of  anger,  is  one  of  the 
most  unhappy  of  these  derangements  of  our  intellect. 

The  causes  of  anger  are  supposed  to  be  these :  First, 
by  the  law  of  nature  and  of  tr>f,ciety,  every  one  has  rights 
in  what  he  regards  as  his  own  property  ;  second,  one  has 
a  right  to  hold  unimpaired  whatsoever  he  can  justly  ac- 
quire in  reputation  and  character  ;  third,  he  has  a  right 
to  have  his  feelings  respected  by  others,  if  he  do  no 
wrong  to  their  feelings ;  fourth,  he  has  a  right  to  have 
the  like  rights  respected  in  thoss  witb  whom  he  is  neces- 
sarily connected  by  family  and  cocial  ties ;  fifth,  he  has 
a  right  to  be  treated  with  justice,  and  according  to 
established  laws,  by  those  who  are  intrusted  with  power; 
sixth,  he  has  a  right  to  have  those  who  are  bound  with  him, 
in  a  common  subjection  to  those  laws,  treated  with  jus- 
tice. Whenever  any  one  is  offended  by  the  violation  of 
any  of  these  rights,  he  may  be  justifiably  angry.  But 
in  what  manner  and  to  what  end,  he  shall  express  his 
anger,  so  as  to  do  himself  the  greatest  justifiable  good, 
is  the  thing  to  be  known. 

Every  one  who  has  had  a  violent  fit  of  anger  upon 
idm,  knows  that  it  was  to  himself  (independently  of  the 
cause  and  object  of  his  anger)  a  painful  and  even  dis- 
tressing sensation.  No  one  ever  looked  back  upon  such 
a  state  of  things,  as  to  himself,  with  satisfaction,  but 
generally  with  regret,  and  sometimes  with  remorse.  He 
feels  humbled  and  grieved  in  his  own  estimation  of  him- 
self. He  may  too  well  remember  that  he  used  expres- 
sions and  did  acts  which  he  is  grieved  to  have  resting  in 
the  memory  of  others,  or  his  own.  It  is  probable,  also, 
that  no  one  ever  saw  another  in  a  violent  passion  with- 
out feeling  that  his  anger  was  degrading  himself,  and 
his  actions  more  like  a  brute  than  a  rational  being.  What- 
ever may  i55  the  cause  of  such  anger  in  another,  cool 
speculators  always  regard  the  angry  person  as  under  a 
temporary  loss  of  reason,  and  in  danger  of  cooing  some 
serious  inischief,  and  are  prompted  to  reitrain  him. 
Every  one  feels,  in  such  a  case,  that  the  least  that  can 
happen  to  one  so  acted  upon  and  so  acting  is,  that  he  is 
preparing  for  himself  hours  of  reproach.  If  no  one 
likes  to  remember  that  he  was  violently  angry  himself, 
and  if  he  is  offended  in  seeing  others  so,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  violent  anger  is  contrary  to  natural  law,  as 
it  most  certainly  is  to  Divine  law.  It  is  an  abuse  of  the 
trust  coiiSded  to  us  to  promote  our  own  welfare. 

It  is  consistent  with  reason  for  any  one,  who  is  under 
the  influence  of  anger,  to  be  prepared  to  ask  and  answer 
the  question,  whether  the  wrong  is  real  or  only  supposed, 
and  whether  he  is  himself  free  from  the  first  imputation 
of  having  occasioned,  by  his  own  error,  that  which  he 
regards  as  a  wrong.  If  the  offence  is  real,  other  ques- 
tions arise,  of  this  nature  :  What  real  good  shall  1  se- 
cure to  myself  by  attempting  to  get  a  reparation  ?  And 
in  what  respect  shall  I  advance  my  own  welfare  by  at- 
tempting to  punish  the  offender  ?  May  I  not,  in  either 
of  these  attempts,  involve  myself  by  words  or  acts  in 
some  wrong,  and  give  my  adversary  the  advantage  of 
finding  me  an  offender,  in  tryins:  to  vindicate  myself  ?  If 
I  could  succeed  in  my  attempt,  what  will  it  come  to  ? 
Shall  I  not  make  the  wrong  done  to  me  more  notorious, 
and  subject  myself  to  the  pity  and  compassion  of 
others  ?  Is  it  pot  better  to  be  silent  and  quiet,  and  leave 
the  offender  to  ^zme  and  his  own  conscience,  than  to  en- 
gage myself  in  a  controversy  which  is  sure  to  be  vexa- 
tious, and  in  which  I  shall  run  the  risk  of  doing  wrong, 
and  in  which  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  get  any  good  ?  If  I 
succeed  in  humbling  my  adversary,  I  shall  surely  make 
him  my  enemy  for  life ;  for,  in  the  nature  of  man, 
he  is  slow  to  forgive  the  wounds  inflicted  on  his  own 
self-love.  When  this  matter  is  over,  and  time  has  dissi- 
pated the  mists  which  now  prevent  a  ciear  view  of  it, 
and  when  other  feelings  and  sentiments  have  arisen, 
shall  I  like  myself  the  better  for  having  been  silent  and 
quiet,  than  if  I  should  have  attempted  to  command 


justice,  and  to  inflict  punishment  ?  It  Is  probable  that 
young  and  ardent  minds,  and  those  who  are  looking 
back  by  the  light  of  experience,  vnU  answer  such  ques« 
tions  very  differently.  But  the  experienced  can  tell  the 
young,  with  sorrowful  truth,  that  among  the  most  pain- 
ful sufferings  of  life  are  to  I)e  numbered  those  which 
have  arisen  from  sudden  impulses  of  anger,  expressed 
in  words  or  acts.  The  experienced  can  also  tell,  with 
like  truth,  that  in  the  common  occurrences  of  life,  angry 
words  and  acts  haTc  seldom,  if  ever,  accomplished  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  intended ;  they  have  neither 
obtained  justice  nor  punished  the  offender ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  they  have  often  converted  the  injured  party  into 
an  offender  himself,  and  involved  him  in  bitter  recrimi- 
nations, keeping  up  an  irreconcilable  aversion,  and  even 
enmity  through  life.  We  have,  so  far,  supposed  that  a 
real  and  justifiable  cause  of  anger  existed.  But  it  is 
in  many  cases  imaginary,  especially  among  young  per- 
sons. They  take  up  sudden  impressions  concerning  the 
supposed  conduct  and  words  of  their  associates  and 
acquaintances,  when  no  such  conduct  or  words  have 
occurred;  or  if  they  did,  none  with  intention  to 
wound  or  offend.  If  there  be  one  case  in  which  one 
feels  himself  peculiarly  humbled,  it  is  when  he  has  mani- 
fested anger  towards  one  who  has  committed  no  offence, 
or  who  is  entirely  unconscious  of  having  done  so. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  an  offended  person  can 
restrain  himself  from  expressions  and  words  when  he  has 
been  seriously  offended.  But  he  cherishes  a  malicious 
sort  of  feeling  against  the  offender,  broods  over  the 
wrong  done,  and  permits  his  imagination  to  inflame  the 
sense  of  wrong,  until  he  makes  himself  too  unhappy,  un- 
der this  excitement,  not  to  express  it  in  some  mode  which 
will  occasion  pain  to  the  offender.  If  there  be  any  one 
who  has  fallen  into  such  a  condition,  he  may  be  asked 
whether  he  knows  of  anything  in  the  nature  of  regret 
or  remorse  for  his  own  follies  and  sins,  which  is  so  eX' 
ceedingly  burdensome  as  to  carry  about  with  him  the 
feeling  of  aversion,  lU-will  and  malice,  toward  one  who 
has  offended?  What,  then,  is  to  be  done?  Angry 
words  and  acts  are  forbidden  by  the  law  of  nature,  by 
self-respect,  and  by  convenience  ;"  the  memory  of  an  un- 
avenged wrong  is  intolerable.  Is  there  no  remedy  ?  We 
think  there  is  one  in  every  person's  power.  If  the  indi- 
vidual with  whom  one  is  at  variance  can,  by  calm  expos- 
tulation, or  by  mutual  friends,  be  brought  to  a  just  per- 
ception of  the  case,  that  is  the  remedy.  If  that  fails, 
there  is  another — it  is  of  high  authority — "  If  thine  eye 
offetid  thee,  pluck  it  out."  Blot  such  a  person  from  the 
niemory ;  never  permit  him  to  come  into  your  thoughts. 
Will  you  pass  your  life  in  humilatin^  bondage  to  such  an 
one  ?  We  say,  blot  such  an  one  out  oj  your  memory.  You 
do  him  no  wrong  by  that.  You  do  yourself  a  just  and 
great  good ;  you  cut  a  moral  cancer  out  of  your  heart. 

Among  the  sources  of  aflliction  in  human  life,  is  the 
uncalled-for  interference  of  third  persons  in  the  angry 
collisions  of  others.  It  may  sometimes  be  an  unavoida- 
ble duty  to  take  a  part  in  an  angry  quarrel.  When  this 
duty  is  to  be  performed,  it  concerns  every  one  who  is 
mindful  of  the  trust  confided  to  him  of  taking  care  of 
himself,  not  to  engage  in  the  controversy  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  become  a  principal  party  in  it.  As  a  general 
rule,  it  is  the  safe  course  to  let  angry  persons  settle  their 
own  concerns  as  they  can.  Certainly,  no  one  who  claims 
to  be  regarded  as  having  a  discreet  sense  of  his  own 
welfare,  plunges  himself  into  a  quarrel.  Yet  this  is  a 
very  common  thing.  It  is  often  seen  in  schools.  Pai-ties 
and  divisions  grow  up,  extend,  and  become  more  and 
more  bitter  from  the  most  trifling  causes,  and  are  often 
carried  out  into  manhood,  and  show  their  evil  conse- 
quences through  life.  This  is  so,  because  impressions 
made  in  that  season  are  very  vivid  and  endurable.  It  is 
a  duty  sometimes  to  take  a  part  in  controversies.  It 
must  be  remembered  when  one  engages  in  such  quaiTel, 
that  one  is  dealing  with  persons  under  a  sort  of  derange- 
ment, and  who  are  most  exceeding  sensitive,  and  per- 
haps naturally  vindictive.  Those  who  interpose  are 
bound  by  the  law  of  self-regard  to  interfere  with  calm- 
ness and  some  discretion,  and  so  to  conduct  themselves, 
in  word  and  deed,  as  to  do  no  evil  to  themselves  whUe 
they  attempt  to  do  all  the  good  possible  to  the  an^ 
parties.  On  the  whole,  mismanaged  anger  is  a  prolifia 
source  of  suffering.  Yet  when  calmly  looked  back  upon, 
in  a  great  majority  of  cases,  the  cause  was  some  insig- 
nificant  trifle,  magnified  into  serious  importance  by 
angry  words  and  pitiful  acts.   Sueb  is  the  propensity  ot 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


437 


Reason  Overcomes  Instinct. 

Near  Cold  Spring,  San  Jacinto  Co.,  Texas,  resides  an 
unobtrusive  Baptist  preacher,  who  was  lately  informed 
by  one  of  his  neighbors  where  one  of  his  cows  had  a 
young  calf  which  was  doing  badly — could  not  stand  up. 
Mounted  on  his  mustang,  the  pious  man  soon  reached 
the  designated  spot,  only  to  find  the  calf  dead.  She 
being  one  of  his  favorite  cows  for  milk,  for  a  long  time 
he  tried  to  drive  her  home  but  failed.  Dismounting,  he 
skinned  the  calf  and  stuffed  the  skin,  then  with  his  lasso 
dragged  the  skin  home,  the  cow  following  him  the  whole 
four  miles  in  a  trot.  Having  in  his  pen  a  similar  though 
larger  calf,  he  caught  it  and  rubbed  the  hairy  side  of  the 
skin  over  its  entire  body  well,  then  turned  the  cow  to  it, 
and  after  smelling  her  well  she  suffered  her  to  suck  her. 
Now  the  parson's  many  children  enjoy  the  milk  of  two 
cows  that  own  a  calf  between  them.  Taking  calves  en- 
tirely from  their  mothers  is  not  usual  in  Texas. 

Heine's  Last  Hours. 

Who  that  reads  these  lines  will  not  long  to  know 
more  of  Heine,  brilliant,  funny,  pathetic,  full  of  divine 
grimace,  full  of  tragic  persiflage  ?"  The  story  of  hig 
fingering  decay  is  too  sad  for  tears.  Think  of  him  bear- 
ing the  intolerable  anguish  of  his  softening  spine, 
propped  up  on  pillows,  with  one  eye  entirely  gone,  and 
the  lid  of  the  other  paralyzed,  yet  jingling  forever  his 
bell  of  wit,  wherewith  to  invite  the  world  to  the  pite- 
ous spectacle  of  his  death  in  life.  Ljring  on  his  couch 
of  torture,  he  entertained  George  Sand  and  Gautier, 
Beranger  and  Gerard  de  Nerval,  Taillandier,  and  the  rert 
of  his  bright  guests,  as  bright,  himself,  as  the  best  of 
them.  "1  kiss,"  he  said,  pathetically,  "but  have  no 
sense  of  feeling,  so  senseless  have  my  lips  become." 
Heine  had  a  deeply  loving  nature,  and  his  mother  and 
his  wife  were  his  two  idols.  His  wife,  the  poor  little 
French  and  faithful  Mathilde,  whom  he  had  married  late 
in  life,  did  not  understand  his  greatness  or  his  celebrity 
as  a  poet,  but  she  adored  him,  and  it  was  his  pride  to 
boast  of  her  disinterestedness,  her  cheerfulness,  her  de- 
votion, and  her  ignorance.  He  says  of  her  in  his  will  : 
"I  spoiled  her  unspeakably,  because  I  loved  her  un- 
speakably." He  wrote  once  to  Campe :  "  Only  two  con- 
solations remain  to  me,  my  French  wife  and  my  German 
muse."  He  grew,  later,  to  find  consolation  in  his  pae- 
sionate  belief  in  immortality.  He  had  been  a  Hegelian, 
then  a  Pantheist,  but,  at  last,  "  a  heavenly  homesick- 
ness" overtook  him,  and  he  returned  to  his  faith  in  a 
personal  God.  He  said  that  all  his  knowledge,  all  his 
— v-vvxv.xi,        1,*.  intellect,  told  him  that  a  belief  in  immortality  was  mad- 

To  punish  Death  with  combustion  would  be  out  of  J  {         ^is  feelings  he  clung  to  it,  and  in  this 

hope  the  spent  candle  of  his  life  went  out. 

A  Cunning  Old  Fox. 

There  was  one  old  fox  which  for  a  period  of  several 
years  had  continually  evaded  the  fleetest  and  keenest 
scented  hounds,  the  scent  invariably  being  lost  in  the 
vicinity  of  a  house  situated  in  the  woods  and  far  re- 
moved from  any  habitation,  and  which  was  used  as  a 
storehouse  for  pelts.  At  last  one  day  the  hounds  started 
the  old  fox,  and  away  he  went  in  the  direction  of  the 
house,  with  a  pack  of  young  hounds  in  full  cry  after 
him :  but  on  nearing  the  house  he  disappeared,  leaving 
the  hounds  and  hunters  nonplussed  as  usual.  While 
the  hunters  were  gathered  in  and  around  the  house  dis- 
cussing the  frequent  mysterious  disappearance  of  the 
fox,  an  old  veteran  hound  came  limping  up,  and  enter- 
ing the  door,  set  up  a  furious  barking,  and  tried  to  jump 
up  on  the  wall.  Ris  singular  action  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  hunters,  and,  an  examination  being  made, 
the  old  fox  was  found  suspended  by  his  tail  to  a  nail 
in  the  wall,  keeping  perfectly  still,  and  looking,  unless 
closely  observed,  like  the  pelts  with  which  the  walls 
were  hung.  This  plainly  showed  that  the  old  fox,  when 
too  closely  pressed,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  house  and 
hung  himself  up  on  the  nail  by  his  tail,  which  was  the 
reason  for  the  dogs  always  losing  the  scent  at  that  par- 
ticular place^  

The  love  of  flowers  is  natural  to  all.    The  Al- 
mighty in  His  infinite  wisdom  has  ordained  man  for  the 
cultivation  of  the  earth ;  and  thus  it  is  that  we  are,  in  a 
1  manner,  like  our  first  parent  Adam,  made  gardeners, 
1  and  our  inclinations  lead  us  to  the  culture  of  flowers. 


persons  to  busy  themselves  In  the  quarrels  of  others, 
ihat  there  is  but  little  hope  that  a  preventive  can  be 
successfully  offered  to  any  one  but  those  who  have 
studied  out  and  who  reverence  the  will  of  the  Deity, 
as  disclosed  in  the  nature  of  things,  and  in  His  own  posi- 
tive law.   

Drowning  Death— An  Ancient  Slavo- 
Germanic  Custom. 

This  strange  and  curious  custom  still  prevails  in  those 
parts  of  Moravia  and  Silesia,  where  the  German  and 
Slavonic  elements  blend  and  intermingle.  This  carrying 
out  and  drowning  of  Death  takes  place  In  Spring  and 
during  Lent,  not  long  before  Easter  Sunday.  There  is  a 
difference  between  the  two  races  in  their  mode  of  cele- 
bratmg  the  day.  Among  the  Germans,  boys  carry 
around  a  stuffed  figure  of  a  man,  while  among  the 
Slavonians  the  girls  and  young  maidens  gather  together 
and  prepare  and  carry  off  in  procession  a  huge  doll, 
arrayed  in  the  garments  of  their  sex,  with  great 
solemnity. 

The  origin  of  this  difference  lies,  perhaps,  in  the  fact 
that  in  German  Death  is  masculine,  while  in  the  Slavonic 
language  and  mythology  Death  appears  constantly  as  a 
female. 

The  deity  called  Morana  was  in  part  opposed  and  in 
part  supplementary  to  another  deity  called  Morena. 
The  latter  represented  the  idea  of  darkness,  extinction, 
passing  away — everything  hateful. 

Morena  was  the  personification  of  the  creative,  vivify- 
ing, preserving,  and  nourishing  power  of  Nature.  All 
these  powers  combined,  give  a  profound  symbolic  sense 
that  Mother  Earth  is  producing,  creating,  nourishing, 
and  preserving,  but  is  also  destructive,  and  absorbs  into 
Itself  its  products,  an  idea  which  amounts  to  that  of  a 
continued  revolving  course  of  things.  Therefore  the 
Fall  and  Winter  season,  fog,  darkness,  and  weakness  of 
sun-rays,  were  considered  as  attributes  of  the  first 
named  goddess,  while  merry  Spring  and  beautiful 
Summer  were  supposed  to  belong  to  the  latter,  Morena. 

On  the  third  Sunday  before  Easter,  called  Laetare, 
Death  is  carried  around  in  some  villages  as  a  male,  and 
in  others  as  a  female  figure. 

The  wintry  pall  of  the  earth  is  now  removed  ;  the  new 
life  standing  forth  commands  the  removal  of  Death  to 
some  parts  of  the  field  far  removed  from  all  habitations 
of  men,  to  some  rivulet,  pond  or  brook,  and  thrown 
headlong  into  it.  Death  is  drowned  in  it,  symbolically, 
for  water  is  the  element  which  it  has  held  during  Winter 
in  its  icy 


place  and  nonsensical ;  but  the  liberated  river,  the  brook 
freed  from  its  icy  cover,  or  formed  by  the  melting  of  the 
enow,  ice,  and  icicles,  this  is  the  true  element  to  let  the 
malefactor  perish  in  I 
The  procession  moves  along  in  festive,  well-dressed 

f roups  of  young  people.  They  carry,  also,  the  top-most 
ranches  of  a  tree,  generally  of  a  pine  or  spruce,  fes- 
tooned with  ribbons  or  flags,  and  ornamented  with 
colored  egg  shells.  This  means  Life — vigor  of  nature— 
In  contradiction  to  the  powers  of  Death.  Everything 
could  be  stifled  by  Death  except  this  lively  and  fresh 
green,  except  these  seeds  and  sprouts  of  a  renewed  life, 
and  these  new  forces  will  at  once  expand  and  thrive 
with  vigor. 

Both  Germans  and  Slavonians  sing  scoflBng  songs  in 
the  procession.  When  near  the  water  they  tear  the  doll 
into  a  thousand  pieces.  Everybody  tries  to  catch  a  bit 
of  , doth,  straw  of  the  stuflSng,  etc.,  and  to  carry  it  home 
In  triumph.  These  curious  bits  wUl  serve  as  preserva- 
tives against  sickness  or  destruction.  Finally  the 
remains  of  the  doll  are  thrown  into  the  stream,  where 
they  are  washed  away  by  the  current.  Then  the  youths 
return  rejoicingly  to  the  village  ;  the  green  tree-top  is 
carried  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  and  surrounded 
by  the  singing  and  shouting  crowd.     In  this  way  Ihe^ 

§o  from  door  to  door,  asking  donations  for  Easter  Sun 
ay,  and  contributions  begin  to  flow  in  abundantly. 
Eggs,  cakes,  or  other  eatables  accumulate  fast  in  the 
hands  of  the  eager  youths. 

Such  is  the  curious  custom  of  drowning  Death.  Not 
without  its  symbolical  meaning,  but  like  our  Ma^' 
sports,  a  Spring  holiday  for  the  young. 


Moldtness  resembles  a  forest  of  perfect  trees. 


438 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


BY  THE  BROOK 

I  wander  where  the  little  brook 

Runs  murm'ring  o'er  the  ledges; 
I  pass  by  many  a  shady  nook, 

Low-fringed  with  reeds  and  sedges; 
I  linger  where  the  wavelets  leap, 

And  gleam  with  golden  flushes. 
And  where  the  water-lilies  peep, 

Half-hid  amid  the  rushes. 

On  either  bank  the  lowing  herds 
Are  scattered  through  the  meadows. 

And,  skimming  o'er  the  stream,  the  birds 
Dart  in  and  out  the  shadows; 

While  on  the  breeze  is  borne  along 
The  sweet  soft  scent  of  clover, 

And,  loaded  to  the  full,  with  song 
The  air  seems  rippling  over. 

And  where  from  out  the  little  stream 

A  ripplet  dances  slyly. 
And  runs  away  with  silvery  gleam^ 

A  maiden's  standing  shyly. 
Feeding  the  swans  that  at  her  feet 

With  much  of  proud  grace  linger, 
A.nd  watch  the  round  arm  fair  and  sweet 

And  rosy  outstretched  finger. 

Glad  scenes  like  this  lie  everywhere, 

The  whole  world's  face  they  brighten; 
With  sunny  smiles  they  banish  care, 

And  many  a  sad  heart  lighten; 
They  many  a  hard  stern  nature  bend, 

And,  when  o'er-pressed  by  sorrows. 
Are  as  the  touch  of  loving  friend, 

To  point  to  bright  to-morrows.  s.  w. 


Donald  McKay. 

BT  M.  J.  CUMMINGS. 

We  love  to  turn — it  is  a  pleasant  and  profitable  em- 
ployment— ^from  one  great  man  to  another,  and  note  the 
different  enterprises  in  which  they  engaged,  and  the 
Varied  success  that  awaited  them.  We  now  notice  the 
great  ship-builder,  Donald  McKay,  of  Boston. 

The  name  of  McKay  is  of  Scottish  origin,  and  figured 
among  the  Highland  clans  of  Scotland  for  at  least  eight 
centuries. 

The  grandfather  of  the  Donald  McKay  of  this  sketch 
was  in  a  Scotch  regiment  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  ELQl. 
The  Donald  of  whom  we  write  was  bom  at  Shelburne, 
Nova  Scotia,  in  1809.  The  sea,  near  which  his  life  began, 
liad  a  great  charm  for  him,  and  the  ships  traversing  the 
unstable  w^y  of  waters  enchained  his  liveliest  interest. 


He  also  lived  on  a  farm,  and  when  quite  young  was  a 
successful  moose  and  deer  hunter. 

When  Donald  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  he  set  to  work 
with  a  brother  of  similar  tastes  and  built  a  fishing  vessel, 
which  was  regarded  as  a  remarkably  fine,  substantial 
craft.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he  was  learning  the 
trade  of  ship-builder  in  New  York,  and  a  few  years  later 
he  established  himself  in  this  business  at  Newburyport, 
on  the  Merrimack  river.  Here  he  built  several  fine 
ships  for  New  York  and  Boston  houses,  which  gave 
abundant  promise  of  future  success.  In  1845  he  removed 
his  yard  to  East  Boston,  which,  ere  long,  became  one  of 
the  most  extensive  and  successful  places  of  the  kind  in 
the  country. 

When  the  California  trade  opened,  there  was  a  call 
for  the  largest  class  of  clipper  ships.  McKay  built  one 
after  another  of  these  monster  vessels,  and  soon  his 
name  became  famous  over  the  world.  He  built  more 
than  fifty  ships  of  the  largest  size,  every  one  of  which 
vas  celebrated  more  or  less  for  speed. 

Classed  with  these  is  "The  Great  Republic."  This 
vessel  was  launched  October,  1853,  in  the  presence  of 
sixty  tlixfusand  people.  She  was  four  thousand  five  hundred 
tons  register,  and  six  thousand  tons  stowage  capacity. 
When  McKay  was  building  this  vessel,  the  "harpies" 
and  the  "ravens"  croaked  that  he  would  ruin  himself; 
but  he  quietly  pursued  his  way  and  his  business,  and  in 
due  course  of  time  the  "  Great  Republic  "  rode  at  anchor 
ta  the  bay.  In  New  York  and  Boston,  and  also  in  every 
oreign  port  which  she  visited,  she  attracted  great  atten- 
ion  for  the  symmetry  and  beauty  of  her  model,  the 
vastness  of  her  capacity,  and  the  luxuriousness  of  her 
furnishing,  and  she  proved  also  to  be  a  speedy  craft. 
Subsequently,  she  was  cut  down  a  little  to  render  her 
more  eflBcient  for  the  purposes  of  commerce. 

The  rapidity  with  which  this  master  builder  completed 
and  launched  his  large  vessels  was  astonishing.  In  little 
more  than  a  year  after  the  buildiag  of  the  "Great 
Republic,"  McKay  had  launched  eleven  other  vessels. 
Ten  of  these  were  the  aggregate  of  twenty-four  thousand 
six  hundred  tons,  which,  at  the  then  estimated  cost  of 
eighty  doUars  a  ton,  makes  the  total  value  nearly  two 
millions  of  dollars. 

Six  of  these  vessels  were  built  for  the  house  of  James 
Baines  &  Co.,  of  Liverpool,  who  were  extensively  en- 
gaged in  the  Australian  trade.  One  of  these,  of  some- 
thing more  than  two  thousand  tons  burden,  launched  in 
1854,  was  the  first  ship  ever  buUt  for  England  by  a 
foreign  nation.  Indeed,  until  a  few  years  previous  to 
this  time,  British  laws  prohibited  the  purchase  of  foreign 
vessels. 

The  "James  Baines,"  another  of  the  ships,  made  the 
voyage  from  Boston  to  Liverpool  in  the  remarkably 
short  time  of  twelve  days  and  six  hours. 

Voyages  to  San  Francisco  and  China  were  made  in 
proportionally  short  periods  of  time. 

In  building  his  clipper  ships,  Mr.  McKay  had  made 
bold  departures  from  both  American  and  foreign  models. 
His  original  conceptions  concerning  the  make  and  mould 
of  vessels  constructed  for  speed  and  capacity,  met  with 
rich  success. 

The  revolution  made  by  steamers  in  short  voyages  was 
effected  by  clippers  in  the  long  journeys  to  more  distant 
seas.  The  advantages  to  commerce  and  the  renown 
which  has  resulted  to  the  American  marine  are  more  due 
to  the  genius  and  perseverence  of  Donald  McKay  than 
to  any  other  man. 

In  1864  McKay  spent  some  time  in  Europe,  giving 
critical  attention  to  the  iron-clad  ships  of  war  built  by 
France  and  England.  Afterwards  he  published  a  very 
interesting  paper  in  which  he  gave  a  scientific  compari- 
son of  their  work  with  that  of  the  United  States. 

McKay  possessed  those  wonderful  powers  of  calcula 
tion  that  brought  his  plans  and  his  work  upon  an  exact 
line,  and  for  this  reason  his  success  was  secured  before 
hand. 

Of  medium  height,  of  heavy  build,  his  large,  fine  head 
and  broad,  full  face,  bespeak  a  remarkable  force  of 
character. 

Of  courteous  manners,  marked  intelligence  and  perge- 
vering,  soaring  enterprise,  his  popularity  was  equalled, 
only  by  his  success. 

How  wonderful  is  the  Divine  Economy,  that  moulds 
for  every  enterprise  and  avocation,  the  gifted,  master- 
mind for  leader,  while  the  inferior  masses  choose  only 
to  be  led. 


mm 


THE  BUTCHER-BIRD  AND  ITS  PREY. 


THE  GROJVING  IVORLD. 


441 


ITHE  GEEAT  AMERICAN  SHRIKE ; 

Or  BUTCHER  BIRD. 


One  day  a  laborer  who  was  clipping  a  hedge,  came 
to  his  master  and  said  a  strange  bird  was  sitting  in 
it.  His  master  went  out  to  look,  and  examined  every 
place,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  a  bird.  A  few  days 
after,  as  he  was  walking  by  the  hedge,  he  saw  some 
black  birds  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  alarm,  and  utter- 
ing cries  of  terror.  He  thought  a  cat  or  a  weasel 
must  be  about,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  strange  bird 
his  laborer  had  told  him  about  flew  out  of  the  hedge 
and  began  to  wheel  round  in  the  air.  Sometimes  it 
shot  upwards  with  a  kind  of  bound,  and  then  hovered, 
suspended  in  the  air,  and  moving  its  wings  as  quickly 
.■,as  possible. 

At  last  it  lighted  on  the  top  of  a  willow  tree,  and 
then  he  saw  it  was  a  great  grey  shrike. 

A  number  of  little  birds  were  fluttering  about  in 
1,he  utmost  terror,  and  shrieking  their  notes  of  alarm. 
The  shrike's  attention  was  fixed  upon  them,  and  he 
seemed  choosing  which  he  should  attack. 

Indeed,  so  eagerly  was  he  watching  his  prey,  that 
he  did  not  see  that  a  gun  was  pointed  at  him.  It 
was  fired,  and  the  little  birds  were  saved  from  their 
*enemy,  for  he  fell  to  the  ground  dead. 

There  are  more  than  thirty  species  of  this  bird  de- 
scribed, in  America,  Europe,  Asia  and  Africa  (he  is 
>iiot  found  in  South  America  or  in  Australia),  of 
which  the  great  American  shrike  {L.  septentrionalis 
GmeL),  or  Butcher  bird,  is  a  celebrated  one. 

The  length  of  this  bird  is  ten  and  a  quarter  inches, 
tjie  extent  of  wings  fourteen. 

The  most  remarkable  part  of  the  great  shrike  is 
the  bill ;  it  is  black  and  about  an  inch  long ;  it  is 
moved  by  very  thick  and  strong  muscles,  and  is  an 
instrument  peculiarly  necessary  to  a  species  whose 
mode  of  killing,  and  also  of  devouring  its  prey  is  so 
extraordinary.  It  preys  chiefly  on  beetles,  dragon - 
flies,  and  other  large  insects. 

In  addition,  however,  to  insects,  the  great  shrike 
preys  on  small  birds,  field  mice,  frogs,  and  even  does 
Jiot  hesitate,  when  hungry,  to  attack  larger  prey. 
The  hare  frequently  falls  victim  to  his  rapacity,  (see 
€ut),  and  also  the  squirrel,  weasel  and  lizard.  There 
are  few  instances  in  nature  of  such  deliberate  cruelty 
sls  is  shown  by  the  ^shrikes  or  butcher  birds.  An- 
imals and  birds  of  prey  kill  other  creatures  for  food, 
;And  when  sated,  seem  to  lose  their  fierceness,  letting 
their  usual  victims  pass  unharmed.  But  the  butcher 
bird  seems  to  delight  in  blood. 

"  With  cruel  eye  premeditates  the  war. 
And  marks  his  destined  victim  from  afar." 

It  attacks  its  prey  with  nreat  ferocity;  destroying  in- 
sects by  blows  on  the  head,  and  birds  and  animals  by 
piercing  the  brain,  or  by  crushing  in  the  skull  with 
its  strong  bill,  grasping  them  at  the  same  time  with 
its  toes,  which,  though  slender,  are  armed  with  sharp 
claws,  and  capable  of  being  strongly  compressed, 

This  bird  has  the  singular  propensity  of  impaling 
insects  or  small  birds  on  points  of  twigs  or  thorns, 
probably  for  convenience  in  devouring  them,  though 
in  many  instances  this  habit  seems  to  be  wanton 
cruelty,  as  the  bird  leaves  them  to  decay. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Peabody  remarks:  "  This  practice  of 
gathering  what  he  does  not  want  and  keeping  it  un- 
til it  is  of  no  use  to  him,  is  regarded  as  an  unaccount- 
able mystery  in  a  bird,  while  in  man  the  same  pro- 
ceeding is  considered  natural  and  wise."  Some  nat- 
uralists suppose  they  are  placed  there  as  a  lecoy  for 
other  birds.  Wilson,  however,  calls  this  a  very 
pretty  fanciful  theory,  and  maintains  that  th  shrike 
can  seize  small  birds  by  mere  force  of  flight.  "  I 
have  seen  him,"  he  says,  "  in  an  open  field,  dart  after 
one  of  our  small  sparrows  with  the  rapidity  of  an 
arrow,  and  kill  it  almost  instantly." 


Ths  shrike  is  so  bold  that  it  often  enters  apartments 
where  pet  birds  are  kept,  and  attempts  to  seize  them 
from  the  cages;  several  have  been  caught  in  this 
manner. 

In  Spring  and  Summer  it  imitates  the  notes  of 
other  birds  in  distress,  and  when  they  flock  around 
to  see  what  is  the  matter,  it  pounces  into  the  midst, 
and  rarely  fails  to  secure  one.  Excepting  this  its 
natural  note  is  the  same  throughout  the  seasons,  but 
none  of  its  notes  approach  to  anything  like  a  song. 

When  the  shrike  is  alarmed  he  screams  loudly, 
like  the  hawk.  In  fact,  many  of  his  habits  remind 
us  of  the  latter,  and  his  beak  has  something  about  it 
that  is  very  hawk-like.  It  is  strong  and  has  a  hook- 
ed point  to  it,  and  he  uses  it  to  tear  and  devour. 

Indeed,  in  the  old  days  of  falconry,  the  shrike  was 
looked  upon  as  a  mongrel  kind  of  hawk,  and  to  quote 
from  an  old  book,  "  thought  of  no  great  regard." 

In  the  same  old  book  it  is  said  that  ' '  the  peasants 
and  lower  classes  of  England  sometimes  tame  the 
shrike  and  carry  him  hooded  on  their  wrists,  and  let- 
ting him  fly  at  small  birds." 

On  the  continent,  however,  the  shrike  was  used  in 
catching  the  peregrine  falcon  or  hawk  himself.  A 
snare  was  set  for  him  and  baited  with  a  pigeon. 
Then  at  a  little  distance  a  tame  shrike  was  placed, 
fastened  to  a  string.  The  shrike  was  to  act  as  sen- 
tinel,  and  to  give  warning  when  the  falcon  came  near. 
Meanwhile,  the  falconer  took  his  ease  in  a  hut  close 
by  and  waited  the  result.  Presently  a  speck  appear- 
ed in  the  sky,  and  the  shrike  would  set  up  a  loud 
scream  and  run  under  a  little  shelter  provided  for 
him.  The  scream  would  be  a  note  of  warning  to  the 
falconer,  and  he  would  be  on  the  alert  and  ready  to 
pull  the  string  ot  the  snare. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  shrike  has  a  link  with 
the  perching  birds,  and  is  placed  with  the  nightingale 
and  thrush.  His  claws  are  fine  and  sharp,  and  his 
foot  is  that  of  a  perching  bird.  Indeed,  he  seems  to 
be  a  link  between  the  hawks,  the  crows  and  the 
thrushes,  and  to  partake  a  little  of  the  character  of 
each. 

He  delights  in  hedgerows  or  clumps  of  trees,  or 
thickets  that  are  not  very  dense.  His  habit  (when  not 
in  pursuit  of  prey  on  the  wing)  is  to  sit  perched  on  a 
twig,  or  on  a  decaying  branch,  and  he  will  remain  so 
long  that  the  name  "  exculitor,"  or  sentinel  has 
been  given  to  him  on  this  account,  as  well  as 
on  account  of  the  help  he  used  to  render  the  fal- 
coner. When  a  small  bird  or  insect  comes  near, 
he  will  pounce  upon  it,  and  then  hang  it  upon  a 
thorn  or  twig.  The  shrike  builds  a  large  and  compact  nest  in 
the  upright  fork  of  a  small  tree,  composed  outwardly  of  dry 
grass  and  moss,  and  warmly  lin^  with  feathers.  When  the 
eggs,  five  or  six  in  number  generally,  are  laid,  the  male  bird  is 
usually  engaged  in  procuring  food  while  the  mother  bird  at- 
tends to  her  domestic  affairs.  He  impales  beetles,  grasshop- 
pers, other  insects,  and  small  birds  on  the  thorns  near  the 
nest,  probably  to  save  the  mother  bird  the  trouble  of  going  to 
look  for  her  own  meals.  These  are  stuck  about  the  bush  in 
such  numbers,  and  in  so  open  a  fashion,  that  they  forma  ready 
guide  to  the  position  of  the  shrike's  nest.  Moreover,  the  parent 
birds  are  so  solicitious  about  their  home,  that  as  soon  as  they 
see  a  human  being  approaching  their  nest,  they  set  up  such  a 
shrieking  and  fluttering  that  they  intimate  the  position  of  their 
nest  to  the  least  experienced  observer. 

In  his  native  wilds  in  Africa,  quite  an  array  of  little  birds, 
animals  and  insects  have  been  found  haaging  up  near  the 
shrike's  nest  on  a  row  of  thorns. 

The  form  of  this  bird  is  very  elegant,  and  his  plumage  soft 
and  blended.  He  has  long  bristles  at  the  base  of  the  bill; 
wings  of  ordinary  length,  fourth  quill  the  largest;  tail  long, 
straight  and  graduated,  of  twelve  rounded  feathers:  loral 
space,  behind  the  eye,  wings  and  tail,  brownish  black;  upper 
parts  a  clear  pearly  grey,  tinged  with  pale  blue;  a  white  streak 
over  eye;  lower  parts  greyish  white,  tinged  with  brown  on  the 
fore  part  of  the  breast,  and  with  faint  undulating  dusky  bars; 
base  of  the  primaries,  white;  the  secondaries  and  their  coverts 
tipped  with  the  same. 

In  the  female  the  head  and  hind  neck  are  tinged  with  brown, 
and  the  lower  part  has  more  numerous  bars. 

The  great  shrike  is  common  in  the  Middle  and  Northera 
States  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year,  retiring  northward  to 
breed. 


442 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


According  to  Audubon,  it  is  not  found  along  the  coast  of  the 
Southern  States;  the  L.  ludovicians.  Linn.,  taking  its  place. 
This  is  called  the  Loggerhead  Shrike,  and  is  confined  chieily  to 
Florida,  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas.   It  abounds  on  the  rice 

f)lantations,  where  it  does  good  service  in  destroying  field-mice, 
arge  grubs  and  insects,  pouncing  on  them  like  a  hawk. 

Bell,  who  traveled  from  Moscow,  through  Siberia  to  Pekin, 
says  that  in  Russia,  these  birds  are  often  kept  tame  in  the 
houses.  He  had  one  given  him  which  he  taught  to  perch  on  a 
sharpened  stick  fixea  in  the  wall  of  his  department.  When- 
ever a  small  bird  was  let  loose  in  the  room, 

"  His  flaming  eyes  dart  forth  a  piercing  ray," 

and  immediately  flying  from  his  perch,  the  little  bird  was  seized 
by  the  head,  so  as  almost  instantly  to  kill  it.  He  would  then 
carry  it  to  his  perch  aud  spit  it  on  thfe  sharpened  end,  drawing 
it  on  carefully  and  forcibly  with  his  bill  and  claws.  If  several 
birds  were  given  him  he  would  treat  them  all,  one  after 
anot  her,  in  the  same  manner.  These  were  so  fixed  that  they 
hung  by  the  neck  until  he  was  at  leisure  to  devour  them. 

A  gentleman  traveling  in  America,  observing  that  several 
grasshoppers  were  stuck  upon  the  sharp,  thorny  branches  of 
the  trees,  inquired  the  cause,  and  was  told  that  they  were  thus 
spitted  by  the  great  shrike.  On  further  inquiry,  he  was  led  to 
suppose  that  this  was  an  instinctive  stratagem  adopted  by  the 
shrike  in  order  to  decoy  the  smaller  birds,  which  feed  on  in- 
sects, into  a  situation  from  whence  he  could  dart  and  seize 
them  (but,  as  we  have  stated  before,  this  motive  in  the  bird  is 
doubted  by  some). 

He  is  called  in  America  "  Nine-killer,"  from  the  notion  that 
he  thus  sticks  up  nine  grasshoppers  in  succession. 

We  can  also  add  the  testimony  of  personal  observation  to  the 
bird-destroying  capabilities  of  this  shrike.  A  few  months  ago, 
a  lady  kindly  presented  to  us  a  box  containing  several  nestling 
birds,  each  pierced  by  a  thorn,  which  she  said  had  been  killed 
and  stuck  there  by  the  great  shrike.  Thinking  that  there  might 
possibly  have  been  some  mistake  about  the  slayer,  we  asked  if 
It  could  be  procured,  and  in  a  few  more  days  another  box  was 
sent,  containing  a  fine  shrike  and  another  impaled  victim. 
Most  of  the  dead  birds  were  headless,  and  in  every  case  the 
thorn,  instead  of  transfixing  the  body,  had  been  thrust  between 
the  skin  and  the  muscles,  but  in  so  firm  a  manner  that  to  draw 
it  out  again  required  considerable  force.  The  victims  were 
very  small,  and  too  much  dilapidated  for  us  to  ascertain  their 
species. 

In  all  the  butcher-birds  the  legs  and  claws  are  weak,  and  are 
never  used  in  tearing  their  prey  ;  this  is  effected  by  their  pow- 
erful bill,  and  in  this  they  differ  from  the  true  birds  of  prey, 
which  strike  and  tear  with  their  talons. 


The  Key  of  Death. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

In  the  Arsenal  at  Venice  is  a  large  collection  of  curious 
weapons.  It  is  said  to  contain  a  specimen  of  every  kind 
of  weapon  used  by  any  nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

This  collection  is  visited  by  a  large  number  of  persons 
every  year,  and  nearly  every  one  passes  with  scarcely  a 
glance  at  the  most  terrible  weapon  of  all ;  the  most 
terrible,  because  the  most  devilish  of  all  save  one.  Ap^ 
parently,  it  is  nothing  but  a  large  iron  key,  really,  it  is  a 
terrible  weapon  when  in  the  hand  of  a  revengeful 
murderer. 

It  was  invented  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  by  one  Tebaldo,  who,  disappointed  in  love,  de- 
termined to  be  revenged  upon  his  rival,  and  gave  himself 
no  rest  until  he  had  contrived  this  instrument,  which  he 
called  "The  Key  of  Death."  It  is  so  constructed  that 
the  handle  may  be  turned  round,  which  reveals  a  small 
spring.  This  spring  being  pressed,  a  very  fine  needle  is 
driven  with  considerable  force  from  the  opposite  end. 
This  needle  is  so  very  fine,  that  the  flesh  immediately 
closes  over  it,  leaving  no  external  mark. 

Armed  with  this  instrument,  Tebaldo  waited,  in  dis- 
guise, upon  the  happy  pair  at  the  door  of  the  church, 
and  found  an  opportunity  to  drive  the  needle  into  the 
breast  of  his  rival.  At  the  time-being,  the  bridegroom 
had  no  suspicion  of  his  injury,  but,  during  the  marriage 
ceremony,  he  was  seized  with  a  sharp  pain  in  his  side,' 
and  fell  fainting  to  the  floor.  He  was  carried  to  his 
home,  and  physicians  were  called,  but  they  were  unable 
to  discover  his  disease,  and  in  two  or  three  days  the  un- 
happy man  died. 

Tebaldo  now  waited  upon  the  parents  of  the  lady, 
with  renewed  proposals  of  marriage.  He  was  again  re- 
fused, and  they,  too,  perished  in  a  few  days.  A  careful 
examination  of  their  bodies  was  made  by  the  medical 
faculty,  which  resulted  in  the  finding  of  the  aeedle 
Shortly  after  this,  Tebaldo  renewed  his  proposal  to  the 
lady  herself,  by  whom  he  was  spumed  with  contempt 
Beside  himself  with  rage,  he  attempted  to  wound  her, 
but  she  discovered  his  intention,  and  he  was  executed 
oil  ♦hf>  enibbet.. 


Carbon. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUTFl. 

Carbon  is  an  extremely  important  and  very  abundant 
element,  being  universally  distributed  in  nature.  It  is 
found  in  nearly  all  animal  and  vegetable  substances.  In 
the  form  of  coal  it  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  products 
of  our  country ;  as  a  carbonic  acid  it  floats  in  the  air 
we  breathe;  it  is  part  of  ourselves,  and  constitutes  a  good 
proportion  of  the  plants  which  surrounds  us.  The  most 
valued  of  all  gems,  the  diamond,  is  but  crystallized  car- 
bon, another  form  existing  in  striking  contrast  to  it,  viz., 
the  soot  which  defiles  our  chimneys.  Combined  with 
hydrogen,  carbon  affords  us  coal  gas ;  with  oxygen,  in 
various  proportions,  it  produces  acids ;  with  hydrogen 
and  oxygen,  it  forms  sugar  and  starch  ;  and  to  its  other 
combinations  we  are  indebted  for  animal  and  vegetable 
oils,  alcohol,  ether,  and  various  other  substances,  too 
numerous  to  mention. 

The  most  ordinary  form  of  carbon  is  that  of  wood 
charcoal,  which  is,  however,  mixed  with  saline  and 
earthy  matter ;  the  purest  form  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted being  the  diamond,  and  next  to  this,  the  well 
known  substance,  "black  lead;"  which  however  does 
not  contain  any  lead  in  its  composition.  These  three 
will  be  described  separately  in  future  articles. 

Carbon  combines  with  oxygen  to  form  carbonic  oxide; 
which  bums  with  a  pale-blue  flame,  and  is  the  cause  of 
the  lambent  flame  which  is  often  seen  arising  from  brick 
kilns.  It  can  only  be  found  in  the  gaseous  form,  and 
may  be  produced  by  heating  in  a  flask  fitted  with  a  bent 
tube,  some  oxalic  acid  in  crystals,  to  which  a  little  sul- 
phuric acid  has  been  added.  The  bent  tube  must  be 
fitted  to  the  cork  of  a  jar  filled  with  water,  another  bent 
tube  passing  through  the  same  cork  to  the  jar  in  which 
it  is  to  be  received. 

Carbonic  acid  results  from  the  union  of  one-part  car- 
bon with  two  of  oxygen.  It  is  not  poisonous,  but  owing 
to  the  absence  of  oxygen  destroys  life  if  respired.  It  is 
the  cause  of  the  effervesence  of  soda  water,  malt  liquors, 
etc.,  and  though  deathly  to  the  lungs,  acts  as  a  healthy 
stimulant  to  the  stomach. 

At  ordinary  temperature  carbonic  acid  is  a  transparent, 
colorless  gas,  of  a  slight  acid  taste  and  smell.  It  is  pro- 
duced in  large  quantities  during  respiration,  fermenta- 
tion, etc,  lime  water  being  the  best  test  for  its  presence, 
as  the  carbonic  acid  instantly  forms  chalk  on  coming  in 
contact  with  it.  The  following  experiment  will  illustrate 
the  fact  that  carbonic  acid  is  produced  during  respira- 
tion : — Pour  into  a  small  glass  a  little  lime  water,  and 
then,  by  means  of  a  glass  tube,  blow  from  the  mouth 
into  the  water.  After  a  short  time  the  lime  water  will 
become  milky,  owing  to  the  carbonic  acid  driven  from 
the  lungs  combining  with  the  lime  and  forming  chalk. 

A  very  large  amount  of  carbonic  acid  is  also  produced 
by  the  combustion  of  candles,  coke  and  charcoal,  and 
that  produced  from  the  last  named  source  has  often 
been  employed  for  suicidal  purposes. 

The  First  Lady- Visitor  in  Congress. 

Many  of  the  most  valued  customs  of  social  and  pub- 
lic life— ornamental  as  well  as  useful— have  been  gradu- 
'ally  learned.  It  was  thus  that  "ladies  in  the  gallery" 
came  to  be  a  Congress  fashion ;  and  it  would  be  much 
harder  now,  probably,  to  discontinue  it,  than  it  was 
ninety  years  ago  to  introduce  it. 

"  For  some  time  after  Congress  commenced  its  delib- 
erations no  ladies  were  admitted  to  hear  them.  But 
when  the  famous  John  Jay  treaty  with  Great  Britain 
was  brought  home  for  ratification,  the  ladies  expressed 
a  desire  to  hear  the  debate  In  the  House  on  the  appro- 
priation necessary  to  carry  it  into  effect.  Mrs.  Langdon, 
the  wife  of  a  member  of  Congress  from  New  Hampshire, 
one  day  expressed  her  regret  to  Mr.  Ames,  of  Massa- 
chusetts, that  she  could  not  hear  a  speech  which  it  was 
known  that  he  was  to  make  the  next  day.  He  gallantly 
invited  her  to  come,  and  by  a  little  personal  entreaty 
silenced  one  or  two  who  were  disposed  to  object,  so  that 
she  and  a  party  of  female  friends  were  permitted  to  oc- 
cupy seats  in  the  gallery. 

"  Since  then  ladies  have  been  regular  attendants  upon 
the  debates,  some  taking  their  crochet-work  to  amuse 
them  during  routine  business,  and  nearly  all  going  down 
to  the  lunch-room  under  Congressional  escort." 


QjfE  bad  example  spoils  many  good  nrecepts. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


443 


Irresolution. 

There  are  few  conditions  of  mind  more  painful  to  endure, 
and  more  fatal  to  efficiency  or  success,  than  irresolution.  Most 
of  us  can  recal  occasions  when  we  have  been  thus  afflicted, 
hesitating  anxiously  between  two  opposite  courses,  preferring 
first  one  and  then  the  other,  as  their  several  advantages  pre- 
(sent  themselves,  becoming  each  moment  more  confused  and 
tincertain,  and,  though  vexed  and  ashamed  of  the  delay,  yet 
utterly  unable  to  end  it  by  a  decision.  We  may  be  happy,  if 
Buch  a  condition  is  rare  and  exceptional  with  us ;  if  our  usual 
habit  is  to  think  deliberately,  decide  resolutely,  and  act  firmly. 

The  irresolute  man  is  continually  wasting  energy.  The 
power  that  should  be  economized  for  action  he  consumes  in 
anxious  alternations  of  opinion.  Does  he  propose  a  journey, 
a  business  enterprise,  or  some  change  in  his  mode  of  life,  he 
is  torn  with  conflicting  thoughts  as  to  its  desirability.  The 
inducements  to  carry  it  out  appear  in  glowing  colors,  and  he 
thinks  his  purpose  is  settled;  then  possibilities  of  failure  and 
fears  of  disappointment  bear  on  him  so  strongly  that  he  almost 
renounces  it.  Again  convictions  of  its  benefit  press  with  re- 
newed force,  and  he  oscillates  most  painfully  between  the  two 
courses,  not  having  sufficient  firmness  either  to  undertake  or 
relinquish  the  enterprise.  Meanwhile  the  delay  itself  frequent- 
ly settles  the  matter;  the  time  in  which  he  might  have  chosen 
for  himself  passes  away,  and  he  Is  forced  to  accept  what  fate 
has  left  him  without  any  reference  to  his  judgment  or  pref- 
erence. Directly  the  power  of  choice  is  removed,  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  opposite  plan  rush  upon  him  with  tenfold 
force ;  he  is  sm-e  that  that  would  have  been  his  selection  had 
the  opportunity  been  prolonged ;  and  consequently,  acting 
upon  compulsion,  without  heart  or  faith,  and,  indeed,  against 
what  he  now  thinks  his  better  judgment,  his  failure  and  his 
discontent  are  both  insured.  In  the  smaller  details  of  life, 
this  irresolution,  if  less  disastrous,  is  even  more  vexatious  and 
annoying.  To  waver  about  trifles,  to  hesitate,  and  doubt,  and 
balance  probabilities  upon  every  little  matter  that  presents 
itself  for  immediate  decision,  is  a  lamentable  waste  of  power, 
distressing  to  one's  self,  and  irritating  to  every  looker-on.  It 
is  better  to  make  some  mistakes,  we  should  all  declare,  than  to 
thus  constantly  lose  time  and  force  in  debating  the^^ro  and  con 
of  each  petty  action. 

A  habit  of  self-dependence  is  one  most  important  ingredient 
in  a  resolute  character.  He  who,  either  from  inclination  or  the 
force  of  circumstances,  has  always  leaned  upon  others,  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  show  much  energy  in  decision,  or  much 
inflexibility  of  purpose.  It  is  just  here  that  freedom  becomes 
BO  palpable  a  blessing,  giving  to  every  man  and  woman  the  op- 
portunity for  acquiring  a  self-reliance  that  nothing  else  can 
supply. 

It  is  perhaps  hardly  possible  for  one  who  has  attained  matu- 
rity with  a  vacillating,  irresolute  nature  ever  to  become  a 
decided  and  resolute  character.  Still  there  are  various  degrees 
of  this  valuable  quality,  and  it  is  within  the  power  of  each  in- 
dividual so  to  discipline  himself  as  to  strengthen  and  increase 
it.  A  thoughtful  survey  of  every  important  subject  on  which 
we  are  called  to  decide  is  necessary  to  this  end.  There  is  a 
time  for  deliberation  as  well  as  for  action,  and  when  the  form- 
er is  crowded  into  the  latter  a  wise  decision  is  impossible,  All 
aids  to  this  end  should  be  warmly  welcomed,  not  as  props  to 
support  our  weakness  but  as  means  to  correct  our  judgment. 
The  inflexibility  that  refuses  to  receive  such  aid  and  only  seeks 
to  enforce  its  own  will  is  obstinacy,  not  decision.  When,  how- 
ever, we  have  brought  all  foreign  help  into  connection  with 
our  own  judgment,  and  have  thus  formed  the  best  conclusion 
we  c",n  in  the  time  allowed,  we  must,  as  far  as  possible,  die- 
miss  further  consideration  and  proceed  to  immediate  action. 
In  the  less  important  details  of  daily  lite,  we  shall  not  greatly 
errin  forcing  ourselves  to  an  immediate  choice,  though  we  may 
still  question  its  wisdom.  This  self-eonipulsion  will  be  most 
salutary,  especially  if  we  cultivate  the  habit  of  revising  our 
actions  with  a  view  to  avoiding  in  the  future  the  mistakes  into 
Which  we  may  have  fallen.  

Winter  "Weather  in  San  Francisco. 

A  pleasant  winter  day  in  San  Fran- 
cisco is  an  experience  worth  having,  and  yesterday  and  to-day 
have  more  than  atoned  for  the  discomforts  of  the  preceding 
week  of  rain.  The  streets  have  dried  as  if  by  magic,  plants 
and  flowers  of  all  kinds  have  put  forth  all  their  glories,  and 


fragrance  and  beauty  fill  the  air.  Huge  fuchsias,  cultivated 
with  so  much  trouble  in  the  East,  and  then  niggardly  of  their 
blooms,  climb  up  lofty  trellises  and  on  the  sides  of  houses, 
and  are  one  mass  of  rich  blossoms.  Roses  of  most  gorgeous 
hues  and  astonishing  size  flaunt  themselves  in  every  door- 
yard,  and  here  and  there  some  small  house  is  quite  buried  be- 
neath their  luxuriance.  Horse-shoe  geraniums,  as  high  as  a 
tall  man's  head,  glow  with  scarlet,  and  hawthorns  form  great 
hedges  of  sweetness.  Here,  too,  grow  all  manner  of  trees; 
such  tropical  and  semi-tropical  growths  as  the  palm,  mimosa 
orange,  fig  and  century  plant  alternate  with  northern  spruces 
and  pines  from  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  and  the  air  ie 
redolent  with  the  peculiar  camphor-like  odor  of  the  Australian 
gum-tree  or  eucalyptus,  that  great  destroyer  of  miasmas, 
which  is  being  extensively  cultivated  all  over  the  state.  In 
the  church  that  I  attended,  yesterday,  the  preacher's  desk  waa 
covered  with  a  great  cushion  of  red  and  white  roses,  while 
huge  bouquets  of  callas  and  other  rich  flowers  stood  all  about 
the  platform,  the  whole  making  a  display  which  neither  love 
nor  money  could  procure  in  the  East.  And  yet,  while  this  soil 
and  climate  are  so  kindly  disposed  toward  flowers,  they  seem 
to  have  a  mortal  antipathy  to  weeds  and  bugs,  those  abomina- 
tions  of  horticulturists,  for,  while  I  see  flowers  everywhere,  I 
seldom  see  any  one  attending  them,  and  have  yet  to  see  the 
first  rose— that  choicest  dish  of  bug  epicures— sufi"ering  from 
the  inroads  of  slugs.  Outside  the  city  the  efi"ect8  of  the  rain 
are  even  more  marked,  and  the  country,  which,  ten  days  ago, 
was  desolate  and  brown,  is  now  one  broad  expanse  of  green, 
save  here  and  there  where  the  plow  has  turned  up  the  rich 
brown  sod  in  smoking  furrows.  In  this  country  nobody  foi- 
lows  the  plow ;  the  husbandman  rides  upon  a  pair  of  wheel* 
vnth  a  seat  between  them  like  that  on  an  eastern  mowing- 
machine,  and  two  plows,  skillfully  arranged  behind,  follow 
him  and  turn  up  two  furrows  at  once,— a  fashion  much  super- 
ior  to  and  easier  than  the  old,  it  strikes  me.  The  grass  grow* 
so  rapidly  after  the  first  rains  come  that  it  does  not  take  oa 
that  deep  green  tint  which  it  assumes  with  you,  but  is  of  a 
more  delicate  hue,  very  agreeable  to  the  eye,  and  forming  a 
pleasing  combination  with  the  deeper  verdure  of  the  live-oaks, 
the  principal  native  tree  of  (his  region. 

The  sky,  both  within  and  without  the  city,  wears  that  peca* 
liar  haze  which  is  the  characteristic  of  a  New  England  Indian 
summer,  and  the  air  ie  as  balmy  as  a  June  morning. 

Imaginary  Miseries. 

It  is  a  sad  thing  to  see  a  young  person  so  absorbed  in  the 
imaginary  miseries  of  some  fancied  hero  or  heroine  of  whom 
they  are  reading  in  an  exciting  romance,  that  they  have  no 
heart  or  sympathy  left  for  the  world  of  real  sorrow  and  suffer- 
ing close  around  them.  The  habitual  novel  reader,  instead  of 
growing  sympathetic  with  trouble,  is  always  impatient  and 
fretful  when  called  off  to  actual  cares  and  duties.  By  this  yo« 
may  know,  girls,  that  your  reading  is  doing  you  harm.  If, 
when  mother  calls,  you  are  vexed,  and  think  yourself  a  kind  of 
ill-treated  heroine,  throw  that  book  away.  Burn  it  if  it  be- 
longs to  yourself,  and  don't  let  the  evil  go  any  further.  There 
is  no  limit  to  the  silliness  of  these  pictured  miseries.  A  skill- 
ful pen  can  make  a  mole-hill  into  a  mountain.  A  father  once, 
to  show  his  children  the  folly  of  weeping  over  so  much 
imaginary  trouble,  told  them  such  a  pathetic  story  of  a  poor 
old  faithful  broom,  left  out  in  the  snows  and  blasts  one  win- 
ter's night  beside  the  pump  in  the  yard,  until  the  clock  struck 
eleven,  then  twelve,  and  one,  dwelling  on  the  direful  details  so 
sadly  that  all  the  little  company  were  in  tears.  He  then 
showed  them  that  over  just  such  nonsensical  woes  they  were 
wasting  thought  and  feeling  to  the  neglect  of  what  was  real 
and  close  beside  them. 

It  is  often  given  as  an  excuse  that  a  book  has  real  lovely 
sentiments  woven  into  it,  and  at  times  pure  Christian  senti- 
ment. But  what  would  you  think  of  a  miller  who  should 
search  through  bushels  of  chaff  to  find  a  few  grains  of  wheat, 
when  there  lay  his  great  golden  granaries  all  untouched. 
Just  so  it  is  with  the  novel  reader  hunting  for  anything  good 
in  these  modem  sensational  fictions.  The  world  is  so  full  of 
really  golden  works,  so  few  of  which,  at  the  best,  we  can  even 
get  time  to  read,  that  it  seems  worse  than  idleness  to  spend 
time  over  that  which  only  harms  us,  which  in  no  way  better 
fits  us  for  life's  duties. 

Choose  the  best  book  at  command  always  when  you  sit 
down  to  read,  if  you  would  make  your  reading  a  real  profit. 


444 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD, 


FAR  BETTER. 

BY  M.  M.  P. 

There  is  a  glory,  rich,  unmeasured, 

In  the  hedges  and  the  dingles, 
For  the  Spring-time  has  untreasured 

All  the  pomp  that  nature  mingles. 
Gusts  of  fragrance  in  the  grasses, 

In  the  skies  a  softened  splendor. 
In  the  copse  and  woodland  passes 

Songs  of  birds  in  cadence  tender. 

Over  baby's  grave  are  blowing. 

Sweet  and  shy,  the  star-eyed  daisies, 
Where  she  slumbers,  all  unknowing 

Of  the  world,  its  "^res  and  crazes. 
Were  she  here  to  hnsh  and  listen 

To  the  skylark  singing  yonder. 
How  the  changeful  eyes  would  glisten. 

Widening  in  delighted  wonder. 

Oh,  my  baby!  I  would  gather 

All  the  beauties  of  the  dingles, 
?airy  lilies,  elfin  heather. 

Pebbles  from  the  golden  shingles; 
I  would  tell  thee  many  a  story 

Of  the  wonder-life  of  summer, 
I  would  show  thee  all  the  glory 

Of  each  winged  and  leaved  new-comer. 

But  the  summer's  bliss  and  wonder, 

Crosses  not  thy  purer  vision. 
Thou,  within  the  Eden  yonder, 

Born  into  the  life  Elysian. 
Sweet  and  stainless,  thou  shalt  flourish, 

In  the  holy  air  of  heaven, 
4xid  God's  dews  of  love  shall  nourish 

That  new  life  which  He  has  given. 

He  whose  pity  stooped  to  fold  thee 

Tenderly  from  grief  and  passion, 
In  that  calmer  home  shall  mould  thee 

In  His  own.  His  royal  fashion. 
Taken  into  His  strong  keeping, 

Sheltered  from  the  world's  wild  weather, 
In  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

Christ  shall  give  us  joy  together. 

The  Pulse, 

Everyone  knows  that  among  the  numerous  inquiries 
and  examinations  which  precede  the  prescription  of  a 
careful  physician,  the  state  of  the  pulse  is  never  omitted; 
yet  as  it  is  probable  that  few  of  our  readers  are  acquaint- 
ed with  the  reasons  for  this  inquiry,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  with  the  facts  to  be  learned  from  it,  we  think  it 
may  not  be  uninteresting  if  we  enumerate  some  of  the 
more  prominent  ones 


It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  premise  that  by  the  pulse 
Is  meant  the  beat  of  an  artery,  and  that  the  one  com- 
monly chosen  for  examination  Is  the  radial  artery,  which 
beats  at  the  wrist.  The  first  point  generally  attended  to 
is  the  number  of  the  beats,  and  since  in  all  other  medi- 
cal questions,  it  is  necessary  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  health  in  order  to  recognize  any  deviation  from 
it,  we  must  mention  the  ordinary  frequency  of  the  pulse 
at  different  ages. 

In  the  new-born  infant  it  is  from  130  to  140  in  a  min- 
ute, but  decreases  as  life  advances,  so  that  in  a  middle- 
aged  adult  in  perfect  health,  it  is  from  72  to  75.  In  the 
decline  of  life  it  is  slower  than  this,  and  falls  to  about 
60.  It  is  obvious  that  if  we  could  suppose  a  practicioner 
ignorant  of  these  plain  facts,  he  woidd  be  liable  to  make 
the  most  absurd  blunders,  and  might  imagine  a  boy  of 
ten  to  be  laboring  under  some  grevious  disease  because 
his  pulse  had  not  the  slow  sobriety  of  his  grandfather's. 
The  quickness  of  the  pulse  affords  most  important 
information.  If  in  a  person,  for  example,  whose  pulse 
Is  usually  72,  the  beats  rise  in  number  to  98,  some 
alarming  disease  is  certainly  present ;  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  should  it  have  permanently  sunk  to  50,  it  is  but 
too  probable  that  the  source  of  the  circulation,  the  heart 
Itself,  is  laboring  under  incurable  disease,  or  that  some 
other  of  the  great  springs  of  life  is  irredeemably  in- 
jured. Supposing,  again,  the  pulse  to  be  72,  each  beat 
ought  to  occur  at  an  interval  of  five-sixths  of  a  second  ; 
but  should  any  deviation  from  this  rythm  be  perceived, 
the  pulse  is  then  said  to  be  irregular.  The  varities  of  ir- 
regularity are  indefinite  ;  but  there  is  one  so  remarkable 
as  to  deserve  particular  mention.  It  will  happen 
sometimes  that  the  interval  between  two  beats  is 
so  much  longer  than  was  expected,  that  it  would  seem 
that  one  beat  had  been  omitted  ;  in  this  case  the  pulse 
is  said  to  be  an  intermittent  one.  When  the  action  of 
the  heart  is  irregular,  the  beat  of  the  pulge  is  so  like- 
wise ;  but  it  will  occasionally  happen  that  the  latter  ir- 
regularity takes  place  without  the  former  one,  from 
some  morbid  cause  existing  between  the  heart  and  wrist. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  that,  in  all  doubtful 
eases,  the  physician  examines  the  pulsation  of  the  heart 
as  well  as  that  at  the  wrist.  _   

The  Silence  of  Jerusalem. 

Those  who  have  not  enjoyed  the  great  privilege  of 
seeing  Selrus'  fine  painting  of  ancient  and  modem  Jeru- 
salem, now  exhibiting  through  the  country,  vrlll  be  m- 
terested  in  any  description  of  the  Holy  City  that  gives 
them  an  idea  of  its  appearance.  Those  who  have  seen 
the  paintings  will  of  course  appreciate  the  description 
all  the  more. 

An  American  is  struck  by  the  silence  embosommg  a 
community  supposed  to  number  tiiirty  thousand  inhabit- 
ants. Palestine  has  no  roads ;  Jerusalem  no  factories; 
the  Jews  no  gayeties,  and  so  a  graveyard  stillness  broods 
around  Mount  Zion.  Dr.  McLeod  conversed  from  the 
Temple  area  with  his  brother  upon  the  Mount  of  Oliver, 
explaining  practically  how  the  children's  hosannahs 
might  have  been  heard  on  the  first  Palm  Sunday  by  in- 
dignant Pharisees  in  the  Court  of  the  Gentiles.  But  on 
fine  days  the  solitude  folding  itself  around  the  city  is 
really  wonderful.  Among  those  graves  of  nearly  all  na- 
tions, you  may  look  long  at  noonday  for  a  moving  thing, 
for    stray  horse,  for  a  child  at  play. 

As  vast  numbers  are  buried  where  the  resurrection  is 
expected  to  begin,  in  the  valleys  of  Jehoshaphat,  it  is  no 
exaggeration  to  say  that  every  inch  of  ground  along  the 
entire  eastern  slope  is  covered  with  Turk  and  Greek, 
Armenian  and  Catholic,  Jew  and  Gentile  tombstones, 
ji'he  most  interesting,  of  course,  are  those  that  profess 
to  honor  prophets,  apostles  and  kings,  the  graves  being 
cut  into  the  big  rock,  some  of  them  many-chambered 
and  beautifully  ornamented  on  the  front,  though  not  to 
compare  with  the  immense  sepulchres  of  the  Egyptian 
Thebes.  The  finest  view  of  the  city  is  undoubtedly  that 
which  the  traveler  gets  last  from  the  east,  upon  that 
grand  road  from  Bethany,  which  Pompey  took,  rather 
than  that  ancient  mule-path  which  Jesus  often  trod. 
Here  you  have  in  full  view  the  grand  Mosque  of  Omar, 
towering  over  the  entire  scenery,  a  fairy-like  buildmg. 
that  lies  to  the  west.  On  the  south  is  the  high  pUe  of 
the  Armenian  Convent  and  the  dome  over  Davids 
Tomb.  At  the  southwest  comer  stands  Herod's  Tower, 
a  stately  relic,  simple  and  grand.  Next  to  this  are  seen 
the  two  domes  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  the  long 

ass  of  the  Latin  Convent  stretching  to  the  northwest. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


445 


FAMILIAR  FACES  AND  PLACES. 


There  comes  a  time  to  many  of  us,  often  at  the  early 
iwilight  of  a  pleasant  evening,  when  the  mind  goes  out 
n  fancy  and  reality,  and  muses  on  the  past  as  it  was, 
m  the  present  as  it  is,  and  the  future  as  it  may  be. 

"Who  hath  not  shared  that  calm  so  still  and  deep, 
The  voiceless  thought  that  would  not  speak  but  weep, 
A  hol)^  concord  and  a  bright  re^et, 
A  glorious  sympathy  with  suns^that  set?" 

It  is  a  beautiful  thought  that  the  mind  may  encom- 
:)ass  so  much  in  so  brief  a  period,  that  it  may  journey 
while  at  home.  Slight  events  of  the  past  may  share 
our  thoughts,  for  life  is  a  collection  of  little  things. 
A  smile  from  one,  a  kindly  greeting  from  another,  a 
considerate  word  said,  or  unselfish  act  committed  by 
a  friend  of  by-gone  days,  will  rise  before  us  from 
memory,  though  the  actors  themselves  may  have 
passed  from  our  sphere  of  life — perhaps  sleep  under 
the  clods  of  the  valley. 

Take  up  your  photograph  album,  and  if  it  has  not 
been  looked  over  for  some  time,  what  a  crowd  of 
reminiscences  follow,  as  the  familiar  faces  appear 
one  after  another.  Awkward  and  old-fashioned 
though  many  of  them  would  seem  to  others,  we  see 
only  the  real  individuals  reflected  through  the  unflat- 
tering pictures,  and  appreciative  smiles,  kind  hearts 
and  friendly  eyes  encourage  ;  unassuming,  agree- 
able ways  please,  and  sympathetic  voices  and  jolly 
laughter  sound  in  our  ears. 

My  own  album  is  half  full  of  pictures  dear  to  me, 
that  I  know  seem  neither  good  nor  beautiful  to 
strangers.  There  are  pictures  of  brothers  and  sisters 
taken  when  we  were  children  together.  Here  sits 
my  dear  brother  John,  thoughtfully  studying  some- 
thing on  the  carpet,  with  compressed  lips  and  youth- 
ful curiosity.  He  wears  a  boy's  jacket,  that  seems 
•tjoo  tight  for  his  growing  proportions,  down  into 
which  his  chin  is  crowded,  depriving  him  of 
that  convenient  and  necessary  part  of  the 
human  anatomy— a  neck ;  while  one  little  chubby  hand,* 
with  the  fingers  spread  apart,  presents,  to  say  the  least, 
a  prominent  feature  of  the  likeness.  Next  to  this  is 
one  of  my  own,  taken  in  my  eleventh  year,  which  I 
never  exhibit  to  my  friends.  My  dress  is  an  ancient 
long,  tight-waisted  one ;  hair,  short  and  bushy^  ig 
pushed  behind  my  ears,  and  I  sit  exceedingly  stiff  and 
straight,  with  a  hand  on  either  knee.  One  of  my  bro- 
thers used  to  tell  me  "  it  looked  like  Robert  Bruce  on 
his  war  horse."  Many  times  I  have  been  tempted  to  de- 
stroy it,  but  still  keep  it  for  "Auld  Lang  Syne."  I  recol- 
lect with  what  ecstatic  feelings  I  sat  for  this  uncouth 
creation,  and  the  self-complacency  with  which  I  changed 
the  position  of  my  hands  to  their  present  position,  as 
being  more  becoming,  after  the  artist  had  properly  ad- 
justed them. 

Space  will  not  permit  a  description  of  others  that  we 
used  to  laugh  at,  but  now  prize  more  highly  than  the 
improved  modem  ones.  They  were  taken  when  our 
family  circle  was  complete.  One  after  another  the 
beloved  ones  have  passed  to  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
until  only  John  and  I  remain  to  recall  the  incidents  of 
happy  youthful  days  for  aye  departed. 

Then,  how  many  familiar  places,  nooks  and  comers 
there  are  in  this  grand  old  world,  where  one  loves  to 
linger  and  dream.  Last  year  we  crossed  the  great 
waters  and  traveled  in  England,  France  and  Scotland. 
Went  to  Paris  and  saw  its  vivacious  people  of  pleasure 
In  their  own  gay  city ;  saw  the  Tuilleries  in  ruins  from 
the  Commune  ;  but  restored  their  splendor  in  imagina- 
tion, and  peopled  their  spacious  halls  with  proud  lords 
and  high-bora  dames ;  beheld  Napoleon  III.  in  the 
height  of  his  power,  and  his  lovely  Empress  in  all  her 
stately  grace  moving  through  its  corridors.  Alas  !  he 
lay  low  then,  and  Eugenie,  an  exile  from  her  splendid 
home,  at  Chiselhurst,  a  saddened,  fading  woman. 

We  visited  the  Louvre  and  its  antique  marbles ; 
viewed  the  grand  palace  of  Louis  XIV.  at  Versailles, 
with  its  elaborate,  extensive  gardens;  and  fountains, 
cascades  and  statuary  meeting  the  eye  at  every  turn. 


Upon  these  grounds  vast  bodies  of  laborers,  including 
thirty  thousand  soldiers,  were  at  one  time  employed. 
What  a  throng  of  historical  memories  are  associated 
with  this  home  of  royalty.  Close  by  are  the  Grand 
Trianon  and  Petit  Trianon,  with  their  respective  gardens. 
I  felt  particularly  interested  in  the  latter,  as  being  the 
favorite  residence  of  the  beautiful,  ill-fated  Marie 
Antoinette.  The  grounds  are  said  to  be  laid  out  In  the 
same  walks  and  flower  beds  as  during  her  occupancy, 
and  the  windows  of  the  apartments  she  preferred  over- 
look the  garden. 

We  drove  down  the  long  avenues  bordered  with  great 
trees,  planted  by  Louis  XlV.,  extending  miles  on  miles, 
realizing  in  a  measure  how  the  impoverished  people 
were  driven  to  the  frenzy,  by  royal  extravagance,  that 
finally  resulted  in  the  French  revolution. 

One  is  usually  disappointed  in  visiting  places  they  have 
heard  much  of,  as  we  were  in  viewing  Buckingham  Palace, 
on  retuming  to  London.  It  is  a  rather  long,'brown-6tone 
building,  without  ornament,  and  looks  anything  but  a  pal- 
ace ;  although  its  internal  appointments  may  be  very  im- 
posing.; but  the  palace,  royal  buildings  and  grounds  at 
Versailles  far  exceeded  even  our  expectations  in 
grandeur  and  extent. 

After  a  few  weeks  in  the  great  city  of  London,  we 
set  off  for  Edinburgh — the  quaintest,  most  pictursque 
old  city  in  the  world,  with  its  castle  rearing  its  bat- 
tlements away  up  aloft  from  the  towering  rocks, 
which  are  three  hundred  feet  high. 

Old  Holyrood  Palace,  with  its  abbey  in  ruins  and 
peopled  with  spectres  of  ages,  is  an  object  of  intense 
interest.  In  the  once  beautiful  abbey  took  place  the 
coronation  and  marriage  of  kings  and  queens.  Here 
tlie  unfortunate  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was  married 
to  Darnley,  and  here  the  latter  with  many  other  nota 
ble  persons  are  buried. 

The  rooms  occupied  by  Queen  Mary  still  remain  as 
she  left  them,  containing  her  furniture  and  bed.  The 
bed  is  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  for  fear  some 
one  should  touch  its  ancient  frame  and  shiver  it  to 
atoms,  like  the  '  *  Ont.  Hoss  Shay. "  A  breath  it 
seems  would  almost  do  it.  Leading  from  the  bed- 
chamber is  the  little  room  where  the  queen,  with  her 
maids  of  honor  and  Rizzio  were  at  supper,  when 
Darnley  and  his  masked  accomplices,  ascending  the 
private  staircase,  burst  into  their  midst,  dragged  the 
doomed  Rizzio  from  the  royal  presence,  and  left 
him  bleeding  and  dying  in  the  bed  chamber.  We 
were  showed  the  spot  where  he  lay,  which  is  in- 
dicated by  a  spot  of  darkness  on  the  floor. 
An  incredulous  member  of  our  party  solemnly  remarked : 
"It  looks  to  me  like  sheep's  blood,  dabbled  on  with  a 
sponge  1"  to  the  utter  disgust  of  the  guide,  who  indig- 
nantly declared  that  it  was  really  the  stain  made  by  the 
crimson  blood  of  the  Italian.  At  all  events  it  desig- 
nates the  spot  where  he  lay,  and  unhappy  Mary  had  the 
partition  of  her  bedchamber  moved  in  to  shut  out  th^ 
dreadful  place  from  her  sight.  The  seam  in  the  ceiling 
where  the  partition  formerly  stood  is  still  to  be  seen. 
There  is  a  "Dor  leading  from  the  palace  to  the  abbey, 
and  directly)  inder  the  doorway  the  body  of  Rizzio  was 
buried  by  thj  queen's  order,  that  his  assassms  might 
have  the  crime  recalled  to  mind  each  time  they  crossed 
the  threshold ;  and  though  time  has  destroyed  the 
abbey,  and  the  rains  and  winds  of  heaven  find  free 
entrance  there,  Rizzio's  name  can  still  be  deciphered  on 
the  ancient  slab  beneath.  Wc  stood  withm  the  ruined 
abbey,  looking  up  at  the  clear  blue  sky  and  at  the  ivy  that, 
growing  up  from  the  outside,  falls  over  and  runs  alonj'  the 
carved  masonry,  and  thought,  could  the  ancient  crumbling- 
stones  but  speak,  what  a  volume  of  interest,  gathered  from 
the  seven  hundred  and  forty-nine  years  of  its  existence,  lies 
within  its  voiceless  walls.  It  was  founded  in  1128  by  David  I., 
was  dilapidated  by  Edward  II.  in  1322,  burnt  by  Richard  II. 
in  1385,  restored  by  Abbot  Crawford  about  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  extensively  demolished  bv  the  English  in 
1547,  sacked  by  a  mob  in  1678,  and  restored,  what  remained 
of  it,  in  1758,  and  as  if  weary  and  worn  with  years,  fell  sud- 
denly to  ruin  in  1768. 

Edinburgh  is  an  infatuating  city.  Every  hill,  tree  and  rock 
teems  with  interest.  We  saw  Davie  Dean's  cottage  as  de- 
scribed in  "The  Heart  of  Midlothian;"  the  house  in  which 
John  Knox  lived,  and  the  window  from  which  he  so  vehemently 
preached  to  the  people.  Other  places  in  Edinburgh,  however, 
:  though  of  but  little  account  to  the  generality  of  people,  offered 
'  etiUireater  attractions  Xa  ns. 


446  THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Years  ago  a  young  Scotchman  came  to  America,  remained 
several  years,  and  then  went  back  for  the  woman  he  loved  and 
married  her.  I  entered  the  house  in  wliich  they  were  united  in 
the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony;  sat  in  the  room  where  their  first 
child  was  born,  was  told  little  incidents  that  occurred  in  the 
house,  and  felt  untold  interest  because  1  was  the  second 
daughter  given  to  them— my  own  parents.  I  visited  the  girl- 
hoou  home  of  my  mother;  saw,  in  imagination,  my  father 
coming  down  the  beautiful  country  road  to  meet  her;  saw  them 
in  conversation  and  wept  because  1  had  heard  many  times  from 
their  lips  the  story,  with  a  description  of  the  brick  house,  the 
fields  around,  and  the  street  bordered  by  great  trees  and  haw- 
thorn hedges,  which  in  May,  were  always  a  mass  of  bloom.  I 
was  taken  by  friends  to  the  church  where  their  two  families 
had  attended  service  for  centuries;  satin  the  very  pews  and 
saw  the  baptistry  where  my  parents  descended  with  Christ  in 
baptism.  Then  driving  to  Portobello,  the  seaport  of  Scotland, 
I  visited  the  home  where  they  lived  several  years  before  com- 
ing to  America.  A  two  story  brown  house,  close  by  the  great 
rolling  ocean,  which  dashes  with  fury  at  times,  over  a  beach 
of  snow-white  sand.  My  mother  loved  that  sandy  shore;  how 
many  times  she  told  me  so! 

They  died  many  years  ago;  and  do  you  wonder  that  for  days 
after  leaving  that  ancient  city,  my  mind  wandered  again  and 
again  over  the  same  route,  treasuring  up  the  appearance  of 
every  house,  room,  street,  locality,  yes  1  flower,  vine  and  tree? 
Let  those  of  us  who  have  old  homesteads,  cherish,  protect  and 
reverence  them,  considering  the  occupancy  of  them  a  great 
privilege.  There  is  a  satisfaction  felt  in  knowing  that  our 
predecessors  cultivated  the  same  fields,  loitered  by  the  same 
brook,  traversed  the  same  hill,  ate  of  the  fruit  of  the  orchard, 
and  sat  on  the  same  garden  seat  until  gathered  to  their  fathers 
on  the  hillside.  Here  are  home  feelings,  associations  and  at- 
tachments to  be  found  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 

The  following  poem,  "  The  Garden  Seat,"  (see  Cut)  will  per- 
haps not  inappropriately  close  our  remarks: 

''The  garden  seat  was  overgrown  in  spring 

With  young,  sweet  flowers  swathed  in  purest  green; 
I  saw  a  little  child  her  toy  book  bring. 

With  pictures  of  the  fays  and  fairy  queen; 
She  played  in  wonderment  upon  the  seat, 

And  laughed,  with  laughing  blossoms  o'er  her  head; 
She  sat  with  daisies  round  about  her  feet. 

Till  she  was  called  to  supper  and  to  bed. 

The  seat  in  summertide  was  in  the  shade 

Of  mingled  boughs  that  swayed  unto  the  ground, 
And  flecked  the  path,  and  pleasant  music  made; 

And  bees  were  buzzing  in  the  blooms  around; 
A  maiden  with  a  book  of  love  tales  came. 

And  read  a  sweet  romance,  to  her  all  truth; 
She  closed  the  book,  and  whispered  some  one's  name. 

Then  went  away  to  meet  a  favored  youth. 

When  misty  autumn  came,  and  currants  hung 

In  heavy,  ripened  clusters  by  the  wall, 
Chill  winds  came  from  the  meadow-lands  and  swung 

The  colored  trees  that  let  their  jewels  fall; 
Upon  the  seat  a  married  couple  stayed. 

With  just  a  touch  of  care  in  their  content; 
They  watched  the  leaves  that  on  the  dry  path  played, 

Then  arm-in-arm  away  they  slowly  went. 

When  winter  came  and  all  the  flow'rs  were  lost. 

And  cold  winds  shrieked,  and  trees  were  black  and  bare. 
The  garden  seat  was  whitened  with  the  frost, 

And  sparrows  hopped  in  vain  for  crumbles  there; 
An  old  man  came  alone,  with  pale  cheeks  worn. 

And  sat  till  night,  and  then  he  did  not  go; 
The  snow  fell  with  the  dark,  and  in  the  morn 

The  old  man  yet  was  there— still  as  the  snow." 

Jennette  Gibson, 


Sodium. 

BY  J  AS.  P.  DUFFY. 

Sodium  is  a  metal  which  is  found  in  nature  al- 
ways combined  with  some  other  substance.  It  pos- 
sesses some  very  curious  properties,  the  chief  among 
which  is,  that  in  its  elementary  condition  it  cannot  exist 
in  contact  with  either  air  or  water,  and  this  is  the  only 
reason  that  can  be  assigned  for  its  being  always  found 
in  combination  with  other  metals  and  earths.  Whilst 
the  other  metals  are,  generally  speaking,  dense  and 
heavy,  sodium  is  lighter  than  water,  and,  when  freshly 
cut,  has  the  same  shining  appearance  possessed  by  silver. 
In  other  respects  it  is  somewhat  similar  to  potassium, 
being  prepared  in  an  exactly  similar  manner,  and  re- 
quiring, to  prevent  the  attacks  of  the  oxygen  in  the 
atmosphere,  constant  immersion  in  naphtha. 

Its  combinations  are  very  useful ;  some  of  them,  such 
as  the  bi-carbonate  of  soda  and  caustic  soda,  being 
manufactured  in  large  quantities. 

As  found  in  nature,  its  combinations  are  mostly  with 


chlorine,  carbon,  sulphur,  nitre  and  borax.  The  first  of 
these,  chloride  of  sodium,  Is  salt — the  manufacture  and 
chemical  description  of  which  has  already  been  de- 
scribed in  these  columns,  as  has  also  been  the  next, 
bi-carbonate  of  soda. 

Sodium  and  sulphur  in  combination  afford  sodium 
sulphate,  a  white  anhydrous  salt,  long  known  as  "  Glau- 
ber's Salts."  To  illustrate  some  of  its  properties,  dis- 
solve a  little  of  this  salt  in  boiling  water  to  saturation, 
place  the  solution  in  a  glass  flask  to  cool,  and  carefully 
cork  the  flask.  If  it  be  kept  quite  still  no  change  wUl 
take  place.  K,  however,  a  small  grain  of  sand  be 
dropped  into  the  mixture,  the  whole  solution  will  imme- 
diately shoot  out  into  beautiful  crystals  and  be  converted 
into  a  solid  mass. 

Sodium  hyposulphate  is  a  crystalline  body,  produced 
by  heating  the  above  with  sulphur.  It  is  extensively 
employed  as  a  fixing  agent  by  photographers,  who  use 
it  in  solution  with  water  for  dissolving  oxide  of  silver. 

Sodium  biborate  (borax)  is  prepared  by  adding  carbon- 
ate of  soda  to  boracic  acid.  The  latter  is  largely  im- 
ported from  Tuscany,  which  affords  a  natural  supply  of 
it.  It  is  much  used  as  a  flux  by  metallurgists  ;  with  oxides 
it  forms  glass,  and  it  is  made  use  of  in  making  artificial 
gems. 

Sodium  hydrate  (caustic  soda)  is  made  by  dissolving 
carbonate  of  soda  in  boiling  water,  and  adding  a  solution 
of  slaked  lime  and  water  of  the  consistency  of  cream. 
The  latter  solution  causes  a  precipitate  of  calcium  car- 
bonate to  form,  and  sodium  hydrate  remains  in  the  solu- 
tion. The  latter  is  separated  from  the  former  and 
evaporated  to  the  requisite  strength  ;  when  at  nearly  a 
red  heat,  an  oUy  liquid  forms  which  hardens,  on  cooling, 
into  a  white  mass,  known  and  extensively  used  by  soap- 
makers  as  caustic  soda. 


A  Long  Speech. 

BY  J.  J.  WORTBNDYKE. 

The  longest  speech  on  record  is  believed  lo  have  been 
that  made  by  Mr.  De  Cosmos,  in  the  Legislature  of 
British  Columbia,  when  a  measure  was  pending  whose 
passage  would  take  from  a  great  many  settlers  their 
lands.  De  Cosmos  was  in  a  hopeless  minority.  The  job 
had  been  held  back  till  the  eve  of  the  close  of  the  ses- 
sion. Unless  legislation  was  taken  before  noon  of  »  cer- 
tain day,  the  act  of  confiscation  would  fail.  The  day 
before  the  expiration  of  the  limitation,  De  Cosmos  got 
the  floor  about  10  A.  m.,  and  began  his  speech  against 
the  bill. 

Its  friends  cared  little,  for  they  supposed  that  by  one 
or  two  o'clock  he  would  be  through,  and  the  bill  would 
be  put  on  its  passage.  One  o'clock  came  and  De  Cosmos 
was  still  speaking — had  not  more  than  entered  upon  the 
subject.  Two  o'clock,  he  was  saying  "in  the  second 
place."  Three  o'clock,  he  produced  a  fearful  bundle  of 
evidence,  and  insisted  upon  reading  it. 

The  majority  began  to  have  a  suspicion  of  the  truth — 
he  was  going  to  speak  till  next  noon,  and  kill  the  bill, 
t'or  a  while  they  made  merry  over  it ;  but  as  it  came  on 
dark  they  began  to  get  alarmed.  They  tried  mterrup- 
tions,  but  soon  abandoned  them,  because  each  one 
afforded  a  chance  to  digress  and  gain  time. 

They  tried  to  shout  him  down,  but  that  gave  him 
breathing  space,  and  flnally  they  settled  down  to  watch 
the  combat  between  strength  of  will  and  weakness  o| 
body.  They  gave  fiim  no  mercy.  No  adjournment  foi 
dinner;  no  chance  to  do  more  than  wet  his  lips  with 
water  ;  no  wandering  from  his  subject ;  no  sitting  down. 
Twilight  darkened ;  the  gas  was  lighted — members 
slipped  out  to  dinner  in  relays,  and  returned  to  sleep  ii| 
squads,  butDe  Cosmos  went  on.  The  Speaker,  to  whom 
he  was  addressing  himself,  was  alternately  dozing,  sleepW 
ing,  and  trying  to  look  wide  awake.  Day  dawned,  and' 
the  majority  slipped  out  in  squads  to  breakfast  and  ta 
wash,  and  the  speaker  still  held  on.  It  can't  be  said  ixi 
was  a  very  logical,  eloquent,  or  sustained  speech.  There 
were  digressions  in  it — ^repetitions  also.  But  still  the 
speaker  kept  on.  At  last  noon  came  to  a  baflied  ma- 
jOTity,  livid  with  rage  and  impotence,  and  a  single  man 
who  was  triumphant,  though  his  voice  had  simk  to  a 
husky  whisper.  His  eyes  were  almost  shut,  and  were 
bleared  and  bloodshot ;  his  legs  tottered  imder  him,  and 
hie  lins  were  cracked  and  smeared  with  blood.  De  Cos- 
mos had  spoken  twenty-six  hours,  and  saved  the  settlers 
their  lands. 


THE  GROOVING  IVORLD. 


447 


Marriages  and  Homes. 

BY  NELLY  MARSHALL  M'AFEE. 

Somewhere — a  long  while  ago — I  read  a  paragraph  not 
Jonger  than  my  little  finger,  feut  it  was  so  full  of  con- 
densed soul  and  sense  that  I  committed  it  to  memory.  It 
ran  thus : 

"Six  things  are  requisite  to  create  a  'happy  home.' 
Integrity  must  be  the  architect,  and  tidiness  the  uphol- 
sterer. It  must  be  warmed  by  affection,  and  lighted  up 
with  cheerfulness,  and  industry  must  be  the  ventilator, 
renewing  the  atmosphere,  and  bringing  in  fresh  salubrity 
day  by  day;  while  over  all,  as  a  protecting  glory  and  a 
canopy,  nothing  will  suffice  except  the  glory  of  God." 

This  paragraph  awakened  me  to  a  sincere  study  of 
social  and  marital  relations  as  they  do,  and  as  they 
sihould,  exist ;  and  my  study  Las  enabled  me  to  crystallize 
into  an  essay  the  convictions  bom  of  that  profound  con- 
templation. 

Young  ladies  engrossed  with  the  idea  bridal  veils, 
and  orange  blossoms,  and  handsome  troui^^eaux,  seldom 
if  ever  give  a  thought,  unless  vaguely,  to  the  happiness 
and  contentment  that  is  to  come — or  is  not  to  come — as 
a  life-long  crown  of  glory,  after  the  marriage  ceremony 
and  honeymoon  are  over  and  gone. 

Sometimes  they  choose  lazy  men ;  sometimes  they  fall 
in  love  with  a  moustache,  or  a  fast  young  man  who 
dances  gracefully  and  rides  horseback  well,  whose  pan- 
taloons are  fashionably  cut,  whose  boots  are  always  well 
polished,  whose  hair  is  pomaded  and  artificially  curled, 
and  who  perfumes  himself  with  Low's,  and  Bazin's,  and 
Lubin's  extracts,  as  Kimmel  perfumes  his  gilt-edged 
paper  and  embossed  envelopes — to  distraction;  who 
loafs  ai'ound  and  is  afraid  to  work,  for  fear  of  spoiling 
his  hands  or  his  clothes. 

Others  "fall  in  love"  with  street-comer-watching 

f entry,  or  euch  ilk  as  hang  around  church  doors  on  Sun- 
ay  "to  see  the  girls  come  out." 

If  girls  of  eighteen  had  only  the  experience  and  judg- 
ment that  generally  comes  to  them  by  the  time  they  are 
twenty-five,  these  loungers  would  disappear  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  like  frogs  when  the  first  snow  falls. 
But,  alas  1  they  have  not,  and  consequently  the  severe 
and  bitter  recipe  will  never  be  given  them  as  a  curative 
test. 

Modern  demoiselles  do  not  know  how  to  make  such  par- 
lor knights  "stand  in  the  cold"  nor  how  to  give  them 
*'  th'^  TEitten."  And  so  they  marry  lazy,  flippant,  good- 
for-nothing  young  men,  and  settle  tnemselves  down, 
€Ooner  or  later,  to  lives  of  sorrow,  disappointment  and 
chagrin,  instead  of  urging  them  first  to  go  to  work  eam- 
€stly  and  honestly,  and  endeavor  to  be  sober  and  indus- 
trious in  order  to  win  them. 

A  woman  selecting  a  husband,  or  being  sought  as  a 
wife,  ought  to  know  before  she  yields  her  heart  or  hand 
whether  the  suitor  has  a  profession  or  a  trade ;  whether 
he  is  a  skillful  artisan  or  a  thrifty,  industrious  farmer — 
up  early  and  late,  able  to  do  his  own  work,  and  not 
ashamed  of  it  either;  whether  his  "hobby"  is  to  com- 
plain of  "  hard  times  ■'  instead  of  stmggling  to  brighten 
them ;  whether  he  knows  how  to  manage  a  fortune  if  he 
has  one ;  whether  he  works  six  days  in  his  profession, 
and  on  Sunday  rests,  and  goes  to  church  to  praise  God. 

If  they  woiild  take  the  trouble  to  find  out  these  things, 
they  would  never  have  cause  to  regret  their  marriage— 
they  would  always  love  and  respect  their  husbands ;  and 
moreover,  never  lack  a  well-provided  home. 

But  they  don't  take  the  trouble  I  They  go  on,  as  they 
will  probably  continue  to  do  while  the  earth  revolves  on 
jts  axis,  estimating  a  young  man's  worth  by  the  nicety 
of  the  tailor's  fit,  the  length  and  silkiness  of  his  mous- 
tache, and  his  ability  to  talk  opera  and  soft  nonsense. 

One  fact,  if  generally  known,  is  too  often  forgotten, 
and  that  is,  that  love  and  confidence  are  the  foundation 
stones  of  perfect  domestic  bliss ;  that  without  these  all 
is  chaos  and  doubt  and  despair,  and  happiness  is  a  myth 
lingering  only  in  the  heart's  Utopia. 

There  is  a  trite  apliorism  about  Love  flying  out  at  the 
window  when  Poverty  comes  in  at  the  door.  There  is 
no  tmth  in  this  where  the  affection  existing  is  genuine  ; 
and,  indeed,  there  is  never  need  for  more  fortune  than 
that  which  insures  comfort.  Those  persons  who  m.arry 
With  moderate  means  are  generally  the  ones  who  taste 
the  oenanthic  ether  of  life.  No  matter  which  one  brings 
the  "  lucre  "  to  the  domestic  treasury,  so  that  the  hearts 
are  in  the  right  place.    And  certain  it  is  that  such  do- 


mestic bliss  is  founded  upon  a  rock.  Happiness  la 
another  name  for  love  ;  for  where  love  is  there  is  happi- 
ness also  ;  and  with  these  there  is  contentment  too,  for 
trae  love  inspires  forbearance  and  gentleness  ;  and  these 
domestic  qualities  ever  and  always  flood  a  home  with 
eternal  sunshine,  bright  and  visible  and  blessed  as  the 
smile  of  God  I 

Society  holds  a  wife  amenable  for  her  example,  for  th» 
honor  and  happiness  of  her  husband ;  and  God  holds 
her  amenable  for  the  rich  talents  intmsted  to  her  care 
and  improvement,  for  no  woman  can  be  tme  to  any 
man  while  false  tc  herself  I 


The  Last  Test  of  Fidelity. 

The  reign  of  Napoleon,  worried  and  ransacked  as  it 
has  been  by  the  writers  of  memoirs,  recollections  and 
histories,  is  a  mine  that  still  contains  a  multitude  cf 
rich,  and  as  yet,  unexplored  veins.  The  history  of  the 
secret  associations  that  sprang  up  during  the  latter  days 
of  the  empire,  would  form  a  most  curious  and  interest- 
ing volume,  and  there  would  be  no  lack  of  material 
wherewith  to  fill  it.  The  society  of  the  United  Brothers 
alone  would  furnish  pages  of  the  most  intense  and  ab- 
sorbing interest,  while  nothing  could  appeal  more 
forcibly  to  the  imagination  than  the  strange  and  dramatic 
episodes  connected  with  its  mysterious  initiations.  Per- 
haps a  hundred  incidents  might  be  related  as  striking 
and  well  conceived  as  the  following  : 

An  officer  of  the  French  army  having  incurred  the 
suspicion  or  resentment  of  the  emperor,  thought  it  ex- 
pedient to  abandon  his  country  and  take  refuge  in  one 
of  the  Austrian  provinces,  and  here  he  became  advised 
of  and  initiated  into  a  society,  the  object  of  whose  for- 
mation was  to  hurl  to  the  ground  the  Colossus  whose 
arm  smote  and  governed  the  whole  continent  of  Europe 
with  a  sceptre  of  iron.  One  day  a  letter  was  brought  to 
him  containing  the  usual  signs  and  passwords  of  the 
society,  and  requiring  him  to  repair  on  the  following 
night  to  a  secluded  spot  in  a  forest,  where  he  would 
meet  with  some  of  his  associates.  He  went,  but  found 
nobody.  The  orders  were  repeated  four  times,  at  inter- 
vals of  a  few  days,  and  four  times  the  oflBcer  sought  the 
appointed  place,  vrtth  no  better  success  than  at  first. 

On  the  fifth  night  of  his  appearance  at  the  rendezvous, 
after  waiting  some  time,  he  was  on  the  point  of  retum- 
ing,  when  loud  cries  suddenly  arrested  his  attention. 
Drawing  his  sword,  he  hastened  to  the  spot  whence  they 
seemed  to  proceed,  and  was  fired  upon  by  three  men, 
who,  seeing  that  he  was  unwounded,  instantly  took  to 
flight ;  but  at  his  feet  lay  a  bleeding  corpse,  in  which,  by 
the  feeble  light  of  the  moon,  he  in  vain  sought  foi 
tokens  of  animation.  He  was  yet  bending  over  the  dead 
man,  when  a  detachment  of  chasseurs,  summoned,  ap- 
parently, by  the  noise  of  the  pistols  that  had  besn  dis- 
charged at  himself,  came  suddenly  up,  and  arrested  him 
as  the  assassin.  He  was  loaded  with  chains,  tried  the 
next  day,  and  condemned  to  die  for  the  supposed  crime. 
His  execution  was  ordered  to  take  place  at  midnight. 

Surrounded  by  the  ministers  of  justice,  he  was  led,  ata 
slow  pace,  by  the  light  of  torches,  and  amid  the  funeral 
toiling  of  bells,  to  a  vast  square,  in  the  centre  of  Vv  hich 
was  a  scaffold ,  environed  by  horsemen  ;  beyond  these 
was  a  numerous  group  of  spectators,  who  muttered  im- 
patiently, and,  at  intervals,  sent  forth  a  cry  of  abhor 
rence.  The  victim  mounted  the  scaffold,  his  sentence 
was  read,  and  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy  was  on  the 
point  of  fulfillment,  when  an  otficer  let  fall  a  word  of 
hope. 

An  edict  had  just  been  promulgated  by  the  govern- 
ment, offering  pardon  and  life  to  any  condemned 
criminal  who  should  disclose  the  members  and  secret 
tokens  of  a  particular  association,  the  existence  of  which 
was  suspected;  it  was  that  of  which  the  Frenchman  to 
whom  these  words  were  addressed  had  lately  become  a 
member.  He  was  questioned,  but  denied  all  knowledge  ; 
they  urged  him  to  confess,  with  promises  of  additionr.] 
leward — his  only  reply  was  a  demand  for  immediate 
death— and  his  initiation  was  completed.  All  that  hr,d 
passed  was  but  a  terrible  trial  of  his  fidelity  ;  those  who 
urrounded  him  were  members  of  the  society,  and  every 
incident  that  has  been  described,  from  the  time  of  the 
first  summons  to  the  last  fearful  moment  of  expected 
death,  was  only  a  step  in  the  progress  of  the  fearful  ex- 
periment by  wiiich  they  sought  to  determine  the  tmst- 
worthiness  of  the  neophyte. 


448 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


FAMILY  BEADING. 

BT  ORPHEUS  C.  KEKR. 

An  American  male  parent  unto  his  babes  said  he, 
"  Come  hither,  pretty  little  ones,  and  sit  on  either  knee, 
And  tell  me  what  you've  lately  heard  your  mother  read,  and 
me." 

In  his  fatherly  assurance  and  fond  parental  way. 
He  wanted  to  discover  what  the  innocents  would  say 
About  a  missionary  book  they'd  heard  the  other  day. 
Full  of  glee  spake  young  Alonzo,  all  legs  and  curly  hair: 
"  You  yead  about  the  man  they  hung,  and  all  the  people  there; 
And  mamma  yead  the  funny  part  of  how  it  made  him  swear." 
Joining  quickly  in,  cried  Minnie— all  waist  and  dimpled  neck— 
"  It  wasn't  half  so  funny,  though,  as  that  about  the  check 
They  caught  somebody  forging,  'cause  he  was  so  green,  I 
speck." 

"But  the  thi«g  I  liked  the  bestest,"  Alonzo  piped  amain, 
"  Was  how  somebody  yunn'd  away,  and  won't  come  back  again, 
And  tookt  somebody's  wife  with  him  upon  a  yailyoad  tyain," 
"Then  yoa  wasn't  listening,  'Lonzo,"  came  swift  from  Minnie 
small, 

••When  papa  yead  about  the  girl  that  tookt  her  only  shawl, 
And  wrapped  a  baby  up  in  it,  and  left  it  in  the  hall." 
The  American  male  parent  his  hair  arose  on  end; 
On  either  knee  an  infant  form  he  did  reverse  and  bend. 
And  from  their  little  mouths  straightway  made  dismal  howls 
asc«tid. 


Owls  and  their  Uses. 

The  utility  of  the  common  owl  as  a  destroyer  of  ver- 
min is  scarcely  likely  to  be  called  in  question  at  the 
present  day.  A  remarkable  instance  in  point  is  recorded 
by  Herr  Grote,  in  the  Journal  of  the  Hanover  agricultural 
society.  Last  year  this  gentleman  discovered  in  his  gar- 
den an  owl's  nest  built  in  a  hollow  tree.  When  first  ob- 
Berved  it  contained  four  eggs  and  the  bodies  of  seven 
field  mice.  Oil  the  following  day  six  of  the  mice  had 
been  devoured  and  eight  fresh  ones  introduced  in  their 
place.  On  the  third  day  six  more  mice  were  added  to 
the  stock,  and  the  carcasses  of  seven  more  were  found 
in  a  contiguous  hollow  tree.  Day  after  day  the  same 
thing  was  observed,  a  fresh  supply  of  mice  being  con- 
stantly introduced.  From  circumstances  which  are  not 
specifically  mentioned,  Herr  Grote  was  only  able  to  con- 
tinue his  observations  for  a  period  of  fourteen  days, 
but  within  this  time  the  number  of  mice  foimd  in  and 
around  the  nest  was  ascertained  to  be  more  than  two 
hundred,  and  in  addition  to  these  the  wing  cases  of  a 
large  number  of  dung  beetles  {Scarabceus  stercorarius) 
vere  found  in  the  same  place.  In  order  to  avoid  any 
source  of  possible  error  in  his  computation,  the  observer 
took  the  precaution  of  marking  each  day's  supply  of 
mice  when  first  noticed,  so  as  to  make  quite  sure  that 
none  of  the  bodies  should  oe  counted  twice. 


Trapped  by  a  Spider. 

Quite  a  crowd  gathered  recently  on  Greatman  street, 
New  Orleans,  at  a  carpenter's  shop.  Near  a  bench  in 
the  shop  hung  a  mouse,  medium-sized,  head  downward, 
and  around  his  body  was  coiled  a  single  thread  of  a 
spider's  web,  which  reached  to  a  corner  of  the  bench 
above,  and  had  its  fastening  there.  On  the  mouse's  tail 
quietly  sat  the  spider,  which  seemed  to  be  manipulating 
the  thread,  and  working  it  as  with  a  pulley.  When 
caught  the  mouse  was  on  the  ground,  and  after  five  or 
six  hours'  work,  the  spider  managed  to  hoist  it  an  mch, 
and  there  it  hung. 

The  explanation  concerning  this  singular  circumstance 
is'that  the  mouse  was  accustomed,  when  on  a  predatory 
excursion,  to  emerge  from  a  hole  under  the  bench  and 
pass  into  an  inner  room.  The  spider  laid  a  trap  in  its 
path,  it  is  conjectured,  and  yesterday  morning,  as  the- 
mouse  was  making  its  accustomed  daily  rounds,  it  was 
caught  in  the  net  and  securely  held,  the  spider  taking 
up  a  position  on  its  tail.  Although  the  mouse  hung  sus- 
pended, a  dead  weight,  the  thread  did  not  give  way,  and 
there  it  hung  helpless  between  earth  and  heaven.  At 
night  the  carpenter  closed  up  his  shop,  but  the  spider 
was  still  at  work,  and  had  completed  an  inch  in  the  ele- 
vation. 


African  Hunter  Surprised  by  a  Leopard- 

BT  J.  W.  WORTENDTKE. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  Central  Africa  the  skin  of/ 
the  leopard  is  deemed  a  suitable  adornment  for  persons 
of  princely  rank,  and  is  among  the  most  valued  insignia 
of  royalty.  The  leopard  ranges  throughout  the  greater 
part  of  the  vast  African  continent,  although  not  very 
common  in  any  except  the  more  untraversed  regions. 
Its  skin  is  distinguished  by  large  complicated  spots,  each 
spot  being  in  itself  an  assemblage  of  smaller  spots, 
which  run  generally  in  about  five  rows  along  the  entire 
body. 

Some  naturalists  have  asserted  the  existence  in  Africa 
of  several  distinct  varieties  of  the  leopard,  but  later  re- 
searches seem  to  demonstrate  pretty  clearly  that  there 
is  in  reality  but  one,  such  differences  as  are  apparent  in 
individuals  being  attributed  to  varieties  of  habitat. 

The  high  value  placed  upon  the  skin  of  the  animal 
render  the  killing  of  a  leopard  a  matter  of  great  rejoicing 
to  the  native  hunter,  but  the  chase  is  not  unattended 
with  danger. 

A  party  of  native  hunters  were  following  the  spoor  of 
five  elands  or  harte-beests,  when  suddenly  a  large  leopard 
sprang  from  the  dense  jungle  and  seized  from  behind 
an  unlucky  native  who  had  lingered  in  the  rear  of  his 
comrades.  The  man  struggled  desperately  to  free  him- 
self, but  in  vain,  and  when  the  remaining  hunters,  re- 
covering from  their  momentary  surprise,  closed  in  upon 
the  savage  animal,  transfixing  it  with  their  long  spears, 
and  dragged  their  wounded  comrade  from  his  grasp,  he 
proved  to  be  fatally  Injured  and  soon  expired.  The 
hunters  returned  to  their  village,  bearing  the  blood- 
stained carcass  of  the  leopard  upon  a  rude  litter  of 
boughs,  as  an  offering  to  their  chief.  The  whole  village 
turned  out  to  participate  in  the  ceremony ;  shouts  of 
rejoicing  and  the  din  created  by  discordant  musical  in- 
struments filled  the  air,  and  the  dead  leopard  was  proud- 
ly deposited  as  a  trophy  at  the  dusky  chieftain's  feet, 
while  congratulations  were  showered  upon  the  triumph- 
ant hunters.  No  one  seemed  to  think  of  the  unlucky 
victim  whose  lacerated  body  brought  up  the  rear  of  the 
procession.  But  human  life  is  cheap  in  Africa,  and  the 
relatives  of  the  slain  think  their  duty  fully  performed 
when  they  have  attired  the  corpse  in  skins  and  feathers, 
painted  the  face  in  grotesque  colors,  and  erected  over 
the  shallow  grave  a  rude  hut  formed  of  the  slightest  and 
most  perishable  materials,  which  soon  fall  iuto  decay, 
and  leaves  no  trace  whatever  of  the  burial-place. 


PuBE  soft  water  is  the  best  of  all  blood  purifiers.  It 
dissolves  most  every  impurity  that  may  find  its  way  to 
the  blood,  and  passes  it  off  through  the  skin,  lungs  and 
kidneys,  thus  washing  out  the  blood  without  any  irrita- 
tion in  the  system,  and  without  those  chemical  changes 
and  deposits  which  are  likely  to  arise  from  the  action  of 
drugs.  Why  then  use  doubtful,  dangerous,  and  often 
injurious  drugs  for  purifying  the  blood,  when  pure  sim- 
ple, safe,  and^plcasant  and  far  more  effectual  water  may- 
be had  without  money  and  without  price  ? 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


449 


GOLDEN  SUMMER  WEATHER 

— IN — 

THE  COUNTRY. 


"What  is  this  melody  beneath  the  grass  ? 

Come  hither,  stoop  and  lititeu — nearer  yet; 
And  push  aside  the  thick  and  tangled  net 
Of  bending  rushes  and  the  brakes'  green  ujass." 

And  lo  !  a  gurgling  brook  we  find,  singing  its  merry 
song  over  the  stones  and  pebbles.  Sit  down  on  the 
mossy  bank  and  enjoy  the  solitude  of  Nature,  full  of 
musical  sounds,  and  watch  the  limpid  water's  ceaseless 
flow.  Keep  quiet,  and  animated  nature  begins  to  move 
— there  a  clumsy  tortoise  clambers  up  a  mossy  root,  half 


tiiey  were  made  to  do  just  because  they  were  made  to 
do  it  and  cannot  help  it,  without  once  stopping  to 
contemplate  the  individuality  of  that  little  atom  of 
animate  dust  which  in  our  own  case  we  call  I." 
We  may  suppose  that  tlie  grasshopper  hops  its  Rttle 
life  away,  blissfully  unconscious  of  the  great  work 
it  is  doing  in  building  up  the  patience  of  health- 
seekers.  The  cricket  chirps  in  the  sha.iow  of 
some  convenient  stone,  and  from  the  day  of  its 
birth  to  the  day  of  its  death,  never  knows 
what  a  soothing  power  over  the  tired  senses  is 
in  its  cheerful  monotone.  The  marsh-frogs  play 
their  merry  chimes  night  after  night,  and,  so  far  as  they 
know,  do  not  receive  therefor  so  much  as  a  vote  of 


HOW  GOOD  TO  WALK  BY  THE  SIDE  OF  THE  STREAM,  AND  WATCH  THE  GOLD  TROUT  LEAP  AND  PLAY. 


buried  In  the  rippling  tide,  and  another  soft  splash  is 
lieard  from  one  that  seeks  the  water.  The  little 
minnows  leap  and  play,  the  birds  chirping  and  sing- 
ing, bring  food  to  the  fledglings  in  the  trees,  and  a 
water- snake  silently  swims  across  and  disappears 
amid  a  clump  of  rushes. 

The  stream  laughs  merrily  on  its  way  to  the  sea, 
the  fragrant  flowers  nod  their  lovely  heads,  and  the 
birds  sing  their  sweetest  songs  of  joy. 

"  I  sometimes  wonder  if  the  creatures  of  the  woods 
and  fields,  the  little  beings  with  downy  breasts,  with 
shining  shards,  or  silken  wings,  ever  know  or  think 
whether  they  are  happy  or  sad.  Apparently  they  live, 
because  their  little  bodies  are  brimful  of  life,  without 
E  thought  of  self-pity  or  congratulation,  doing  what 


thanks  from  a  delighted  audience.  Every  thing  is  rest- 
ful ;  every  thing  seems  to  do  just  what  it  likes  to  do, 
just  in  the  way  it  pleases,  and  just  as  long  as  it  pleases, 
and  if  some  poor  unfortunate  did  not  yield  up  its  exis- 
tence now  and  then,  or  if  some  spiteful  wasp  did  not 
insist  upon  taking  revenge  for  unpleasant  accidental 
contiguity,  which  is  not  a  heavenly  characteristic,  one 
might  almost  fancy  man's  earth  the  birds'  and  insects' 
heaven,  as  they  sing,  fly,  and  buzz  all  alx)ut  us  in  the 
summer  sun." 

Let  us  wander  on  to  yonder  green  hillock  shaded  by 
a  waving  elm,  and  listening,  we  hear  the  distant  sound 
of  a  bell,  then  the  report  of  a  gun,  the  blast  of  a  horn, 
the  crack  of  a  whip,  a  shout  across  the  fields,  the  bellow 
of  a  bull,  the  bark  of  a  dog,  the  crow  of  a  cock  ;  while 
the  low  rustling  of  things  moved  by  the  w^nds  come 
sweetly  to  the  ear.  the  melody  of  the  field. 


450 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


'^All  is  life  and  stir  on  the  dear  old  farm.  The  new 
mown  hay  sheds  its  sweet  scent  all  around,  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  are  rich  with  bloom,  and  the  plants  and  herbs 
yield  their  sweets.  Bees  hum,  flies  play,  and  there  a 
covey  of  young  partridges  rise  out,  whirr  over,  and  then 
suddenly  drop  again  into  the  sea  of  green  waving  corn. 
From  morn  till  eve  these  sweet  glad  sounds  go  on,  and 
the  "  heart  leaps  for  joy  "  when  it  thinks  the  good  God 
has  made  such  sights  and  sounds  to  cheer  our  way  from 
day  to  day  through  this    vale  of  tears." 

Then,  too,  what  joy  there  is  for  one  who  tries  to  read 
QodH  books  from  all  he  sees  in  life !  Not  a  bird  that 
soars  on  high  but  has  its  song  of  praise,  not  a  fly  or  gnat 
that  wings  its  flight  through  the  air  but  has  a  charm  for 
those  who  seek  God  in  His  works. 

Oh,  the  joy  to  feel  free  to  breathe  the  pure  air,  and 
tread  the  soft  turf  of  the  downs — to  feast  our  eyes  on 
the  golden  furze,  and  rich  dark  heath  with  all  its  tints 
and  hues,  with  here  and  there  a  peep  of  rocks,  and 
stones  grown  gray  with  the  beat  of  the  rough  winds  of 
long  years ! 

Then  how  good  to  walk  by  the  side  of  the  stream,  and 
watch  the  gold  trout  leap  and  play  in  the  warmth  of  the 
sun  at  noon  1 

Look  where  one  will,  the  eye  meets  sights  of  joy  !  Oh, 
none  can  tell  how  great  the  treat  to  those  pent  up  in  a 
towT3,  with  naught  but  "man's  works"  to  gaze  at;  to 
feel  (if  but  for  one  day)  the  free,  pure  air  and  fresh 
breeze,  and  with  full  rest  from  toil  to  view  God's  work, 
for  in  truth,  "man  made  the  town,  God  the  green  fields 
and  trees." 

"  All  the  fragrant  air 
Was  tremulous  with  the  sweet  joy  of  life. 
The  trilling  of  bird-music  and  the  hum 
Of  honey-bees  among  the  dewy  flowers 
Was  woven  through  the  sunny  atmosphere 
Like  the  rich  warp  and  woof  of  some  fine  web." 

And  at  even,  the  bats  go  zig-zagging  about  on  noiseless 
wing,  but  with  strident  cry ;  night-moths  hum  in  the 
honey-suckles,  and  bees,  busy  up  to  the  last  moment 
before  going  to  bed,  about  the  luscious  blossoms  of  the 
umbrageous  limes.  Beetles  come  booming  and  blunder- 
ing through  the  dewy  air ;  field-crickets  chirp  on  all 
Bides,  and  we  sit  on  the  piazza  until  dark  scarcely  know- 
ing how  to  leave  such  scenes,  but  time  and  tide  wait  for 
no  man  ;  the  bright  day  is  done,  the  gloom  of  night  is 
over  ail ;  we  must  say  good-night  to  the  song  of  birds, 
and  the  laughing  brook,  and  refresh  ourselves  with 
slumber  for  the  work  of  another  day. 

Who  would  not  be  a  farmer  ?  It  is  joy  to  live  in  the 
country,  to  perceive  sweet  odors  borne  on  every  breeze — 
melodious  sounds  on  every  side,  and  feel,  in  fact,  that 
God  is  there,  and  see  his  works,  that  they  are  good.  And 
then,  Nature  is  so  bountiful  withal — she  gives  you  the 
soil;  you  help  lier  and  she  in  return  helps  you — helps 
you  while  you  are  doing  it.  She  keeps  your  ground 
moist  when  you  mellow  it,  and  she  lets  the  air  pass 
into  it  with  its  fertility,  which  she  took  from  negli- 
gent barn-yards;  and  this  fertility  she  leaves  with  the 
soil — and  thus  the  farmer  and  nature  are  helping  each 
other.  Thus  our  farms  are  improved.  How  are  they 
deteriorated  ?  By  just  the  opposite  course — by 
neglect.  The  more  we  do  for  our  farms  the  more 
nature  will  aid  us,  and  thus  the  better  will  be  our 
land.  The  truth  is,  we  are  only  helping  nature  at 
the  best — and  she  pays  us  for  what  we  do  for  her. 
The  land  is  still  hers ;  she  forever  holds  the  title 
deed. 

If  we  deal  generously  with  her,  how  bountifully  we 
are  repaid  I  Do  we  appreciate  the  blessings  she 
showers  upon  us  ?  and  with  thankful  hearts  receive 
the 

Great  waves  of  plenty  rolling  up 
Their  golden  billows  to  our  feet; 
Fields  where  the  ungathered  rye  Is  white. 
Or  heavy  with  the  yellow  wheat. 
Wealth  surging  inward  from  the  sea. 
And  plenty  through  our  land  abroad. 
With  sunshine  resting  over  all; 
That  everlasting  smile  of  God  1  " 

0,  how  blindly  we  grope  along,  unmindful 
of  all  tlie  joy  there  is  in  existence — all  the  beau- 
tiful creation  above  and  around  us.  The  old  famfliar 
hjmn : 


"Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below," 

should  swell  in  one  grand  chorus  to  the  throne 
Heaven  daily,  from  hearts  swelling  with  love  and  grati- 
tude, for  all  the  beautiful  things  bestowed  upon  man- 
kind. 

In  the  words  of  the  great  poet's  hymn : — 

"  My  heart  is  awed  within  me  when  I  think 
Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on 
In  silence  round  me— the  perpetual  work 
Of  thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
Forever.   Written  on  thy  works  I  read 
The  lesson  of  thy  own  eternity. 
Lo  !  all  grow  old  and  die— but  see  again, 
How  on  the  faltering  footsteps  of  decay, 
Youth  presses — ever  gay  and  beautiful  youth, 
In  all  its  beautiful  forms.   These  lofty  trees 
Wave  not  less  proudly  than  their  ancestors. 
Moulder  beneath  them.   Oli,  there  is  not  lost 
One  of  earth's  charms  :  upon  her  bosom  yet, 
After  the  flight  of  centuries, 
The  freshness  of  her  far  beginning  lies, 
And  j'et  shall  lie.   Life  mocks  the  idle  hate 
Of  his  arch  enemy  Death— yea,  seats  himself 
Upon  the  tyrant's  throne — the  sepulchre. 
And  of  the  triumphs  of  his  ghastly  foe. 
Makes  his  own  notu-ishment.   For  he  came  forth 
From  thine  own  bosom,  and  shall  have  no  end. 

There  have  been  holy  men  who  hid  themselves 

Deep  in  the  woody  wilderness,  and  gave 

Their  lives  to  thought  and  prayer,  till  they  outlived 

The  generation  born  with  them,  nor  seemed 

Less  aged  than  the  hoary  trees  and  rocks 

Around  them  j  and  there  have  been  holy  men 

Who  deemed  it  were  not  well  to  pass  life  thus. 

But  let  me  often  to  these  solitudes 

Retire,  and  in  thy  presence  reassure 

My  feeble  virtue.   Here  its  enemies, 

The  passions,  at  thy  plainer  footsteps  shrink 

And  tremble,  and  are  still.   Oh,  God  1  when  thou 

Dost  scare  the  world  wdth  tempests,  set  on  fire 

The  heavens  with  falling  thunderbolts,  or  fill, 

With  all  the  waters  of  the  firmament, 

The  swift  dark  whirlwind  that  uproots  the  woods 

And  drowns  the  villages  ;  when,  at  thy  call, 

Uprises  the  great  deep  and  throws  himself 

Upon  the  continent,  and  overwhelms 

Its  cities — who  forgets  not,  at  the  sight 

Of  these  tremendous  tokens  of  thy  power. 

His  pride,  and  lays  his  strifes  and  follies  by? 

Oh,  from  these  sterner  aspects  of  thy  face, 

Spare  me  and  mine,  nor  let  us  need  the  wrath 

Of  the  mad  unchained  elements  to  teach 

Who  rules  them.   Be  it  ours  to  meditate, 

In  these  calm  shades,  thy  milder  majesty, 

And  to  the  beautiful  order  of  thy  works, 

Learn  to  conform  the  order  of  our  lives." 


Beef  for  Britons. 

Sending  beef  to  Britain  is  something  on  a  par  with 
sending  coals  to  Newcastle,  and  yet  America  proposes 
to  march  upon  John  B.  with  Yankee  beef  and  beat  him 
in  his  own  market.    The  subject  is  attracting  more  or 
less  attention  in  England  and  France,  as  among  our- 
selves.   The  mechanical  apparatus  consists  of  little 
more  than  a  large  packing  box  or  storeroom,  enclosed 
by  an  iron  chest,  through  which  pipes  are  passed,  and  a 
!  constant  circulation  of  air  forced  by  a  small  indepen- 
dent steam  engine  of  about  one-horse  power.    The  air 
I  thus  driven  into  the  meat  chest  is  immediately  drawn 
I  out  near  the  bottom,  and  returned  to  the  refrigerator, 
:  being  used  over  and  over.    The  temperature  of  the 
I  entire  body  of  air  is  evenly  preserved  at  near  thirty-six 
1  degrees,  causing  a  very  moderate  consumption  of  ice 
I  after  the  first  few  hours.     London  papers  recently 
I  noticed  the  sale  of  American  beef  at  the  Smithfield  mar- 
ket at  an  average  of  sixpence  per  pound,  or  about 
twelve  cents  in  American  currency,  and  the  account 
says  it  "sold  rapidly."   How  beef  can  be  sold  at  this 
price  at  a  profit,  after  deducting  costs  of  transportation 
across  the  Atlantic,  our  "middle  men  "  can  best  explain. 
The  fact  shows  clearly  enough  the  advantage  of  buying 
from  first  hands.    Beef  treated  after  the  manner  de- 
scribed is  said  to  suffer  in  no  degree  from  impaired 
flavor.    Perishable  fruits  are  transferred  with  equal  suc- 
cess.   The  indications  are  that  hereafter,  with  refriger- 
ator warehouses,  refrigerator  cars,  and  refrigerator 
steamships,  the  trade  in  perishable  merchandise,  such 
as  fresn  meats,  game,  fish  and  fruits,  will  steadily  grow 
in  importance,  and  these  articles  have  a  much  wider 
distribution. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


45' 


An  Arab  Belle.  | 

BY  J.  J.  WORTENDYKE.  I 

Of  the  three  ladies  that  formed  the  harem,  the  chief  i 
was  Amsha,  a  lady  celebrated  in  the  song  of  every  Arab  j 
of  the  desert  for  her  beauty  and  noble  blood.  She  was 
a  daughter  of  Hassam,  Sheikh  of  the  Tai,  a  tribe  tracing  I 
its  origin  from  the  remotest  antiquity,  and  one  of  whose 
chiefs,  Hatem,  her  ancestor,  is  a  hero  of  Eastern  ro- 
mance. Sofuk  had  carried  her  away  by  force  from  her 
father,  but  had  always  treated  her  with  respect.  From 
her  rank  and  beauty  she  had  earned  the  title  of  Queen 
of  the  Desert."  Her  form,  traceable  through  the  thin 
skirt  she  wore,  like  the  other  Arab  women,  was  well- 
proportioned  and  graceful.  She  was  tall  in  stature  and 
fair  in  complexion.  Her  features  were  regular,  and  her 
eyes  dark  and  brilliant.  She  had,  undoubtedly,  claims  to 
more  than  ordinary  beauty  ;  to  the  Arabs  she  was  more 
than  perfection,  for  all  the  resources  of  their  arts  had 
been  exhausted  to  complete  what  nature  had  begun. 
Her  lips  were  dyed  deep  blue,  her  eyelids  were  continued 
in  indigo  until  they  were  united  over  her  nose,  her  cheeks 
and  forehead  were  spotted  v/ith  beauty  marks,  her  eyc^ 
lashes  darkened  by  kohl ;  and  on  her  legs  and  bosom  could 
be  seen  the  tattooed  ends  of  flowers  and  fanciful  orna- 
ments, which  were  carried  in  festoons  and  network  over 
her  whole  body.  Hanging  from  each  ear,  and  reachN 
ing  to  the  waist,  was  an  enormous  ear-ring  of  gold,  terx 
mmating  in  a  tabutel  of  the  same  material,  carved  and 
ornamented  with  the  four  turquoises.  Her  nose  was 
adorned  with  a  prodigious  gold  ring,  set  with  jewels,  of 
such  ample  dimensions  that  it  covered  the  mouth,  and 
was  to  be  removed  when  the  lady  ate. 

Ponderous  rows  of  strung  beads,  Assyrian  chymders, 
fragments  of  coral,  agates  and  parti-colored  stones  hung 
down  from  her  neck;  loose  silver  rings  encircled  her  wrists 
and  ankles,  making  a  loud  jingling  as  she  walked. 

Over  her  blue  skirt  was  thrown,  when  she  issued  from 
her  tent,  a  coarse  stripped  cloak  and  a  common  black 
handkerchief  was  tied  over  her  head.  Her  menage  com- 
bined, if  the  old  song  be  true,  the  domestic  and  the 
queenly,  and  was  carried  on  with  a  nice  appreciation  of 
economy. 

The  immense  sheet  of  black  goat  hair  canvas,  which 
formed  the  tent,  was  supported  by  twelve  or  fourteen 
stout  poles,  and  was  completely  open  on  one  side. 

Being  entirely  set  apart  for  the  women,  it  had  no  par- 
titions, as  in  the  tent  of  the  common  Arab,  who  is 
obliged  to  reserve  a  comer  for  the  reception  of  his 
guests. 

Between  the  centre  poles  were  placed  upright  and 
close  to  one  another,  large  camel  or  goat  hair  sacks  filled 
with  rice,  com,  barley,  cofEee,  and  other  household  stuff, 
their  mouths  of  course  being  upwards.  Upon  them 
were  spread  carpets  and  cushions,  upon  which  Amsha 
reclined.  Around  her,  squatted  on  the  ground,  were 
some  fifty  handmaidens  tending  the  wide  cauldron,  bak- 
ing bread  on  the  iron  plate,  or  shaking  between  them  the 
skin  suspended  between  three  stakes,  and  filled  with 
milk,  to  be  thus  chumed  into  butter.  It  is  the  privilege 
of  the  head  wife  to  prepare  in  his  tent  the  dinners  of 
the  Sheikh's  guests. 


Calcium. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUFFY. 

This  metal,  which  is  yellowish-white,  lustrous  and 
ductile,  may  be  produced  by  heating  lime  with  either 
potassium  or  sodium.  It  is  a  constituent  of  several  of 
the  most  important  minerals,  and  forms  nearly  as  much 
as  one-sixteenth  of  the  solid  crast  of  the  earth.  The 
general  properties  of  calcium  are  but  little  known,  with 
the  following  exceptions,  viz  :  It  melts  at  a  red  heat, 
and  in  case  oxygen  be  present,  takes  fire  and  bums  with 
a  very  bright  and  dazzling  light ;  it  oxidizes  quickly  in 
moist  air,  decomposes  water,  and  suffers  no  change  in 
dry  air  at  the  ordinary  temperature. 

The  well-known  earth,  lime^  is  an  oxide  of  calcium, 
and  may  be  obtaiaed  by  heating  chalk  to  redness  in  an 
open  vessel.  On  the  large  scale,  it  is  manufactured  by 
burning  chalk  or  limestone  in  kilns.  Lime  is  used  for  a 
great  variety  of  purposes — in  mortar,  with  sand,  after 
^ing  slaked,  during  which  process  sufficient  heat  is  set 
free  to  fire  some  wood.  The  value  of  lime  in  mortar, 
consists  in  the  fact  that  it  gradually  becomes  a  compact 
jsc-li^.  by  the  absorbtion  of  carbonie  acid  from  tl;*?  -jj 


it  is  used  in  the  refining  of  sugar ;  as  a  flux  in  metal- 
lurgical operations ;  and  in  the  manufacture  of  soda 
and  potash,  and  ammonia-water  and  bleaching  powders. 
Candle-makers  use  it  for  preparing  lime-soap,  and  it  is 
found  in  almost  eveiy  vegetable  in  some  iorm.  In  the 
process  of  tanning,  it  is  used  to  remove  hair  from  the 
skins  ;  and  in  solution  as  lime-water,  it  is  used  to  remove 
superfluous  hair  from  the  head  and  face. 

The  great  disinfectant,  chloride  of  lime,  is  prepared  by 
passing  chlorine  gas  over  finely  powdered  slaked  lime. 
This  substance  is  largely  manufactured  for  bleachers, 
who,  by  means  of  it,  are  enabled  to  do  work  in  a  few 
hours  which  would  have  taken  weeks  to  perform  before 
its  discovery.  The  process  of  bleaching  is  as  follows: 
To  remove  the  grease,  etc.,  the  yam  is  first  boiled  in 
lime  and  water,  and  then  dipped  in  dilute  sulphuric 
acid  to  dissolve  out  the  lime  usually  present.  It  is  then 
immersed  in  a  warm  solution  of  chloride  of  lime,  and 
having  been  taken  out  and  drained,  it  is  dipped  into  a 
bath  of  acid  and  water ;  it  is  then  washed  with  an  abund- 
ance of  water,  from  which  it  emerges  perfectly  white. 

Chloride  of  calcium  is  used  in  laboratories  for  absorb- 
ing moisture,  and  is  prepared  by  saturating  hydro-chloric 
acid  with  lime,  and  fusing  the  result  in  a  crucible. 

Sulphate  of  oxide  of  calcium  forms  the  well-known 
Plaster  of  Paris.  It  can  be  prepared  by  adding  sulphuric 
acid  to  carbonate  of  lime,  but  on  the  large  scale,  it  ia 
produced  by  heating  srypsum. 

Some  of  the  most  important  salts  of  calcium,  such  aa 
bone  phosphate,  when  treated  chemically,  form  valuable 
manures.  The  bone-phosphate  (which  is  produced  by 
calcining  bones)  is  immersed  in  sulphuric  acid,  when 
sulphate  of  lime  is  afforded.  This  valuable  substance  is 
called  by  farmers,  superphospate,  and  is  highly  prized 

Wolves  in  the  Mountains. 

Although  Snow-shoe  Thompson  travelled  through  the 
wilds  of  the  Sierras  for  twenty  winters,  he  never  in  all 
that  time  met  or  saw  a  grizzly  bear  or  a  bear  of  any 
kind.  Hundreds  of  times  he  saw  their  tracks  in  the 
snow  and  in  the  mud  about  springs  and  brooks.  Some- 
times their  tracks  had  been  so  recently  made  that  water 
from  the  oozy  ground  was  running  into  and  had  not 
filled  them.  He  was  so  close  upon  them  at  times  that 
he  imagined  that  their  odor  still  lingered  in  the  air. 
Often  he  found  places  where  several  had  been  travel- 
ling together.  When  he  had  a  clear  field  he  did  not  fear 
them,  as  he  could  easily  run  away  from  them  on  his 
snow-shoes. 

"  I  never  was  frightened  but  once  during  all  my  trav- 
els in  the  mountains,"  said  Snow-shoe  Thompson: 
"'that  was  in  the  winter  of  1857.  I  was  crossing  Hope 
Valley,  when  I  came  to  place  where  six  great  wolves — 
)ig-timber  wolves — were  at  work  digging  up  the  carcass 
jf  some  animal.  They  looked  to  have  hair  on  them  a 
fcot  long.  They  were  great,  gaunt,  shaggy  fellows. 
My  course  lay  near  them.  I  knew  I  must  show  a  bold 
front.  I  might  run  away  from  a  bear,  but  these  were 
customers  of  a  different  k.ind.  There  was  nothing  of 
them  but  bones,  sinews  and  hau-,  and  they  could  skim 
over  the  snow  like  birds. 

"As  I  approached  they  left  the  carcass  and  came  out 
ii  single  file  a  distance  of  about  twenty-five  yards  toward 
my  line  of  march.  The  leader  of  the  pack  then  wheeled 
about  and  set  down  on  his  haunches.  When  the  next 
came  up  he  did  the  same,  and  so  on  till  all  were  seated 
iU  a  line.  They  acted  just  like  trained  soldiers.  I 
pledge  you  my  word  I  thought  the  devil  was  in  them. 
There  they  sat,  every  nose  tun-ed  toward  me  as  I  ap- 
proached. Just  when  I  was  opposite  them  and  but 
about  twenty-five  yards  away,  the  leader  threw  back  his 
head  and  began  a  howl.  All  the  rest  of  the  pack  did  the 
same.  '  Ya-a-a-ho-o-oo  !  ya-a-ah-oo-oo-oo  ! '  cried  all 
together.  A  more  horrible  sound  I  never  heard.  I 
thought  it  meant  my  death.  The  awful  yell  rang  out 
across  the  silent  valley,  and  was  echoed  by  the  hills 
— was  re-echoed  far  away  among  the  mountains.  I 
felt  my  hair  raise  on  my  head,  but  I  put  on  a  bold  front. 
1  passed  them  as  a  general  passes  in  front  of  the  soldiers 
he  is  reviewing,  I  did  not  alter  my  gait,  nor  did  I  turn 
an  inch  to  the  right  or  left.  I  kept  my  course  as  though 
the  wolves  had  not  been  there.  They  uttered  but  their 
first  awful  howl.  When  they  saw  that  that  did  not  make 
me  run,  they  feared  to  come  arter  me ;  so  they  let  me 
pass,  and  when  I  was  far  away  I  saw  them  going  back 
to  the  carcass 


452 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


Effect  of  Smoking  Hashish. 

It  was  in  my  own  house,  says  a  writer  at  Cairo,  that  I 
tested  the  virtues  of  the  drug— on  this  occasion  in  com- 
pany with  an  Englishman  in  the  service  of  the  Viceroy, 
and  accustomed  to  such  experiments.  We  sat  on  oppo- 
Bite  sides  of  the  dinner  table  in  the  evening,  in  a  small 
room,  the  celling  of  which  was  lofty,  though  the  apart- 
ment was  long  and  narrow.  Our  nargheles  were  brought 
in;  on  the  bumina:  top  of  each  was  deposited  a  small 
cake  of  greenish  paste  of  the  hashish,  which  gave  out  a 
peculiar  and  pungent  perfume  distinct  from  the  odor  of 
tobacco.  They  smoke  the  narghele  (or  water  pipe)  by 
strong  inhalation,  drawing  the  smoke  into  the  lungs  by 
each  efEort.  After  the  first  few  inhalations  I  experienced 
a  sensation  of  constriction  across  the  forehead,  as  though 
a  cord  had  been  tightly  drawn  around  my  head.  Then 
I  felt  some  disturbance  or  wavering  of  vision,  as  though 
the  pupils  of  my  eyes  were  dilating.  Suddenly  the  con- 
striction and  the  wavering  of  the  vision  ceased,  and  a 
sense  of  expansion  and  enlargement  of  all  my  powers, 
physical  and  mental,  succeeded.  Every  sense,  every 
nerve,  every  muscle  seemed  to  be  endowed  with  a  new 
and  more  subtle  life  and  power  than  before.  My  strength 
seemed  to  swell  into  that  of  a  giant,  and  a  sense  of  illim- 
itable power  and  energy  to  possess  my  whole  being.  My 
companion,  sitting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  re- 
ceded from  me  until  he  seemed  seated  at  the  end  of  a 
long  gallery,  the  walls  of  the  room  receding  as  he  did; 
and  when  he  spoke  (or  laughed,  under  the  influence  of 
the  drug,)  his  voice  came  pealing  on  my  ear  like  the 
crashing  sound  of  thunder.  Never  before  had  I  experi- 
enced any  sensations  at  all  similar,  save  in  my  vague 
recollection  of  the  delirium  of  fever. 

One  peculiar  idea  was  common  to  both  states — the  idea 
of  duality — as  though  one  person  were  watching  the 

Shenomenon  in  another,  yet  conscious  of  feeling  them 
imself — a  state  equally  common  under  hashish  and 
febrile  influence.  So  long  as  consciousness  of  personal 
indentity  and  the  consequent  struggle  against  the  intox- 
icating influence  of  the  drug  continued,  the  sensation 
was  painful.  But  both  myself  and  my  companion  soon 
soared  out  of  this  lower  region  into  the  higher  one  of 
hashishland,  into  the  enchanted  domain  of  the  "The 
Thousand  and  One  Nights,"  which  probably  were 
wrought  out  under  this  inspiration.  Unlike  the  frenzied 
and  broken  fragments  of  recollections  evoked  by  any 
other  form  of  intoxication,  the  hashish  pictures  paint 
themselves  so  vividly  on  the  brain  that  even  after  awak- 
ening from  its  dreams  sufficient  traces  of  them  stUl  re- 
main to  be  recalled  at  will. 


Changes  in  Fashion. 

It  is  amusing  to  notice  some  of  the  circumstances 
which  have  rapidly  brought  in  fashions,  and  as  speedily 
banished  them.  Sometimes  a  word,  or  a  single  act  of  a 
warrior  has  changed  the  fashion  of  a  whole  country. 
When  Alexander  the  Great  ordered  his  Macedonian  sol- 
diers to  shave,  lest  their  beards  might  become  handles 
whereby  their  enemies  might  capture  them,  smooth 
chins  became  universal  in  Greece.  Mausoleus  intro- 
duced a  new  custom  into  Asia  Minor,  when  he  com- 
manded the  heads  of  the  conquered  Lycians  to  be 
shaven ;  for  the  poor  fellows  felt  so  uncomfortable  and 
ridiculous,  that  they  bribed  the  king's  general  to  allow 
them  to  obtain  wigs  from  Greece  ;  and  a  peruke  speedily 
became  the  height  of  Lycian  fashion.  Courtiers  are  al- 
ways eager  to  imitate  their  sovereign ;  and  sometimes 
majesty  will  even  condescend  to  follow  the  fashion  it 
has  unwittingly  introduced.  When  Louis  XIY.  was  a 
little  boy,  he  had  such  long  beautiful  curly  hair,  that  all 
classes  tried  to  imitate  it  by  wigs  and  false  curls ;  but 
when  he  grew  up  and  became  the  "grand  monarque," 
he  adopted  the  full-bottomed  wig,  in  defiance  of  the 
canons  of  councils  and  the  thunders  of  priests.  All 
English  gentlemen  then  wore  perukes ;  though  Charles 
II.  forbade  the  members  of  the  university  of  Cambridge 
to  wear  periwigs,  smoke  tobacco,  or  read  their  sermons, 

The  enthusiasm  of  a  moment  has  not  unfrequently 
introduced  a  fashion  for  life  ;  and  even  sudden  fear  has 
rapidly  turned  its  tide.  At  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth 
century,  it  was  customary  in  England  to  wear  very  long 
hair  ;  and  a  decree  was  passed  in  the  council  of  Rouen 
against  it.  But  example  is  more  powerful  than  precept, 
especially  in  fashion.  When  Henry  I.  was  in  Normandy, 


Bishop  Serlo  preached  so  eloquently  against  this  custom, 
that,  it  is  said,  the  king  and  his  courtiers  were  moved  to 
tears.  The  prelate  immediately  seized  his  opportunity 
and  his  scissors,  and  cropped  the  whole  congregation : 
,and  a  royal  edict  secured  the  fashion  of  "  cropping '' 
during  Henry's  lifetime.  In  Stephen's  reign,  however, 
long  hair  again  appeared  ;  though,  for  a  short  time,  the 
previous  fashion  was  revived  in  consequence  of  the  dream 
of  a  young  soldier,  who  was  noted  for  the  length  and 
beauty  of  his  hair.  He  dreamed  one  night  that  a  person 
came  behind  him  and  strangled  him  with  his  own  curls  ; 
and  the  dread  of  such  a  calamity  was  suflaciently  power- 
ful to  cause  all  men  throughout  the  nation  to  cut  off 
their  flowing  ringlets. 

Fashions  which  have  been  introduced  to  hide  defects 
have  frequently  become  exceedingly  popular.  The  Effe- 
minati,  or  dandies  of  the  twelfth  century  wore  shoes 
with  immensely  long  pointed  toes ;  and  when  the  Earl 
of  Anjou  twisted  his  like  rams'  horns  to  conceal  his  de- 
formed feet,  the  nobles  eagerly  adopted  the  fashion. 

The  ruff,  too,  was  first  worn  by  a  lady  to  hide  a  wen 
on  her  neck.  We  are  told  that  the  sight  of  a  falling 
apple  suggested  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton  the  great  law  of 
the  universe  ;  and  the  appearance  of  a  certain  lady  sug- 
gested the  uniform  of  British  seamen.  The  English 
navy  was  not  distinguished  from  the  army  by  any  par- 
ticular costume  tUl  the  days  of  George  II.  In  the  year 
1748,  there  arose  much  discussion  respecting  a  naval  uni- 
form ;  and  one  day  his  majesty  accidentally  met  the 
Duchess  of  Bedford  on  horseback,  in  a  blue  riding-habit 
trimmed  with  white.  The  king  was  so  struck  with  the 
effect  of  these  colors,  that  he  ordered  them  to  be  adopted 
in  the  uniform  for  the  navy ;  and  blue  and  white  con- 
tined  to  adorn  the  heroes  of  the  deep  until  William  IV. 
changed  the  facings  to  scarlet.  An  interesting  volume 
might  be  written  on  the  trivial  circumstances  which  have 
introduced  some  of  the  most  prevailing  fashions. 

Fashions  have  often  been  abandoned  on  account  of 
circumstances  not  less  striking  than  those  which  intro- 
duced them.  The  times  of  Elizabeth  were  characterized 
by  enormous  ruffs  and  fardingales.  As  the  ladies  then 
sighed,  more  than  they  do  now,  for  clear-starchers  to 
get  up  their  ruffs  and  points,  the  queen  brought  over 
some  Dutch  women,  who  were  quite  axi  fait  at  their 
work ;  and  one  Mistress  Dingham  Varden  Plasse  made 
a  large  fortune  by  teaching  the  nobility,  at  five  pounds 
each,  how  to  starch  ruffs  ;  and  also,  for  twenty  shillings 
extra,  "how  to  seethe,"  says  Stubbs,  "the  liquid  mat- 
ter in  which  the  devil  hath  learaed  them  to  wash  and 
dye  their  ruffs."  The  bands  and  ruffs  of  the  reign  of 
James  I.  were  stiffened  with  yellow  starch,  which  was 
introduced  in  England  by  Mrs.  Turner,  a  physician's 
widow ;  but  when  she  was  convicted  of  being  an  acces- 
sory in  poisoning  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  and  went  to  the 
scaffold  in  a  yellow  ruff,  the  fashion  of  wearing  them 
died  with  her  who  had  given  them  their  peculiar  color. 


A  Happy  Tnougnt. 

It  was  Lady  Holland  who,  by  the  merest  accident,  in- 
troduced dahlias  into  England.  "Having  been  much 
gratified  somewhere  in  the  South  of  Europe  by  her  first 
acquaintance  with  Palestine  soup,  and,  ascertaining  that 
the  main  ingredient  was  the  Jerusalem  artichoke.  Lady 
Holland  procured  what  she  supposed  to  be  a  root  of  it, 
and  forwarded  it  (probably  by  a  King's  messenger)  to 
her  gardener  at  Holland  House.  When  a  beautiful  flower 
came  up  instead  of  a  succulent  vegetable,  she  gazed  on 
it  with  a  feeling  near  akin  to  the  fox-hunter  who  com- 
plained that  the  smell  of  the  violets  spoilt  the  scent. 
But  the  value  of  her  acquisition  began  to  break  upon 
her  when  the  London  seedsmen,  who  came  to  look  at  it, 
offered  thirty  guineas  for  a  root."  Another  version  is 
that  a  root  was  given  to  her  at  Valentia  in  1804  by  a  cele- 
brated botanist,  who  had  just  received  it,  an  unknown 
rarity,  from  South  America. 

Origin  of  the  Kiss. — It  is  to  wine-drinking,  says  an 
examiner  of  musty  records,  that  we  owe  the  origin  of 
the  kiss.  After  Micennius  caught  his  wife  sucking  his 
finest  wines  through  the  bung-hole  of  a  barrel  with  a 
straw,  the  custom  became  general  in  Rome  for  the  hus- 
bands to  kiss  the  lips  of  their  wives,  that  they  might 
discover  the  quality  of  their  good  ladies'  stolen  libations. 

Frogs,  toads  and  serpents  never  take  any  foo<? 
but  that  which  they  are  satisfied  is  alive. 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD, 


453 


Little  Things. 

Life  is  a  collection  of  little  things ;  happiness  is  not  a  huge 
package  of  mer-^handise  that  can  be  purchased  in  bulk  at 
wholesale;  it  is  rather  a  mosaic,  formed  of  little  gems,  each 
Ansignillcautiu  itself  alone,  but  grouped,  combined,  it  becomes 
attractive  and  satisfying.  The  beauty  of  home  depends  more 
on  little  bits  of  refined  taste  and  skill,  little  artistic  combin- 
ations, little  attempts  at  neatness  and  order,  than  on  grand 
achievements  abroad,  or  large  bank  accountd  at  home.  A  little 
skill  and  taste  in  making  brackets  and  shelves  for  corners,  in 
collecting  ferns  or  autumn  leaves  to  adorn  uupictured  walls ; 
moderate  outlay  in  turning  plain  windows  into  conservatories 
of  flowers;  a  few  creeping  vines  to  convert  the  blank,  v,hite 
farm  house  into  the  charming  rut- tic  home;  these  do  more  to 
attract  the  family  about  the  hearth-sfc^ne  than  all  the  rhetoric, 
logic,  and  legislation  combined.  A  pleasant  smile,  a  kindly 
greeting,  a  considerate  deed,  an  unselfish  act,  all  trifles  in 
themselves,  yet  aggregate  a  sum  of  human  happiness  and 
tranquility  that  a  united  family  circle  would  not  exchange  for 
millionaires'  wealth  or  princes'  honors  where  the  warm  heart 
and  gentle  hand  are  absent.  Trample  not  under  foot  the  little 
pleasures  of  life,  profusely  scattered  in  every  pathway,  in  the 
vain  hunt  for  mountains  of  joy  in  the  dim  distance ;  tire  not 
the  eye  in  fruitless  search  for  an  unbounded  horizon  of  great 
beauty  when  we  overlook  the  sweet  roses  and  fragrant  flowers 
at  our  doorsteps.  We  are  prone  to  gaze,  work,  and  strain  after 
something  apparently  far  ofi",  that  is  really  very  near  to  us  if 
we  could  only  realize  it.  Solid  wealth  is  not  the  acquirement 
Of  a  day  or  a  year ;  it  is  a  collection  of  little  items  of  industry, 
frugality,  and  economy,  and  he  is  really  rich  who  is  content 
with  little.  Youth  overlooks  the  present  in  reaching  forward 
for  great  things  to  come,  while  old  age,  realizing  its  errors, 
gazes  back  on  the  past  for  its  lost  opportunities. 

Little  habits  creep  up  apace,  until  from  an  occasional  in- 
dulgence grows  up  a  ruling  power;  little  expenses,  scarce 
noticed  in  the  first  instance,  soon  consume  an  alarming  total ; 
little  matters,  unnoticed,  disregarded,  and  uncared  for,  finally 
confront  us  with  an  impassable  barrier  of  accumulated  and 
neglected  duties  and  responsibilities.  In  these  latter  days  of 
enforced  economy,  when  so  many  of  the  brightest  visions  have 
faded  away  into  giim  realities,  it  behoves  us  to  award  to  little 
things  the  earnest  attention  which  their  importance  demands, 
remembering  always  that  real  happiness  is  the  aggi-egate  of 
many  little  things. 

Detracters. 

Did  you  ever  have  the  misfortune  to  be  associated  with  a 
person  who  was  by  profession  a  flaw-hunter— one  who  made  it  a 
principle  to  prove  that  nothing  here  was  perfect,  and  who  lived 
up  to  this  principle  to  the  f  idlest  extent.  Take  them  to  hear 
a  celebrated  lecturer,  and  they  will  come  home  full  of  super- 
cilious contempt  for  a  mis-pronunciation  of  a  word,  a  slight 
lisp  in  the  speech,  an  ungraceful  gesture,  or  if  nothing  else 
Berves,  a  bad  fit  of  his  garments.  The  whole  body  of  rich 
thought  and  noble  sentiment  had  entirely  escaped  their  obser- 
vation. 

No  institution  could  be  founded  on  so  perfect  a  plan  that 
they  could  not  pick  flaws  with  its  management  in  some  respect. 
And  these  small  defects  more  than  counter-balance  all  the  good 
accomplished.  Lucky  it  is  for  them  that  there  are  spots  in  the 
sun.  If  it  was  without  blemish  they  might  find  "  their  occu- 
pation gone." 

How  industrious  they  go  about  to  spread  the  "evil  report" 
they  take  up  about  their  neighbor.  If  people  exercised  half 
the  industry  in  prosecuting  the  better  business  of  saying  and 
doing  kind  things  for  one's  neighbor,  how  many  wounded 
hearts  would  be  healed,  and  how  many  sad  ones  lifted  up. 
Well  did  Hazlett  say  of  the  class,  "littleness  is  their  element, 
and  they  give  a  character  of  meanness  to  whatever  they  touch." 

How  much  evil  such  people  work  as  they  journey  through 
life.  How  many  stabs  at  the  heart,  for  one  item,  they  will 
have  to  answer  for.  How  much  they  have  added  to  the  sum 
of  human  miser)'.  How  many  detractions  they  have  set  afloat 
to  work  mischief  for  others  wherever  they  could.  How  many 
people  have  lost  situations  on  which  almost  life  itself  de- 
pended, merely  from  their  malicious  whispers.  It  would  be 
well  to  remember  that  though  the  Lord  does  not  always  mete 
out  the  reward  of  such  evil  works  at  ouce,  yet  always  "  in  the 
end  he  paj's." 


Hanging  out  the  Sign. 

A  young  lady  who  was  greatly  bedecked  and  befrizzled, 
asked  a  good  Quaker  who  was  calmly  surveying  this  wonderful 
work  of  art,  "if  he  thought  there  was  any  harm  in  "vearing 
such  things  ?" 

"Oh  no,"  he  replied;  "if  thy  head  is  full  of  such  things,  it 
is  perfectly  appropriate  to  hang  out  the  sign." 

The  t^ign  hung  out  is  very  apt  to  represent  the  kind  of  goods 
stored  away  inside.  Many  a  young  girl  has  quite  as  good 
material  outside  of  her  head  as  she  has  inside.  That  hat  so 
wonderfully  got  up,  with  its  fluflings  of  feathers,  and  draggled 
bird,  which  looks  much  like  a  poor  canary  which  the  cat  has 
had  before  the  lady  got  it,  has  cost  hours  of  severe  study,  and 
no  end  of  discussion  among  a  half  a  score  of  dear  friends  of 
like  mind  and  taste.  After  it  was  finally  settled  upon,  and  the 
orders  given,  they  were  very  likely  countermanded  a  time  or 
two,  and  the  finished  products  was  by  no  means  satisfactory 
until  various  re-arrangemeuts  were  made. 

Those  exquisite  snarls  upon  the  top  of  the  forehead,  have 
been  the  theme  of  much  thought  and  patient  labor;  yes,  and  of 
heroic  endurance  if  the  truth  must  be  told.  No  one  need  say 
that  the  age  of  martyrs  has  died  out.  Every  young  lady  of 
fashion  knows  better  than  that. 

When  a  spring  or  summer  outfit  is  finally  completed,  the 
time,  and  thought,  and  labor  expended  upon  it  are  enough  to 
have  enabled  the  lady  to  master  some  work  on  natural  science, 
or  to  have  made  herself  familiar  with  some  improving  depart- 
ment of  belles-lettres. 

All  honor  to  Mrs.  Hayes,  who  sets  such  a  noble  example  to 
the  women  of  America  to-day,  in  her  sensible,  suitable  attire. 
Placed  on  the  topmost  wave  of  our  republican  society,  she  yet 
maintains  the  noble  dignity  of  a  true  woman  who  dares  to 
think  and  act  for  herself  instead  of  being  the  slave  of  Fashion. 
Her  rich  black  hair  has,  in  all  those  years  of  dishevelment  and 
frizzes,  been  worn  smooth  and  well  forward  on  her  face,  a 
"  finger  puflf"  behind  the  ear  being  its  sole  adornment.  Her 
winning  manners  and  bright  intelligent  conversation  need  no 
outside  trappings  to  set  them  oflT.  Her  very  appearance  telia 
of  a  well  furnished  head  and  a  kind  womanly  heart,  and  such 
has  been  her  record  in  all  the  spheres  in  which  she  has  moved. 
It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  such  a  woman  at  the  dawn  of  thia 
second  hundred  years  of  our  history,  and  it  will  be  a  good 
omen  for  the  future  if  they  may  be  led  to  imitate  her  virtues. 

A  Contrast. 

Both  Luther  and  Calvin  brought  the  individual  into  imme. 
diate  relation  with  God:  but  Calvin,  under  a  more  stern  and 
militant  form  of  doctrine,  lifted  the  individual  above  Pope  and 
prelate,  and  priest  and  presbyter ;  above  Catholic  Church  and 
National  Chnrch,  and  General  Synod  ;  above  indulgences,  re- 
missions and  absolutions  from  fellow-mortals,  and  brought 
him  into  the  immediate  dependence  on  God,  whose  eternal  ir- 
reversible choice  is  made  by  himself  alone,  not  arbitrarily, 
but  according  to  his  own  highest  wisdom  and  justice.  Lnther 
spared  the  altar,  and  hesitated  to  deny  totally  the  real  pres- 
ence;  Calvin,  with  superior  dialects,  accepted  as  a  commemo- 
ration and  a  seal  the  rite  which  the  Catholics  revered  as  a 
sacrifice.  Luther  favored  magnificence  in  public  worship,  as 
an  aid  to  devotion  ;  Calvin,  the  guide  of  republics,  avoided  In 
their  churches  all  appeals  to  the  senses,  as  a  peril  to  pure  re- 
ligion. Luther  Gondemned  the  Roman  Church  for  its  immor- 
ality ;  Calvin  for  its  idolatry.  Luther  exposed  the  folly  of 
superstition,  ridiculed  the  hair  shirt  and  the  scourge,  the  pur- 
chased indulgence,  and  dearly-bought  worthless  masses  for  the 
dead;  Calvin  shrunk  from  their  criminality  with  Impatient 
horror.  Luther  permitted  the  cross  and  the  taper,  pictures 
and  images,  as  things  of  indifi'erence ;  Calvin  demanded  a 
spiritual  worship  in  its  utmost  purity. 

Luther  left  the  organization  of  the  Church  to  princes  and 
governments;  Calvin  reformed  doctrine,  ritual  and  practice; 
and  by  establishing  ruling  elders  in  each  church  and  an  elec- 
tive sy  nod,  he  secured  to  his  polity  a  representatic  character, 
which  combined  authority  with  popular  rights.  Both  Luther 
and  Calvin  insisted  that,  for  each  one,  there  is  and  can  be  no 
other  priest  than  himself ;  and,  as  a  consequence,  both  agreed 
in  the  parity  of  the  clergy.  Both  were  of  one  mind  that, 
should  pious  laymen  choose  one  of  their  number  to  be  their 
minister,  the  man  so  chosen  would  be  as  truly  a  priest  as  if 
nil  the  bishops  in  the  world  had  consecrated  him. 


454 


THE  GROPF/NG  WORLD. 


THE  WRECK. 

BY  ROSE  STANDISH. 

The  angry  sea  with  foam  ran  high, 
Wild  raved  the  wind— fierce  stung  the  blast— 

The  screaming  sea-gulls  circled  by, 
And  settled  'bove  each  creaking  mast. 

An  awful  hush  was  on  each  lip, 

A  deathly  terror  in  each  eye. 
That  watched  on  shore  the  fated  ship, 

Careening,  rolling  helplessly. 

Oh,  life  was  sweet  and  life  was  dearl 

What  soul  could  brave  so  mad  a  sea? 
What  boat  could  ride  the  billows  drear? 

The  great  ship  drifted  fast  and  free. 

In  the  tight  clutches  of  the  gale 
Her  sturdy  timbers  snapped  like  reeds; 

A  tattered  rag  was  every  sail — 
No  soul  could  answer  to  her  needs. 
******** 

The  morrow's  sun  rose  warm,  rose  clear; 

With  clouds  of  fire  the  East  was  sown; 
But  not  a  single  trace  was  there 

Of  the  ship  that  to  death  went  down! 

Artificial  Incubation  and  Rearing  of 
Chickens. 

BY  A.  W.  I. 

Various  methods  of  hatching  eggs  by  means  of  artifi- 
cial heat  have  been  long  in  use.  The  oldest  method 
known,  one  in  which  the  heat  of  ovens  is  the  agent  em- 
ployed, has  been  in  use  among  the  Chines 3,  the  Ara- 
bians and  the  Egyptians  from  time  immemorial.  With 
the  Arabs,  the  heat  of  fermenting  horse  dung  has  also 
been  made  use  of  for  an  unknown  number  of  years. 
This  process  was  made  the  subject  of  an  English  patent 
about  a  century  ago,  and  a  small  book  descriptive  of  the 
process  was  published  at  the  time.  This  process,  much 
improved,  has  again  been  revived  in  this  country,  and 
recently  patented. 


The  Chinese  method  was,  and  still  is,  to  place  the  eggs 
bedded  in  sand,  in  baskets  or  wooden  boxes,  in  low 
sheds  of  straw  plastered  with  clay,  and  having  floors  of 
tile,  beneath  which  a  small  fire  is  kept  burning.  The 
heat  is  regulated  by  the  sensations  of  the  attendants 
only,  and  it  is  therefore  not  unusal  for  many  eggs  to  be 
lost  by  being  either  over  or  underdone  in  the  process. 
After  a  few  days  the  eggs  are  examined  and  the  un- 
fertile ones  are  picked  out  and  rejected.  When  the 
period  of  incubation  is  nearly  ended,  the  eggs  are  re- 
moved from  the  sand  and  placed  upon  shelves  covered 
with  cotton,  but  without  fire,  till  the  young  chicks 
appear. 

The  Egyptian  method  is  to  lay  the  eggs  upon  mat^ 
covered  with  bran  in  an  oven  about  four  feet  higb,  anui 
the  heat  is  distributed  by  means  of  flues  above  the 
ovens,  in  the  floor  of  a  vaulted  chamber,  which  has  an 
opening  leading  into  the  oven  beneath  ;  another  in  the 
vaulted  roof  for  ventilation,  and  a  door  in  front  for 
ingress  and  egress.  The  eggs  are  examined  after  six 
days  by  being  held  to  the  light,  when  those  that  are  un- 
fertilized are  easily  picked  out  and  rejected.  Travelers 
who  have  visited  these  Egyptian  ovens  speak  very 
forcibly  of  the  unsavory  atmosphere  of  the  apartments 
in  which  the  attendants  live,  eat  and  sleep.  The  unde- 
sirableness  of  such  an  apartment  can  easily  be 
imagined. 

In  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  two  of  the 
French  emperors  undertook  poultry  raising  on  the 
Egyptian  plan,  and  further,  Francis  I.  bought  and  paid 
for  1,300  eggs  ;  but  how  they  turned  out  history  does 
not  state.  After  this  a  French  nobleman  tried  an  im- 
proved method,  more  nearly  approaching  the  natural, 
inasmuch  as  he  used  feathers  as  the  bedding  material, 
with  lamps  as  the  heating  agent.  This  was  recorded  as 
a  decided  failure.  Following  this  came  the  efforts  of 
Reaumer,  the  inventor  of  the  thermometer  which  bears 
his  name,  and  a  scientific  man.  His  plan  was  to  place 
the  eggs  in  drawers  arranged  over  a  baker's  oven  ;  but 
afterward  stoves  were  used  for  heating. 

Although  Reaumur  invented  a  thermometer,  yet  he 
nsed  the  very  rude  test  of  the  melting  of  a  mixture  o\ 
butter  with  half  its  bulk  of  lard,  kept  in  a  small  bottle, 
to  determine  the  degree  of  heat  to  be  maintained.  After 
this  the  philosophers  took  up  the  business  and  discussed 
and  experimented  over  it  till  hot  water  was  substituted 
for  dry  heat,  and  the  air  surrounding  the  eggs  was  kept 
moist  by  the  evaporation  of  water  supplied  in  pans. 
Reaumur's  efforts,  however,  seemed  to  have  almost  ex- 
hausted the  subject,  for  he  used  fermenting  manure  and 
tan  bark,  taught  capons  to  brood  upon  eggs  and  nurse 
the  chicks ;  also  to  cluck  like  hens  and  scratch.  He 
also  invented  an  artificial  mother  of  fur. 

Then  came  Mr.  Cawtels,  who  was  very  successful  as 
an  exhibitor  no  longer  than  thirty  years  ago.  He  used 
a  sort  of  spring  bed  of  canvass  for  the  eggs  to  lie  on, 
and  the  heat  from  a  current  of  warm  water  flowing  over 
glass  immediately  above  the  eggs.  He  it  was  who  dis- 
covered that  the  proper  heat  to  hatch  eggs  was  near 
106  degrees. 

Of  late  years  there  have  been  many  attempts  to  per- 
fect a  method  of  artificial  incubation,  and  get  rid  of  the 
hen,  which  is  too  fussy  and  slow  for  our  ideas  in  this 
age  of  steam.  Now  that  poultry  brings  so  high  a  price, 
and  young  chickens  for  broilers  bring  more  than  full 
grown  fowls,  it  is  desirable  to  have  some  way  of  im- 
proving on  the  slow  and  unprofitable  means  provided  by 
nature.  The  only  one  which  does  its  duty  in  a  fully  ac- 
ceptable manner,  of  which  we  know,  is  that  of  Prof. 
Corbett,  of  Hicksville,  N.  T.,  in  which  the  heat-pro- 
ducing quality  of  horse  manures,  as  first  tried  by  Reau- 
mur, is  made  the  agent.  Prof.  Corbett  has  been  very 
successful  in  using  his  method,  and  his  experiences  have 
been  gathered  in  a  nicely  bound  book  called  the 
"  Poultry  Yard  and  Market,"  which  we  will  furnish  to 
any  one  who  may  desire  it.  This  little  work  explains 
the  system,  and  cannot  fail  to  interest  those  who  keep 
poultry  for  pleasure,  as  well  as  those  who  make  it  a 
business.   

The  first  postal  system  of  the  Colonies  was  organized 
by  four  printers,  Franklin,  Holt,  Goddard  and  Hazzard. 
Congress  appointed  Franklin  the  first  postmaster-general, 
with  a  salary  of  $1,000,  residence  in  Philadelphia,  and 
instructions  to  establish  posts  from  Falmouth,  New  Eng- 

no,  to  Savannah,  Ga.,  with  cross  posts,  and  rates  2ft 
%is-x  cent,  below  the  old  Parliamentary  charges- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


455 


Retiring  from  Business. 

A  man  will  seldom  do  it  if  he  knows  himself.  To  be  able  to  re- 
tire signifies  that  he  is  able  to  do  business,  no  drone  or  dead- 
beat,  but  a  man  of  faculties,  who  has  always  been  girded  tight 
with  responsibilities.  In  some  weary  mood,  under  the  depres- 
sion of  a  worn-out  feeling,  he  thinks  of  slipping  off  the  yoke 
and  turning  himself  out  to  grass.  It  is  a  delusion.  What  is 
be  going  to  do  with  himself,  with  his  habits,  with  his  facul- 
ties? Does  he  want  to  make  an  end  of  himself  before  his 
time  ?  Is  he  ready  to  drop  out  of  the  world  ?  This  is  the  re- 
sult of  retiring  from  his  business.  The  question-  will  soon 
prick  him  uneasily,  both  from  within  and  without,  what  busi- 
ness he  has  to  be  in  the  world,  and  a  very  uncanny  question 
it  is.  He  feels  "  as  one  who  treads  alone  some  banquet  hall 
deserted."  It  is  good  for  a  man  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his 
youth,"  and  to  keep  young  just  as  long  as  he  can.  It  Is  a 
question  of  resources,  but  not  of  external  resources.  They 
must  be  of  "  the  life  which  cousisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of 
the  things  which  he  possesseth."  Let  a  man  retire  from  the 
business  that  has  kept  him  alert  and  stirred  up  his  gifts,  and 
put  his  internal  resources  at  usury,  and  he  becomes  like  scrap- 
iron  that  was  once  bright  machinery,  rusting  out  in  the  weedy 
corner  of  a  back  yard,  or  like  one  of  the  details  in  Hogarth's 
picture  of  "  Finis." 

A  leader  in  the  dry  goods  traae  of  Boston  had,  by  dint  of 
hard  and  systematic  work  and  keen  ability,  amassed  a  for- 
tune. Visiting  a  rural  cousin  and  a  country  parson,  who 
flourished  under  the  spreading  elms  of  one  of  the  loveliest  of 
our  Connecticut  Valley  villages,  he  was  so  charmed,  soothed, 
refreshed  by  its  leafy,  rustic  beauty,  that  he  vowed  an  escape 
forever  from  the  racket  and  hurry  and  din  of  the  pavements, 
and  the  crowding  brain-work  of  the  counting-room,  to  retire 
Into  a  fine  old  mansion  that  stood  opposite  the  parsonage  in 
the  aristocratic  and  smiling  beauty  of  lawn  and  avenue  and 
groves  and  garden,  to  invite  his  soul  to  steal  away  from  cum- 
bering cares,  and  attach  a  finis  to  his  earthly  troubles. 

But  going  back  to  Boston  with  his  lovely  day-dream  in  his 
fancy,  he  must  first  consult  his  business  friend,  Abbott  Law- 
rence. "Don't  do  it,"  was  the  sage  advice.  "  It  may  be  well 
enough  for  awhOe,  so  long  as  you  can  be  well  occupied  with 
your  repairs  and  improvements;  but  after  that,  what' then? 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  ?  Where  are  your  re- 
sources ?  They  are  are  not  internal,  apart  from  your  business 
activities.  You  won't  settle  down  to  authorship.  You  and  I 
never  enjoyed  a  liberal  education.  We  are  dependent  on  ex- 
ternal resources,  the  surrounding  circumstances  to  call  out  our( 
mental  activities.   Let  us  stick  to  our  lasts."  ♦ 

Dr.  John  Todd  was  constrained  by  his  good  Souse  at  the  Sij^e 
of  seventy  to  make  a  martyr  of  himself  in  retiring  from  his 
pastorate.  It  was  a  hard  and  noble  struggle  against  the 
strongest  impulses  and  inwrought  inclination  of  his  fresh  and 
buoyant  nature,  "What  shall  I  do?"  cried  he.  "If  I  stop 
preaching  it  will  be  the  end  of  me."  The  internal  resources 
of  his  vigorous  mind  rose  up  in  protest ;  his  whole  being  re- 
volted against  retiring  from  the  business  of  his  life.  It  was 
the  healthy  action  of  a  manly  soul,  and  that  which  best  tones 
up  and  preserves  the  physical  powers,  and  keeps  the  mens  sana 
in  sano  corpore.  Recreation — in  order  to  recreate.  Play  with 
work — and  above  all  the  refreshment  of  good  company  and 
social  cheer — but  let  us  work  while  the  day  last. 

The  Test  of  Time. 

The  best  critic,  the  most  impartial  judge,  the  final  tester, 
and  the  most  ruthless  and  merciless  destroyer,  is  Time.  Noth- 
ing lives  long  unless  it  embodies  or  contains  real  merit  and 
value.   All  poor  things  inevitably  die  in  the  long  run. 

The  gaurstlet  which  Time  throws  down  for  each  and  every 
human  thought,  word  and  deed  before  it  can  be  said  to  be  per- 
manently established  in  history  and  in  the  world's  remem- 
brance, and  before  it  can  have  any  active  and  abiding  influence 
in  determining  future  thought  is  a  fearful  one.  Ranged  on 
one  side  are  all  the  natural  forces  and  processes  of  decay,  dis- 
solution and  disintegration  which  are  inherent  in  all  things 
and  actively  at  work,  and  on  the  other,  stand  aU  the  preju- 
dices, harsh  judgments  and  fierce  accusations  of  contempor- 
aneous rivals,  critics  and  enemies.  And  anything  which  sur- 
vives the  thrusts  of  these  two  foes,  must  have  in  it  a  portion 
of  indestructible  worth. 

We  speak  in  metaphor  of  the  "wrecks  of  time''' 


metapbor  rests  upon  a  basis  of  most  literal  fact.  The  patb- 
v/ay  of  centuries  through  the  domain  of  history  is  a  real  path. 
Passing  along  this  track,  one  can  see  on  either  hand  the  ruina 
of  projects,  plans,  hopes,  schemes,  and  enterprises  of  variooa 
kinds,  thickly  strewn  about  as  leaves  in  autumn  woods.  They 
gave  good  promise  at  the  outset,  they  started  well,  but  the 
"victorious  tooth  of  time"  tore  them  into  fragments,  and 
they  disappeared  from  the  active  arena  of  life  like  the  "unsub- 
stantial pageant  of  a  dream." 

Still,  this  test  of  time  is  not  an  absolutely  impartial  one  after 
all.  For  time  destroys  some  valuable  things  in  its  ceaseless 
flow,  just  as  the  current  of  a  river  sweeps  away  houses,  bams, 
and  cattle  on  its  banks,  as  well  as  all  rubbinh  and  floating 
debris.  If  any  human  enterprise  serves  well  its  day  and  gener- 
ation and  is  calculated  only  for  that,  of  course  it  will  perish 
with  the  using  and  pass  away.  But  this  fact  does  not  prove 
the  intrinsic  worthleesuess  of  the  plan,  or  project,  or  enter- 
prise, by  no  means ;  it  only  proves  that  it  was  intended  sim- 
ply to  serve  a  temporary  purpose.  But  this  temporary  pur- 
pose may  be  in  every  respect  a  good  one,  and  the  flow  of  time 
sweeps  it  away  only  after  it  has  accomplished  its  normal, 
legitimate  work,  and  properly  fulfilled  its  real  mission. 

On  the  other  hand,  time  allows  some  things  to  exist  which 
are  far  from  being  perfect  or  pure.  These  are  generally  of  a 
Tnixed  character;  they  embody  something  good  and  a  portion 
llso  of  enduring  evil.  But  they  continue  because  they  are  so 
fii-mly  fastened  in  the  world's  soil.  They  have  struck  their 
voots  deeply  into  the  rocky  substratum  of  human  nature  and 
human  wants,  and  entwined  their  fibres  closely  around  the 
massive  columns  of  permanent  human  interests,  and  there 
they  cling  and  hang  and  live  in  spite  of  winds  and  waves, 
rough  usage  and  harsh  treatment;  just  as  some  gnarled  and 
unsightly  stump  will  get  wedged  in  among  the  rocks  of  a 
stream  and  there  lay  in  spite  of  flood  or  current. 

This  knowledge  of  time's  testing  power  influences  human 
thought  and  judgment  very  largely.  It  makes  the  majority  of 
people  slow  to  reject  anything  which  bears  the  seal  and  stamp 
of  age,  slow  to  adopt  anything  until  it  has  been  proven  and 
tried  by  the  lapse  of  years.  While  there  are  some  who  give  no 
heed  to  the  judgments  of  time,  but  fall  in  with  whatever  ac- 
cords with  their  thought,  or  suits  their  fancy,  and  reject  what- 
ever is  contrary  to  them  without  regard  to  either  age  or  new- 
ness, yet  the  race,  as  a  whole,  are  so  constituted  as  to  deeply 
reverence  whatever  has  stocd  the  test  of  time,  and  be  suspi- 
cious of  whatever  is  untried  or  novel.  And  this  is  welL 
There  are  a  great  many  existing  evils  which,  if  left  alone,  will 
jCither  heal  or  destroy;  and  these  we  must  avoid  or  patiently 
J  endure.  There  are  also  many  other  existing  things  which  we 
may  not  like,  perhaps,  but  which  wUl  doubtless  live  long 
after  we  ourselves  are  gone ;  to  oppose  these,  unnecessarily 
and  rashly,  will  be  to  butt  our  heads  in  vain  against  a  rock,  re- 
sulting only  in  self-iujuiy  or  destruction. 

Tne  Power  of  a  Great  Example. 

There  ir,  nothing  that  will  let  the  light  into  the  soul  like  per- 
sonal influence  ;  nothing  that  can  lift  one  up  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  lead  one  into  the  divine  and  quickening  light,  and 
baptize  one  into  the  spirit  of  faith,  hope,  love,  and  charity, 
like  the  magic  power  of  a  great  example,  nothing  that  can 
inspire,  exalt  and  purify,  like  the  magnetic  rays  of  healing 
and  helping  that  beam  out  of  the  eyes  of  noble  men  and 
women.  If  your  life  has  been  deep  and  broad  in  its  experience 
then  you  have  seen  liveu  that  were  better  than  yours ;  lives 
whose  pure  light  shone  upon  you  from  a  serener  height  than 
you  could  reach,  and  touched  you  and  warmed  you  through 
and  through  ;  just  as  the  drooping  flowers,  some  chilly  morn- 
ing, have  looked  up  through  the  thick  fogs  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  bright  sun,  which  scatters  the  mists  and  opens 
the  glad  blossoms  to  the  warm,  life-giving  light.  Whose  life 
is  not,  sometimes,  wrapped  around  with  fogs  ?  Who  has  not 
looked  up  from  his  little  life-work  and  seen  no  cheering  sun 
above  him— nothing  but  a  heavy,  leaden  sky  hanging  over? 
And  then,  perhaps,  you  have  almost  doubted  the  sun  itself— 
doubted  goodness  and  doubted  God— until  you  have  seen  the 
clouds  break  away,  the  fogs  lift,  and  doubt  vanish  before  the 
beautiful  radiance  of  some  shining  example.  I  tell  you  that  I 
believe,  more  and  more,  that  what  the  world  needs  to  reform 
and  redeem  it  is,  not  so  much  a  sound  theology,  or  a  profound 
philosophy,  but  hob—  .purer,  diviner  lives— liv*»«  *"'^at  shall  be 
the  light  of  men  * 


456 


THE  GROIVIA  G  WORLD, 


Out  of  Work. 

BY  CORA  BELLE. 

Five  clerks  had  been  discharged  from  the  establish- 
nent  of  Sterling  &  Co.,  and  walked  away  to  their  homes 
in  various  moods.  The  way  of  two  chanced  to  run  in  the 
same  direction  for  awhile,  and  iheir  conversation  nat- 
urally turned  on  the  mischance  that  had  befallen  them. 

"It  is  not  so  bad  for  you,  Wells,"  said  Harry,  "as  for 
poor  Williams.  You  have  only  yourself  and  your  wife 
to  look  out  for,  and  he  has  three  children  beside.  I 
don't  know  what  the  poor  fellow  will  do.  Just  two 
can  manage  to  pinch  along  some  how ;  but  with  three 
children  added  on,  I  should  think  he  would  give  up  in 
despair." 

"  I  don't  know  that  my  case  is  so  very  much  better. 
Two  people  must  eat  and  keep  a  roof  over  theii'  heads. 
I  have  :>nly  just  been  able  to  live  on  my  salary  as  it  was, 
and  board  is  somewhat  behind  hand  now.  How  we  are 
to  get  on  is  more  than  I  see.  Agnes  will  not  be  very 
cheerful  at  the  news,  I  can  tell  you  ;  and  it  is  no  great 
source  of  comfort  to  me  to  know  that  some  other  poor 
fellow  is  worse  oli."  So  saying,  he  bid  his  companion  a 
moody  good  night,  while  Harry  walked  briskly  home  to 
his  boarding  place.  His  effects  were  soon  packed  up, 
his  bill  settled,  and  the  evening  train  found  him  on  the 
wing  to  his  dear  old  country  home,  where  an  aged  pair 
would  receive  him  with  open  arms,  and  where  he  could 
pull  off  his  gloves  and  rake  hay  again,  as  he  did  in  his 
boyhood.  Seed-time  and  harvest,  plowing  and  reaping, 
go  on  all  the  same,  though  banks  break  and  firms  fail. 
Harry  was  not  at  all  dispirited  at  the  prospect  of  a  few 
months'  vacation,  and  sincerely  wished  all  his  friends 
had  as  good  a  home  to  run  down  to. 


Wells  and  his  wife  sat  gloomily  beside  the  table,  under 
the  pleasant  drop-light.  Agnes  had  laid  aside  the  new 
dress  she  was  trimming  so  elaborately.  She  had  no 
more  heart  for  work. 

"What  are  we  to  do,  Jesse?"  she  asked  almost 
sharply,  "we  cannot  board  on  here  without  an  income, 
that  is  certain." 

"  That  is  very  true,  Agnes." 

"  Well,  then  you'll  have  to  look  out  for  something  else 
to  do.  I  can't  go  down  to  a  little  fourth  story  back 
room,  and  do  my  own  cooking  over  a  coal  oil  stove." 

"  We  may  be  glad  to,  yet." 

"  Don't  say  glad,  Jesse,  for  there's  no  truth  in  it.  We 
should  be  anything  but  glad.  I  don't  like  coming  down 
in  that  style,  or  any  other.  I  didn't  marry  you  with  any 
such  expectations.  By-the-way,  the  landlady  was  hint- 
ing around  about  our  last  month's  board  to  day." 

"  The  money  ought  to  have  gone  for  it  instead  of  that 
dress,"  and  he  glanced  half  angrily  at  the  tumbled 
fabric  which  lay  over  a  chair. 

"  How  should  I  know  you  were  going  to  be  dis- 
charged ?  I  needed  the  dress  now,  and  you  could  as  well 
pay  the  board  out  of  the  next  month's  wages." 

"  I  wish  you  could  trade  it  now  with  Mrs.  Miller  for 
her  daughter  Jane.    You  are  about  her  size." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  her  get  it,"  said  Agnes,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing, "after  all  the  work  I  have  spent  on  it,"  and  she 
snatched  up  the  work,  and  began  folding  it  up.  "  The 
only  dress,  too,  that  I  have  had  this  season.  1  certainly 
meant  to  get  a  gray  and  white  silk,  pin  stripe,  as  soon  as 
I  had  this  finished ;  but  I  suppose  you  will  say  now  that 
you  are  too  poor  to  buy  it." 

"  K  we  don't  have  to  pawn  the  clothes  to  buy  bread 
before  the  season  is  out,  I  shall  be  thankful,"  said  Jesse, 
lighting  his  cigar. 

"  If  you  are  not  the  most  aggravating  man  that  ever 
lived,"  said  Agnes,  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears.  And 
here  we  will  leave  them  to  comfort  one  another  as  best  they 
can,  while  we  peep  into  Albert  Williams'  snug  apart- 
ments. The  sad  news  has  been  told,  and  the  first  surprise 
and  regret  has  been  expressed. 

"But  we  cannot  say  it  was  wholly  unexpected,"  said 
Mrs.  Williams,  as  she  set  on  the  nicely  cooked  supper 
and  lifted  the  crowing  baby  into  his  high  chair.  "  We 
shall  tide  over  these  times  somehow,  Albert,  never  fear. 
Now  we  see  what  a  good  thing  it  is  to  have  the  rent 
paid  quarterly  in  advance.  Two  months  of  this  quarter 
yet  before  any  more  rent  is  due  ;  that  will  give  us  time 
to  look  around  and  see  what  we  can  do.  I  can  get  shop 
work  to  do»  I  think  i  that  will  bring  in  a  little  sum  every 


week,  and  we  shall  none  of  us  grumble  if  we  do  come 
down  to  a  little  plainer  food,  will  we  dears  ?"  and  she 
looked  around  on  the  group  of  happy  faces  that  were 
making  a  comfortable  supper,  despite  the  hard  times. 

"  We  will  study  over  the  economies  a  little  closer,  that 
is  all.  I  heard  a  Southern  clergyman,  who  lived  through 
the  war  on  com  meal  principally,  say,  that  when  you 
come  to  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  a  family  can  live  on 
very  little.  That  basin  of  pork  and  beans,  for  instance, 
which  you  all  relish  so  well,  c©st  just  ten  cents.  With 
five  cents'  worth  of  bread  we  could  all  five  make  a  satis- 
fying meal  of  it.  That  would  be  just  three  cents  apiece. 
So  you  see,  with  the  little  sum  we  have  laid  by  in  the 
savings  bank,  we  need  not  actually  starve  these  six 
months." 

"What  a  hand  you  are  at  contriving,"  said  Albert 
more  cheerfully.  If  they  would  put  you  at  the  head 
of  the  nation's  finances,  there  would  be  a  change  in  the 
times,  I  know." 

"  I  find  my  own  little  kingdom  quite  as  much  as  I  can 
manage,"  said  his  wife,  who  was  not  as  "progressive  " 
as  some. 

"  n  you  took  in  sewing,  mother,  I  could  take  care  of 
the  baby,"  said  Florence.  "That  would  be  helping 
somCj  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  dear;  you  are  a  great  help  to  mother 
every  day  now,  in  just  that  way." 

"What  can  I  do  to  help  ?"  asked  Bertie,  anxious  not 
to  be  left  out  of  the  family  plans. 

"By  being  a  good  boy,"  said  mother;  "that  helps 
mother  most  of  all ;  then  you  can  save  steps  about  the 
house  ;  be  ready  to  run  up  or  down  stairs  for  mother, 
which  will  be  a  saving  of  strength  as  well  as  time.  In- 
deed, Albert,  we  can  never  feel  very  poor  while  we  have 
the  dear  children  so  well  and  so  helpful." 

"You  all  cheer  me  up,"  said  the  father,  "  and  I  feel 
hopeful  that  work  of  some  sort  can  be  found,  if  it  is  not 
just  the  sort  I  have  been  doing.  I  will  help  load  boats, 
if  I  can  get  it  to  do,  rather  than  sit  down  in  idleness." 

With  such  a  spirit  and  determination,  Mr.  Williams 
did  not  remain  many  days  without  some  employment. 
He  concluded  that  "half  a  loaf  was  better  than  no 
bread,"  and  was  willing  to  work  hard  for  small  wages, 
rather  than  see  his  dear  ones  stinted  for  food.  It  was 
the  dear  children  and  the  cheerful  wife  that  inspired 
him  to  do  his  utmost  in  the  way  of  looking  for  work, 
and  so  he  was  able  to  tide  over  the  hard  times  without 
any  actual  suffering. 

The  moral  of  my  little  story  is  self-evident. 


Russian  Ladies. 

The  characteristics  of  the  Russian  type  of  feminine 
beauty  are  an  extreme  fairness  of  complexion,  grayish 
blue  eyes,  blonde  or  chestnut  hair  and  a  certain  embonpoint 
arising  from  the  lack  of  exercise  and  the  life  in-doors, 
which  is  compelled  by  a  winter  lasting  seven  or  eight 
months.  They  suggest  the  idea  of  Odalisques,  whom 
the  Genius  of  the  North  keeps  confined  in  the 
tropical  atmosphere  of  c  hothouse.  They  have  com- 
plexions of  cold  cream  and  snow,  with  tints  of  the  heart 
of  a  camelia — like  those  over-veiled  women  of  the  se- 
raglio, whose  skin  the  sunlight  has  not  touched.  By 
this  extreme  fairness,  their  delicate  features  are  rendered 
even  more  delicate ;  and  the  softened  outlines  form 
faces  of  Hyperborean  sweetness  and  Polar  grace.  The 
Russian  women,  in  society,  seem  to  make  less  display 
than  the  mon,  as  the  uniforms  and  court-dress  of  the 
latter  glitter  with  gold  lace  and  embroidery,  and  with 
jeweled  decorations.  Yet  the  simple  robes  of  the  ladies 
are  composed  of  the  costliest  fabrics,  fastened  with  the 
rarest  gems  ;  and  their  dazzling  skins,  and  flashing  dia- 
monds, and  gleaming  pearls,  and  flowing  draperies, 
match  in  effect  the  heavier  splendor  of  the  masculine 
attire.  Their  "  simplicity  pays  homage  to  the  Empress, 
who  prefers  elegance  to  ostentation ;  but  you  may  be 
sure  Mammon  loses  nothing  by  it.  Like  their  sex  every- 
where, the  know  how  to  make  gauze  more  costly  than 
gold."  .  

A  live  toad,  in  a  torpid  state,  was  recei^tly  dug  out  of 
*'hard  pan,"  at  Rutland,  Vt.,  some  fifteen  feet  below 
the  surface,  where  he  must  have  reposed  for  centuries. 
On  being  laid  upon  the  grass  he  soon  revived,  and 
hopped  off  to  give  the  worms  and  bugs  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  a  specimen  of  antediluvian  skill  in 
li"  weeping  them  up." 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  457 


An  Aimless  Life. 

Pinal  success,  In  any  department  of  labor,  la  attained  only 

!by  earnest  effort.  Rich  harvests  do  not  spring  from  unculti- 
vated soil,  neither  is  intellectual  strength  or  moral  worth  de- 
veloped by  chance.  Beauty  and  symmetry  of  character  have 
never  resulted  from  thoughtless  or  careless  lives,  nor  has  the 
world's  onward  progress  been  hastened  by  accident.  True, 
.Bacon  happened,  during  the  course  of  his  chemical  experi- 
ments, to  mix  the  right  substances  in  the  right  proportion  to 
produce  gunpowder;  and  Newton's  attention  chanced  to  be 
arrested  by  the  falling  apple ;  but  the  true  origin  of  grand  re- 
sults which  followed  these  events  must  be  sought  elsewhere 
than  in  the  laboratory,  where  the  astonished  sorcerer  of  the 
thirteenth  century  beheld  the  chemical  action  which  was  to  re- 
volutionize the  act  of  war,  or  in  the  garden  where  Newton  sat 
when  his  mind  started  on  that  voyage  of  discovery  from  which 
it  returned  to  produce  a  far  grander  revolution  in  the  scien- 
tific world,  and  finally  to  bring  order  out  of  existing  chaos. 
Long  before,  in  the  forming  period  of  such  life,  the  mind  had 
been  commissioned  to  go  through  all  the  avenues  of  the  uni- 
verse in  search  of  truth,  and  its  rich  gleaning  was  but  the 
natural  fruit  of  its  lofty  aim.  If  it  were  possible  to  analyze 
"■the  grand  results  of  time,"  and  trace  each  element  of  pro- 
gress back  through  the  ages  to  its  source  in  some  human  mind, 
we  might  then  be  able  to  form  an  adequate  conception  of  the 
value  to  the  world  of  high  purposes  wrought  out  in  earnest, 
well  directed  lives.  So,  too,  if  we  could  trace  the  evil  in- 
fluences at  work  in  society  back  to  their  first  cause,  we  should 
find  it  far  oftener  in  lack  of  any  purpose  whatever  than  in  a 
positive  disposition  to  evil. 

A  few  aimless  lives  run  their  sluggish  course  and  disappear, 
leaving  behind  them  no  trace.  By  far,  the  greater  number 
illustrate  the  truth  of  the  lines  we  all  learned  when  we  were 
children,  and  which  it  is  well  for  us  to  remember  in  our  riper 
years,  "  For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to 
do."  

Lost  Knowledge. 

Much  of  the  knowledge  that  passes  away  has  little  relation 
to  this  aspect  of  the  question.  What  a  store  of  learning  passes 
out  of  the  reach  of  ordinary  men  when  a  great  scholar  dies,  or 
a  skillful  doctor,  or  a  subtle,  hard-headed  lawyer.  And  it  is 
learning  of  a  kind  that  they  cannot  leave  behind  them,  for  the 
gatherings  of  a  lifetime  cannot  be  passed  on  in  the  form  in 
which  they  exist  in  the  mind's  experience.  The  old  laborer, 
who  has  spent  his  life's  strength  on  one  farm,  cannot  transfer 
his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  soil,  and  with  every  hedge 
and  ditch  and  drain  which  have  been  his  world.  Every  person 
whose  business  makes  him  acquainted  with  the  characters  of 
men,  through  contact  with  their  good  and  bad  qualities,  carries 
away  with  him  much  important  knowledge  not  transferable. 
How  many  rogues  must  rejoice  when  the  local  detective  quits 
this  lower  scene  ?  But,  beside  this,  there  are  labors  and  na- 
tural products  of  which  the  knowledge  has  died  out  or  is 
dying  out  as  we  write.  We  all  know  of  lost  arts,  the  secret  of 
which  expired  with  the  possessor,  but  how  long  will  there  ex- 
ist the  man  who  has  inhaled  the  full  and  exquisite  sweetness 
Of  the  cabbage  rose  ?  We  do  not  believe  that  the  flavor  of  the 
golden  pippin,  so  dear  to  our  forefathers,  lasts  in  living 
memory,  and  so  of  other  delights.  How  few  can  recall  the 
exhilaration  of  the  old-fashioned  country  dance ;  how  few  re- 
main who  saw  Mrs.  Siddons  act,  or  heard  Tom  Moore  sing,  or 
Sydney  Smith  joke,  or  Coleridge  talk?  Still,  while  the  few 
live,  we  who  hear  them  know  something ;  but  the  soul  of  their 
memories  is  fast  passing  out  of  the  world.  And  to  descend  to 
more  familiar  examples.  When  a  good  cook  dies— one  in- 
vested with  a  genius  in  intimate  correspondence  with  all  the 
materials  of  her  art,  who  can  foresee  the  influence  of  a  condi- 
ment or  an  essence  upon  all  with  which  it  comes  in  contact, 
who  understands  combinations  and  prognosticates  results 
hidden  from  the  vulgar— what  knowledge  flies  out  with  her, 
knowledge  incommunicable.  Throughout  all  this  range  of 
losses  we  are  lamenting  over  the  inevitable.  The  world  has 
not  room  for  all  knowledge.  In  every  active  state  of  society 
new  knowledge  must  supersede  the  old.  If  all  the  people  -vvho 
had  nothing  else  to  do  employed  their  leisure  in  reproducing 
their  past,  they  would  not  find  hearers.  Old-world  histories 
owe  much  of  their  attractiveness  to  their  raritj',  and  each  age 
has  worthies  of  its  own  who  must  not  be  neglected  for  those 
who  preceded  them. 


The  Habit  of  Observation. 

It  eeems  singular  that  some  men  pass  through  life  without 
observing  things  which  come  before  their  eyes  almost  daily. 
An  intelligent  farmer  once  told  me  that  he  would  not  recognize 
any  of  the  horses  belonging  to  his  neighbors,  excepting  those 
noticeable  from  some  peculiarity  of  color.  A  Chicago  mer- 
chant, who  daily  drove  his  own  horse  eight  or  ten  miles,  told 
us  he  had  never  noticed  any  difl'erence  in  the  movement  of 
horses;  did  not  notice  the  difl'erence  between  trotting  and 
pacing.  A  college  president  is  said  to  have  made  the  question, 
"in  which  way  do  the  seeds  lie  in  an  apple?"  a  test  of  the 
habit  of  observation  among  his  students.  Our  teste  with  thia 
question  would  indicate  that  more  than  one-half  of  the  average 
men  and  woman  either  don't  know,  or  will  answer  incorrectly. 
We  once  received  a  well-written  essay  on  the  value  of  observ- 
ing closely,  yet  there  was  not  a  capital  letter  or  a  punctuation 
mark  in  the  half  dozen  pages.  Many  such  instances  could  be 
given,  were  it  necessary. 

This  matter  is  not  one  of  slight  importance.  The  carefully 
observant  man  will  see  things  which  will  be  of  pecuniary  im- 
portance to  him,  while  his  ill-trained  neighbor  may  lose  by 
not  seeing.  The  farmer  with  habits  of  observation  will  notice 
slight  symptoms  of  illness  in  his  animals  or  plants ;  will 
readily  see  the  eftect  of  this  or  that  practice  ;  will  much  more 
quickly  discover  countless  little  things  which,  if  neglected, 
may  result  in  serious  loss. 

As  in  the  case  of  habits  generally,  much  can  be  done  in 
childhood,  and  it  certainly  should  be  the  duty  of  parents  and 
other  teachers  to  help  children  learn  to  observe  carefully, 
quickly,  accurately.  It  is  told  by  some  one  that  in  his  child- 
hood he  practiced  running  past  a  shop  window  and  then  stop- 
ping to  describe  as  many  articles  as  he  could  recall,  and  in  this 
way  he  acquired  wonderful  quickness  of  obsei-vation.  There 
are  hosts  of  points  to  which  a  farmer's  boy  should  have  hia 
attention  called  at  an  early  age.  Suggestions  as  to  the  mode 
of  growth  of  plants,  the  form  of  a  leaf,  growth  of  a  fruit,  or 
the  pointing  out  of  peculiarities  of  difi'erent  classes  of  animals, 
may  do  him  great  good  in  developing  this  habit,  and  also  have 
a  marked  eflect  in  interesting  him  in  his  calling. 

This  habit  of  observation  should  not  be  confined  to  the 
things  we  see  alone,  but  should  extend  to  the  things  we  hear, 
and  those  we  read  as  well.  In  this  latter  matter,  there  is  great 
lack.  Many  read  to  little  profit  because  they  have  not  trained 
themselves  to  observe  carefully. 

The  Wife  of  Socrates. 

Poor  Xantippe  has  been  handed  down  to  the  world  as  a 
synonym  of  all  warpish  and  unwomanly  traits.  Every  termar 
gant  of  these  latter  days  has  been  compared  to  her,  and  young 
men  have  had  a  fling  at  her  when  they  "spoke  their  pieces" 
on  Commencement  and  Junior  Exhibition  days  ever  "  since 
Time  was  young." 

Now  I  believe  the  poor  woman  has  been  much  belied.  If  she 
had  not  enough  to  provoke  her  no  woman  ever  had.  What  do 
you  suppose  her  grand,  philosophic  husband  allowed  for  house- 
keeping expenses  for  the  year?  The  vast  sum  of  seventy-five 
dolhirs.  Then  Socrates  was  by  no  means  the  noble  dignified 
scholar  you  have  pictured  him  in  your  school-boy  imagina- 
tions. He  wouid  have  been  counted  a  sorry  tramp  in  our 
streets.  He  wore  an  old  dirty  gown  summer  and  winter,  and 
that  was  his  entire  wardrobe.  He  did  not  look  even  as  im- 
posiner  as  Mark  Twain's  Sandwich  Islanders,  whose  raiment, 
he  says,  consists  of*''  a  night-shirt  and  a  gun," 

Worse  than  that  he  was  shiftless.  He  scorned  to  work  for  a 
living.  He  was  content  with  being  accounted  a  man  of  great 
wisdom  on  subjects  that  were  of  no  earthly  importance  to 
anybody. 

Depend  upon  it,  the  world  has  done  rather  more  than  justice 
by  these  old  fogys,  and  rather  too  little  to  their  poor  wives 
who  had  to  "put  up  "  with  the  pinchings  of  poverty,  and  with 
these  old  philosophers  too.  Before  you  are  so  hard  on  Mrs. 
Xantippe  again,  it  would  be  well  just  to  place  yourself  in  her 
shoes  for  a  minute,  (that  is  if  she  had  any),  and  eee  if  you 
would  not  have  scolded  some. 

There  are  some  philosophical  men,  and  some  not  philosophi- 
cal, who  seem  to  imitate  Socrates  "  shiftlessness  "  if  they  do 
not  share  in  his  "talents,"  whatever  they  were.  Let  us  pity 
their  poor  wives,  and  look  with  much  charity  on  any  asperitea 
of  tempe*-     --^r  hard  lives  may  tend  to  cultivate. 


458 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


lAILINGS-  TOGETHER. 


In  the  sunlight,  the  glad  sunlight, 

You  and  I,  love,  sailed  together, 
When  the  waters  mirroi'ed  clearly 

Golden  sky  and  purple  heather  ; 
And  my  oars  beat  back  the  wavelets 

To  the  tune  you  sacs'  t'^  ikg 
And  the  world  was  full  of  sunshine. 

And  of  joy,  for  you  and  me. 


In  the  moonlight,  life's  pale  moonlight, 

We  are  gliding  o'er  the  lake. 
Where  the  mountains  cast  their  shadows 

Athwart  oar  silvern  wake. 
But  still  my  oars  dip  lightly 

To  the  low  song  sung  to  me  ; 
And  the  moonbeams  shimmer  brightly 

On  thy  head,  love,  and  on  me. 

Recent  Experiments  with  Diamonds. 

Heated  in  contact  with  air,  diamonds  were  not  only 
blackened  but  reduced  in  weight,  showing  positive  com- 
bustion. In  oxygen  they  burned  with  a  vivid  incande- 
eence  at  a  temperature  below  white  heat.  In  a  crucible 
(vhich  allowed  the  combustion  to  be  observed  through  a 
eheet  of  mica,  the  buniing  diamond  was  seen  to  be  sur- 
rounded by  a  white  flame,  less  bright  without  and  tinged 
with  violet  on  the  outer  edge.  Pure  dip.monds  burned 
tranquilly,  retaining  their  sharp  edges  when  so  reduced 
as  to  be  visible  with  difficulty.  Impure  specimens 
snapped  and  flew.  The  effect  of  heat  on  colored 
diamonds  is  more  pronounced,  with  the  exception,  per- 
haps, of  gray  and  yellow  gems,  which  appear  to  resist 
euch  action,  the  same  as  the  colorless  ones.  Green 
diamonds  are  variously  affected.  One  of  a  dirty  green 
was  changed  to  a  pale  yellow,  with  a  slight  increase  of 
its  transparency  ;  but  its  brightness  remained  the  same, 
Another  so  green  as  to  be  almost  black,  likewise  re- 
jtained  its  briUiancy,  but  gained  in  clearness  while  its 
icolor  was  changed  to  violet.  A  light  green  gem  lost  its 
color  entirely,  but  was  otherwise  unaffected.  Biown 
diamonds  lost  most  of  their  color,  showing  under  the 
microscope  a  limpid  field,  scattered  with  black  spots.  A 
diamond  almost  colorless  assumed,  under  the  influence 
of  heat  (out  of  contact  with  air),  a  deep  rose  color 
which  it  retained  for  some  time  when  kept  in  the  darki 
7,n  the  light  its  color  faded,  but  always  returned  again 
with  heating.  A  naturally  rose-colored  diamond  re- 
versed the  phenomena,  losing  its  hue  with  heating,  and 
afterward  gradually  regaining  it. 


Ammonia. 

BY  JAS.  p.  DUFFY. 

Ammonia  is  a  compound  of  three  parts  of  hydrogen  to 
one  of  nitrogen.  It  is  produced  in  the  form  of  ammoniacal 
gas,  and  is  of  great  importance  in  many  respects. 

It  may  be  produced  by  the  following  method  : — Mix 
some  sal'  ammoniac  with  an  equal  weight  of  cold,  freshly- 
slaked  lime,  and  heat  the  whole  in  the  retort  or  flask 
which  has  been  previously  described  in  these  pages.  In 
a  short  time  the  gas  will  be  given  off,  and  may  be 
detected  by  dipping  a  glass  rod  into  hydrochloric  acid, 
and  holding  the  same  over  the  escaping  gas,  when  dense 
white  fumes  will  be  given  off.  In  order  to  secure  the 
gas  in  a  pure  state,  the  mouth  of  the  retort  must  be 
closed  with  a  good  cork  provided  with  a  bent  glass  tube. 
The  tube  must  enter  a  three-necked  bottle  half  filled 
with  water.  The  ammoniacal  gas  thus  produced  has  a 
strong,  pungent  smell,  which  characterizes  it,  and  is 
rapidly  absorbed  by  water,  in  which  form  it  is  generally 
sold  under  the  name  of  liquor  ammonia  or  spirits  of 
hartshoiii,  the  latter  term  evidently  originating  from  the 
fact  thi.t  the  horns  of  deer  were  formerly  distilled  to 
obtain  the  ammonia  contained  therein,  which  was,  and 
is  now  generally  regarded  as  a  panacea  for  headaches. 
The  distillation  of  animal  refuse  and  bones  was  formerly 
the  principal  source  of  ammonia.  A  large  quantity  of 
ammonia  is  afforded  at  gas  works  in  the  distillation  of 
coal,  this  forming  the  great  bulk  of  the  ammonium 
compounds  used  in  the  arts  ;  although  for  some  especial 
purposes  it  may  be  and  is  obtained  by  heating  horse- 
hair and  other  animal  substances. 

Ammonia  enters  largely  in  the  composition  of  animal 
substances,  and  is,  therefore,  continually  given  off  in 
stables  and  other  places  where  animal  matter  is  putrefy- 
iDg,  as  may  be  proved  by  using  the  test  above  described 
for  the  gas. 

Experiment : — Put  a  piece  of  sodium  into  a  little  mer- 
cury, and  pour  thereon  some  sal  ammoniac.  The  alloy 
thus  formed  will  be  greatly  increased  in  bulk  and  yet 
remain  solid,  thus  causing  the  belief  that  ammonia  is  a 
metal.  In  every  case  it  acts  in  the  same  manner  as  a 
metal,  but  all  attempts  to  obtain  it  in  that  form  havQ 
hitherto  been  fruitless.  

Arizona. 

CAPTAIN  CAKNJS8. 

A  large  proportion  of  the  land  of  Arizona  18  a  aeeeil 
of  white  sand  and  hard  clay;  but  the  valleys  art 
abundantly  fertile  and,  with  irrigation,  yield  bountifr" 
crops. 

The  climate  is  hot  and  dry,  and  must  have  been  so  fo 
ages,  as  in  nearly  all  the  valleys  the  old  ditches  of  the  an- 
cient Aztecs  are  visible.  The  northern  part  of  the  territorj 
is  cool  and  fine,  owing  to  Its  elevation  above  the  sea ;  but 
the  southern  portion  is  e  sposed  to  great  heat — the  mer« 
cury  ranging  f roEi  112  to  118  in  the  shade  for  days  to- 
gether. Here  no  snow  is  ever  seen,  and  ice  rarely  forms 
even  in  winter.  Yet  with  all  this  heat  there  is  no  mor^ 
healthful  and  agreeable  climate  in  the  world.  The 
population  Is  largely  Mexican,  but  a  tidal  wave  oi 
American  emigration  is  sweeping  up  even  here,  an(i 
Speculation,  with  its  ferret  eyes,  is  peering  into  out-ofr 
the-way  places  all  over  the  territory,  and  ere  long  th^ 
reckless,  indolent  Mexican  will  flee  before  the  dasn  an4 
perseverance  of  the  oncoming  Yankee. 

Arizona  has  wonderful  niins  of  cities  and  towns,  ancj 
the  valleys  are  written  all  over  with  the  hieroglyphic* 
of  previous  Aztec  civilization.  There  are  reservoirs, 
fortifications,  old  mines,  sun-bunied  bricks,  and  rude 
stone  implements  on  every  side. 

The  Indians  hereabouts  are  ingenious.  They  make 
pottery  lor  carrying  water  and  for  cooking  purposes,  and 
their  baskets  are  very  wonderful  pieces  of  art,  as  they 
will  hold  water  even,  after  being  soaked  awhile.  These 
savages  exhibit  quite  a  degree  of  civilization.  ■ 

The  trees  of  this  region  are  the  mesquite,  paloverde, 
Cottonwood,  pine,  walnut,  ash  and  oak.  The  variety  of 
eacti  is  great,  with  giant  species  growing  to  the  height 
of  fifty  feet,  in  form  of  huge,  green  fluted  columns, 
armed*  with  formidable  thorns. 

The  houses  are  built  mostly  of  adobe,  or  sun-dried  brick, 
and  are  cool  and  comfortable. 

It  is  a  region  replete  with  interesting  history  for  the 
?clio]ar  or  antiquarian,  and  will  yield  a  rich  harvest  to 
■jv^Aoutiliu  researches. 


■Air. 


THE  FIRST  JMEST, 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


HOMES  WITHOUT  HANDS. 


Which  builds  the  nest, 
In  the  bright  Spring  weather. 

This  bird  or  that  bird? 
They  build  it  together. 

There  is  scarcely  anything  in  nature  more  won- 
derful than  the  nest  of  a  bird — of  those  kinds,  at 
least,  that  form  an  elaborate  one  ;  and  most  elaborate, 
indeed,  very  many  of  them  are. 

What,  again,  is  more  curious  than  the  way  in 
which  so  artistic  and,  as  one  may  say,  carelessly- 
made  nest  as  that  of  the  rook  keeps  its  place  on  the 
top  of  the  tallest  tree,  even  in  the  most  exposed  places, 
against  the  blast  of  the  highest  wind  ? 

Then,  what  a  variety  of  situations  nests  are  built 
in,  as  well  as  how  various  in  themselves  ;  some  on  the 
ground,  others  in  rocks ;  some  in  hedges,  others  in 
trees,  and  others  against  the  walls  of  houses  or  build- 
ings ;  some  in  holes  or  banks  ;  and  others  again,  hung 
from  the  branches  or  boughs  of  trees.  Some  make 
use  of  the  old  or  deserted  nests  of  other  kinds,  while 
many  display  the  greatest  perseverance  and  ingenuity 
in  the  construction  of  their  own. 

How  clearly  is  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  Creator 
seen  in  the  vast  variety  of  the  "fowls  of  the  air,"  as 
well  as  in  the  exquisite  workmanship  of  many  of  them! 
Then  how  curious  are  the  divers  instincts  implanted 
in  each  and  all  of  these,  as  shown  m  the  forms  of  so 
many  dilferent  kinds  of  their  dwellings.  Each  little 
builder  has  had  its  own  lesson  given  it,  and,  once 
learned  from  the  first,  it  never  forgets  it  in  the  small- 
est particular,  nor  ever  changes  from  what  it  has  been 
set  by  it  to  do.  Man  cannot  say  as  much  of  any  one 
of  his  works  ;  these  "  houses  without  hands  "  so  inge- 
niously constructed  forbid  him  to  boast  of  any  of  his 
own. 

And  yet,  again,  how  striking  is  the  adaptation  of 
the  color  of  the  nests  of  many  birds  to  that  of  the 
tree  or  wall  or  such-like  they  are  built  on.  It  is  as 
if  it  had  so  painted  it  on  purpose  to  conceal  it  from 
detection  ;  and  in  numberless  instances  the  purpose 
it  gained,  every  variety  of  material  being  used  for 
the  structure,  from  the  very  mud  of  the  high-road  to 
the  moss  or  lichen  which  finds  its  place  on  the  bough 
of  the  loftiest  tree.  Why,  too,  should  one  bird  use 
clay  in  the  construction  of  its  nest,  and  another  feath- 
ers, leaves,  grass,  hair,  wool,  or  a  thousand  other 
materials  ? 

Once  more:  How  each  keeps  to  its  own  little  home, 
and  never  intrudes,  unbidden,  into  that  of  its  neigh- 
bor, excepting  only  those  few  of  the  cuckoo  kind — 
the  exception  to  the  rule,  and  which,  as  such,  only 
prove  it.  They  all  keep  to  themselves  and  their  own 
families,  from  which  their  "sober  wishes  never  learn 
to  stray  " — a  '  *  happy  family  "  in  every  case  ;  all  of 
' '  one  mind  in  a  house. " 

Surely  the  hand  of  the  great  and  good  Creator  is 
seen  in  all  these  things  ? 

And  what  love  the  parent  birds  show  to  their 
young  ! — so  strong  that  they  will  often  risk  their  own 
lives  by  capture  on  the  nest,  rather  than  desert  them 
on  the  approach  of  danger.  How  cruel  a  thing  to 
molest  either  the  one  or  the  other  in  the  face  of 
such  an  appeal  as  this,  or  take  advantage  of  such 
trust  ! 

Some  birds  use  their  nests  to  sleep  in,  such  as  the 
long-tailed  titmouse,  swallow,  marten,  and  wren;  and 
comfortable  they  look  and  are, 

"  Within  a  thick  and  spreading  hawthorn-bush. 
That  overhung  a  mole-hill  large  and  round, 
I  heard,  from  morn  to  morn,  a  merry  thrush 
Sing  hymns  of  rapture,  while  I  drank  the  sound; 
With  joy ;  and  oft,  an  unintruding  guest, 
I  watched  her  secret  toils  from  day  to  day, 
How  true  she  warped  tJie  moss  to  form  her  nests 


And  modeled  it  wTthln  with  wood  and  clay. 
And,  by-and-bye,  like  heath-bells  gilt  with  dew. 
There  lay  her  shining  eggs,  as  bright  as  flowers 
Ink-spotted  over;  shells  of  green  and  blue. 
And  there  I  witnessed,  in  the  summer  hours, 
A  brood  of  Nature's  minstrels  chirp  and  fly, 
Glad  as  the  sunshine  and  the  laughing  sky," 

How  exquisitely  beautiful  are  the  eggs  of  birds, 
and  how  great  the  variety,  each  of  its  own  kind,  and 
each  with  some  peculiar  elegance  of  its  own  !  No 
wonder  that  children  look  at  them  with  delight,  for 
do  not  even  men  do  so  too  ? — those  at  least,  who  have 
the  happiness  of  having  a  taste  for  the  pleasures  of  a 
country  life,  and  an  eye  for  natural  beauties,  and  are 
thus  able  to  do  without  the  excitement  of  mere 
wordly  pleasure.  But  let  children  be  taught  to  ad- 
mire them  in  their  native  place,  and  leave  them  to 
those  to  whom  they  belong.  Let  this  lesson  be  taught 
them  while  they  are  young,  that  it  may  be  one  that 
they  will  not  forget  afterwards. 

May  not  man  learn  many  a  lesson  from  these  handi- 
works of  the  Almighty  ?  nay,  has  not  our  Lord  Him- 
self bid  us  to  do  this  very  thing,  and,  "  consider  the 
fowls  of  the  air,"  and  even  point  to  their  nests;  or 
perhaps,  rather,  their  roosting-places,  where  they  re- 
tire to  rest,  when  He  "  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head!'' 
What  confidence,  if  not  alarmed  or  persecuted,  the 
birds  show  in  man,  building  their  nests  close  to,  or 
even  on  or  against  their  houses  ! — what  patience,  too, 
they  exhibit  in  the  building  of  them  ;  what  devoted 
care  of  their  young  ;  what  fond  affection  one  for 
another ! 

Of  all  living  things  a  bird  seems  the  blithest  and 
happiest.  Whether  circling  in  airy  fiiglit  overhead, 
or  cleaving  the  air  with  swift  wing,  or  poising  on  the 
topmost  twig  of  yonder  tree,  trilling  its  clear  song 
out  on  the  fresh  morning  air,  it  seems  the  very  em- 
bodiment of  joy  and  freedom — freedom  from  care  as 
well  as  restraint.  Perpetual  youth  seems  to  be  its 
birthright.  The  frisking  lamb  and  the  playful  kitten 
soon  cease  their  frolics.  Growing  sober  with  their 
years,  they  seem  to  forget  they  ever  had  a  youth.  But 
age  never  stiffens  bird  joints — never  changes  the 
glad,  joyous  song  into  a  melancholy  quaver — at  least 
we  never  know  it  if  it  does,  I  mean  the  free-bom 
bird.  To  the  poor  prisoner  caged  and  dependent  on 
human  care  comes  much  of  the  trouble  and  many  of 
the  infirmities  that  are  inevitably  linked  with  human 
companionship. 

Yet  bird  lite—free  bird  liSe— has  its  tna^s,  as  1  have  found, 
by  watching  the  nest  of  robins  in  the  beautiful  apple  tree  that 
shades  our  door.  Into  the  cosiest  fork  of  this  tree,  just  before 
oar  chamber  window,  came  a  pair  of  robins  one  sunny  day. 
Intent  on  fiuisliing  their  spring  work  betimes,  and  getting  to 
housekeeping  before  the  warm  weather  began,  they  never 
waited  for  Natme  to  build  them  a  roof,  but  while  the  tree  was 
yet  bare  and  leafless  they  chose  their  place  and  went  to  work. 
Ah,  busy  little  workers  I  It  was  a  cheery  sight— their  patience 
and  perseverance,  gathering  their  straws  one  by  one,  rejecting 
this  and  choosing  that,  laying  them  so  evenly  with  their  bills, 
and  flying  away  so  blithely.  The  round  walls  grew  apace— 
flrmly  fastened  to  the  tree  and  woven  so  strongly ;  and  then 
with  what  skill  they  put  in  the  soft  lining  of  hair!  They 
worked  and  sang,  and  sang  and  worked,  until  the  last  hair  had 
been  laid  smoothly  in— and  then  the  little  worker  whirled  and 
whirled  to  give  the  ff"ni8hing  touch,  and  with  evident  satisfac* 
tion  pronounced  it  done  and  well  done. 

Each  day  brought  to  the  nest  a  beautiful  blue  egg,  until 
there  were  four.  Now  the  mother's  heart  was  where  her 
treasures  were,  and  patiently,  day  after  day,  she  stayed  amid 
storm  and  sunshine  all  the  same.  But  Nature  kindly  gathered 
around  her  all  the  tender  green  leaves  that  fluttered  in  the 
spring  sunshine,  sheltering  her  from  the  heat  and  rain,  and  the 
wind  rocked  the  branches,  swaying  both  robin  and  nest  to  and 
fro  as  gently  as  a  mother  rocks  her  cradled  child. 

The  days  grew  into  weeks,  and  there  was  a  stir  of  life  be- 
neath her  wings.  Each  little  shell  was  broken,  and  four  little 
unfledged  things,  that  seemed  all  mouths,  made  housekeeping 
much  more  of  a  labor  than  housebuilding  had  been. 

Now,  there  is  nothingso  homely,  I  think,  as  a  little  bird 
just  out  of  its  shell.  Who  would  ever  believe  this  naked, 
awkward,  uncouth  thing  could  change  so  soon  into  such  an 
airy,  graceful  little  warbler?  Did  you  ever  wonder  at  the 
difference  between  fowls  that  walk  and  fowls  that  fly  ?  The 
chicken  comes  into  life  full-fledged,  ready  to  commence  basi- 


462 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ness  at  once,  while  the  birds  feather  slowly  and  keep  their 
mothers  busy  from  morning  until  nightfall  filling  those  great 
mouths  that  are  always  crying,  "'Give!  give  I"  But  the 
parent  birds  are  seeing  their  happiest  time  now,  as  they  will 
find  to  their  cost  a  few  days  hence.  Take  what  comfort  you 
may,  Robin  Redbreast,  with  your  little  nestlings  folded  safe 
under  your  wings.  Chirp  to  them  softly— sing  to  them  cheerily 
—feed  them  bountifully.  When  once  they  have  left  the  nest 
they  will  come  back  no  more  to  its  sheltering  care.  That  dear 
little  home,  so  cunningly  fashioned  and  so  carefully  watched, 
will  soon  have  finished  its  mission,  and  the  little,  scattered 
nestlings  never  again  be  folded  under  loving  wing. 

And  I  dread  the  day  as  much  as  you,  when,  balancing  on  the 
edge  of  the  nest,  with  a  little  flutter  of  the  wings  and  a  little 
ambitious  desire  to  try  them,  the  young  adventurer  either 
tottles  and  falls  outright,  or  with  wings  half  spread  makes  a 
descent  half  way  between  a  flight  and  a  fall  and  comes  back  no 
xaore  1 

Ah  I  you  would  have  waited  longer,  little  one,  if  you  knew 
the  enemies  that  are  lying  in  wait  for  you.  We  do,  and  have 
watched  the  nest  wishing  we  could  put  off  the  evil  day.  For 
we  cannot  help  feeling  that  they  are  in  some  sense  committed 
to  our  care,  and  we  run  down  the  stairs  with  lightning  speed 
and  catch  it  iust  as  the  dog  reaches  it  and  is  about  to  crush  it 
with  the  weight  of  his  paw. 

There  1— a  boy  who  has  heard  the  outcry  has  been  before" 
hand  and  caught  another.  We  make  him  give  back  the  little, 
trembling  thing,  and  taking  them  into  the  garden  watch  them 
all  day ;  and  between  the  boys,  the  dog  and  the  cat,  our  eyes 
have  no  rest.  The  cat  1— will  she  have  no  mercy  ? — no  sym- 
pathy with  the  fluttering,  anxious,  distracted  mother,  who 
now  feels  for  the  first  time  the  trouble  of  motherhood  %  She 
has  her  own  three  kittens  to  guard,  and  with  ears  erect  and 
eyes  wide  open  starts  at  the  slightest  noise  lest  some  harm 
come  to  her  own  darlings.  Will  she  have  the  heart  to  touch 
that  young  lird  while  the  mother  is  hovering  so  anxiously 
about  it?  It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  watch  her  as  she  teaches  it  to 
fly— first  running  swiftly  along,  then  stopping,  she  stretches 
up  as  straight  and  stiflT  as  a  grenadier,  all  the  while  giving  that 
low  call;  the  little,  toddling  thing  scarcely  reaches  her  side 
before  she  is  off  again,  till  finally,  coaxing  it  into  a  flight  of  a 
foot  or  more,  she  rewards  it  by  dropping  a  squirming  worm 
into  its  open  mouth— repeating  again  and  again  both  the 
lesson  and  reward. 

Well  for  robin  red-breast  that  her  four  nestlings  do  not  leave 
their  home  together.  The  worry  and  trouble  would  soon  be 
the  death  of  her.  How  anxiously  both  birds  fly  hither  and 
thither,  calling,  coaxing,  watching,  and  in  agony  of  terror  if 
any  new  danger  threatens. 

One  night,  just  at  sunset,  we  were  startled  by  such  a  scueam- 
fng  of  birds  as  I  never  heard  before.  Down  the  garden  walk  I 
ran  swiftly  ;  over  the  fence  flew  Harry,  but  not  soon  enough 
to  save  one  of  our  own  little  robins  from  the  clutches  of  a 
neighbor's  cat.  Not  only  the  parent  birds  themselves,  but 
four  or  five  other  robins  had  rushed  to  the  rescue,  and  I  could 
have  cried  over  that  poor  mother's  frantic  grief,  as,  regardless 
of  all  the  danger  for  herself,  she  circled  around  the  cat  and, 
alighting  upon  its  head,  tried,  with  beating  wings  and  bill,  to 
make  it  give  her  darling  up.  Ah !  the  mother  love  is  strong  in 
bird  and  beast  as  well  as  in  human  homes. 

These  little  homes,  built  without  hand,  are  all  around  us. 
Early  in  the  spring  we  can  all  see  the  busy  little  creatures 
carry  whisps  of  straw,  tugging  at  long  pieces  of  string,  flying 
into  trees,  nooks  and  corners,  with  soft  feathers.  Is  not  the 
instinct  implanted  in  the  bird  very  wonderful  ? 

"  In  the  pleasant  spring-time  weather, 

Rosy  worms  and  purple  eyes; 
When  the  little  birds  together. 

Sit  and  sing  among  the  leaves. 
Then  it  seems  as  if  the  shadows. 

With  their  interlacing  boughs. 
Had  been  hung  above  the  meadows. 

For  the  plighting  of  the  vows  I 

"In  the  lighter,  warmer  weather, 

When  the  music  softly  rests. 
And  they  go  to  work  together 

For  I  he  building  of  their  nests; 
Then  the  branchen  for  a  wonder. 

Seem  uplifted  everywhere ; 
To  be  props  and  pillars  under 

Little  houses  in  the  airl 

"But  when  we  see  the  meeting 

Of  the  lives  that  are  to  run  ; 
Hence,  forward  10  the  beating 

Of  two  hearts  that  are  as  one. 
When  we  hear  the  holy  taking. 

Of  the  vows  that  cannot  break. 
Then  it  seems  as  if  the  making 

Of  the  world  was  for  their  sake." 


Many  a  child  goes  astray,  not  because  there  is  a  want 
of  prayer  or  virtue  at  home,  but  simply  because  there  is 
a  lack  of  sunshine.  A  child  need  smiles  as  mueli  as 
flowers  and  sunbeams. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Of  the  many  myths  which  diverge  from  every  little 
incident  of  our  Saviour's  career,  the  legend  of  Ahasu- 
erus,  the  Wandering  Jew,  is  certainly  the  most  striking 
and  widely  distributed.  According  to  the  old  ballad  xi 
Percy's  collection : 

He  hath  passed  through  many  a  foreign  place— 

Arabia,  Egypt,  Africa, 
Greece,  Syria,  and  great  Thrace, 

And  throughout  all  Hiingaria. 

All  the  nation  of  the  Seven  Champions  have  it  in  some 
shape  or  other,  and  it  is  amusing  to  note  the  way  in 
which  the  story  adapts  itself  to  the  exigencies  of  time 
and  place.  In  Germany,  where  he  appeared  A.  D.,  1547, 
he  was  a  kind  of  polyglot  errant,  battling  professors  and 
divines  with  the  accumulated  learning  of  fifteen  cen- 
turies. In  Paris,  he  heralded  the  advent  of  Cagliostro 
and  Mesmer,  cured  diseases,  and  astounded  the  salons 
by  his  prodigious  stories.  He  remembered  seeing  Nero 
standing  on  a  hill  to  enjoy  the  flames  of  his  capitol,  and 
was  a  particular  crony  of  Mahomet's  father  at  Ormus. 

It  was  here,  too,  he  anticipated  the  coming  scepticism, 
by  declaring  from  personal  experience,  that  all  history 
was  a  tissue  of  lies.  In  Italy,  the  myth  has  become 
interwoven  with  the  national  art  hero.  When  he  came 
to  Venice,  he  brought  with  him  a  fine  cabinet  of  choice 
pictures,  including  his  own  portrait  taken  by  Titian, 
taken  some  two  centuries  before.  In  England,  John 
Bull  has  endowed  him  with  the  commercial  spirit  of  his 
stationary  brethern,  and,  to  complete  his  certificate  of 
naturalization,  made  him  always  thirsty.  But  the  Jew 
of  Quarter  Sessions  Reports,  who  is  always  getting  into 
scrapes,  is  not  the  Jew  of  the  rural  popular  legends,  in 
which  he  is  invariably  represented  as  a  purely  benevo- 
lent being,  whose  crime  has  been  long  expiated  by  his 
cruel  punishment,  and  therefore  entitled  to  the  help  of 
every  good  Christian.  When  on  his  weary  way  to  Gol- 
gotha, Christ  fainting,  and  overcome  under  the  burden 
of  the  cross,  asked  him,  as  he  was  standing  at  his  door, 
for  a  cup  of  water  to  cool  his  parched  throat,  he  spurned 
the  supplication,  and  bade  him  on  the  faster. 

"I  go,"  said  the  Saviour,  *'but  thou  shall  thirst  and 
tarry  till  I  come."  And  ever  since  then,  by  day  and 
night  through  the  long  centuries,  he  has  been  doomed 
to  wander  about  the  earth,  ever  craving  for  water,  and 
ever  expecting  the  day  of  judgment  which  shall  end  his 
toils. 

Sometimes  during  the  cold  winter  nights,  the  lonely 
cottager  wiU  be  awoke  by  a  plaintive  demand  for 

water,  good  Christian  !  water,  for  the  love  of  God  !" 
and  if  he  looks  out  into  the  moonlight,  he  will  see  a 
venerable  old  man  in  antique  raiment,  with  gray-flowing 
beard  and  a  tall  staif ,  who  beseeches  his  charity  with  the 
most  earnest  gesture.  Woe  to  the  churl  who  refuses 
him  water  or  shelter.  If  on  the  contrary,  you  treat  him 
well,  and  refrain  from  indelicate  inquiries  respecting  his 
age — on  which  point  he  is  very  touchy — his  visit  is  sure 
to  bring  good  luck.  Perhaps  years  afterwards,  when 
you  are  on  your  death-bed,  he  may  happen  to  be  pass- 
ing ;  and  if  he  should,  you  are  safe,  for  three  knocks 
with  his  staff  will  make  you  hale,  and  he  never  forgets 
any  kindness.  Many  stories  are  current  of  his  wonderful 
cures. 

From  the  year  1818  (perhaps  earlier,)  to  about  1830,  a 
handsomely-featured  Jew,  in  semi-eastern  costume,  fair- 
haired,  bare-headed,  his  eye  intently  flxed  on  a  little 
ancient  book  he  held  in  both  hands,  might  be  seen 
gliding  through  the  streets  of  London,  but  was  never 
seen  to  issue  from  or  to  enter  a  house,  or  pause  upon 
his  way.  He  was  popularly  known  as  "  The  Wandering 
Jew,"  but  there  was  something  so  dignified  and  anxious 
in  his  look,  that  he  was  never  known  to  suffer  the 
slightest  molestation.  Young  and  old  looked  silently 
on  him  as  he  passed,  and  shook  their  heads  pitifully  as 
when  he  had  gone  by. 

H3  disappeared  ;  was  seen  again  in  London  some  ten 
years  later,  still  young,  fair-haired,  bare-headed,  his  eyes 
fixed  intently  on  his  book,  his  feet  going  steadily  for- 
ward as  he  went  straight  on,  and  men  again  whispered 
as  he  passed  through  the  streets,  "The  Wandering 
Jew  1"  There  were  many  who  believed  that  he  was  the 
very  mfl^i  to  whom  had  been  uttered  the  awf  til  words  : 
'  Tarry  thou  till  1  cornel" 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


463 


ACROSS  THE  WILD  WESTERN  WILDERNESS; 

OR, 

A  Trip  to  San  Francisco. 

A  PEN  PICTURE  OF  PICTURESQUE  NATURE,  AND  LIFE 
AS  IT  IS-SAVAGE  AND  CIVILIZED. 

BY  JASPER  T.  JENNINGS. 


No.  1. — Introductory —  The  growth  of  the  American  Nation.— 
Sharpers  in  city  life.— The  broken  pane.— The  country  green- 
Jiarn  and  the  sharpers. — New  York.— Jersey  City.— Underway. 

No  country  in  the  world  ever  rose  so  rapidly  in  power  and 
greatness  as  the  United  States.  The  history  of  England  dates 
far  back  to  the  days  of  the  Caesars,  cotemporary  with  the  his- 
tory of  ancient  Rome;  and  when  Jesus  Christ  was  preaching 
the  doctrine  of  the  true  Christian  religion  on  earth  the  island 
of  Great  Britain  was  known  to  the  surrounding  world.  France, 
and  Germany,  Spain,  and  Russia  have  been  known  perhaps 
even  longer  than  England.  Four  hundred  years  ago  all 
America  was  a  wild  unknown  wilderness.  With  the  exception 
of  the  minor  discoveries  of  some  Icelandic  adventurers,  which 
amounted  to  nothing,  not  a  single  white  man  had  ever  set  foot 
on  the  Western  Continent.  The  sufferings  and  privations  of 
the  early  settlers,  and  their  struggles  against  the  Indians  and 
British  oppressors  need  not  be  recounted  here.  They  were 
long  and  sanguinary,  and  culminated  in  the  Revolutionary  War 
—in  the  "time  that  tried  men's  souls  "—in  the  age  of  patriot- 
ism, when  pure  minded  men  with  determined  spirits  dared  de- 
clare this  nation  should  be  free. 

Think  of  the  work  our  worthy  forefathers  have  done.  Not 
only  did  they  contend  with  the  prowling  wolf  and  bear,  perfidi- 
ous savages  and  treacherous  foes,  but  they  leveled  the  mighty 
forest  and  made  the  gloomy  wilderness  to  blossom  like  the 
rose.  All  honor  to  the  hardy  pioneers;  would  that  we  had 
more  like  them  now.  Through  their  sweat,  and  toil,  and  blood, 
they  laid  the  foundation  for  our  glorious  nation;  and  for  all  the 
blessings  we  enjoy  we  are  indebted  to  the  noble  work  of  that 
old  band  of  heroes,  that  dared  all  the  dangers  of  frontier  life, 
and  with  minds  uncorrupted  and  untarnished  with  the  lusts 
and  greed  of  worldly  gain,  assembled  in  the  council  halls  of 
the  nation,  and  with  wisdom  and  prudence  organized  the  best 
government  the  world  ever  knew. 

One  hundred  years  ago  this  very  year  the  old  state  house 
bell  in  Philadelphia  pealed  forth  the  glad  news  that  the  Declar- 
ation of  Independence  had  been  proclaimed  to  the  world  and 
the  new  nation  born.  Then  there  were  but  thirteen  feeble 
states,  with  less  than  three  millions  of  inhabitants.  To-day 
there  are  thirty-six  large  and  powerful  states  with  a  population 
of  over  forty-five  millions.  Then  the  railway  was  unknown, 
and  the  steam  engine  had  scarcely  found  a  place  in  even  the 
imaginative  speculation  of  man.  Now  the  steam  whistle  pro- 
claims the  working  power  that  is  driving  the  great  factories 
and  workshops  all  over  the  settled  portion  of  our  country,  and 
the  smoke  of  the  iron  horse  is  seen  moving  through  a  thousand 
valleys,  as  it  rushes  along  with  its  stupendous  load,  with  the 
speed  of  the  wind  and  the  strength  of  Hercules,  from  village 
to  village,  from  city  to  city,  and  over  rivers,  and  ravines,  and 
mountain  barriers,  from  ocean  to  ocean.  The  great  Centennial 
Exhibition  at  Philadelphia  befittingly  represents  the  genius, 
industry  and  progress  of  the  American  nation  of  a  century's 
growth.  It  will  demonstrate  the  fact  that  a  free  people  are 
capable  of  governing  themselves;  and  that  the  young  republic 
already  takes  its  place  among  the  front  ranks  of  the  nations  of 
the  world. 

And  yet  our  country  is  not  half  settled,  and  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  square  miles  are  almost  unknown.  Within  the 
last  few  years  the  scientific  explorations  of  the  far  west  have 
developed  a  world  of  wonder  and  beauty,  hitherto  hidden  from 
the  knowledge  of  civilized  man.  The  picturesque  and  sublime 
scenery  of  the  Yellowstone  Region  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
the  Yosemite  Valley,  and  the  canons  of  the  Colorado,  must 
certainly  be  classed  among  the  grandest  scenery  of  the  world; 
and  yet  hundreds  are  goirig  to  Europe  every  year  to  view  the 
natural  beauties  of  Switzerland  and  Italy,  and  to  climb  the 
lofty  Alpine  peaks,  to  look  upon  the  wild  and  enchanting 
scenery  of  Nature,  without  dreaming  that  they  are  leaving  be- 
hind them  a  country  filled  by  Creation's  hand  with  a  profusion 
oC  the  most  magnificent  scenery  to  be  met  with  in  the  realms 
of  the  terrestrial  globe. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  way  of  acquiring  true  knowledge 
than  by  traveling.  Yet  traveling  alone  is  of  but  very  little  real 
practical  benefit  to  any  one.  It  must  be  coupled  with  study 
and  reflection.  Now  there  are  two  kinds  of  travelers— those 
who  travel  for  pleasure  and  those  who  travel  for  profit.  The 
former  merely  gratify  the  eye,  letting  time  slip  along  as  gaily 
and  unheeded  as  possible,  with  no  thought  of  anything  but  the 
present.  The  latter  travels  to  understand  and  learn.  He 
makes  a  note  of  everything  he  sees  worth  preserving,  to 
strengthen  his  memory,  and  that  those  who  come  after  him 
may  be  benefitted  by  his  observations.  f 

No  one  should  ever  think  of  undertaking  a  journey  for  the 
purpose  of  "sight  seeing"  without  first  "informing  himself 
concerning  what  he  will  be  likely  to  see.  Others  have  been 
there  before,  and  they  have  taken  down  height,  and  breadth, 
and  situation,  and  appearance,  and  cost,  and  history.   You  can  , 


obtain  the  result  of  their  observations  for  a  trifle,  and  stamp 
vividly  in  your  mind  and  imagination  a  picture  probably  ap- 
proaching very  near  correct.  Then  you  can  go  forwtird,  feast- 
ing the  mind  and  the  eye  understandingly,  correcting  the  er- 
rors of  former  travelers,  and  if  any  new  facts  can  be  discovered 
add  new  pages  to  the  world's  literature. 

And  now  my  young  friends  let  us  make  the  Centennial  Tour 
of  this  new  Western 'World  together.  Let  us  view  our  country 
and  its  resources— the  noble  work  of  man  for  the  last  hundred 
years,  and  the  primitive  scenery  of  Nature  in  its  wildness  and 
beauty. 

But  a  word  before  we  start.  We  are  to  meet  all  phases  of 
humanity.  Be  careful  how  you  make  friends  with  strangers. 
The  cars  and  cities  are  filled  with  blacklegs  and  swindlers. 
They  will  seek  to  fleece  us  if  they  can.  In  New  York  city,  the 
place  we  will  select  for  our  starting  point,  there  are  hundreds 
of  them.  They  hang  around  the  newly-arrived  emigrants,  and 
pretend  to  be  very  friendly,  offering  to  go  with  them  to  placea 
they  wish  to  find,  when  they  often  coiuluct  them  to  the  vilest 
dens  in  the  city.  Ere  many  hours  they  are  kicked  out,  with  no 
money,  and  perhaps  the  next  morning  finds  them  beggars  in 
the  world  and  the  friendly  strancrer  gone.  Look  out  for  mock 
auctions  where  watches  are  sold  cheap.  They  have  a  hundred 
different  tricks  to  play  upon  you,  and  if  you  have  anything  to 
do  with  them  you  will  in  all  probability  be  the  loser.  Watches 
of  splendid  appearance  are  often  struck  off  for  a  few  dollars, 
and  the  unsuspecting  purchaser  thinks  nothing  in  handing  it 
back  for  a  moment  that  the  seller  may  find  a  fitting  key  to  go 
with  it.  But,  ah!  m  that  moment  the  works  are  changed,  and 
it  is  handed  back  a  worthless  imitation. 

Lotteries  are  established  in  many  places,  and  you  are  assured 
that  you  have  a  grand  chance  to  draw  the  tempting  prize. 
Invest  in  these  and  depend  upon  it  you  will  come  away  so 
much  worse  off  than  when  you  entered.  Sometimes  the  cry  is 
raised:  Pickpockets  around— look  out  for  your  pocket-books!''^ 
The  honest  countryman  instinctively  places  his  hand  over  his 
money  to  assure  himself  that  it  is  there;  not  thinking,  per- 
haps, that  he  is  assuring  others  that  it  is  there  also.  It  is  all 
the  sharpers  want.  They  have  found  out  their  object,  and  they 
have  already  marked  their  victim's  money  for  their  own.  He 
soon  finds  himself  elbowing  his  way  through  a  crowd,  and  un- 
known to  him,  a  hand  is  placed  upon  the  side  of  his  pocket, 
with  a  knife  keener  than  a  razor,  and  so  exceedingly  small  that 
it  may  revolve  in  the  top  of  a  large  finger  ring.  A  moment 
later  his  pocket  is  ripped  open;  his  wallet  falls  into  a  greedy 
villain's  hand,  who  slips  hurriedly  away  to  divide  its  contents 
with  his  companions. 

Peddlers  stand  upon  the  street  comers  urging  you  to  pur- 
chase goods  at  a  quarter  of  their  real  value.  Remember  it  is 
the  sight  of  your  purse  they  are  after  and  not  the  sale  of  their 
goods.  If  your  pocket-book  appears  lean  and  seedy,  with  only 
a  few  shillings  therein,  you  will  probably  be  comparatively 
safe,  and  be  urged  no  more  to  buy.  But  if  you  have  a  consia- 
erable  sum  of  money  with  you  and  they  once  get  their  eye  upon 
it,  they  will  work  hard  to  get  it. 

A  number  of  years  ago,  an  awkward-appearing  gentleman 
was  walking  along  the  side  pavement  of  Boston  with  a  large 
umbrella  in  his  hand.  Turning  suddenly  about,  his  umbrella, 
as  if  by  accident,  struck  against  a  pane  of  glass  and  broke  it. 
The  proprietor  of  the  building,  who  was  a  merchant,  came  for- 
ward and  demanded  a  dollar  for  the  damage.  Many  apologies 
were  made  and  the  careless  gentleman  handed  him  a  ten  dollar 
bill,  saying  it  was  the  smallest  change  he  had.  The  shoo- 
keeper  handed  him  back  nine  dollars,  and  he  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing.  A  few  hours  afterwards  the  humble  merchant  dis- 
covered that  the  bill  was  counterfeit— that  he  had  been  the 
victim  of  a  designing  villain— and  that  he  had  lost  a  pane  of 
glass  and  nine  dollars  in  cash. 

Pocket-book  snatching  is  another  feature  of  rascality  some^ 
times  practiced  upon  strangers  to  city  life.  A  good  story  is 
told  which  is  said  to  have  taken  place  in  one  of  our  large  cities 
but  a  short  time  since.  A  young  man  fresh  from  the  ^country 
farm  had  made  his  appearance  in  the  city  for  the  first  time. 
His  appearance  was  decidedly  green  and  awkward,  and  crime, 
stained  villains,  thinking  him  a  greenhorn,  gathered  about  him 
eager  to  rifle  his  pockets.  The  sequel  proved,  however,  that 
he  was  not  so  green  as  they  had  supposed.  He  had  heard  of 
pocket-book  snatchers,  and  he  had  read  about  all  the  tricks 
and  crimes  practised  by  the  evil  disposed  in  the  great  city.  He 
had  prepared  himself  to  meet  their  knavery,  and  he  believed 
he  should  succeed.  He  had  provided  himself  with  two  old 
well-worn  wallets,  looking  exactly  alike,  and  one  he  had  filled 
vvifh  strips  of  brown  wrapping  paper,  while  the  other  contained 
his  money.  Stopping  at  a  respectable  store  he  purchased  one 
or  two  trifling  articles,  and  as  he  took  out  his  well-filled  pocket- 
book  to  pay  for  them  he  noticed  that  two  or  three  suspicious 
looking  individuals,  who  had  been  apparently  dogging  his 
steps  ror  some  time,  slyly  winked  at  each  other,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "The  game  is  ours,  and  a  fine  bone  to  pick."  Presently 
one  of  them  pulled  out  a  ten  dollar  note  and  kindly  asked  the 
other  if  he  could  give  him  two  fives  for  it.  The  other  exam- 
ined his  money  and  politely  told  him  it  was  impossible,  as  ha 
had  not  the  change.  Our  young  countryman  turned  to  depart; 
not  doubting  but  that  the  two  gentlemen  would  follow  him. 
His  surmise  was  correct.  Hardly  had  he  stepped  outside  the 
door  when  the  change  seeker  stepped  up  to  him  and  said, 
"My  friend,  perhaps  you  could  give  me  small  bills  for  a  ten?" 
Our  countryman  took  the  offered  note  in  one  hand,  and  with 
the  other  carelessly  drew  forth  the  false  pocket-book.  In  an 
instant  it  was  spiitched  from  his  hand  and  the  villain  dashed 


464 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


BTOund  tlie  corner  of  the  block  and  disappeared  in  a  moment, 
leaving  the  countryman  witti  the  ten  dollar  note  in  his  hand. 
"Well,"  said  he,  "I've  heard  that  them  laughs  best  who  laugh 
last.  Anyway,  I'll  bet  you'll  find  when  you  open  that  old 
pocket-book  that  brown  paper  is  at  a  premium,  and  you've  paid 
pretty  dear  for  the  whistle;  but  1  shan't  find  fault  if  you 
aon't,"  and  he  stalked  away. 

That  time  the  countryman  was  too  sharp  for  the  sharpers. 
Such,  however,  is  rarely  the  case,  and  those  who  travel  among 
them  need  to  be  on  their  guard.  Be  careful  how  you  show 
your  money,  and  how  you  enter  into  intimate  conversation 
with  those  you  don't  know.  Treat  all,  however,  with  civility 
and  respect;  but  be  not  too  free  to  inform  them  of  your  busi- 
ness and  destination.  In  a  word— miwrf  your  own  business. 
Make  this  your  rule,  and  my  word  for  it  you  can  travel  the 
world  over  with  little  danger  of  having  your  pockets  picked. 

We  might  spend  a  day  profitably  viewing  New  York  before 
we  start  on  our  long  journey  ;  but  perhaps  it  is  well  known  to 
many,  and  besides  we  have  not  the  time.  Quite  likely  you  are 
more  anxious  to  view  the  roUino;  prairies,  the  herds  of  buffalo, 
the  grizzly  bear,  the  snow-capped  Rocky  Mountains,  and  the 
wild  red  men  of  the  far  west.  From  reading  this  mere  glimpse 
of  some  of  the  dark  phases  of  city  life,  the  reader  must  not  in- 
fer that  there  are  no  good  morals  there.  Magnificent  churches 
point  their  lofty  spires  heavenward,  and  benevolent  societies, 
and  noble  public  libraries,  the  grand  civilizers  of  humanity, 
attest  the  good  work  that  is  being  done.  Our  American  cities 
are  nothing  near  as  bad  as  those  of  Europe  and  the  East. 
Could  the  reader  behold  the  vile  dens  of  degradation  and  in- 
famy in  London  and  Paris— the  two  acknowledged  leading 
cities  of  the  world — he  would  shudder  at  the  dark  deeds  com- 
mitted, and  the  blood  would  run  cold  in  his  veins.  The  tra- 
veler's life  is  not  always  among  pleasant  scenes:  he  must  ex- 
pect to  see  misery,  vice  and  crime  as  well  as  pleasure,  peace 
and  plenty. 

New  York,  the  metropolis  of  America,  compares  favorably 
with  any  sea-port  of  its  size  in  the  world.  As  on  our  way  to 
the  ferry,  after  having  purchased  our  tickets  for  San  Francisco 
at  the  company's  office,  we  pass  down  broad  avenues  lined  by 
marble  fronts  and  massive  piles  of  elegant  masonry,  we  can 
hardly  realize  that  it  is  yet  so  young.  A  thousand  years  ago 
London  and  Paris  stood  where  they  now  stand— cities  of  no 
mean  proportions.  A  little  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  where  New  York  now  stands  the  liidian  built  his  wiirwam, 
and  launched  his  little  birchen  canoe,  and  led  his  dusky  Indian 
bride  among  the  graceful  willows  and  trailing  vines  that  linec 
its  flowery  banks.  In  her  tiny  willow  basket,  the  Indiar 
maiden  carried  the  squirrel  and  fish  the  hunter  caught,  and  nc 
king  was  ever  happier  on  his  throne  than  were  those  sun- 
browned  children  of  the  forest. 

Manhattan  was  first  seen  by  the  whites  in  1609.  Henry  Hud- 
son, the  bold  discoverer,  seeing  the  broad  river  rolling  down 
from  among  the  blue  hills  of  the  north,  entered  it  and  sailed  far 
up  among  the  red  men,  who  were  seen  every  day  along  its 
banks.  In  1615  the  first  trading  house  was  built.  Soon  after 
wards  a  number  of  adventurers  came  over,  and  several  log 
houses  were  built  on  the  south-western  point  of  the  island.  At 
one  time  the  whole  island  was  purchased  for  twenty-four  dol- 
lars. In  1656,  when  the  streets  were  first  laid  out,  it  contained 
120  houses  and  a  thousand  inhabitants,  who  carried  on  a  con- 
siderable trade  with  the  Indians,  purchasing  venison,  elk, 
bear,  raccoon  and  beaver  skins,  etc.,  paying  only  trifles  for 
them  and  disposing  of  them  at  enormous  profits.  Still  but  few 
lived  solely  as  now  by  the  fruits  of  speculation.  Women  wore 
dresses  of  brown  home-made  tow  cloth,  or  plain  calico,  and 
were  not  afraid  to  soil  their  dainty  fingers  in  the  wash  tub,  or 
at  the  loom.  Fashions  were  little  looked  after;  but  apparel 
was  made  neat,  and  durable,  and  clean;  and  beyond  this  there 
was  nothing  more.  The  city  prospered  and  grew  rich,  and 
now  it  numbers  more  than  a  million  souls— a  vast  hive  of  hu- 
man industgr.  A  thousand  ships  stand  in  its  secure  harbor, 
and  the  flags  of  all  nations  unfurled  over  the  sea  of  shipping 
declare  the  immense  amount  of  business  done.  But  here  we 
are  at  the  ferry,  and  the  time  for  starting  is  at  hand.  In  a  few 
moments  we  are  set  down  in  Jersey  City;  an  important  suburb 
of  New  York,  with  about  150,000  inhabitants,  and  the  greatest 
railway  depot  on  the  American  continent.  Nearly  all  the  pro- 
duce of  the  western  world  destined  for  New  York  centers  here, 
and  engine  rooms  and  freight  houses  are  immense.  The  ring- 
ing of  bells,  the  clang  of  a  thousand  steam  hammers,  the  shrill 
whistles  of  a  hundred  locomotives  moving  here  and  there,  the 
constant  thunder  of  heavy  trains,  and  moving  columns  of  dark 
smoke,  proclaim  the  busy  work  of  man.  Had  we  the  time  we 
might  ascend  to  the  heights  and  look  upon  the  lovely  bay  and 
harbor,  filled  with  shipping,  and  the  great  city  itself,  with  its 
glittering  spires  and  busy  population,  in  one  grand  panoramic 
view;  but  we  will  not  trouble  the  reader  longer  with  the  de- 
scription. Entering  the  superb  palace  car  of  the  Erie  railway 
we  are  hurried  away  by  the  dashing  iron  steed,  and  our  plea- 
sant view  of  New  York  and  the  broad  waters  of  the  Atlantic 
closes.   

Ko.  2.— The  New  Twk  and  Erie  Railway— The  YaUey  of  The 
Neversink^Port  Jervis—Carr's  Bock— Up  the  Delaware 
—Ghdf  Summit— Cascade  Bridge. 

The  New  York  and  Erie  Railroad  is  one  of  the  pioneer  rail  ■ 
ways  of  America ;  and  at  the  time  of  its  construction  it  was 
the  greatest  work  ever  undertaken  by  civilized  man.  The  Great 
Walt  of  China,  the  Roman  Coliseum,  the  Hanging  Gardens  of 


Babylon,  Solomon's  Temple,  and  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt  were 
all  mighty  works,  and  wonders  in  themselves;  but  as  far  as  the 
public  good  was  concerned,  they  must  forever  sink  into  mere 
insignificance  when  compared  with  the  modern  railway. 

When  the  Erie  Company  was  being  organized,  and  the  first 
surveys  being  made  through  the  then  wild  wilderness  regions 
of  southern  New  York,  people  laughed  at  what  they  deemed 
the  worse  than  foolish  attempt,  to  span  the  whole  State  with 
an  iron  railway  460  miles  in  length,  from  the  waters  of  Lake 
Erie  to  the  tides  of  the  broad  Atlantic.  Whenever  we  hear  it 
hinted,  as  we  sometimes  do,  that  the  ocean  may  be  crossed, 
and  a  rapid  air-line  passage  made  between  New  York  City  and 
!^aris,  or  Loudon,  by  means  of  a  vast  air  ship,  its  advocates  are 
lOoked  upon  in  about  the  same  manner  as  were  the  first  mana- 
gers of  the  Erie  railway.  The  minds  of  the  people  are  not  ripe 
for  such  inventions;  and  they  look  upon  the  vast  magnitude  of 
the  undertaking,  without  taking  into  consideration  the  genius 
and  power  that  resides  in  man.  They  forget  that  this  is  a 
world  of  progress,  and  man  knows  not  what  he  can  do  until  h© 
has  tried.  Man's  works,  with  faith  believing,  can  and  has  re- 
moved mountains. 

The  Erie  Railway  Company  was  incorporated  on  the  24th  of 
April,  1832.  The  next  year  a  million  of  dollars  was  subscribed 
to  the  stock,  and  Benjamin  Wright  conducted  a  survey  of  the 
whole  route.  In  1836  the  route  was  resurveyed  and  active  work 
commenced;  but  to  level  the  rugged  hills  and  cut  through  the 
rocky  mountain  barriers,  and  span  the  rivers  and  deep  ravines 
with  bridges,  and  airy  viaducts,  required  an  immense  amount 
of  money;  and  in  1842  the  company  had  become  so  deeply  in- 
volved in  debt  that  its  affairs  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  as- 
signees. The  State  of  New  York,  however,  came  to  their  aid, 
and  the  work  was  pushed  rapidly  forward  to  completion. 

On  the  14th  of  May,  1851,  the  stupendous  work  was  finished. 
The  roar  of  cannon  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  hills  and  forests 
all  along  the  southern  counties  of  the  State.  Amid  the  univer- 
sal rejoicings  the  President  of  the  United  States,  with  Webster 
and  other  distinguished  personages,  entered  the  gorgeously 
decorated  cars,  on  the  Hudson,  and  were  swiftly  carried  to  the 
shores  of  Lake  Erie.  Nothing  had  hitherto  been  constructed 
equal  to  this;  and  America  felt  justly  proud  of  her  noble  sons. 
Connections  and  extensions  were  made  with  other  roads,  and 
ere  long  it  became  the  great  leading  thoroughfare  between  the 
East  and  the  West.  Its  cost,  together  with  its  equipment^ 
amounted  to  over  thirty-three  millions  of  dollars;  and  the  num- 
ber of  men  required  to  repair  engines  and  cars  was  nearly  700. 
As  the  beautiful  regions  of  the  West  became  thickly  settled, 
the  business  of  the  road  increased  rapidly;  a  double  track  was 
laid,  and  thousands  found  employment  along  the  route.  Over 
75,000  tons  of  iron  rails  were  laid  in  the  track,  and  the  agggre- 
gate  length  of  bridging  was  over  25,000  feet. 

Having  given  a  hasty  glance  at  the  history  of  this  early  rail- 
way enterprise,  we  are  ready  to  proceed  with  our  journey. 

Passing  Boiling  Spring  Station,  the  Passaic  Bridge,  and 
Huylers,  we  reach  Paterson,  one  of  the  foremost  cities  of  New 
Jersey,  twelve  miles  from  New  York.  Extensive  machine 
shops  are  located  here,  where  many  of  the  finest  locomotive* 
in  the  country  have  been  made.  Its  large  cotton  and  silk  fac- 
tories give  constant  employment  to  many  hundred  persons. 
Passing  by  several  stations  situated  in  quiet  farming  regions, 
we  come  to  a  more  rugged  country,  where  steep  hills  arise  on 
every  hand  and  threaten  to  cutoff  our  further  progress;  but 
the  road  turns  this  way  and  that,  and  winding  around  their 
bases,  forms  a  crooked  passage-way  over  which  the  long  traitt 
like  some  wounded  snake  drags  itself  slowly  on. 

Thirty-one  miles  iu  New  Jersey  and  we  cross  the  line  and 
enter  the  State  of  New  York  at  Suffern's  Station.  The  scenery 
at  once  becomes  more  grand  and  picturesque,  and  as  we  dash 
into  the  jaws  of  the  Ramapo  Gap,  we  are  reminded  that  this 
romantic  spot  is  replete  with  historical  interest.  Washington 
was  here  in  the  eventful  Revolutionary  period,  and  where  the 
pass  is  the  most  formidable,  he  prepared  to  meet  his  British 
foes;  but  learning  the  impregnability  of  his  position,  they  never 
came.  The  remains  of  the  ancient  works  are  even  yet  \isible. 
The  celebrated  Torn  Mountain,  which  Washington  often  as- 
cended to  observe  the  movements  of  the  enemy,  is  seen  in  the 
immediate  vicinity.  Swiftly  we  dash  along  through  the  beauti- 
tif  ul  Ramapo  Valley,  where  the  picturesque  scenery  of  Nature 
changes  at  every  turn,  and  the  loud  roar  of  an  approaching 
train  echoes  like  the  jarring  thunder  among  the  rocky  hills. 
Rich  beds  of  iron  ore  are  found  here,  and  iron  manufacture  is 
carried  on  to  a  considerable  extent.  A  little  further  on  is  the 
ruins  of  the  old  Augusta  Iron  Works,  where  in  former  days 
the  great  chain  that  was  stretched  across  the  Hudson  to  keep 
back  the  hostile  English  vessels,  was  forged.  Through  a  deep 
rocky  cut,  and  over  the  Ramapo,  and  ere  long  the  valley  widens 
and  the  hills  appear  more  susceptible  of  cultivation. 

When  the  road  was  being  built  much  of  it  was  through  the 
wilderness,  and  the  little  hamlets  that  appear  along  the  route 
have  arisen  from  the  fruits  of  the  giant  enterprise.  Entering 
Orano-e  County,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  leading  dairy  region  of 
the  Empire  State.  The  land  is  generally  very  stony,  but 
springy,  and  rich,  and  pasture  grows  thick,  rank,  and  luxuriant. 
The  more  important  stations  are  Chester,  Goshen,  and  Middle- 
town  Arriving  at  Otisville,  seventy-five  miles  from  New  York, 
we  have  before  us  the  Shawangunk  mountain  ridge,  reaching 
far  out  on  either  hand,  as  if  to  dispute  our  further  progress. 
Upward  winds  the  track  at  the  rate  of  forty  feet  to  the  mile, 
and  when  near  the  top  we  enter  a  rock  cutting  fifty  feet  m 
,  depth  and  nearly  half  a  mile  in  length.  Having  reached  the 
)  summit  we  descend  by  a  gentle  slope  along  the  side  of  the 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  465 


1  f 

mountain,  where  fhe  view  Is  constantly  v^hanglng  from  "bold 
and  rugged  to  picturesque  and  lovely,  and  vice  versa.  Below 
iis  is  the  quiet  and  beautiful  valley  of  the  Neversink.  On 
emerging  from  the  last  dark  pass  and  swinging  around  a  curved 
embankment  fifty  feet  high  and  2,500  feet  in  length,  we  sud- 
denly have  the  whole  spread  out  like  a  map  before  us.  Neat 
white  farm  residences  along  the  yellow  dusty  road,  with  pretty 
yards  surrounded  by  plain  picket  fences,  and  containing  lofty 
old  Englsh  poplars  and  Balm  of  Gilead  trees,  while  creepers 
and  woodbines  and  morning  glories  trail  upward  over  the  doors 
and  windows,  with  bunches  of  rose  bushes  and  lilacs  in  the 
corners,  and  blushing  peonies  along  the  walk  leading  out  to 
the  rustic  gate,  upon  which  the  roguish  youngsters  are  swing- 
ing, while  beyond,  away  along  the  highway,  the  clatter  of 
mowing  machines  resound,  and  the  ring  of  scythes  being  sharp- 
ened by  the  busy  group  of  farmers,  as  the  sweet-scented  clover 
and  tall  timothy  falls  before  them.  Below  them  the  quiet  stream 
with  its  deep  places  for  trout,  without  a  ruffle,  smooth  and 

flassy  like  a  polished  mirror,  reflecting  to  perfection  the  clear 
lue  sky,  with  an  occasional  white  fleecy  cloud,  and  the  bunches 
of  willows  and  beech  that  line  its  banks,  while  within  it  stand 
the  herd  of  cows,  with  the  cool  water  up  around  their  sides, 
chewing  their  cud  in  contentment  and  happiness.  Such  are  the 
beauties  of  rural  scenery;  a  theme  for  the  poet,  and  a  never 
dying  subject  for  the  painter.  Taken  altogether  it  form  a  pic- 
ture once  seen  never  to  be  forgotten: 

A  short  distance  further,  across  the  Neversink  bridge  and 
the  smiling  valley,  and  we  stop  at  Port  Jervis,  eighty-eight 
miles  from  New  York,  and  the  terminus  of  the  eastern  division 
of  the  road.  Here  is  a  maze  of  switches,  or  turnouts,  and  loco- 
motives are  constantly  moving  to  and  fro,  making  up  trains  to 
be  sent  onward.  The  company's  works  are  somewhat  exten- 
sive, and  the  thick  black  smoke  of  the  moving  engines  and 
clatter  of  heavy  trains,  fill  the  ear  with  a  constant  din. 

We  now  enter  the  Delaware  division;  and  the  Delaware 
is  to  be  our  companion  for  many  miles.  The  road  is  now  more 
level,  but  the  scenery  is  extremely  picturesque  and  ever  chan- 
ging. The  heaviest  work  of  the  road  lies  in  the  Delaware 
division;  and  we  are  soon  to  pass  over  some  of  the  boldest  and 
most  imposing  scenery  to  be  met  with  this  side  of  the  high 
Rockies.  Crossing  over  the  Delaware  and  Hudson  Canal,  and 
beyond,  the  Delaware  river  itself  by  a  substantial  bridge  800 
feet  long  and  costing  $75,000,  we  pass  out  of  Orange  County, 
and  over  into  Pennsylvania,  to  wind  upward  along  the  narrow 
valley.  Gradually  the  view  becomes  more  wild  and  rugged, 
and  ere  long  we  find  ourselves  passing  along  the  brink  of  a 
sheer  precipice  of  one  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  while  the 
rocks  upon  the  other  side  have  been  blasted  and  cut  away 
to  the  depth  of  115  feet  to  form  a  pathway  for  the  track.  Along 
this  great  gallery,  overhanging  the  murmuring  water  far  down 
below,  the  train  dashes  with  undiminished  speed;  and  as  we 
wind  around  the  curve,  and  the  car  rises  on  one  side  and  leans 
oyer  towards  the  yawning  abyss,  we  can  hardly  keep  back  a 
slight  feeling  of  uneasiness,  especially  when  we  reflect  upon 
our  probable  destiny  should  the  train  in  its  rapid  flight  happen 
to  leap  from  the  track.  In  the  three  miles  of  the  great  Shohola 
section  $300,000  were  expended,  and  one  of  its  sustaining  walls 
contains  43-^,000  cubic  feet  of  stone. 

Carr's  Rock,  sixteen  miles  from  Port  Jervis,  was  the  scene  of  a 
fearful  calamity.  In  the  early  morning  of  the  15th  of  April, 
1868,  as  a  heavy  passenger  train  was  dashing  towards  New 
York  with  two  hundred  persons  on  board,  a  defective  rail  sud- 
denly snapped  asunder  and  four  of  the  rear  cars  were  pitched 
headlong  down  the  high  embankment  upon  the  frightful  rocks 
and  crags  below.  An  awful  scene  followed.  The  cars  were 
smashed,  and  wood,  iron,  splinters,  and  human  beings  hurled 
in  all  directions.  Thirty  persons  were  killed  outright,  and 
many  were  severely  maimed  and  mangled,  and  the  miirderous 
rocks  were  dyed  with  blood.  The  debris  took  fire,  and  the 
shrieks  and  groans  of  the  dying  sufferers  was  heartrending. 
Assistance  from  Port  Jervis  was  quickly  procured,  when  the 
dead  bodies  were  removed  and  the  living  kindly  cared  for. 

At  Lackawaxen,  111  miles  from  New  York,  the  canal  passes 
over  the  river  by  a  groat  aqueduct,  and  passing  up  the  valley 
of  the  Lackawaxen  in  the  direction  of  the  Honesdale  and  Car- 
bondale  coalfields,  we  see  it  no  more.  Two  miles  beyond  Mast 
Hope  we  recross  the  Delaware  by  a  bridge  580  feet  in  length, 
and  again  enter  the  State  of  New  York.  Passing  by  the  beau- 
tiful stations  of  Narrowsburgh  and  Cochecton,  and  many  more 
less  important  ones,  situated  among  rugged  hills  and  beautiful 
valleys,  we  become  conscious  that  we  are  beholding  some  of 
the  most  changing  and  picturesque  scenes  to  be  met  with  in 
southern  New  York.  Many  of  the  hi^h  rocky  hills  that  form 
the  river's  bank  have  been  swept  by  tne  forest  fires,  no  doubt 
often  kindled  by  the  sparks  from  the  passing  locomotives,  and 
their  summits  being  denuded  of  their  timber  have  been  covered 
With  a  dense  growth  of  briers,  brakee,  and  scrub  oaks,  where 
rattlesnakes  abound  by  thousands,  In  the  summer  these  bar- 
ren hills  are  often  visited  for  sassafras  and  whortleberries. 

Beyond  Equinunk  we  pass  Stockport,  Chehocton,  Hancock, 
Hales'  Eddy,  and  ultimately  arrive  at  Deposit,  177  miles  from 
New  York,  where  we  again  cross  the  Delaware  by  a  strong  iron 
bridge,  and  bidding  adieu  to  the  stream  we  have  followed  so 
long,  set  our  face  to  the  high  mountain  barrier  which  we  must 
climb  before  we  can  view  the  beautiful  Susquehanna.  In  the 
passage  of  this  great  ridge  the  mighty  works  of  the  Erie  rail* 
way  are  to  be  seen;  and  no  wonder  the  first  surveyors  paused 
here  in  the  woods,  and  felt  ready  to  shake  their  heaiis  in  doubt 
and  discouragement  as  they  reflected  on  the  obstacles  to  be 
«vercome  andthe  probable  cost  of  the  etupendoue  undertaking. 


Winding  upward,  with  a  grade  fifty-eight  feet  to  the  mile, 
the  puffing  steed  moves  slowly  on.  Eight  miles  of  the  toilsome 
ascent  and  we  come  to  the  great  rock-cutting  at  Gulf  Summit, 
200  feet  in  depth,  where  the  final  barrier  was  by  human  labor 
riven  in  twain.  Here  is  a  rare  field  for  the  geologist,  where  he 
can  examine  the  different  rock  formations  to  his  satisfaction. 
Huge  icicles  in  the  winter  hang  from  the  splintered  rocks,  far 
up  the  river  sides,  and  the  keen  cold  air  draws  through  the 
pass,  piercing  the  travelers  with  its  congealing  blast.  To  make 
this  prodigious  artificial  pass  through  the  summit  of  the  water- 
shed between  the  Delaware  and  Susquehanna  Rivers,  the  last 
scattering  spurs  of  the  Allegheny  chain,  required  an  immense 
amount  of  labor  and  $200,000  in  money. 

We  are  now  1366  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Hurrying 
through  the  rocky  cut  we  commence  the  western  descent,  with 
a  grade  of  sixty  feet  to  the  mile,  and  after  four  miles  run,  in 
some  places  so  extremely  crooked  that  long  trains  are  often 
passing  around  two  curves  at  the  same  time,  we  come  to  the 
wild  ravine  where  once  stood  the  celebrated  Cascade  Bridge. 
Standing  upon  the  brink  of  the  frightful  chasm,  we  behold 
away  below,  184  feet  down,  the  stream,  dashing  along  from 
rock  to  rock  until  it  is  rendered  white  with  snowy  foam.  From 
the  bottom  the  view  is  one  of  imposing  grandeur.  The  famous 
bridge  which  once  spanned  the  fearful  gulf^  250  feet  across,  by 
a  single  arch,  with  its  colossal  ribs  of  white  oak,  two  feet  by 
four,  which  was  a  year  and  a  half  in  building,  and  cost  $70,000, 
is  no  more.  Hundreds  of  tons  of  rock  have  been  thrown  from 
the  brink  of  the  precipice  by  the  aid  of  powder,  and  an  im- 
mense amount  of  earth  dumped  upon  them,  and  upon  this  the 
track  has  been  laid  across. 

Here  in  this  wild  scenery  of  primitive  Nature,  the  Susque- 
hanna River  appears  suddenly  to  view.  Descending  along  the 
side  of  a  wild  barren  mountain,  in  a  straight  section,  where  the 
rocks  have  been  blasted  and  removed  to  the  depth  of  from  ten 
to  fifty  feet  to  form  our  pathway,  we  have  the  grandest  and 
most  enchanting  scenery  to  be  met  with  in  America.  It  should 
be  seen  in  Autumn,  when  the  atmosphere  is  clear  and  pure; 
when  the  leaves  are  ripening  with  many  colors,  and  all  Nature 
seems  tinted  with  a  thousand  hues.  Below,  through  the  beau- 
tiful valley,  flows  the  graceful  Susquehanna.  Clusters  of  wil- 
lows line  its  banks,  and  tidy  white  cottages  dot  the  smiling 
valley.  The  view  in  the  Neversink  valley  was  splendid— this 
is  superior;  and  its  beautiful  vision  will  haunt  the  mind  of  the 
traveler  for  years  to  come.  Down  this  charming  valley  on  our 
right,  the  Jefferson  Railroad  extends;  and  often,  in  the  winter, 
when  the  air  is  keen  and  frosty,  long  lines  of  white  steam  from 
the  ascending  train  curl  up  over  the  tree  tops,  as  if  to  meet 
that  of  the  ascending  Erie  train,  as  neck  and  neck  they  fly 
along. 

Swinging  sharply  to  the  left,  around  the  base  of  the  barren 
ridge  and  across  a  high  embankment,  affording  a  splendid 
view  down  the  river,  we  come  suddenly  to  the  celebrated  Star- 
ruca  Viaduct— one  of  the  greatest  bridge  structures  in  America. 
It  is  1200  feet  long,  110  feet  high,  and  30  feet  wide  on  the  top. 
To  be  seen  to  advantage,  the  traveler  should  descend  to  the 
bottom,  and  look  up  upon  its  eighteen  massive  stone  arches, 
so  lofty  in  height,  and  with  spans  of  fifty  feet,  never  failing  to 
strike  the  mind  with  astonishment  and  wonder.  The  sound  of 
a  footfall  echoes  and  resounds  as  though  we  were  in  a  church. 
This  magnificent  structure  was  finished  within  a  year  from  the 
time  of  its  commencement,  under  the  able  superintendence  of 
Mr.  Kirkwood,  and  cost  $;320,000.  Sweeping  across  its  giddy 
height,  far  above  the  beautiful  Starrucca  vale,  where  the  view 
is  unsurpassed,  and  swinging  again  to  the  right,  we  dash  across 
the  Canewacta  bridge,  at  Lanesborough,  one  mile  further  on, 
and  soon  find  ourselves  close  to  the  river,  with  the  rocks  along 
the  steep  hillside  on  our  left,  cleft  down  forty  or  fifty  feet  to 
make  room  for  the  track.  A  mile  beyond  Lanesborough,  along 
this  rock  gallery,  and  we  enter  the  Susquehanna  station— 19» 
miles  from  New  York,  and  the  end  of  the  Delaware  division. 


No.  4.  -Great  Bend— Binghainton— The  Susquehanna  Valley 
—Early  Settlers— Owecjo—Elmira. 

Few  towns  in  Pennsylvania  are  situated  on  more  broken 
ground,  or  among  more  picturesque  and  romantic  scenery  than 
the  flourishing  village  of  Susquehanna.  Many  of  the  buildings 
are  three  stories  high  on  the  lower  side,  and  only  one  on  the 
upper,  and  in  several  places  long  flights  of  eteps  for  footmen, 
lead  from  the  lower  streets  to  those  above.  And  yet  it  is  the 
best  market  place  in  the  county.  Thirty  years  ago  a  solitary 
farm  house  stood  where  the  company's  works  now  stand,  and 
much  of  the  present  limits  of  the  town  were  clothed  in  sombre 
forest,  and  many  of  the  older  inhabitants  well  remember  when 
the  entire  site  was  clothed  with  Nature's  green,  and  when  from 
the  rude  hunter's  cabin  in  the  brier  path  they  beheld  the  herds 
of  deer  dashing  by,  and  listened  to  the  doleful  howling  of  the 
wolves  from  the  wild  glens  and  gorges  around.  The  present 
population  is  nearly  large  enough  for  an  incorporated  city,  and 
yet  perhaps  if  no  railway  station  had  been  established  here 
parts  of  it  would  even  yet  have  been  in  its  primitive  wilder- 
ness. The  Erie  Company  pay  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  $10;000 
a  year  for  the  privilege  of  running  through  their  territory,  and 
to  save  themselves  from,Xl^rther  taxation  they  have  built  their 
immense  workshops  in  this  State. 

But  the  time  for  our  departure  is  at  hand,  and  proceeding  to 
the  depot  where  the  splendid  train  is  in  waiting,  and  the  hiss- 
ing locomotive  apparently  impatient  for  the  race,  we  enter  the 
car,  and  taking  our  seat  upon  the  soft  crimson  velvet  cushion 


466 


THE  GROWING  PFORLD. 


we  are  soon  in  motion.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  corapany''s 
grounds  we  turn  to  the  right  and  cross  the  Susquehanna  by  a 
double  bridge.  The  first  is  composed  of  a  single  arch  186  feet 
in  length  :  after  which  we  cross  a  narrow  island  on  a  high  em- 
bankment only  a  few  rods  in  length,  and  then  dash  across  the 
second  bridge,  600  feet  long,  leading  to  the  opposite  shore. 
Once  across,  we  curve  again  to  the  left,  following  close  upon 
the  river's  right  bank,  and  shortlj^  afterwards  we  turn  abruptly 
to  the  right,  around  a  spur  of  cultivated  hillside,  and  pass  from 
the  romantic  view  of  Susquehanna  station. 

As  we  enter  upon  the  Susquehanna  division  we  must  bid 
adieu  to  the  long  course  of  grand  and  picturesque  scenery, 
though  our  way  still  lies  among  steep  hills  and  winds  through 
some  heavy  rock  cuttings  during  the  next  eight  miles,  vi^hen 
we  arrive  at  Great  Bend,  formerly  the  junction  with  the  Dela- 
ware, Lackawanna  and  Western  railway,  leading  from  the  coal 
mines  at  Scranton.  The  tiers  of  blue  butter  pails  at  the  station 
awaiting  shipment  remind  the  traveller  that  Susquehanna 
County  IS  also  a  famous  region  for  butter.  Its  well  cultivated 
hills  and  valleys,  though  often  steep  and  stony,  are  always 
green  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  grass,  affording  excellent 
pasturage— its  water  is  pure  and  cold,  and  for  grazing  and  dairy 
purposes  it  is  unexcelled.  In  the  butter  market  of  New  York, 
Susquehanna  and  Orange  Counties  rank  side  by  side,  and  have 
long  been  known  as  the  best  and  most  celebrated  butter  re- 
gions in  the  world. 

Swinging  to  the  northward,  through  an  earth-cutting,  over 
which  the  roads  leading  to  the  busy  town  cross  by  means  of 
bridges,  we  pass  over  a  long  straight  section,  and  at  the  end  of 
four  miles  we  again  re-enter  the  State  of  New  York.  Gradual- 
ly the  valley  becomes  wider  and  more  extensive,  and  the  quiet 
scenery  pleasant  and  beautiful.  The  view  across  the  level 
fields  is  splendid.  The  broad  Susquehanna,  dancing  and  spark- 
ling as  it  rolls  along  in  the  bright  rays  of  the  sun,  is  occasion- 
ally hid  from  our  sight  by  tall,  gray  sycamores  and  bunches  of 
willow,  while  beyond,  upon  the  opposite  side,  we  at  times  be- 
hold long  lines  of  thick,  white  smoke,  and  now  and  then  catch 
glimpses  of  the  puffing  steed  ascending  with  its  long  train  over 
the  Delaware  and  Lackawanna  road.  This  road  is  our  opposite 
companion  for  fifteen  miles,  and  as  the  tracks  are  much  of  the 
way  in  sight  of  each  other,  exciting  locomotive  races  some- 
times take  place. 

Kirkwood  is  our  next  stopping  place,  near  which  Joe  Smith, 
the  Mormon  Prophet,  is  said  to  have  been  cradled.  Eight  or 
nine  miles  further  on  we  pass  the  New  York  State  Inebriate 
Asylum,  a  noble  stone  edifice,  situated  upon  a  high  rolling 
bluff  upon  our  right  and  resembling  in  its  appearance  the  tur- 
retted  castles  of  England.  It  is  the  first  institution  of  the  kind 
founded  in  the  United  States.  The  Delaware  and  Lackawanna 
railway  now  curves  to  the  right,  and  crossing  the  river  on  a 
long  wooden  bridge,  enters  the  inclosure  with  the  Erie.  We 
now  enter  the  city  of  Binghamton,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  flourishing  places  in  Southern  New  York,  and  the  largest 
we  have  yet  seen.  Junctions  are  here  formed  with  the  Dela- 
ware, Lackawanna  and  Western,  the  Albany  and  Susquehanna, 
and  the  Syracuse  and  Binghamton  railways.  The  Chenango  river 
empties  its  waters  into  the  Susquehanna  at  this  place,  and  the 
Chenango  Canal,  connecting  Binghamton  and  Utica,  terminates 
here.  It  was  commenced  in  1834,  was  three  years  in  building, 
ninety-five  miles  in  length,  forty-six  feet  wide,  four  and  a  half 
feet  deep,  containing  105  locks,  and  cost  about  $2,000,000. 

Binghamton  is  the  queen  city  of  the  northern  portion  of  the 
Susquehanna  Valley.  It  is  215  miles  from  New  York,  142  from 
Albany,  80  from  Syracuse,  and  61  from  Scranton.  The  nearest 
railway  communication  with  New  York  is  by  the  Delaware  and 
Lackawanna  road,  the  distance  being  210  miles,  and  passengers 
leaving  the  great  Atlantic  city  in  the  morning  arrive  there  the 
same  day.  A  walk  through  Court,  Washington  and  Chenango 
streets,  the  main  thoroughfares,  will  afford  the  traveller  a  view 
of  the  immense  amount  of  business  done.  Surrounded  by  a 
rich  farming  community,  it  forms  a  ready  market  and  shipping 
point  for  every  direction.  Its  present  population  probably 
numbers  between  fifteen  and  twenty  thousand. 

One  hundred  years  ago  the  whole  region  was  a  wild  unbroken 
forest,  and  the  wolf  and  bear  prowled  undisturbed  on  the  very 
spot  where  the  paved  streets  and  elegant  blocks  now  meet  the 
eye.  Many  incidents  of  the  early  pioneer  life  of  this  lovely 
valley  might  be  narrated,  but  we  must  content  ourselves  with 
yrJy  a  hasty  glance,  and  again  dash  onward. 

place  where  the  city  now  stands  was  first  visited  by 
•vaite  men  during  General  Sullivan's  expedition  against  the  In- 
oians  in  1779.  The  brigade  of  the  American  General  James 
Clinton  encamped  here  for  the  night  while  on  their  way  west- 
ward to  join  the  mafn  army.  In  1787,  Captain  Joseph  Leonard 
dug  out  a  log  canoe,  in  the  beautiful  Wyoming  Valley,  Penn- 
sylvania, placed  his  wife  and  children  therein,  together  with 
the  few  goods  he  had,  and  hired  a  man  to  row  them  up  the 
Susquehanna,  while  he  followed  along  the  banks  with  his  two 
faithful  horses.  The  jom-ney  was  long  and  tedious,  but  the 
brave  frontiersman  pushed  boldly  on,  despite  all  adventure  and 
danger,  and  ultimately  arrived  at  the  Chenango  junction— the 
present  site  of  Binghamton.  A  rude  cabin  was  at  once  erected, 
and  soon  the  giant  trees  began  to  fall  before  the  sturdy  wood- 
man's ax.  This  was  the  first  permanent  settlement.  The 
blackened  fallow  was  soon  rendered  green  by  a  crop  of  waving 
grain  ;  and  though  bears  and  deer  and  other  "  wild  varmints  " 
tore  and  trampled  it  somewhat,  the  harvest  was  far  from  a  fail- 
ure. Other  settlers  came  in  and  the  little  colony  was  soon  in  a 
flourishing  condition. 


In  1794  a  terrible  freshet  occurred.  The  river  rose  to  a  fear 
ful  height,  and  almost  threatened  the  inundation  of  the  iittU 
settlement.  Crops  being  damaged  and  provisions  destroyed,  e 
season  of  severe  scarcity  soon  set  in.  In  this  emergency  Majoi 
Slow  shouldered  a  bushel  of  wheat,  in  which  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood  owned  an  equal  share,  and  started  off  on  foot  through 
the  woods  for  Whattle's  Ferry,  where  was  situated  the  nearest 
mill,  forty  miles  distant.  On  his  return  a  general  thanksgiving 
supper  was  prepared,  and  no  tea  ever  tasted  more  refreshing 
than  did  that  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  the  ferry; 
nor  no  cake  more  delicious  than  did  that  plain  short-cake 
made  from  the  flour  he  had  carried  so  far  on  his  back,  and 
shortened  with  bear's  grease  instead  of  lard. 

Binghamton  derived  its  name  from  William  Bingham,  an  ex- 
tensive land  owner  and  a  liberal  benefactor  of  the  infant  vil- 
lage. Through  his  generosity  the  little  settlement  seemed  to 
receive  a  new  impulse,  and  ere  long  a  grist  mill  and  store  was 
erected,  and  a  neat  church  spire  pointed  heavenward.  He  waa 
a  member  of  Congress  for  several  years,  and  died  in  London  in 
1804.  His  two  daughters  married  two  noted  English  bankers, 
who  resided  also  in  London. 

About  this  time  the  little  colony  known  as  the  "  Nine  Part- 
ners" settled  in  Harford,  Susquehanna  County,  Pa.,  about 
thirty  miles  distant.  The  encounters  they  had  with  the  wild 
animals,  and  the  inconveniences  and  toils,  and  hardships  and 
dangersthey  endured,  were  enough  to  appal  the  strongest  heart. 
But  like  all  the  early  pioneers,  they  were  men  not  to  be  daunt- 
ed. They  believed  this  fair  earth  was  not  made  for  a  few  per- 
sons only,  but  for  all  of  God's  children,  and  that  they  were  the 
men  for  the  time  ;  destined  to  clear  the  stately  forest,  and  turn 
the  wilderness  into  an  Eden.  They  were  in  truth  a  band  of 
brothers.  In  most  of  the  new  settlements  quarrels  were  little 
known.  They  shared  alike,  they  fared  alike,  and  they  sympa- 
thized with  each  other.  All  day  long  they  swung  their  axes 
with  untiring  energy,  and  at  night  they  often  gathered  at  one 
of  the  rude  log  cabins,  surrounded  by  charred  stumps  and  great 
trees,  and  chatted  and  laughed,  and  told  stories  till  midnight. 
If  a  neighbor  happened  to  get  behind  with  his  work,  they  met 
at  his  place  in  the  evening,  and  in  the  light  of  a  hundred  bright- 
ly burning  "log  heaps,"  they  piled  brush  and  rolled  logs,  and 
branded  heaps,  till  far  into  the  night,  accompanying  their  work 
with  joy  and  song.  As  the  settlements  grew  and  flourished, 
they  used  to  meet  in  the  evenings  to  husk  a  neighbor's  corn. 
This  was  termed  a  "husking  bee."  On  such  occasions  the 
whisky  jug  was  passed  around,  and  its  contents  freely  im- 
bibed, which,  although  it  was  not  like  the  poison  whisky  of 
to-day,  never  failed  to  detract  from  the  respectability  and  in- 
trinsical  merit  of  the  evening's  entertainment.  At  other  times 
they  met  in  the  evening  with  dogs  and  axes,  to  go  on  "cooning 
expeditions,"  to  capture  the  animals  which  they  claimed  de- 
stroyed their  growing  corn.  But  often  at  such  times  a  neigh- 
bor's green  corn  or  pear  tree,  or  melon  patch,  suffered  far  more 
than  did  the  raccoon. 

We  love  to  dwell  on  the  scenes  and  pictures  of  early  pioneer 
life,  where  hard  labor  and  hard  fare,  free  from  dissipation  and 
luxury,  developed  man  with  all  his  pristine  strength  and  beauty. 
They  lived  and  toiled  in  the  primitive  forest,  and  the  perfumed 
air  of  the  wilderness  brought  strength  and  health;  and  despite 
the  many  dangers  that  surrounded  them,  they  were  ever  sprightly 
and  happy.  Those  who  know  not  want  and  toil,  and  priva- 
tion, know  not  how  to  appreciate  the  blessings  nature  confers. 
The  harder  an  object  is  to  obtain,  the  more  we  realize  its  value. 
At  the  time  the  "Nine  Partners"  settled  in  Harford,  there  was 
no  mill  nearer  than  Binghamton.  Leaving  one  of  their  number 
at  home  to  see  to  the  chores,  eight  of  them  used  to  take  nine 
bushels  of  corn  on  their  backs,  and  with  their  guns  in  their 
hands,  set  off  through  the  wild,  unbroken  wilderness,  for  this 
place,  thirty  mi_  2S  away.  They  came  through  in  one  day  and 
back  ths  next,  when  all  shared  alike;  and  no  doubt  the  corn 
meal  johnny-cake,  so  richly  earned,  and  baked  before  the  great 
open-mouthed  stone  fireplace,  tasted  as  good  to  them  as  does 
the  finest  pastry  cake  baked  in  the  palace-bakery  oven  for  the 
king.  Talk  of  your  Astors  and  Vanderbilts,  and  the  honors  of 
knighthood,  and  the  age  of  chivalry,  no  more.  They  sink  into 
mere  insignificance  when  brought  into  comparison  with  these 
sons  of  honest  toil,  who  first  made  the  forest  echo  with  the 
axe's  stroke  one  hundred  years  ago;  who  first  leveled  the  mighty 
wilderness  of  the  lovely  Susquehanna  Valley,  and  prepared  an 
agricultural  Eden  for  their  posterity.  Of  such  spirit  were  the 
men  of  the  Eevolution.  Would  that  we  had  more  like  them 
nowl  They  have  served  their  purpose,  and  made  their  mark  in 
the  world  ;  and  what  though  their  names  will  not  be  spoken  in 
gorgeous  temples  and  gilded  halls,  the  memory  of  their  noble 
work  is  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  their  successors,  like  a  living 
temple  of  fame;  and  it  will  never  die. 

Crossing  the  Chenango  Eiver  by  a  long  and  substantial  bridge, 
under  which  the  canal  passes,  we  leave  Binghamton,  the  city  of 
a  century's  growth,  and  descend  the  Susquehanna.  The  river 
appears  somewhat  larger,  and  the  same  beautiful  scenery  con- 
tinues. At  Union,  nine  miles  beyond  Binghamton,  the  fertile 
flats  are  a  mile  in  width,  through  which  the  glassy  river  flows 
slowly  on,  lined  with  willow  groves  and  scattering  sycamores. 
The  flrst  settlement  was  made  here  in  1789. 

Six  miles  beyond  Union  we  pass  Campville,  and  seven  miles 
farther  on  we  come  to  the  thriving  city  of  Owego,  twenty-twc 
miles  from  Binghamton,  and  236  from  New  York.  In  1783, 
James  McMaster  and  Amos  Diaper  purchased  of  the  Indian* 
,  11,500  acres  of  land,  embracing  the  present  city  limits  ;  aud  i 
few  years  later  McMaster  and  a  bound  boy  named  William  Tay 


THE  GROIVING  IVORLD. 


467 


lor  came  on  and  cleared  ten  or  fifteen  acres,  upon  wtucii  tney 
raised  a  fine  crop  of  corn.  This  was  the  first  cleariiij?  in  the 
wilderness.  Several  settlers  now  moved  in,  lo<?  houses  were 
erected,  and  soon  the  industrious  little  colony  bidfair  to  become 
a  thriving  settlement.  About  this  time  a  serious  famine  occur- 
red in  this  region,  and  for  six  weeks  the  inhabitants  were  with- 
out bread  of  any  kind.  In  this  emergency  the  starving  settlers 
dug  wild  beans  and  roots,  which,  together  with  fish  and  wild 
meat,  saved  them  from  the  horrors  of  starvation.  The  growtl. 
of  this  place  has  been  even  more  rapid  than  that  of  Bingham 
ton,  which  it  much  resembles  in  size  and  appearance.  It  was 
urst  incorporated  in  1827.  Here  we  form  a  junction  with  the 
Cayuga  and  Susquehanna  Railway,  which  extends  from  thiw 
place  to  Ithaca,  on  Cayuga  Lake,  thirty  miles  distant.  Glen 
Mary,  near  here,  is  distinguished  as  being  at  one  time  the  rural 
home  of  N.  P.  Willis.  ....  „ 

Passing  Smithboro  and  Barton,  thirteen  miles  distant,  all  the 
way  through  the  same  beautiful  scenery,  we  bid  adieu  to  the 
Susquehanna,  and  pass  over  a  less  picturesque  region,  pass  the 
stations  of  Waverly,  Chemung  and  Wellsburg,  after  which  we 
Ctrrive  at  Elmira,  273  miles  from  New  York,  and  the  largest  city 
on  the  Erie  road.   

No.      Susquehanna  and  its  worksJwps;  or  a  glimpse  at  the 
machinery  that  fashions  the  wonders  of  the  railway. 

Again  we  are  in  Pennsylvania.  We  have  made  a  good  trip 
for  one  day,  and  now  let  us  pause  to  view  the  immense  machine 
shops  that  have  made  Susquehanna  Station  the  Birmingham  of 
America.  The  depot  building  is  an  elegant  structure  of  brick, 
325  feet  in  length.  Here  is  the  passengers'  rooms,  dining 
rooms,  ticket  office,  telegraph  office,  etc.  Everything  is  fitted 
up  for  ease  and  comfort.  As  we  walk  back  over  the  long  plat- 
form beneath  the  projecting  roof  of  this  model  depot,  past  the 
dining  hall  where  the  ring  of  crockery  keeps  time  to  the  nimble 
steps  of  the  busy  servants,  and  the  telegraph  rooms  where  the 
warning  click  of  the  wires  at  times  fairly  hum,  we  realize  that 
this  little  town,  set  among  the  everlasting  hills,  is  one  of  the 
most  important  stations  we  have  yet  seen. 

The  intervening  space  between  the  depot  and  the  river  on 
our  left  is  completely  covered  with  a  maze  of  tracks  and 
switches,  and  cars  detached  and  in  long  lines  loaded  and 
empty,  stand  waiting  to  help  form  some  train  to  be  moved 
away  to  the  east  or  west.  The  busy  engines  passing  to  and 
fro,  breathing  forth  their  hot  fiery  breath  of  steam  in  noisy, 
spiteful  jets,  puffing  and  throwing  cinders  from  their  tall 
smoke-stacks,  deafening  us  with  their  sharp,  shrill  whistles,  or 
the  screaming  and  hissing  of  the  escaping  steam  as  the  safety 
valves  rise,  fill  the  air  with  a  constant  din. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  passenger  depot  we  pass  over  a  short 
space  well  planked  and  paved,  when  we  come  to  the  freight 
depot,  also  of  brick  and  100  feet  in  length.  A  little  further  on 
are  the  gas  works;  and  beyond  this  we  behold  the  great  round 
house  sweeping  around  in  an  immense  crescent  of  450  feet. 
The  turntable  in  the  centre  is  kept  almost  constantly  moving; 
and  the  polished  reflectors  for  the  head  lights  of  the  bright, 
glittering  locomotives,  peer  forth  from  the  surrounding  stalls 
like  the  gleaming  eyes  of  so  many  Cyclops.  Directly  back  of 
this  we  come  to  the  crowning  structure  of  the  whole  establish- 
ment. This  stupendous  machine  shop  stretches  along  the 
base  of  the  hill  with  an  unbroken  roof  of  800  feet  in  length, 
and  a  width  of  137  feet,  forming  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
magnificent  workshops  in  America.  Five  other  shops  stand 
adjacent  to  the  main  building,  the  dimensions  of  which  are 
measured  by  hundreds  of  feet.  They  are  all  built  of  stone  and 
brick  in  the  most  substantial  manner,  and  the  entire  establish- 
ment probably  covers  over  ten  acres  of  ground.  The  estimated 
value  of  the  entire  property  must  be  at  least  over  two  millions 
of  dollars. 

Over  the  many  entrances  are  seen  the  familiar  words,  in 
plain  letters,  "No  Admittance."  Proceeding  to  the  superin- 
tendent's office  we  readily  obtain  a  pass,  or  permission,  or  per- 
haps a  guide  to  go  with  us,  when  we  return  to  the  foundry, 
where  the  work  commences,  from  the  shapeless  and  crude 
material.  The  building  is  of  brick,  60  by  130  feet,  and  within, 
one  hundred  men  are  at  work.  As  we  enter  the  doorway  we 
have  directly  before  us  two  hnge  furnaces,  with  streams  of 
dazzling  molten  iron  pouring  from  their  base  into  great  iron 
ladles  holding  600  pounds  each.  Powerful  cranes  are  swung 
slowly  around,  and  as  the  vessels  become  filled  with  the  liquid 
fiery  metal  they  are  seized  by  a  simple  arrangement,  and  as  the 
men  take  their  places,  with  the  sweat  streaming  from  their 
faces,  the  heavy  receptacles  are  swung  forward  to  the  sand 
beds  and  emptied  therein  as  easily  as  though  it  had  been  a 
glass  of  water.  Just  behind  the  furnaces  is  an  immense  iron 
weight,  or  maul,  weighing  1800  pounds,  worked  by  a  steam 
engine,  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  old  castings  and  large 
pieces  of  iron  to  be  remelted  again.  Being  drawn  up  to  an 
elevated  position  it  descends  with  tremendous  force,  and  the 
broken  pieces  fly  in  all  directions.  They  are  then  collected  and 
drawn  by  steam  power  to  an  elevated  platform  near  the  top  of 
the  furnace,  where  they  are  thrown  into  the  heated  interior  to 
bend,  melt  and  run  out  at  the  bottom  in  a  glowing  stream. 
Twenty-five  tons  of  iron  are  melted  here  every  day;  and  a 
thousand  car  wheels  are  often  turned  out  monthly,  besides  an 
equal  amount  of  other  castings.  An  additional  room,  22 
by  90  feet,  contains  the  "wheel  pits,"  while  beyond  is  the 
foundry  engine  room,  20  by  30  feet. 

Passing  out  from  the  busy  foundry  building,  we  come  to  the 
hammer  shop— a  plain  brick  structure,  80  feet  wide  anAifin  feet 


m /ength.  Here  are  four  stupendous  hammers  weighing  2,200 
pounds  each,  operated  by  steam  engines  of  60  horse-power. 
By  the  side  of  each  stands  an  enormous  tubular  furnace,  eight 
feet  in  diameter,  and  reaching  up  fifty  or  sixty  feet  to  the  roof 
above.  Near  each  of  them  a  crane  is  fixed,  by  moans  of  which 
great  iron  axles,  etc.,  arc  handled  as  easily  as  though  they 
were  but  rods  of  wood.  Here  all  the  axles  and  wrought  iron 
work  is  manufactured.  An  iron  door  is  opened  in  the  side  of 
furnace  and  the  material  to  be  heated  placed  therein;  and  as 
the  door  closes,  a  powerful  blast  from  the  engine  is  turned  on, 
causing  the  furnace  to  tremble  and  roar  like  a  hurricane.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  mass  has  been  heated  to  a  glowing  white  heat, 
and  as  the  door  is  opened  preparatory  to  taking  it  out,  a  blind- 
ing glare  of  heat  and  light  is  thrown  out  over  the  whole  apart- 
ment. The  giant  tongs  grasp  the  heavy  glowing  iron,  and  the 
crane  swings  it  to  its  proper  place,  when  a  small  boy,  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  age,  who  stands  upon  an  elevated  platform  by 
the  side  of  the  engine,  moves  a  lever  and  down  comes  the  pon- 
derous hammer  with  a  force  that  fairly  jars  the  whole  struc- 
ture. Again  and  again  it  strikes,  fast  or  slow,  light  or  heavy, 
as  he  who  guides' the  power  sees  fit;  the  fiery  sparks  flying 
thick  and  fast  in  every  direction,  while  the  great  mass  of  glow- 
ing metal  is  worked  and  moulded  into  shape  as  easily  as 
though  it  had  been  wax  or  dough.  Here,  then,  we  see  the  nar- 
mony,  and  power,  and  beauty  of  machinery,  working  as  near 
perfection  as  human  hands  can  make  it.  Every  one  has  an 
alloted  part  to  perform,  and  no  one  appears  crowded  or  hurried. 
Thus  one  drives  the  engine,  another  guides  the  huge  tongs  as 
they  hang  balanced  and  suspended  from  the  crane,  others  work 
the  crane,  others  shape  the  iron,  etc.  During  dark  nights, 
when  all  four  hammers  are  in  operation,  a  grand  display  is  pre- 
sented. The  fiery  furnaces  gleam  with  an  intense  brightness; 
the  whole  apartment  is  grandly  lit  up  to  a  dazzing  pitch ;  the 
faces  ot  the  workmen  gfow  in  the  ruddy  light,  and  as  the 
mighty  hammer  comes  down  with  crushing  force  a  multitude 
of  blazing  sparks  are  thrown  all  over  the  room  like  a  shower  of 
ten  thousand  brilliant  stars.  As  the  furnace  doors  are  thrown 
open,  streams  of  vivid  light  flash  forth,  causing  the  beholder  to 
shade  his  eyes  with  his  hands  as  he  retreats  before  the  unbear- 
able rays. 

Next  we  come  to  the  carpenter  shop — a  plain  stone  building. 
80  by  130  feet,  and  two  stories  in  height.  On  the  first  floor  all 
the  wood-work  required  in  repairing  locomotives  is  done.  On 
the  second  floor  twenty  men  are  constantly  employed  in  making 
patterns.  We  next  enter  the  paint  shop  and  pattern  room— a 
brick  structure,  60  by  120  feet.  A  small  army  of  painters  are  at 
work  on  the  lower  fioor,  along  avenues  of  barrels,  and  kegs  of 
oil  and  paint,  and  long  rows  of  newly  painted  wood-work  stand 
leaning  against  the  racks  and  walls  to  dry.  Here  all  the  paint- 
ing for  this  immense  establishment  is  done.  Ascending  to  the 
second  floor  we  find  ourselves  in  a  perfect  wilderness  of  pat- 
terns. Here  are  stored  the  fruits  of  the  labor  of  twenty  men 
for  years.  They  are  piled  upon  racks  and  in  long  tiers,  with 
aisles  and  alleyways  between  them  like  streets  in  a  city,  and  as 
we  walk  along,  surrounded  and  shut  in  by  the  tall  rows  of  the 
innumerable  host  of  patterns  towering  far  above  our  heads,  we 
feel  almost  bewildered  and  lost.  And  yet  they  are  so  arranged 
and  numbered  that  those  who  have  the  handling  of  them  can 
place  their  hand  upon  any  one  they  want  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  In  this  room  can  be  found  patterns  of  everv  con- 
ceivable shape,  form  and  size  used  in  the  construction  of  loco- 
motive and  car-work,  and  the  tools  and  machinery  with  which 
tliey  ai-e  constructed.   Their  value  is  said  to  be  $200,000. 

Near  by  is  the  store-room  for  all  the  different  kinds  of  tools 
used  in  the  whole  establishment.  Choice  lumber,  brass,  etc., 
is  also  stored  here  in  immense  quantities.  Its  size  is  50  by  160 
feet.  Many  other  large  rooms  and  noble  edifices  are  connected 
with  the  works,  being  used  for  different  offices,  store-rooms, 
etc.;  but  without  stopping  to  explore  all  of  these  we  will  pro- 
ceed to  the  superintendent's  office  again  and  prepare  for  the 
tour  of  the  great  machine  shop.   The  following  truthful  and 

fraphic  description  of  the  interior  of  this  vast  structure  is  given 
y  a  correspondent  and  eye-witness. 

"Passing  from  the  office  down  the  stairway  we  find  ourselves 
at  the  entrance  to  the  great  machine  shop,  and  stopping  at  the 
first  landing,  which  is  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the  floor  of  the 
room,  we  gaze  off  upon  that  sea  of  machinery,  and  through  the 
immensity  of  space  which  stretches  away  before  us  eight 
hundred  feet— a  little  less  than  one-seventh  of  a  mile— in  one 
continuous  apartment,  beneath  one  grand  roof,  spreading  like 
the  arch  of  the  heavens.  The  men  working  at  the  farther  end 
look  like  boys  at  play.  Descending  to  the  floor  we  pass  around 
to  the  left  and  enter  that  wilderness  of  rattling  belts  and 
wheels. 

"We  pause  under  the  great  shaft,  upwards  of  seven  hundred 
feet  in  length,  which  turns  above  our  heads,  and  to  which  are 
attached  innumerable  belts,  and  the  eye  endeavors  to  compre 
hend  all  that  extent  of  machinery  as  vainly  as  it  would  explore 
the  depths  of  a  forest  at  a  single  glance.  We  pass  scores  of 
lathes  unwinding  long  silvery  ribbons  and  cord  from  bars  of 
Bteel;  drilling  machines  without  number,  where  instruments  of 
diamond  hardness  are  penetrating  and  eating  their  way  through 
massive  steel  plates;  and  planing  machines,  where  planks  and 
beams  of  steel  are  as  quickly  and  as  easily  planed  as  if  they 
were  pine  boards.  Walking  down  the  room  beneath  the  main 
shaft,  when  we  have  reached  the  centre  we  discover  the  agency 
by  which  the  engine,  which  is  in  anotlier  room,  at  one  side, 
moves  all  this  machinery.  It  is  a  huge  leathern  belt,  two  feet 
n  width  and  an  inch  in  thickness,  which  encircles  the  power 


468 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


fnl  Iron  Iwaance  wlieel  of  the  engine,  twelve  feet  In  diameter, 
and  reaches  out  and  around  this  main  shaft  and  turns  the 
whole  seven  hundred  feet,  and  it  in  turn  gives  motion  to  all  the 
machinery  in  this  vast  apartment." 

In  this  room  locomotives  are  built  and  repaired,  and  from 
twenty-five  to  thirty  of  the  beautiful  iron  steeds  may  be  seen 
here  all  the  time.  Passing  out  through  the  side  door  we  come 
to  the  engine-room,  where  stands  the  power  that  drives  this 
whole  babel  of  machinery.  We  cannot  help  looking  in  to  view 
the  huge  double  Corliss  engine,  working  so  silently  and  yet  so 
powerfully.  The  steam  generated  in  those  ponderous  boilers 
standing  there  side  by  side  like  twin  brothers,  give  life  and 
motion  to  the  whole  establishment.  The  long  steel  arms  work 
go  exact  and  true,  and  the  piston  moves  with  such  precision  in 
the  beautifully  mounted  cylinder,  that  we  cannot  but  admire 
the  splendid  workmanship  displayed;  and  as  we  reflect  on  the 
power  of  this  tireless  giant,  causing  steady  pulsations  of  its 
mighty  strength  to  pervade  almost  every  part  of  the  great  room 
we  have  just  left,  and  filling  the  whole  atmosphere  with  the 
constant  hum  and  jar  of  machinery,  we  are  filled  with  wonder 
at  the  progress  of  man  in  handling  the  unrivaled  powers  of 
Nature. 

The  beautiful  brick  chimney  which  rises  near  here,  so 
straight,  and  true,  and  lofty,  appears  almost  like  a  monument, 
and  reminds  us  of  the  time-honored  shaft  on  old  Bunker  Hill. 
It  is  14  feet  square  at  the  base  and  112  feet  in  height.  When 
the  work  was  finished  a  party  of  twenty-two  persons  ascended 
CO  the  airy  summit  and  partook  of  a  sumptuous  dinner,  while 
the  eye  drank  in  the  splendid  view  of  the  magnificent  works 
and  the  sr.rrounding  scenery. 

We  now  enter  the  yard,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  im- 
mense buildings  we  have  just  surveyed.  Here  are  heaps  of 
castings  and  locomotive  iron  work,  tires  for  locomotive  driving 
wheels,  some  of  which  are  eight  feet  across,  iron  chips, 
shavings,  and  scraps  for  remelting,  etc.  Beyond  we  find  our- 
selves once  more  in  a  maze  of  tracks  and  switches,  among  a 
host  of  moving  trains  and  cars  and  pufling  steeds.  Upon  the 
farther  side,  next  to  the  river,  are  long  rows  of  old  car  wheels 
and  wrecked  locomotives  ready  to  be  taken  into  the  shops  and 
worked  over,  and  below  are  houses  for  storing  iron,  etc.  Pro- 
ceeding down  the  multitude  of  tracks  we  arrive  at  the  depot, 
somewhat  tired,  though  well  repaid  for  our  tour  of  the  entire 
works. 

Some  time  is  yet  left  us  before  we  need  depart  on  our  west- 
ward journey,  and  this  we  will  improve  by  ascending  into  the 
town,  and  back  along  Main  street,  just  above  the  great  machine 
shop,  to  the  rising  ground  half  a  mile  away,  midway  between 
Susquehanna  and  Lanesborough.  In  this  spot  we  behold  in 
one  grand  panoramic  view  the  greatest  works  of  the  entire  Erie 
Railway,  set  in  the  most  picturesque  and  enchanting  landscape 
it  is  possible  to  conceive.  To  the  northeast  the  eye  is  feasted 
with  a  splendid  view  far  up  the  river,  and  the  winding  course 
of  the  railway,  until  it  curves  behind  the  barren  hill  near  the 
cascade  gorge  three  miles  distant.  A  far-off  view  of  the  Star- 
rucca  Viaduct,  appearing  in  the  distance  like  some  old  moss- 
covered  ruin,  helps  to  form  the  noble  picture.  Nearer  is  seen 
the  beautiful  wooden  bridge  over  the  Canewacta  Valley,  450 
feet  in  length  and  70  feet  in  height.  Below,  the  valley  becomes 
more  narrow,  and  the  track  winds  close  to  the  river,  almost 
beneath  our  feet,  and  as  we  turn  our  faces  to  the  west  to  follow 
its  course  down  the  river,  we  behold  the  immense  works  at  the 
station,  where  are  concentrated  the  paraphernalia  of  the  great 
railway.  The  ringing  of  bells  and  the  shriek  of  steam  whistles 
reach  the  ear,  and  long  moving  columns  of  thick  black  smoke 
appear  to  the  eye.  Eight  hundred  men  are  required  to  run  this 
great  establishment,  and  $40,000  to  pay  their  monthly  wages. 

Here  is  the  foot  of  the  heavy  grade  leading  over  the  mountain 
barrier  to  Deposit.  As  the  long  freight  trains  come  in  from 
the  west,  heavily  loaded,  the  engine  is  unhitched  and  run  into 
the  round  house  and  another  takes  its  place.  But  with  the  up- 
ward grade  one  engine  can  do  but  little.  Two  immense  loco- 
motives, termed  "pushers,"  with  four  driving  wheels  on  each 
side,  move  forward  and  take  their  places  behind  the  train,  and 
at  a  given  signal  the  steam  is  applied  and  the  ponderous  train 
begins  to  move  slowly  forward.  From  our  elevated  position 
we  can  watch  its  progress  up  the  summit  for  a  long  distance. 
As  it  slowly  approaches  us  we  step  to  the  brink  of  the  preci- 
pice and  look  down  upon  the  laboring  locomotives  as  they  pass 
along  the  quarry  among  the  little  army  of  busy  stone-cutters 
below.  The  heavy  "  pushers  "  fairly  jar  the  ground  in  the  dis- 
play of  their  mighty  power;  while  cinders  are  shot  upward  and 
great  volumes  of  black  smoke  roll  heavenward  and  mark  its 
course  for  miles.  With  pleasure  we  watch  its  airy  flight  over 
the  Canewacta  bridge,  far  above  the  streets  and  roofs  of  Lanes- 
borough,  and  further  on  its  lofty  passage  over  the  Starrucca 
Viaduct,  higher  than  the  trees,  above  the  lovely  valley,  and 
anon  its  distant  passage  around  the  steep  rocky  hillside,  until 
it  passes  from  sight  behind  the  rugged  mountain,  where 
sombre  hemlocks  clothe  the  base,  and  riven  oaks  and  stunted 
vegetation  crown  the  portion  above  where  the  track  is  laid. 
Along  the  busy  valley  long  white  church  spires  point  skyward, 
thick  smoke  rolls  from  the  tall  black  smoke-stacks  of  steam 
mills,  the  streets  are  filled  with  vehicles,  pasture  and  meadow 
lands  lay  spread  out  like  a  vast  map,  dotted  here  and  there 
ici  h  beautiful  groves,  and  willow  copses,  and  neat  mansions, 
foi  ming  a  splendid  view,  upon  which  the  artist  and  painter 
mi^ht  gaze  with  rapturous  delight,  and  well  repaying  us  for 
our  little  jaunt  from  the  station. 


No.  b.—Sullivan's  Expedition  against  the  Indians— Elmirar~> 
Early  Settlers — HornellsviUe— Picturesque  Wonders  of  Portage 
Tip  Top  Summit— I  /le  Genesee  Valley— Cuba. 

At  the  time  of  the  American  Revolution,  there  lived  in  the 
central  part  of  the  great  State  of  New  York,  along  the  Genesee 
flats  and  the  Mohawk  valley,  several  tribes  of  Indians,  known 
as  the  Six  Nations.  Prominent  among  these  were  the  Seneca's 
and  Cayuga's.  In  many  places  where  their  villages  were  estab- 
lished the  trees  and  brush  had  been  cleared  away,  fields  of  corn 
planted  and  orchards  set  out,  that  in  the  autumn  bent  beneath 
the  loads  of  ripe  fruit.  For  savages  they  were  indeed  in  a  pros- 
perous and  flourishing  condition.  In  an  evil  hour  they  listened 
to  the  insidious  voice  of  the  British  soldiery,  who  flattered 
them  as  great  braves,  and  filled  their  imaginative  minds  with 
pictures  of  plunder  and  barbarity;  and  bedecking  themselves  in 
a  panoply  of  feathers  and  war  paint,  they  started  on  the  war- 
path against  the  straggling  settlers.  The  atrocities  they  com- 
mitted at  Cherry  Valley,  and  Herkimer,  and  Wyoming,  Penn- 
sylvania, were  enough  to  cause  the  blood  to  curdle  in  the  white 
man's  veins. 

In  August,  1779,  General  Sullivan  marched  against  them  with 
an  army  of  3,000  men.  This  famous  expedition  started  from 
Easton,  Pennsylvania;  and  penetrating  the  unbroken  wilder- 
ness to  the  northward  and  westward,  through  the  Susquehanna 
and  Chemung  Valleys,  early  rendered  southern  New  York  his- 
toric ground.  At  Tioga  Point  he  was  joined  by  General  Clin- 
ton who  had  marched  southward  from  the  Mohawk  with  a  force 
of  1,000  men,  and  together  they  pursued  the  retreating  red 
men  to  Newtown,  near  the  present  city  of  Elmira,  where  the 
enemy  made  a  stand. 

As  the  morning  of  the  29th  of  August  dawned  over  the  wil- 
derness, a  state  of  unusual  activity  prevailed  in  the  American 
camp.  Roads  were  being  cut,  scouts  and  reconnoitering  f)ar- 
ties  departing  and  returning,  couriers  and  oflicers  hastening 
from  post  to  post,  companies  and  divisions  being  hurried  for- 
ward or  massed  in  position,  indicating  the  eve  of  a  general  en- 
gagement. The  Indians  and  British  liad  taken  a  strong  posi- 
tion on  a  commanding  hillside  where  they  held  a  superior 
advantage  over  the  American  forces,  and  they  felt  sanguine 
of  success.  Remembering  the  bloody  work  of  the  Tories 
and  Indians  at  Wyoming  Valley,  and  the  inhuman  atroci- 
ties and  flendish  crimes  of  Sir  John  Johnson,  and  Butler,  the 
valiant  patriot  army  pushed  forward  with  the  firm  resolu- 
tion to  gain  the  victory  or  leave  their  blood-stained  bodies  upon 
the  ground  to  be  picked  up  bv  the  wolves  of  the  forest.  Men 
who  had  seen  their  cattle  and  crops  destroyed,  their  houses 
fired,  and  their  wives  and  children  torn  from  their  bosoms  and 
tomahawked  and  barbarously  murdered  and  their  scalps  torn 
from  their  heads,  dripping  with  blood,  were  not  the  men  to 
falter.  They  loved  not  war,  but  in  this  they  knew  their  cause 
was  just.  The  blood  of  those  murdered  ones  cried  from  the 
ground  for  vengeance.  With  a  determined  step  they  pressed 
forward  to  meet  the  insidious  foe. 

The  battle  was  commenced  by  a  scattering  fire  of  musketry; 
the  white  smoke  at  first  curling  up  here  and  there  among  the 
sombre  hemlocks  and  dark  green  foliage  of  the  forest,  and  be- 
coming thicker  and  more  dense  as  the  conflict  continued.  It 
was  late  in  the  day  before  the  artillery  was  brought  into  posi- 
tion and  the  engagement  became  general.  Then  for  a  time  the 
horrors  of  war  were  let  loose.  The  hurtling  missiles  of  death 
rained  through  the  forest,  and  the  cannons'  roar  rolled  through 
the  Chemung  Valley  like  the  sound  of  thunder.  For  more  than 
two  hours  the  enemy  stood  their  ground  and  fought  with  de- 
termined resistance,  and  then  they  broke  and  fled.  The  com- 
bat dwindled  down  to  scattering  musket  shots  again  as  the 
Indians  dodged  from  tree  to  tree,  and  anon  ceased  altogether. 
The  foe  had  fled. 

The  American  army  pursued  the  retreating  enemy,  spreading- 
desolation  on  every  side.  Onward  they  marched  to  the  very 
heart  of  the  Seneca  country;  burning  no  less  than  eighteen 
Indian  villages,  and  destroying  their  cornfields,  gardens  and 
orchards.  The  courage  of  the  savages  was  broken.  The 
waving  plume  of  the  ferocious  Brant,  which  had  made  him  sO' 
conspicuous  at  the  battle  of  Newtown,  trailed  in  the  dust,  and 
the  bravery  of  his  warriors  was  dampened.  Sullivan's  expedi- 
tion accomplished  its  work,  and  the  power  of  the  savages  in 
New  York  received  its  death  blow.  Their  incursions  became 
less  numerous  and  more  feeble,  and  ere  long  ceased  altogether. 
The  savage  chieftains.  Brant,  Little  Beard,  Red  Jacket,  Han 
Yerry,  etc.,  were  compelled  to  yield  to  the  westward  march  of 
civilization;  and  their  infamous  inciters  and  leaders,  Butler, 
Johnson  and  St.  Leger,  went  down  to  history  as  the  enemies  of 
their  country,  with  the  anathemas  of  mankind  resting  on  their 

In  1788,  Colonel  John  Hendy,  a  veteran  soldier,  who  had 
served  admirably  in  Sullivan's  expedition,  moved  into  the  far 
woods  and  built  the  first  settlers'  cabin,  where  the  city  of 
Elmira  now  stands.  During  his  march  through  the  forest  nine 
years  before,  he  had  noticed  the  rich  and  beautiful  flats  at  the 
junction  of  the  Newtown  creek  with  the  Chemung  river,  and 
he  at  once  determined  upon  a  settlement  at  this  place.  The 
early  pioneers  bought  the  land  at  eighteen  cents  per  acre;  and 
hence  a  good  farm  cost  but  a  trifle.  Hendy  was  just  the  man 
to  lead  a  settlement.  He  was  a  man  of  iron  nerve  and  deter- 
mined will,  and  within  him  was  united  extraordinary  courage 
and  remarkable  physical  power.  His  early  conflicts  with  savage 
beasts  and  more  savage  men  were  often  conflicts  of  power  ana 
might  terrible  to  witness. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


469 


In  1790,  a  treaty  between  the  United  States  and  the  Indians 
was  held  at  this  place;  at  which  time  nearly  all  of  the  principal 
chiefs  and  more  than  one  thousand  warriors  were  present. 
Seven  years  later  it  was  visited  by  Louis  Phillippe,  who  after- 
wards became  the  king  of  France,  accompanied  by  two  dukes, 
De  Nemours  and  De  Berri,  who  had  travelled  all  the  way  from 
Canandaigua,  seventy  miles  distant,  on  foot.  A  flat  boat  was 
hastily  constructed  and  launched  upon  the  river,  and  Mr. 
Tower  conveyed  them  down  the  Chemung  and  Susquehanna, 
through  the  wild  regions  of  forest  beauty  to  Harrisburg.  From 
this  time  on  the  little  forest  colony  grew  and  flourished;  trou- 
bles with  Indians  ceased,  and  in  1815  it  was  incorporated  under 
the  name  ot  Newtown.  Its  ancient  Indian  name  was  Conewa- 
wah;  said  to  signify  "  a  heaa  onapole,^''  from  the  fact  that  the 
head  of  an  Indian  chief  was  once  found  here  thus  erected.  In 
1828  it  was  changed  to  Elmira. 

The  opening  of  the  Erie  Railway  brought  hundreds  to  the 
quiet  little  village,  and  it  moved  rapidly  forward  until  it  be- 
came a  thriving  city.  To  describe  it  as  it  exists  to  day  would 
be  but  a  repetition  of  the  general  description  of  Binghamton 
and  Owego,  which  it  so  very  much  resembles.  Like  them  it  is 
situated  in  a  lovely  valley,  through  which  flows  the  placid 
Chemung,  which  we  saw  and  crossed  for  the  first  time  some 
fourteen  miles  back.  Like  them  it  is  surrounded  by  ranges  of 
hills  that  seem  as  though  they  were  placed  there  on  purpose  to 
break  the  cold  northern  blasts,  and  protect  the  rich  alluvial 
bottoms,  always  under  the  highest  state  of  cultivation,  and 
teeming  with  a  luxuriant  growtn  of  vegetation. 

Junctions  are  here  formed  with  the  Williamsport  and  Elmira 
Railway,  extending  south  into  Pennsylvania,  and  the  Emira, 
Canandaigua  and  Niagara  Falls  Railway,  connecting  with  the 
northern  routes  through  Canada.  The  Chemung  canal  also  ex- 
tends from  this  place  through  a  charming  valley,  winding 
among  ranges  of  rugged  hills,  with  ever-varying  scenery,  to 
Seneca  Lake,  twenty  miles  distant.  As  we  pass  through  the 
city  we  are  astonished  at  the  amount  of  business  going  on  in 
this  one  little  spot.  An  immense  number  of  switches  and  side 
tracks  extend  in  all  directions,  over  many  acres  of  ground, 
miniature  cities  of  freight  cars  in  long  rows  and  detached 
masses,  some  loaded  and  some  empty,  stand  waiting  to  be 
moved  away;  locomotives  are  moving  about  in  every  direction, 
while  from  the  machine  shops  come  the  clang  of  heavy  ham- 
mers, and  the  constant  buzz  and  whir  of  machinery,  reminding 
us  of  what  we  saw  and  heard  at  Susquehanna.  In  1870  the 
population  of  Elmira  was  15,863.  It  is  now  probably  near 
20,000.  About  six  miles  from  this  place  General  Sullivan  slew 
seventy  of  his  old  cavalry  horses  and  left  their  carcasses  lying 
in  the  woods  to  be  picked  by  the  wolves.  The  first  settlers 
finding  so  many  whitened  skulls  lying  about,  gave  to  the  place 
the  name  of  Horseheads— a  name  it  has  retained  to  the  present 
day.  I  would  like  to  tell  you  about  Cathermestown,  and  the 
half  breed  Indian,  Queen  Catharine,  who  once  resided  in  Che- 
mung County,  near  here,  but  have  not  the  time  at  present. 
Perhaps  at  some  other  time  I  may.  Her  beautiful  Indian  village 
near  the  head  of  Seneca  Lake  was  destroyed  by  General 
Sullivan  in  1779. 

Crossing  the  Chemung  River  we  pass  Big  Flats  and  soon  ar- 
rive at  Corning,  seventeen  miles  beyond  Elmira,  and  another 
thriving  railroad  junction.  Here  we  meet  with  the  Corning  and 
Blossburg  Railway,  and  the  Buffalo  branch  road,  by  which  we 
may  go  to  Rochester,  ninety  miles  distant,  or  Buffalo,  one 
hundred  and  forty-two,  A  mile  further  on  we  cross  the  Che- 
mung by  along  bridge,  and  at  the  end  of  another  mile  we  come 
to  the  Chemung  Forks,  where  the  two  streams  known  as  the 
Conhocton  and  Canistee  unite  to  form  the  river.  Just  beyond 
is  the  station  at  Painted  Post.  Crossing  the  Conhocton  River 
we  strike  across  to  the  Canistee,  and  follow  its  winding  course 
among  the  hills  of  Steuben  County,  past  the  beautiful  little 
stations  of  Addison,  Rathboneville,  Cameron,  etc.,  to  Hornells- 
ville,  331  miles  from  New  York,  and  the  end  of  the  Susque- 
hanna division.  It  is  pleasantly  situated  in  a  wide  and  fertile 
valley,  surrounded  by  neat  fields,  and  orchards,  and  meadows, 
carried  on  by  well-to-do  farmers— not  aristocrats,  however, 
who  live  in  splendor  and  idleness  in  the  city,  and  walk  out 
once  or  twice  a  week  to  see  if  their  hired  labor  and  white 
slaves  are  working  properly— but  real  practical  farmers;  men  of 
industry,  who  believe  with  the  immortal  Franklin  that  "He 
who  would  thrive  must  rise  at  five;"  and  again,  "He  that  by  the 
plow  would  thrive,  must  himself  either  hold  or  drive."  The 
great  round  house  and  machine  shops,  with  their  tall  black- 
ened chimneys,  from  which  long  columns  of  black  smoke  are 
rolling,  and  the  long  lines  of  cars,  with  switching  engines 
moving  briskly  about,  at  once  proclaim  the  division  station. 

At  this  place  connections  are  made  with  the  great  railway 
line  leading  through  Portageville  to  Buffalo,  the  depot  of  the 
great  lakes,  and  the  grain  market  of  America.  About  thirty 
miles  up  this  line  there  is  some  of  the  grandest  scenery  the  eye 
of  the  home  traveler  ever  witnessed.  It  is  at  the  point  where 
we  meet  the  Genesee,  as  it  leaps  from  rock  to  rock,  lashing 
itself  into  snowy  foam  as  it  thunders  down  between  the  ever- 
lasting walls  of  riven  rock,  far  down  into  the  dark  depths  of 
the  gorge,  where  the  tourist  may  stand  upon  the  slippery  rooks 
and  gaze  upward  npon  Nature's  mighty  work;  rock  piled  upon 
rock,  and  crag  upon  crag,  picturesque,  grajid  and  sublime.  In 
1853  the  railroad  company  spanned  this  fearful  ravine  by  a 
splendid  bridge  800  feet  in  length,  resting  upon  thirteen  stone 
piers  firmly  set  in  the  river  bed.  The  view  from  below  is 
superb.  The  maze  of  timbers  forming  the  wood-work  of  the 
bndge  reach  far  upward,  234  feet  above  where  the  water  ripples 


along  over  the  stones  and  broken  rocks  at  the  bottom,  seeming 
almost  to  meet  the  narrow  streak  of  blue  sky  that  peers  down 
between  the  black  jagged  rocks  as  if  to  light  the  world  of  dark- 
ness below.  Following  along  the  ravine,  we  soon  come  to  a 
spot  where  perpendicular  walls  of  dark  slate  rock  reach  upward 
on  either  side  more  than  300  feet  above  our  heads;  covered  in 
places  with  dark  trrcen  moss,  always  damp  from  dripping 
water  or  the  spray  of  little  waterfalls,  that  take  the  tremendous 
leap  and  resolve  into  thin  mist  long  before  they  reach  the  bot- 
tom. In  places  stunted  trees  have  entwined  their  roots  in  the 
crevices  of  the  rock,  and  thus  planted  within  a  firm  founda- 
tion, far  up  the  craggy  wall,  they  stand  bidding  defiance  alike 
to  wind  and  storm,  like  hoary-headed  sentinels  set  by  an 
eternal  hand  to  guard  the  spot.  The  echo  of  our  footfall  re- 
sounds from  point  to  point  as  though  we  were  passing  along 
the  aisle  of  a  church;  and  the  dark  shadow  of  our  bodies  is  re- 
flected in  the  glassy  pool  like  black  giants  of  the  wild  glen. 
Suddenly  there  breaks  upon  the  ear  a  low  murmuring  sound 
like  the  noise  of  a  distant  waterfall,  or  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
among  pine  tree  branches,  growing  louder  and  more  heavy  with 
each  succeeding  moment,  until  the  great  rock  ga.lery  seems  to 
jar  and  tremble,  and  then  the  iron  horse  comes  dashing  upon 
the  bridge,  and  with  his  ponderous  train  makes  his  airy  flight 
overhead.  The  wild  scenery  about  us  produces  a  feeling  of 
awe,  and  the  mighty  works  of  human  genius  displayed  in  the 
handling  of  Nature's  powers  fill  our  minds  with  astonishment. 
The  original  bridge  at  this  place  was  said  to  have  been  built  in 
such  a  manner  tnat  any  timber  in  the  structure  could  be  re- 
moved and  replaced  again  without  disturbing  any  of  the  others. 

We  might  go  through  to  Buffalo,  and  so  on  to  the  west  by 
this  route;  but  we  had  planned  to  proceed  by  a  different  line, 
and  so  will  not  tire  the  reader  with  a  further  description  of  the 
wonders  of  Portage.  Leaving  Homellsville  we  enter  the  nar- 
row valley  of  the  Caniacadea  Creek,  and  soon  commence  to 
ascend  a  heavy  grade  of  about  fifty  feet  to  the  mile,  winding 
along  through  a  variety  of  beautiful  and  ever  changing  scenery, 
past  the  little  village  of  Alfred,  and  on  to  Tip  Top  Summit, 
where  we  are  1760  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  This  is  the 
very  highest  point  of  land  we  shall  pass  over  for  very  many 
miles. 

Our  descent  into  the  Genesee  Valley  is  by  a  grade  of  forty 
feet  to  the  mile,  with  no  particular  scenery  worth  recording. 
Following  the  valley  of  the  Genesee  for  eight  or  ten  miles  we 
bid  it  adieu  and  commence  the  ascent  of  another  grade  of  thirty 
feet  to  the  mile  that  is  to  carry  us  to  Cuba  Summit,  a  few  miles 
farther  on.  Arrived  at  the  summit  a  descent  of  five  miles 
brings  us  to  Cuba  station,  on  Oil  Creek,  and  only  six  miles  from 
its  source.  We  have  now  passed  the  last  ridge  of  the  great 
Alleghany  system,  and  the  character  of  the  surface  of  the 
country  will  soon  commence  to  change. 

No.  Q.—Salamancar-TJie  Atlantic  and  Great  Western  Railway— 
Corry—The  Oil  Regions  of  Pennsylvania — Early  History  and 
Conflagrations— Oil  Creek  Valley— Derricks.,  Tanks  and  RC" 
fineries— Titusville— Oil  City— Meadville— Crawford  County — 
Mounds  and  the  ancient  mound  builders. 
^'Salamanca!"  cries  the  conductor.  Westward  bound  pas- 
sengers desiring  to  see  the  wonders  of  the  Oil  Regions  will 
diverge  here  to  the  track  of  the  Atlantic  and  Great  Western 
Railway.  We  have  beheld  the  grandest  scenery  of  the  Erie 
road,  having  already  passed  over  the  Eastern  or  New  York  di- 
vision, the  Delaware  division,  the  Susquehanna  division,  and 
over  80  miles  of  the  Western  division,  to  a  point  413  miles 
from  New  York,  and  only  46  miles  from  the  blue  waters  of 
Lake  Erie;  and  as  the  remaining  portion  of  this  road  and  the 
Lake  Shore  road  is  somewhat  uninteresting  and  monotonous, 
we  willingly  make  the  change.  The  railway  we  have  followed 
so  long  has  been  a  railway  of  almost  constant  curves  and 
crooks.  These  amount  to  over  22,000  degrees,  or  nearly  enough, 
if  placed  in  the  right  position,  to  make  62  complete  circles.  It 
has  carried  us  among  the  everlasting  hills  and  winding  valleys, 
where  every  turn  opened  a  new  feast  for  the  eye,  and  the 
works  ol  art  seemed  to  be  vicing  with  the  hand  of  Nature  in 
the  production  of  scenes  of  loveliness  and  beauty.  Such 
changing  scenery  is  gazed  upon  with  delight,  and  the  eye  of  the 
traveler  is  never  tired. 

Passing  out  from  the  busy  and  rapidly  growing  town  d 
Salamanca,  among  a  host  of  locomotives  and  switching  en- 
gines and  long  trains  of  oil  tanks,  we  fly  along  down  tlie  charm- 
ing valley,  our  course  once  more  tending  towards  the  Quaker 
State.  Looking  back  we  behold  the  round-house  and  turn- 
table, moving  columns  of  thick  black  smoke,  locomotives  and 
cars  in  slow  motion,  with  brakemen  upon  their  toDs  waving 
their  hands  to  the  engineer  as  a  signal  to  let  him  k"_iow  when 
to  move  backward  or  forward,  and  when  to  stop,  while  th» 
ringing  of  bells,  the  sharp  shrill  whistles  of  locomotives  and 
the  ear-piercing  hiss  of  escaping  steam,  proclaim  the  railroad 
terminus  and  the  importance  of  the  place.  It  is  one  of  the 
great  outlets  of  the  Oil  Regions,  and  the  trade  in  petroleum 
and  kerosene  is  rapidly  building  up  the  place. 

The  Atlantic  and  Great  Western  Railway  is  one  of  the  main 
thoroughfares  between  the  East  and  the  West.  The  main  part 
extends  from  Salamanca  to  Cincinnati,  448  miles  in  length; 
while  the  branches  extend  to  Cleveland,  Oil  City,  etc.  In  com- 
parison with  the  Erie  it  is  a  new  road,  it  having  been  finished 
Duly  a  few  years  since.  Passing  through  a  more  level  region 
with  less  curves,  embankments,  costly  bridges  and  rock-cut- 
tings, its  original  cost  was  probably  much,  less.  The  amount  ot 
'business  it  carries  on  is  immense- 


470 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  run  of  seven  miles  brings  us  to  Red  House  Station,  and 
five  miles  farther  on  we  stop  at  Steamburg.  The  scenery  ap- 
pears dull  and  uninteresting;  and  as  we  pass  on  down  the  valley 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  the  wooded  hills  that  open  from 
its  banks  appear  to  be  whirling  backward  in  a  great  circle, 
while  the  telegraph  poles  and  other  near  objects  flit  by  almost 
like  flashes  of  lightning.  Randolph,  Kennedy,  Jamestown, 
Ashville,  Panama,  etc.,  are  soon  passed,  and  ere  we  are  aware 
of  it  we  find  ourselves  at  Corry,  61  miles  distant,  and  again  in 
Pennsylvania.  We  have  bid  adieu  to  the  State  of  New  York 
for  the  last  time. 

Here  we  find  a  busy  station  and  railway  terminus  contain- 
ing seven  thousand  inhabitants.  The  Oil  Creek  Railway  ex- 
tending through  Titusville,  Oil  City,  and  the  very  heart  of  the 
Oil  Regions,  ends  here.  Here,  too,  we  form  a  junction  with 
the  Philadelphia  and  Erie  Railroad.  The  amount  of  business, 
especially  in  oil,  is  enormous.  Long  trains  of  oil  tanks  stand 
upon  the  lengthened  switches,  awaiting  removal  to  the  refine- 
ries in  the  North  and  East.  Some  are  marked  for  New  York, 
some  for  Boston,  some  for  Buffalo,  and  some  go  to  the  nearer 
refineries  at  Elmira,  Olean,  and  Salamanca.  The  immense 
oil  refining  works  at  this  place  contain  huge  iron  tanks  capable 
of  holding  10,000  barrels  of  oil.  Everything  is  tingred  with  oil; 
and  the  whole  vicinity  smells  of  kerosene.  And  well  it  may, 
for  thousands  of  gallons  are  stored  here,  and  hundreds  of  oil 
cars  constantly  stand  on  the  tracks,  and  the  trade  in  this  im- 
portant product  of  Nature  has  built  the  place.  Sixteen  years 
ago  this  busy  spot  was  an  unknown  forest.  The  fish-hawk 
perched  without  fear  upon  the  tops  of  the  tall  dead  trees  that 
stood  here  and  there  along  the  margin  of  the  stream,  and 
screamed  to  his  mate  upon  some  neighboring  tree,  perhaps 
standing  where  the  thickest  part  of  the  town  now  exists.  The 
wild  cat  roamed  unmolested  along  the  rocky  hillside,  and  the 
deer  bounded  gracefully  through  the  thicket,  little  dreaming 
how  soon  their  favorite  haunts  were  to  be  changed.  How 
rapidly  the  face  of  nature  changes  when  man  has  made  an  im- 
portant discovery  and  set  his  hand  to  the  work. 

The  Almighty  Creator,  with  beneficent  wisdom  and  power, 
has  prepared  everything  necessary  for  the  wants  of  man,  and 
we  often  find  them  out  just  in  the  right  time  that  we  should. 
A  few  years  since  who  would  have  believed  that  a  mineral  sub- 
stance, a  stone,  dug  from  the  earth,  would  be  used  as  fuel  in 
place  of  wood  ?  A  few  years  since  who  would  have  believed 
that  a  substance  would  ever  be  pumped  from  the  ground  that 
would  be  burned  in  our  lamps,  and  take  the  place  of  candles 
and  whale  oil  ?  And  yet  a  few  years  has  wrought  the  wonder 
'and  brought  the  change.  And  furthermore,  the  discovery  came 
at  the  right  time  that  it  should.  What  need  of  coal  when  tim- 
ber was  so  plenty  that  it  was  a  burden  on  the  ground  ?  What 
need  of  kerosene  while  whale  oil  could  be  easily  obtained  in 
abundance  ?  But,  as  wood  and  oil  began  to  be  scarce,  the  new 
discoveries  were  made,  and  lo  I  there  were  great  natural  reser- 
voirs stored  up  for  us  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  where  it 
had  lain  for  thousands  of  years.  And  so  it  will  ever  be.  God's 
people  were  never  placed  upon  this  earth  to  suffer  for  the 
want  of  any  great  natural  necessity  like  fuel,  water,  light,  etc.; 
and  when  the  time  comes  that  any  of  these  important  sub- 
stances approaches  failure,  depend  upon  it,  a  new  and  better 
discovery  is  at  the  door,  or  the  world  is  ripe  for  a  universal  con- 
vulsion that  will  overthrow  all  animated  life,  and  re-people  it 
with  different  beings,  with  different  wants  and  necessities. 

Oil  Creek  is  a  tortuous  winding  stream,  flowing  among  steep, 
craggy  hills,  through  a  narrow  valley,  presenting  a  change  of 
scenery  at  every  turn.  This  deep  and  crooked  valley,  flanked 
by  precipitous  hillsides,  ledges  and  land-slides,  once  rendered 
gloomy  by  the  dark  evergreen  foliage  of  pines  and  hemlocks, 
IS  now  the  most  famous  oil  region  of  the  Western  World.  In 
1853,  Dr.  Brewer  collected  much  oil  by  spreading  blankets  over 
the  springs,  and  as  they  became  saturated,  wringing  out  the 
oil.  But  this  process  was  slow  and  expensive,  and  but  little 
progress  was  made  in  the  business.  In  the  winter  of  1857, 
Colonel  Drake,  an  enterprising  capitalist  of  Connecticut,  ar- 
rived at  the  little  lumbering  town  of  Titusville,  and  commenced 
boring  for  oil.  It  was  the  first  oil  well  of  the  region,  and  the 
operations  were  attended  with  many  drawbacks  and  incon- 
veniences.  The  tools  had  to  be  carried  fifty  miles  to  be  rc- 

E aired;  and  weeks  and  months  slipped  quietly  by  with  nothing 
ut  expense  to  reward  his  labor.  But  a  determined  mind  is 
never  put  down.  His  losses  ran  high,  but  he  saw  a  golden  har- 
vest ahead,  and  he  persevered  until  the  29th  of  August,  1859, 
when  the  drill  suddenly  sank  into  an  oil  vein,  and  he  drew 
forth  a  thousand  gallons  in  a  day!  The  excitement  was  in- 
tense; and  a  crowd  of  greedy  speculators  were  soon  on  the 
ground,  purchasing  and  leasing  the  land,  sometimes  at  almost 
fabulous  prices,  and  dreaming  by  night  of  fortunes  made  in  a 
day.  Steam  saw-mills  were  hastily  erected  all  along  the  creek; 
jind  the  tall  pines  and  ponderous  hemlocks  were  soon  swept 
^way  from  the  valley  and  steep  hillsides,  and  the  owl,  the 
bear,  and  catamount  were  forced  to  flee  before  the  march  of 
civilization  and  seek  a  home  farther  from  the  abodes  of  man. 
Companies  were  formed  all  over  the  Union.  Some  lost  their 
^11,  and  others  became  immensely  rich.  Generally  speaking, 
however,  the  business  was  exceedingly  prosperous,  and  the 
price  of  kerosene  went  rapidly  down  until  it  became  worth  only 
a  few  cents  per  gallon.  From  that  day  to  this  the  business  has 
been  steadily  increasing;  and  the  traveler  beholds  at  every 
turn  clusters  of  tall  derricks,  monster  refineries  and  tanks,  iron 
Bmoke-stacks  reaching  far  up  towards  the  sky  and  rolling  forth 
ereat  clouds  of  thick  black  smoke,  while  the  engines  labor  at 


the  pumps  and  drills,  long  rows  ot  oil  cars  ready  for  removal, 
tnachine  shops,  freight  houses,  etc.,  all  indicating  at  a  glance 
the  vast  amount  of  business  done  along  the  rugged  valley. 
Everything  appears  drenched  n  oil,  and  the  very  atmosphere  is 
filled  with  the  smell  of  kerosene.  Some  times,  through  acci- 
dent or  from  lightning,  the  tanks  and  flowing  wells  take  fire 
and  the  most  terrible  conflagrations  ensue.  Such  was  the  case 
in  1862,  when  ten  oil  wells  took  fire  in  quick  succession,  and 
thirty  thousand  barrels  of  oil  burned  at  once.  Since  then  many 
more  disastrous  fires  have  occurred,  causing  acres  of  flame, 
and  the  destruction  of  wells,  derricks,  machine  shops,  tanks, 
cars,  etc.,  and  blotting  out  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  whole 
establishment.  Such  a  scene  can  be  better  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. The  roar  of  the  devouring  elements  resemble  thun- 
der ;  and  frightful  explosions  fall  upon  the  ear  and  startle 
the  beholder  with  terror.  In  the  night  the  whole  world  seems 
lit  up  with  a  grand  blaze  of  light;  and  above  all  rolls  a  dark 
cloud  of  thick  sulphurous  smoke  as  if  to  shut  out  the  horrid 
scene  from  the  heavens  above.  Oil  Creek  itself  has  often  been 
on  fire  for  miles,  and  the  flames  have  ascended  from  its  surface 
far  up  amon^  the  tops  of  the  tall  trees  that  in  many  places  line 
its  banks.  Iii  the  month  of  July  of  the  present  year  (1876,)  the 
lightning  struck  the  tanks  of  one  of  the  leading  oil  companies, 
of  this  region  and  set  on  fire  113,944  barrels  of  crude  oil.  j 

The  oil  is  now  carried  from  place  to  place  throughout  the 
near  vicinity  of  the  Oil  Regions  by  means  of  iron  pipes,  some] 
of  which  are  many  miles'in  length.  This  is  one  of  the  simplest 
inventions,  and  yet  one  of  great  importance  to  the  oil  producer.  I 
Wherever  it  extends  it  annihilates  the  expensive  freight  rate&i 
charged  by  the  railway  companies  for  its  conveyance,  for,  like 
water,  it  conveys  iise^  throughout  the  whole  length  of  the| 
pipe  to  any  point  not  higher  than  its  source.  A  project  is  now 
on  foot  in  this  section  to  construct  a  grand  pipe  line  to  the  At-| 
lantic  seaboard.  Nearly  all  the  pipe-line  companies  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Oil  Regions  are  co-operating  in  the  enterprise, 
charters  have  been  obtained,  and  an  able  engineer  appointed 
to  examine  the  subject.  He  estimates  the  cost  of  a  four-inch 
pipe,  300  miles  in  length,  at  $792,000  ;  and  a  six-inch  pipe  at 
$1,584,000.  The  laying  would  of  course  cost  many  thousands 
more.  But  the  expense  is  not  like  that  of  building  a  railway; 
andwnen  once  constructed  it  is  conveyed  almost  free  of  charge. 
Doubtless  the  skill  and  ingenuity  of  man  will  in  the  near  future 
furnish  us  with  oil  for  lights  at  even  a  cheaper  rate  than  it  is 
now  selling  at.  The  supply  seems  to  be  well  nigh  inexhausti- 
ble. The  month  of  July  just  passed  was  the  most  active  in 
connection  with  the  oil  trade  ever  known  up  to  that  time.  In 
that  one  month  alone,  1,162,738  barrels  of  crude  oil,  or  its  equiv- 
alent in  refined,  was  shipped  from  these  regions.  During  the 
same  time  196  new  wells  were  sunk,  producing  in  the  aggregate 
ner.fly  3,000  barrels  daily.  The  history  of  Kerosene  oil,  to-, 
geiher  with  an  account  of  the  great  conflagrations  of  the  Oil 
Regions,  has  already  been  given  through  the  columns  of  Thb 
Growing  World;  we  will,  therefore,  cut  short  this  diversion, 
and  proceed  at  once  with  our  journey. 

Much  of  our  way  now  lies  through  a  newly  cleared  country; 
and  occasional  black  patches  of  fallow  ground  thickly  set  with 
charred  stumps  meet  the  eye.  Nevertheless  little  hamlets  and 
oil  stations  are  thickly  set  all  along  the  valley;  and  in  some 
places  one  is  scarcely  out  of  sight  before  we  reach  the  next. 
Passing  Spartansburg,  Centreville,  Tryonville,  and  several 
others,  we  come  to  Titusville— 27  miles  from  Corry,  and  501 
from  New  York.  Here  is  a  great  natural  oil  spring;  and  near 
here  the  first  oil  well  was  sunk,  as  has  been  before  narrated. 
The  city  is  one  of  rapid  growth,  and  although  it  is  but  in  its 
infancy,  it  already  approaches  in  point  of  size  Owego  or  El- 
mira, and  contains  many  noble  and  flourishing  institutions. 
Like  the  many  little  hamlets  we  have  left  behind,  it  is  rendered 
dingy  with  oil  smoke  and  dust,  and  the  railway  switches  are 
well  filled  with  oil  cars,  ready  to  draw  from  the  stupendous 
tanks  a  full  supply.  Leaving  the  important  city  of  Titusville 
we  pass  in  quick  succession  Shaffer,  Pioneer,  Petroleum  Cen- 
tre, etc.,  etc.,  and  soon  arrive  at  Oil  City,  the  great  central  depot 
of  the  Oil  Regions.  Here  Oil  Creek  empties  its  waters  into  the 
Alleghany  River.  At  McClintock,  only  three  miles  back,  we 
passed  another  natural  well,  which  was  well  known  to  the  In- 
dians, and  the  oil  collected  and  sold  by  them  for  medicine  was 
long  known  as  Seneca  Oil.  We  now  pass  through  a  city  of  der- 
ricks, where  the  clinking  of  drills,  the  puflBng  of  laboring 
steam-engines,  the  clang  of  hammers,  and  the  busy  hum  or 
machinery  is  heard  in  every  direction.  Lon^  lines  of  inky 
smoke  ascend  from  the  locomotives  and  roll  alon^  the  valley, 
and  the  ringing  of  bells  and  shriek  of  whistles,  and  thunder  of 
heavy  trains  fall  upon  the  ear  in  mingling  confusion.  Fellow- 
traveller,  be  not  afraid  of  smoke,  diist,  and  oil,  for  every- 
thing you  meet  is  tinged  with  it.  The  monster  tanks,  refine- 
ries, and  oil  works  at  this  place  are  wonders  in  themselves,  and 
resemble  vast  hives  of  human  industry.  The  city  is  built  on  a 
strip  of  flat  land,  near  the  base  of  a  high  steep  bluff,  and  may 
be  reckoned  among  the  largest  cities  we  have  yet  seen.  Along 
its  narrow  streets  may  be  seen  a  motley  crowd  of  laborers- 
black  and  white,  Irish,  English  and  German. 

Here  is  the  terminus  of  the  Franklin  branch  of  the  Atlantic 
and  Great  Western  Railway,  which  will  carry  us  onward  to 
the  main  line  again,  which  we  diverged  from  at  Corry.  The 
first  station  out  from  Oil  City  is  Reno,  three  miles  distant; 
after  which  we  pass  Franklin,  five  miles  further  on,  then  Sugar 
Creek,  Utica,  etc.,  all  more  or  less  connected  with  the  oil  trade, 
and  anon  we  reach  Meadville,  36  miles  distant;  by  the  way  we 
liave  cnme,  555  miles  from  New  York;  though  by  the  more  di- 


mm. 


THE  GROIVING  PVORLD. 


473 


rect  route,  by  the  way  of  Oorry  and  Salamanca,  it  la  only5W. 
At  last,  then,  here  we  are  again,  upon  the  main  Jinc  of  the  At- 
antic  and  Great  Western,  42  miles  west  of  Corry,  Meadville 
is  a  more  handsome  town  than  many  others  that  we  have  lately 
seen,  and  although  it  is  the  centre  of  an  immense  trade  with 
the  Oil  Region,  it  is  more  free  from  dingy  coal  dust,  smoke  and 
the  odor  of  kerosene.  It  is  situated  on  French  Creek,  in  the 
delightful  valley  we  have  followed  up  from  Franklin,  and  is 
the  county  seat  of  Crawford  County.  It  is  numbered  among 
the  oldest  towns  of  Western  Pennsylvania,  and  contains  many 
noble  institutions.  Conspicuous  among  these  are  the  State 
Arsenal,  the  Meadville  Academy,  the  Alleghany  College, 
founded  in  1815,  and  the  splendid  Court  House  near  the  beauti- 
ful public  square.  The  streets  are  neat  and  clean,  and  in  many 
places  admirably  shaded  by  long  rows  of  trees.  Taken  all  in 
all,  Meadville  is  a  pleasant  place  to  stop  at,  and  an  agreeable 
jplace  for  the  weary  traveller  to  rest  after  the  fatigues  of  the 
journey. 

Crawford  County  is  gently  rolling,  or  undulating,  but  the 
hills  are  nowhere  so  high  and  steep  as  those  we  saw  in  the  Oil 
Hegion.  The  soil  is  almost  universally  rich,  and  good  especially 
for  grazing,  and  there  is  little  or  no  real  waste  land  in  the 
county.  "On  an  extensive  plain  near  Oil  Creek  there  is  a  vast 
mound  of  stones,  containing  many  hundred  thousand  cart 
loads."  When  it  was  first  discovered  there  had  soil  enough 
accumulated  upon  its  summit  to  support  a  noble  pine  tree  that 
had  there  taken  root,  and  for  long  years  withstood  the  burning 
sun  of  summer  and  the  roaring  blasts  of  winter.  Who  built  it 
is  a  mystery;  though  it  is  generally  ascribed  to  an  ancient  race, 
who  are  supposed  to  have  built  many  far  greater  mounds  found 
scattered  over  the  Mississippi  Valley  and  the  far  West,  some  of 
which,  considered  as  works  of  art  must  have  been  grand  and 
imposing  in  their  mighty  proportions.  If  there  ever  was  such 
a  race,  they  probably  inhabited  America  previous  to  the  In- 
dians, and  many,  many  centuries  before  the  sailing  of  Columbus. 


No.  7.—Conneaut  Lake— Across  the  Pennsylvania  line— Ohio 
Surface  and  Soil— Early  Settlements  and  Border  Wars— Ap- 
proach to  Cleveland— The  Lake  Shore— A  Day  in  the  City- 
Lake  View  Cemetery— Reflections. 

Again  we  are  in  motion,  Eight  miles  out  from  MeadsvlUe 
we  pass  Sutton's  Station,  and  six  miles  further  brings  us  to 
Evansburg:  near  the  south  shore  of  Conneaut  Lake,  a  clear 
and  beautiful  sheet  of  water,  four  miles  in  length  by  two  in 
width.  This  lake  abounds  with  fish;  and  during  the  warm  days 
of  summer,  when  the  atmosphere  is  clear  and  the  calm  surface 
of  the  water  appears  without  a  ruffle,  the  fisherman  launches 
his  little  boat  and  glides  out  over  its  placid  bosom  to  a  clump 
of  willows,  or  some  favorite  old  tree  upon  the  margin,  and 
there  in  the  cool  and  grateful  shade  takes  solid  comfort  with 
the  rod  and  line. 

The  general  course  of  our  route  now  winds  southwardly, 
along  a  somewhat  crooked  though  fertile  valley,  and  ere  long 
we  enter  Mercer  County— famous  for  bituminous  or  fine  coal, 
which  is  abundantly  found  in  almost  every  part.  Swinging 
to  the  westward  we  shortly  cross  the  Pennsylvania  line. 
Orangeville  is  the  first  stopping  place  in  Ohio.  Two  more  sta- 
tions are  passed  and  then  we  arrive  at  Warren— the  country 
seat  of  Trumbull  County— pleasantly  situated  on  the  east  bank 
of  the  Mahoning  River.  At  Leavittsbur^,  three  miles  beyond 
Warren,  we  leave  the  main  line  of  the  Atlantic  and  Great  West- 
em  Railway,  and  diverge  to  the  northwest  on  a  branch  line. 
The  surface  of  the  country  is  smooth  and  generally  rolling,  and 
the  scenery  dull  and  monotonous. 

The  road  now  becomes  more  straight  and  level,  and  as  there 
is  nothing  especially  interesting  to  be  seen  along  the  route,  we 
will  call  the  reader's  attention  for  a  short  time  to  a  few  remarks 
on  the  general  surface  and  early  history  of  the  State.  Travelers 
who  pass  along  the  Ohio  River  and  view  its  lofty  banks,  often 
steep  and  rugged,  with  their  summits  barren  or  scantily  clothed 
with  a  covering  of  scrub-oaks,  briers  and  dwarf  pines,  are  very 
apt  to  form  a  wrong  opinion  of  the  general  appearance  of  the 
State.  Had  they  ascended  the  creeks  and  streams  that  pour 
their  waters  into  the  Ohio  from  the  north,  they  would  have 
found  themselves  upon  an  elevated  table-land,  gently  undula- 
ting or  rolling,  clothed  with  green  forests,  noble  meadows,  well 
cultivated  fields  of  corn  and  wheat,  and  here  and  there  snatches 
of  level  plain,  over  which  the  tall  grass  waves  in  the  gentle 
breeze  like  mild  billows  upon  the  ocean.  And  like  this  the 
scene  continues;  stretching  far  away  towards  the  distant  Lake 
Erie  shore.  Of  course  there  are  now  then  patches  of  swamp 
land,  and  occasionally  a  rounded  hillock  rising  a  little  above 
the  general  height  of  the  others,  or  a  deep  gulley  washed  out  of 
the  rich  alluvial  soil  by  some  stream  during  a  freshet,  perhaps 
ages  ago;  but  the  eye  beholds  no  such  wild  scenery  as  it  wit- 
nesses in  the  Alleghany  regions  of  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York,  and  but  few  places  are  noticed  where  the  land  is  not 
susceptible  to  cultivation. 

The  State  contains  an  area  of  40,000  square  miles,  being  only 
about  6,000  less  than  New  York  or  Pennsylvania.  It  is  333 
miles  in  circuit,  and  its  Lake  Erie  shore  is  150  miles  in  length. 
In  1786,  Benjamin  Tupper  and  General  Putnam  invited  the 
honorably  discharged  soldiers  of  the  revolution  holding  land 
warrants  in  Ohio  to  proceed  with  them  to  the  State,  locate  their 
land  and  form  a  settlement.  "  The  Ohio  Company  "  was  at 
once  formed,  and  on  the  7th  of  April,  1788,  a  party  of  settlers, 
with  General  Putnam  at  their  head,  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Muskingum  River,  and  commenced  the  first  settlen'ent  of  thf. 


State,  at  Marietta.  At  that  time  the  Shawnee  Indians  held  pos- 
session of  the  best  lands  in  the  territory.  Their  leading  chief, 
who  was  disposed  to  be  friendly,  was  named  Cornstalk. 

In  November,  1788,  Major  Styles,  with  twenty-five  others, 
made  the  second  settlement,  just  above  Cincinnati,  in  the  midst 
of  danger,  surrounded  by  a  hostile  band  of  savages.  During 
their  work  upon  a  block-house  they  were  obliged  to  labor  with 
their  loaded  guns  always  in  reach,  and  witn  sentinels  con- 
stantly on  duty.  Two  years  later  a  colonv  of  Frenchmen  set- 
tled at  Gallipolis,  under  the  direction  or  the  "  Scioto  Land 
Company."  Shortly  afterwards  a  settlement  was  made  at 
Cleveland,  on  Lake  Erie,  and  another  at  Conneaut,  after  which 
the  State  commenced  to  advance  rapidly  in  population  and 
wealth.  In  1800  its  population  numbered  over  45,000,  and  in 
thirty  years  more  it  contained  nearly  one  million  souls. 

The  early  pioneer  life  of  Ohio  was  one  of  struggle,  trial  and 
danger.  Artful  foes  aroused  a  feeling  of  jealousy  and  hatred 
in  the  savage  breast,  and  lured  them  on  to  iP".rdor  the  settlers. 
A  general  Indian  war  was  soon  inaugurated,  und  some  of  the 
bloodiest  deeds  ever  recorded  in  the  annals  of  savage  warfare 
were  committed.  Commanded  by  barbarous  chiefs,  the  savages 
pressed  forward  with  vigor,  carrying  the  torch  in  one  hand  and 
the  scalping  knife  in  the  other;  and  for  a  time  they  threatened 
to  overthrow  all  civilization  in  the  state.  But  at  length  the 
brave  General  Wayne  was  sent  against  them  with  an  array  of 
3,000  men;  and  on  the  20th  of  August,  1794.  they  met,  and  a  ter- 
rible conflict  ensued.  The  whites  were  victorious,  and  the  In- 
dians being  severely  chastised  were  glad  to  enter  into  a  treaty  of 
peace.  But  it  was  not  for  long.  Our  second  war  with  England 
breaking  out,  deceitful  Tories  fired  the  Indian's  heart  again, 
and  aroused  anew  the  latent  spirit  in  his  bosom— the  spirit  of 
revenge,  plunder  and  blood.  General  Proctor  commanded  the 
British  army  in  this  quarter,  and  now  his  friend  and  ally  ap- 
peared—the great  chief  Tecumseh.  He  inflamed  kis  warriors 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  desperation;  and  the  horrible  work  they 
committed  stamped  Proctor's  name  with  infamy,  and  clothed 
the  fair  State  of  Ohio  in  mourning.  General  Harrison's  cam- 
paign in  Ohio  was  one  of  momentous  import,  and  filled  with 
thrilling  scenes  and  painful  incidents.  The  massacre  of  the 
River  Raisin,  the  siege  of  Fort  Meigs,  and  the  gallant  defence 
of  Fort  Stephenson,  will  ever  be  remembered  in  connection 
with  the  history  of  this  celebrated  Indian  war. 

But  the  dark  days  like  a  dark  cloud  were  destined  soon  to  pass 
away.  The  American  army  was  victorious  on  land  and  sea. 
Tecumseh  was  killed  and  his  bands  of  marauding  savages  com- 

elled  to  flee  before  the  march  of  civilization;  and  as  the  hardy 
frontiersman  sat,  as  it  were,  in  the  bosom  of  his  fanu/y  at 
night,  before  a  bright  fire  that  roared  above  the  old  fashioned 
andirons  and  leaped  up  the  great  wide  throated  stone  ciiiin- 
ney,  sending  a  flood  of  mellow  light  over  the  rude  apartment, 
where  his  better-half  industriously  rattled  her  knitting  needles, 
and  his  flaxen  haired  children  rattled  their  playthings,  and 
laughed  and  chatted  like  a  troop  of  overjoyed  magpies,  while 
the  angry  storm  beat  down  upon  the  roof  overhead,  and  the 
wintry  blast  roared  like  a  hurricane  in  the  darkness  without, 
he  felt  the  tnie  happiness  of  home.  He  had  earned  it  through 
sweat,  toil  and  blood.  The  danger  had  all  passed  away,  and 
in  perfect  safety  he  could  sit  down  and  caress  his  loved  ones. 
When  in  the  field  and  in  the  camp,  how  his  anxious  heart  had 
bled  for  the  safety  of  those  he  was  forced  to  leave  behind. 
Every  new  move  of  the  enemy  chilled  his  very  soul  with  dread 
when  he  thought  of  the  safety  of  those  at  home,  and  at  the 
same  time  it  nerved  his  arm  to  strike  the  determined  blow— 
the  blow  that  was  destined  to  bring  liberty  and  peace.  And 
those  at  home,  how  their  hearts  had  bled  for  him.  He  was 
away  in  the  wilderness  battling  a  savage  foe ;  a  f oe  relentless  and 
without  mercy.  How  that  faithful  wife  anxiously  watched,  wept 
and  prayed  for  the  husband's  safe  return,  the  world  may  never 
knovi^.  Common  danger  cements  the  hearts  of  friends  in  ever- 
lasting affection.  It  has  been  bought  with  a  price — it  can  never 
be  eflaced;  and  no  doubt  our  forefathers'  rude  log  cabin,  with 
its  rough  stone  chimney,  was,  on  his  return  from  war,  more 
dear  to  him  than  the  palace  of  the  greatest  monarch  that  ever 
lived.  How  few  there  are  to-day  that  realize  the  true  blessings 
of  home.  They  are  all  engaged  in  the  mad  whirl  of  fashion, 
pride,  and  the  scramble  after  monied  wealth;  the  end  of  which 
is  never  reached.  The  monied  aristocracy  of  our  great  cities 
are  perplexed  with  constant  care  and  troubles  that  the  outside 
world  knows  not  of;  and  though  they  may  appear  to  take  com- 
fort in  their  luxurious  surroundings,  it  is  not  that  blissful  state 
of  happiness  found  in  the  household  of  the  forest  settler,  with 
its  yard  of  charred  stumps,  and  tall  hemlock  surroundings,  pur- 
chased through  toil  and  danger.  Such  a  home,  abounding  In 
health  and  genial  good  nature,  where  the  primitive  neighbors, 
though  rough  and  plain  in  exterior,  clasp  the  mutual  hand  of 
friendship  and  peace  in  unison  like  a  band  of  brothers  and 
sisters,  is  a  prize  to  its  possessor,  the  value  of  which  is  never 
underestimated. 

But  here  we  are,  whirling  through  the  depths  of  a  great  city. 
Beyond,  the  blue  waters  of  Lake  Erie  stretch  far  away  to  the 
north,  bounding  the  limits  of  vision.  And  yonder  comes  a 
steamer,  puffing  and  blowing  clouds  of  white  steam  from  her 
tall  smoke-stacks,  while  the  water  dashes  from  her  paddle- 
wheels  in  fleecy  showers  of  spray.  Onward  she  comes,  grace- 
ful yet  noble  in  her  movements,  her  brilliantly  painted  sides 
glistening  in  the  rays  of  the  noon-day  sun.  She  is  checking 
her  speed;  and  in  a  few  minutes  later  with  the  glorious  stars 
and  stripes  waving  from  her  flag-staff,  and  bells  ringing,  she 
moves  slowly  up  to  the  pier.  The  loud  hiss  of  escaping  steam 
rings  sharply  in  our  ears  as  the  ponderous  locomotives  pass 


474 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


quickly  by  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  and  iu  every  di- 
rection, some  with  trains  and  some  without.  Round  houses 
and  immense  machine  shops,  with  their  long  slate  roofs,  loom 
up  near  at  hand.  And  farther  back,  beyond  the  line  of  moving 
locomotives  and  cars,  and  babel  of  railway  machinery,  above 
the  forest  of  maples  that  adorn  the  streets,  grand  edifices  ap- 
pear to  the  view,  with  domes  and  numerous  lofty  spires  reach- 
ing far  skyward.  Slowly  we  move  on,  up  to  the  great  Union 
Railway  Depot,  stretching  along  with  an  unbroken  roof  many 
luindred  feet  in  length;  and  one  of  the  largest  and  most  elegant 
stone  structures  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  Upon  the  keystones 
at  either  end  are  beautiful  emblematical  designs,  and  portraits 
adorn  the  entrances.  Over  the  main  entrance,  the  portrait  of 
Mr.  Amasa  Stone,  who  superintended  its  building,  beautifully 
carved  in  bas-relief,  looks  kindly  forth  as  if  to  welcome  the 
weary  traveler.  "Cleveland,"  cries  the  conductor,  "Junction 
w  ith  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern  Railway  for  the 
West." 

In  regard  to  size  and  commercial  importance,  Cleveland  ranks 
as  the  second  city  in  Ohio.  By  the  New  York  and  Erie,  and 
Lake  Shore  Railways,  it  is  303  miles  from  New  York,  and  by 
the  Erie  and  Atlantic  and  Great  Western  roads,  627  miles; 
though  by  the  route  we  have  taken,  including  the  circuit  of  the 
Oil  Region,  it  is  666  miles  from  New  York,  being  48  miles  from 
Leavittsburg,  and  111  beyond  Meadville.  None  of  the  cities 
we  have  thus  far  passed  through  approaches  Cleveland  in  mag- 
nitude. Its  present  estimated  population  is  at  least  160,000. 
Previous  to  1796,  the  ground  was  claimed  by  the  Indians,  and 
not  a  furrow  had  been  turned  or  tree  felled  within  the  present 
city  limits.  Eighty  years  ago  the  first  cabin  was  erected,  and 
fifty-six  years  ago  it  was  a  mere  post  village  of  600  inhabitants. 
The  opening  of  the  railway  system,  togetner  with  the  lake  and 
canal  trade,  suddenly  worked  a  mighty  change  in  the  place,  and 
it  soon  became  filled  with  an  euterprisii^g  and  industrious  mul 
titude. 

The  city  is  mostly  situated  upon  a  beautiful  plain,  about  100 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  and  is  divided  by  the  Cuyahoga 
River.  Near  the  mouth  of  the  river  a  commodious  ship  chan 
nel  has  been  worked  out,  leading  to  the  lake,  along  which  the 
lake  steamers  may  anchor  in  safety.  Two  noble  piers  have  also 
been  constructed,  reaching  far  out  into  the  lake  many  hundred 
feet,  lighted  at  night  by  two  lighthouses,  one  situated  on  the 
eastern  pier,  and  the  other  on  a  little  hill  above,  from  which 
it  throws  a  rich  flood  of  golden  light  over  the  whole  busy  scene. 
The  ring  of  heavy  steam  hammers  proclaim  the  manufacture 
of  iron,  and  the  immense  kerosene  works  are  second  only  to 
those  of  Pittsburg.  Leaving  the  manufacturing  portion  of  the 
city  with  its  long  slate  roofs,  tall  brick  chimneys,  clouds  of 
smoke,  and  noisy  clatter  of  whirring  machinery,  "we  ascend  to 
the  more  beautiful  part  of  the  place,  where  everything  is  clean 
and  neat,  the  atmosphere  clear  and  free,  and  the  scenery  grand 
and  delightful.  Superior  street  is  the  leading  thoroughfare  of 
the  city,  and  as  we  pass  along  amidst  the  moving  multitude 
that  constantly  throng  this  great  business  avenue,  we  cannot 
help  being  impressed  with  a  realization  of  the  vast  amount  of 
business  transacted.  Near  the  centre  of  the  city  is  the  grand 
Monumental  Park,  ten  acres  in  extent,  situated  upon  a  beauti- 
ful plot  of  ground,  and  appropriately  adorned  with  maple  and 
other  shade  trees.  As  we  stroll  along  the  cool  and  shady 
grounds,  we  come  suddenly  upon  the  elegant  Italian  marble 
statue  of  Commodore  Perry,  it  is  over  eight  feet  in  height, 
and  stands  upon  a  Rhode  Island  granite  pedestal  that  rises 
twelve  feet  from  the  ground.  The  whole  work  cost  $8,000,  and 
was  finished  in  1860.  Among  the  more  noted  buildings  of  the 
city  may  be  mentioned  the  new  Methodist  Church,  on  the  cor- 
ner of  Erie  street,  the  Case  Hall,  City  Hall,  Post-Office,  and 
Custom  House,  near  the  Park,  Trinity  Church,  etc.  Passing 
over  into  Euclid  avenne,  we  enter  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
thoroughfares  in  the  American  Union.  Noble  mansions  and 
imposing  residences,  surrounded  by  elegant  yards,  and  shady 
trroves  and  gardens  of  fruits  and  flowers  line  either  side.  The 
air  comes  to  our  nostrils  loaded  with  sweet  perfume. 

Five  miles  from  the  city,  by  the  way  of  this  beautiful  avenue, 
brings  us  to  Lake  View  Cemetery,  or  the  city  of  the  dead.  It 
is  situated  on  an  elevated  table-land,  250  feet  above  the  lake, 
where  the  view  is  unobstructed  and  splendid.  It  consists  of 
300  acres,  and  was  first  opened  in  1870.  As  we  walk  along  the 
richly  decorated  avenues,  already  lined  in  some  places  with 
rows  of  marble  tombstones  and  elegant  monuments,  and  note 
the  flowers  and  shrubbery  planted  by  loving  hands  in  kindly 
memory  of  departed  friends,  our  eyes  moisten  with  sympathi- 
zing sorrow;  for  who  has  not  lost  some  near  and  dear  one,  and 
followed  them  in  mourning  to  the  grave  ?  And  they,  too,  have 
planted  flowers  and  dropped  tears  over  that  consecrated  spot, 
where  the  last  remains  of  that  dear  friend  was  laid.  And  yet, 
why  should  we  mourn  ?  It  is  not  death  eternal,  it  is  only 
change.  The  body  that  has  suffered  pain,  and  agony,  and 
death,  at  the  separation  of  the  soul,  has  gone  to  the  grave  only 
to  change.  We  say  it  has  gone  to  its  eternal  rest  And  yet  in 
the  whole  circle  of  nature  there  is  no  such  thing  as  rest.  All 
is  change  and  action;  constant  and  increasing.  Should  the 
works  of  nature  cease  their  action,  the  universe  would  burst 
asunder.  Therefore,  while  the  world  exists  the  body  itself 
\nay,  in  one  sense,  be  said  to  be  eternal.  It  is  well-known  that 
the  body  is  undergoing  a  constant  change  all  the  time,  even 
(luring  the  healthy  moments  of  our  natural  existence.  The 
/ood  we  eat  is  constantly  forming  new  material  to  re-build  the 
wasted  particles  passed  off  in  sweat,  etc.,  so  that  in  ten  yeara 
at  the  farthest,  not  a  particle  of  our  old  body  remains.  Il 


has  been  done  gradually,  and  we  noticed  it  not.  Yet  all  is  new. 
New  bone,  new  muscle,  new  blood,  new  everything.  At  death 
it  decays  and  returns  to  dust.  It  mingles  with  the  soil  and 
helps  to  furnish  important  parts  in  the  life  of  vegetation 
and  this  in  turn  furnishes  the  material  for  the  formation  o\ 
blood,  and  bone,  and  muscle  of  the  animal  or  human  body. 
Thus  we  see  the  body  goes  to  the  grave  but  to  perform  the  ofli« 
ces  prescribed  for  it  by  the  Almighty  hand  that  guides  tho 
destinies  of  worlds.  Why  should  we  murmur  at  the  wise 
decree  ?  But  the  far  more  important  part,  the  eternal  spirit, 
the  immortal  soul,  what  of  it  ?  Your  own  conscience  and  the- 
ology will  tell  you.  It  has  left  the  corruptible  flesh  and  gone 
forth  at  the  behest  of  the  Creator,  be  sure  for  the  best.  Our 
lives  are  swiftly  passing  on,  and  soon  shall  our  souls  be  sum- 
moned hence,  and  our  earthly  bodies  laid  in  the  narrow  house 
like  those  who  have  gone  before.  And  then  who  will  cherish 
our  memory,  and  plant  flowers  upon  our  grave  ?  Some  one, 
aye,  some  one. 

But  the  sun  is  already  descending  in  the  west,  and  our  time 
for  viewing  the  beauties  of  the  city  is  limited.  Returning, 
therefore,  we  descend  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  taking  a  hurried 
survey  of  the  United  States  Marine  Hospital,  and  then  make  a 
flying  visit  to  the  Cleveland  Medical  College,  the  Public  Library, 
etc.,  after  which  we  repair  to  the  Waddell  House,  one  of  the 
best  hotels  in  the  place,  and  retire  early  that  we  may  get  a  good 
night'e  rest,  for  the  journey  on  the  morrow  is  to  be  long. 

No.  8.— Early  Start— Over  the  Cuydhogor—The  Cleveland 
Water  Works — The  Lake  Shore — Swamps  and  Marshes—' 
Rural  Scenery — Toledo— Southern  Michigan. 

Rising  early  in  the  morning,  we  proceed  to  the  depot  in  time 
to  take  the  first  fast  train  for  the  West.  We  find  it  on  time,  as 
usual,  with  its  long  line  of  beautiful  yellow  coaches,  laden 
with  human  freight.  Taking  our  seat  upon  the  velvet  cushion 
of  a  superb  Pullman  Palace  Car,  we  await  events.  Presently  a 
bright  new  locomotive  issues  from  the  great  round  house  not 
far  away,  and  glittering  and  flashing  back  the  rays  of  the 
morning  sun,  comes  on  directly  towards  ns.  It  is  fired  up  to 
the  highest  pitch;  and  as  the  safety  valve  suddenly  rises  from 
the  pressure,  the  sharj)  hiss  of  the  escaping  steam  shrieks  fear- 
fully in  our  ears.  As  it  approaches  nearer  we  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  hardy  engineer,  standing  steadily  at  his  post,  with  his 
hand  on  the  lever  and  his  gaze  bent  forward  from  the  cab  win- 
dow. The  sweat  trickles  down  his  cheeks,  and  his  face  and 
form,  though  somewhat  coarse  and  rough  in  exterior,  is  filled 
with  frankness  and  genial  good  nature  within.  And  this  is  the 
man  who  is  to  hold  the  reins  and  guide  the  impatient  iron  steed 
that  is  to  take  us  so  many  miles,  like  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
westward.  A  mighty  responsibility  rests  upon  his  shoulders; 
for  more  than  a  hundred  human  beings  are  this  day  placing 
their  lives  in  his  hands.  The  time  for  departure  is  at  hand. 
The  conductor  stands  upon  the  platform,  with  one  hand  upon 
the  iron  railing  of  the  car  and  in  the  other  his  open  watch. 
The  engineer,  who  has  hitched  his  engine  to  the  train,  is  look- 
ing back  and  patiently  waiting  for  the  forward  signal.  The 
conductor,  who  has  given  timely  warning  to  all  who  would 
take  the  train  to  get  aboard,  closes  his  watch,  waves  his  hand, 

I and  steps  upon  the  car.  A  moment  later  we  find  ourselves 
moving  rapidly  through  the  city. 
Dashing  over  the  Cuyahoga  River  by  a  neat  and  elegant 
bridge,  the  instantaneous  view  up  and  down  the  river  is  very 
fine.  Over  the  river,  and  down  near  the  shore  of  the  lake,  are 
the  Cleveland  water  works.  The  water  is  brought  to  this  spot 
•  through  a  tunnel  6,600  feet  in  length,  extending  out  directly 
under  the  lake.  Being  well  filtered,  it  reaches  the  works  in  a 
pure  state,  and  from  thence  is  forced  by  two  powerful  engines 
to  the  beautiful  reservoir,  situated  on  a  high  bluff,  west  of  the 
river,  overlooking  the  lake,  city,  and  miles  of  surrounding 
country.  From  here  it  is  conveyed  through  pipes  all  over  the 
city. 

Leaving  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  we  pass  along  the  lake 
shore  westward.  Whenever  we  pass  over  favorable  positions 
the  view  far  out  over  the  blue  waters  of  Lake  Erie  is  truly 
splendid.  Steamers  loaded  with  flour,  grain  and  passengers, 
glide  swiftly  through  the  waters,  graceful  as  the  swan,  form- 
ing one  of  the  most  beautiful  pictures  to  be  met  with  along 
the  lake.  Being  on  elevated  ground,  we  can  often  see  them  as 
they  sail  away,  far  as  the  unassisted  eye  can  behold,  apparently 
growing  smaller  and  smaller  with  each  succeeding  moment, 
until  they  appear  but  as  a  mere  speck  upon  the  ocean,  and 
are  lost  to  our  sight  in  the  dim  distance.  Others  com- 
ing towards  us  appear  to  grow  larger  and  larger  as  they 
silently  approach,  and  by-and-by  they  come  dashing  past  us 
almost  with  the  speed  of  a  locomotive,,  and  with  the  water 
lashed  to  snowy  foam  all  around  their  paddle  wheels.  The 
great  structure  is  gently  rocked  from  side  to  side  by  the  bil- 
lows, like  the  cradle  of  an  infant.  As  she  rushes  past  us  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  gayly  decorated  sides,  rails  and  doors, 
and  of  her  merry  passengers  seated  around  upon  deck,  drink- 
ing in  the  splendid  scenery  along  the  shore.  We  are  flUed  with 
admiration  as  we  contemplate  the  great  works  the  mind  of 
man  has  wrought,  and  we  long  to  ride  on  the  rolling  deep. 

Occasionally  an  alder  swamp,  a  little  hillock,  or  a  grove  of 
timber,  shuts  out  the  view  of  the  lake,  and  sometimes  we  run 
a  considerable  distance  without  seeing  it.  Generally,  however 
as  we  approach  and  pass  the  little  mill  streams,  over  the  strong 
one-arched  bridge,  we  can  look  away  down  the  shallow  valley, 
alone:  which  the  creek  meanders,  lined  with  willows  ana 
alders,  and  here  and  there  patches  of  flnirs,  and  sweet-scenter. 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


475 


blue  blossomed  flowers,  and  behold  tliu  ^^ic  waters  in  the  dis- 
tance. Thirteen  miles  from  Cleveland  brings  us  to  Berea, 
where  Cuyahoga  or  "Ohio  grindstones"  are  made.  Passing 
the  unimportant  stations  at  Ohnstead  Falls,  Ridgeville  and 
Elyrie,  we  come  to  Oberlin,  thirty-four  miles  from  Cleveland, 
and  the  site  of  a  prosperous  college,  founded  in  1834. 

Beyond  >  Oberlin  the  scenery  becomes  somewhat  dull  and 
monotonous.  The  northern  part  of  Ohio  is  thickly  sprinkled 
with  marshes  and  swamps,  alternating  with  patches  of  prairie 
and  woodland,  among  which  the  railway  winds.  Now  we  are 
shut  in  by  a  wall  of  thick  alders  and  willows,  interlaced  with 
an  intricate  web  of  climbing  swamp  vines,  and  with  dark  and 
muddy  pools  of  stagnant  water  lying  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
rendered  green  by  the  spawn  of  frogs  and  the  leaves  of  lilies, 
and  anon  we  dash  out  upon  the  beautiful  plain,  along  by  the 
side  of  the  dusty  highway,  and  highly  cultivated  fields  of  grass, 
wheat  and  corn.  Neat  country  dwellings,  with  front  yards  of 
flowers  and  trees,  meet  the  eye,  and  noble  school  houses, 
painted  white,  with  tidy  green  shutters,  are  noticed.  The 
merry  shouts  of  the  scholars  at  play  reach  our  ears  above  the 
roar  of  the  train,  and  we  wonder  if  we  ever  made  so  much 
noise  in  the  world.  Now  and  then  we  pass  a  little  country 
church,  standing  among  a  group  of  buildings,  or  solitary  and 
alone,  its  tidy  white  spire  pointing  skyward,  and  its  little 
rural  cemetery  thickly  studded  with  white  tomb-stones.  Those 
simple  marble  slabs  tell  their  tale  as  truly  and  effectively  as  the 
greatest  monuments  we  beheld  in  the  Lake  View  Cemetery  at 
Cleveland.  Love  and  affection  dwells  in  the  hearts  of  high 
nnd  low,  rich  and  poor,  alike.  The  man  of  millions  may  com- 
mand the  respect  and  admiration  of  thousands,  but  his 
monied  wealth  begets  only  love  of  itself,  and  after  all  it  is  found 
that  the  admiration  of  the  multitude  extends  only  to  his 
houses  and  lauds  and  property,  and  does  not  reach  the  man. 
But  on  the  other  hand  his  good  deeds  and  kindly  acts  beget  a 
love  and  affection  pure  and  heavenly,  extending  far  outward, 
beyond  the  family  circle,  and  though  he  be  poor  and  poverty- 
stricken  in  purse,  a  current  of  sympathy  flows  from  heart  to 
heart,  and  tears  bedew  the  ground  at  his  departure.  And  so  it 
will  ever  be.  Corrupt  hearts  and  minds  are  reaching  forth  to 
grasp  the  corruption  and  vanity  of  the  world;  and  in  their  in- 
sane passion  after  monied  wealth  they  scruple  not  to  torture 
the  body  and  sell  the  soul.  Girard,  Smithson  and  Peabody  were 
actuated  by  higher  and  nobler  impulse.  They  gave  vast  sums 
for  the  purpose  of  diffusing  knowledge  among  men,  and  their 
names  have  gone  forth  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  a&  the 
greatest  benefactors  on  earth.  But  the  number  of  such  noble 
minds  are  few.  And  yet,  perhaps,  there  are  more  of  them 
than  the  world  is  aware  of;  for  the  humblest  citizen  in  the 
land  who  devotes  his  life  to  the  good  of  suffering  humanity, 
or  who  at  death  bequeathed  ten  dollars  from  his  scanty  store 
of  fifty,  for  the  advancement  of  the  world,  does  just  as  noble 
a  deed  as  the  millionaire  who  bestows  his  two  hundred 
thousand.  He  had  the  will,  and  he  done  in  proportion  as 
much  as  they.  His  memory  is  implanted  deep,  and  enshrined 
in  the  hearts  of  his  rural  friends,  who  with  sadness  carried 
his  ashes  to  the  little  burying  ground,  where  they  lie  unfor- 
gotten  to-day.  His  every-day  life  has  gained  for  him  a  living 
monument  that  the  gold  of  California  cannot  buy.  In  regard 
to  monied  wealth  death  makes  us  all  alike.  "We  brought 
nothing  into  the  world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can  take  nothing 
out."  Therefore  let  us  build  our  own  enduring  monuments 
while  we  live,  and  when  we  die  it  will  make  no  difference 
whether  we  are  buried  in  splendor  and  magnificence  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  city  or  the  rude  burial  ground  of  the  country; 
for  it  will  not  require  imposing  marble  monuments  to  recall  our 
memory,  but  there  will  be  those  who  will  plant  flowers  upon 
our  grave,  and  cherish  our  memory  for  the  good  we  have  done. 

Much  of  the  scenery  along  the  lake  shore  is  noted  only  for 
its  sameness.  The  margins  of  thick  white  swamps,  with 
boggy  meadows,  are  quickly  passed,  to  be  followed  by  waving 
fields  of  corn  and  wheat,  groves  of  timber,  snatches  of  prairie, 
with  beautiful  country  scenes,  and  then  marshes  and  willow 
bottoms  again.  And  thus  the  scenery  continues;  alternating 
between  dark  and  gloomy,  and  smiling  and  beautiful.  Often 
in  the  autumn  season,  when  the  birch  and  willow  are  clothed 
in  yellow  and  gold,  and  the  early  frosts  are  causing  the  many 
tinted  leaves  to  rustle  in  the  forest,  a  scene  of  unusual  beauty 
prevails.  The  copious  dews  of  the  cool  nights,  being  dissipated 
by  the  early  morning  sun,  rise  in  dense  masses,  and  roll  off 
towards  the  lake  in  great  fleecy  clouds,  grand  and  majestic  in 
appearance.  But  we  have  already  passed  several  stations  be- 
yond Oberlin,  chief  among  which  may  be  noticed,  Wakeman, 
Norwalk,  Monroeville,  Bellevue  and  Clyde;  and  we  now  ap- 
proach Fremont,  84  miles  from  Cleveland,  and  750  miles  from 
New  York  by  the  route  we  have  taken. 

Six  miles  beyond  Fremont  we  pass  the  little  village  of  Lind- 
sey,  after  which  we  pass  Elmore,  Genoa  and  Millbury,  thriving 
and  industrious  towns,  supported  by  an  enterprising  class  of 
farmers.  Since  leaving  Monroeville  our  general  course  has  been 
more  northwestward  ;  and  it  must  Je  that  the  lake  shore  is 
rounding  off  in  that  direction.  More  elegant  country  resi- 
dences now  attract  our  attention  ;  the  roaas  are  filled  with 
carriages  and  neat  vehicles,  with  fast  horses  and  town-dressed 
people,  and  loads  of  hay,  grain  and  vegetables  are  seen  going 
to  market,  all  indicating  our  near  approach  to  another  large 
town. 

A  few  miles  farther  and  we  find  ourselves  entering  another 
city.  An  immense  number  of  railway  switches  and  side  tracks, 
with  a  multitude  of  moving  locomotives,  and  a  perfect  city  of 
freight  cars  no\v  appear  to  the  view.   A  moment  more  and  we 


are  among  the  busy  host;  wondering  how  we  can  proceed 
among  such  a  moving  swarm  of  railway  steeds  and  cars,  and 
avoid  a  collision.  Ponderous  brick  water  tankw,  and  freight 
houses  and  machine  shops  meet  the  eye  in  almost  every  di- 
rection. Tall  smoke-stacks  and  enormous  brick  chimneys  rise 
above  the  iron  works  and  railway  manufacturing  entablish- 
ments,  and  the  heavy  iar  of  steam  liammers  and  buzz  of  swift- 
running  machinery  fills  the  air.  Tlie  great  round-houses  and 
ponderous  railway  buildings  are  rendered  black  and  dingy  by 
coal-dust  and  smoke,  and  the  smell  of  kerosene  oil  pervades 
the  place.  Near  by  are  the  vast  elevators  for  storing  grain; 
with  a  line  of  freight  cars  constantly  around  them,  some  arriv- 
ing with  loads  of  wheat  and  corn  from  the  West,  and  others 
bein":  prepared  for  shipment  to  the  East.  A  little  farther  back 
are  beautiful  blocks  of  brick  and  stone,  thickly  set  along 
splendid  streets  and  avenues,  and  here  and  there  tall  spires 
rise  grand  and  high  above  all  the  surrounding  scenery.  The 
railway  bridge  across  the  Maumee  River  at  this  place  is  a  strong 
and  substantial  structure;  and  the  Wabash  and  Erie  Canal 
affords  many  interesting  views.  The  depot  is  a  noble  structure, 
with  a  spacious  platform,  and  the  telegraph  office  is  entered  by 
a  legion  of  wires,  the  continual  click  of  the  manipulators  and 
receivers  fairly  confusing  the  traveler. 

And  this  is  Toledo  ;  the  greatest  railway  centre  between 
Cleveland  and  Chicago.  It  is  114  miles  west  of  Cleveland,  and 
by  the  route  we  have  taken  780  miles  from  New  York.  Here  is 
the  terminus  of  the  Toledo,  Peoria  and  Warsaw,  and  the  Tole- 
do, Wabash  and  Western  Railways,  which  together  with  the 
branches  of  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern  Railway, 

roduce  a  very  important  station,  where  an  immense  amount  of 

usiness  is  done.  On  the  Fourth  of  July,  1805,  an  Indian  Treaty 
was  held  at  Fort  Industry,  within  the  present  city  limits,  when 
representatives  of  five  Indian  tribes  appeared  and  gave  up  their 
title  to  the  "  Firelands."  Forty  years  ago  it  was  incorporated 
and  received  its  city  charter.  To-day  it  is  supposed  to  contain 
50,000  inhabitants,  and  is  classed  among  the  most  noted  grain 
depots  of  the  western  lakes.  The  view  down  the  river  is 
splendid  and  beautiful  beyond  anything  we  have  seen  for  a 
long  time.  Headlands  fringed  with  birch  and  willow  project 
into  the  river  and  bay,  and  away  below  in  the  harbor  numerous 
vessels  are  seen.  We  might  make  the  tour  of  the  immense 
locomotive  and  car  factories,  together  wHh  the  great  flour 
mills,  breweries,  etc.,  but  it  would  require  another  day,  and  we 
have  not  the  time  to  spend. 

At  this  place  the  road  branches;  one  division  known  as  the 
air-line  road  leading  westward  across  Northern  Indiana,  and 
the  other  running  through  Southern  Michigan.  We  will  choose 
the  latter,  it  being  the  route  most  frequently  taken  by  travelers, 
and  traversed  by  nearly  all  the  through-trains.  Leaving  Toledo 
we  dash  away  to  the  westward,  after  having  taken  our  last  view 
of  Lake  Erie's  waters,  and  ere  long  we  pause  at  Sylvania,  ten 
miles  away.  A  little  further  on  we  cross  the  State  line,  and 
draw  rein  at  Blissfield,  in  Southern  Michigan,  twenty-two  miles 
from  Toledo.  Four  miles  farther  on  we  pass  the  little  station 
of  Palmyra,  and  two  miles  beyond  is  the  Lenawee  Junction, 
Next  we  come  to  Adrian,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Raisin  River, 
a  flourishing  little  city  with  about  10,000  inhabitants,  and 
several  large  mills  and  manufacturing  establishments.  It  is 
the  county  seat  of  Lenawee  County,  and  one  of  the  most 
thorough  business  towns  in  Southern  Michigan.  The  public 
buildings  are  neat  and  convenient,  and  many  of  the  private 
residences  along  the  shady  avenues  are  splendid. 

Dover  Station  is  reached  after  a  run  of  five  miles  from  Adrian, 
and  five  miles  more  brings  us  to  the  little  village  of  Clayton, 
beyond  which  we  pass  in  quick  succession  Hudson,  Pittsford, 
Osseo,  Hillsdale,  Jonesville,  Aliens,  Quincy,  Coldwater,  etc., 
with  nothing  particularly  striking  or  interesting.  The  scenery 
remains  much  the  same  as  it  was  in  Northern  Ohio,  before  we 
reached  Toledo.  The  hills  and  rolling  ground  has,  however, 
dwindled  away  to  a  dead  level,  and  only  once  in  a  while  are  our 
eyes  greeted  with  the  sight  of  a  little  bluff,  or  miniature  sand 
hill.  Marshes  covered  with  reeds,  sedges  and  flags,  and  long 
pools  of  stagnant  water  are  occasionally  passed,  where  the  de- 
parting day  is  made  melodious  by  the  shrill  notes  of  the  locust 
and  katydid,  and  the  harsh  croaking  of  myriads  of  frogs. 
Beyond  are  luxuriant  fields  of  grass  and  grain,  growing  upon 
the  rich  black  mould  of  the  prairie,  producing  in  abundance, 
far  beyond  anything  we  have  yet  seen. 

Southern  Michigan  is  a  noted  fruit  region,  and  as  we  fly  alone 
we  cannot  help  admiring  the  noble  orchards  of  apple,  peacE 
and  pear  trees,  bending  beneath  loads  of  luscious  fruit.  The 
neat  little  farm  house  near  by,  surrounded  by  a  plain  white 
picket  fence,  and  with  its  front  yard  filled  with  flowers  and 
shaded  by  a  little  grove  of  maples,  bespeaks  comfort  for  the 
inmates.  A  little  further  back  is  the  garden,  tastefully  fenced 
around,  and  containing  cucumbers  and  melons  in  abundance, 
rich  yellow  summer  squashes,  beds  of  onions  and  beets,  rows  of 
carrots,  turnips,  cabbages  and  potatoes,  and  all  the  garden 
vegetables  and  rich  luxuries  of  the  northern  soil,  sold  av  such 
enormous  prices  at  the  tables  of  the  city  hotel.  Beyond  are 
fields  of  tall  grass  and  grain  waving  in  the  zephyr-like  breeze 
like  undulations  of  the  ocean.  The  farmer,  standing  in  the 
open  doorway  at  the  close  of  the  day,  gazes  over  his  broad 
acres,  resting  in  rural  beauty,  and  loaded  with  the  fruits  of  his 
honest  labor,  feeling  a  sense  of  noble  pride  that  it  is  his  own, 
free  from  mortgage,  free  from  encumbrance,  free  from  debt.  He 
never  felt  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  wield  the  ax  or  hold  the 
plow  ;  and  by  his  own  persevering  industry  he  has  produced 
that  rural  Eden  from  the  forest  wilderness  and  tough  sod  of  the 
prairie.   As  he  turns  h^sbead  to  view  the  flying  train,  we  fancy 


476 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


we  see  a  face  free  from  speculation  and  deception,  and  noble  in  | 
its  bearing.  He  toils  hard  in  preparing  the  ground  and  sowing  I 
the  seed;  but  it  is  worth  all  bis  trouble  to  see  how  grandly 
Nature  comes  forward  with  her  strong  arm  to  prepare  for  him 
a  liberal  harvest.  Night  and  day,  ram  and  sunshine,  it  is  all 
the  same;  his  crops  are  steadily  marching  forward  to  the  har- 
vest.  He  cuts  his  own  grain  and  picks  his  own  fruit,  and  he 
knows  just  what  it  is.  He  makes  his  own  selection  for  his  own 
use— he  is  always  sure  of  good  food  at  least— he  is  independent. 
Who  would  not  be  a  farmer,  then  ?  People  may  scoff  and 
sneer  at  him  for  his  plain  homespun  appearance,  but  they  can- 
not deny  the  fact  that  he  is  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  land,  the 
very  foundation  of  society,  for  he  feeds  the  whole  world  with 
bread.  But  the  voice  of  farmers'  boys  calling  home  the  cows, 
and  the  declining  sun  admonish  us  if  we  would  behold  the 
beauties  of  the  country  we  can  travel  but  little  further  to  night. 
Passing  three  or  four  more  stations  we  arrive  at  White  Pigeon, 
237  miles  beyond  Cleveland,  and  120  from  Chicago,  where  we 
leave  the  train  to  pass  the  night  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
Uegions  of  Southern  Michigan. 


No.  ^.—Michigan— The  Pineries— Mills  and  Lumber  Yards— 
Early  History  of  Michigan— The  Frenchtown  Massacre- 
Through  Northern  Indiana— Marshes  and  Prairies— Around 
the  Lake  Michigan  Shore— Through  to  Chicago— Railway 
Paraphernalia— The  Great  Grain  Elevators— The  Stock  Yards 
and  Scenery  at  the  Cattle  Markets. 

Michigan  is  emphatically  the  "Lake  State."  Comprising 
nearly  1,100  miles  of  lake  coast,  along  which  the  heaviest 
steamers  may  safely  glide,  its  commercial  advantages  are 
probably  unexcelled.  It  is  naturally  divided  into  two  peninsu- 
las— the  northern,  somewhat  broken,  cold  and  uninviting;  the 
southern,  rich,  level  and  beautiful.  In  the  northern  part,  along 
the  Lake  Superior  shore,  are  the  "Pictured  Rocks,"  wonders 
in  themselves,  and  further  west,  on  the  same  shore,  is  the 
greatest  copper  region  on  the  continent.  Some  parts  of  the 
northern  and  western  shores  of  Southern  Michigan  are  covered 
with  dense  forests  of  pine  timber;  and  the  demand  for  building 
materials  from  the  treeless  prairies  of  the  West  have  lately 
filled  the  dark  wilderness  with  an  army  of  stalwart  woodmen, 
and  where  a  dozen  years  ago  the  silence  of  the  sombre  forest 
was  only  broken  by  the  bowlings  of  wolves  or  the  scream  of 
the  catamount,  the  echoing  ring  of  axes  is  heard  from  morning 
till  night.  In  the  winter,  when  the  snow  lies  deep  upon  the 
ground,  the  pineries  present  a  lively  scene.  The  forest  re- 
sounds with  the  rude  songs  of  the  workmen,  and  merry  shouts 
of  drivers  hauling  logs  over  the  crisp  and  frozen  snow,  and  the 
puffing  and  shrieking  of  the  laboring  engines  at  the  immense 
steam  saw  mills  where  gangs  of  huge  circular  saws  are  kept 
constantly  running  night  and  day.  Clustered  around  the  mills 
are  rade  offices,  boarding  houses,  stables,  and  shanties,  while 
long  avenues  lead  off  in  every  direction,  closely  hemmed  in  by 
masses  of  pine  logs,  immense  lumber  piles  like  the  blocks  of  a 
city,  and  heaps  of  edgings  and  sawdust,  sometimes  larger  than 
the  mill  itself.  Above  all,  the  great  black  smoke-stack  towers 
as  high  as  the  limbs  of  the  neighboring  trees,  held  firmly  in  its 
place  by  long  iron  rods  fastened  to  posts  and  stumps.  The 
smoke  and  steam  rising  from  its  top  becomes  quickly  condens- 
ed by  the  frosty  air,  and  rolls  away  in  great  white,  fleecy  clouds, 
Near  by,  the  waters  of  the  great  lake  come  swashing  in  upon 
the  shore  and  rude  pier  in  short,  chopping  waves,  and  the 
heavy  steamers,  loaded  with  lumber,  and  ready  for  their  de- 
parture for  the  Chicago  or  Milwaukee  markets,  rise  and  fall 
with  the  dancing  motion  of  the  water  lilce  a  steamship  upon  the 
ocean.  Steam  tugs  are  towing  rafts  and  logs  along  the  shore, 
and  scores  of  men  are  at  work  handling  slabs  and  edgings, 
wheeling  sawdust,  rolling  logs,  and  piling  boards  and  lumber. 
At  twelve  o'clock  the  steam  whistle  shrieks  out  over  the  forest, 
and  the  men  file  out  from  the  mills  and  proceed  to  the  board- 
ing houses  to  partake  of  their  dinner.  Everything  is  worked 
according  to  an  established  system,  and  no  time  is  wasted. 
The  amount  of  lumber  yearly  shipped  from  the  mills  of  Au  Sa- 
ile  and  the  Michigan  pine  wilderness  is  astonishing. 

The  Mackinaw  fisheries  form  another  busy  scene.  A  heavy 
business  is  done  in  this  line,  furnishing  constant  employment 
to  hundreds  of  men;  and  the  trout  and  white  fish  taken  at  this 
place  find  their  way  to  all  the  principal  American  markets. 

The  first  settlements  in  Michigan  were  commenced  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Detroit  and  Mackinaw,  about  200  years  ago.  The  ear- 
ly history  of  this  State  is  filled  with  many  romantic  incidents 
and  memorable  adventures  with  the  Indians.  Especially  was 
this  the  case  during  the  war  with  England,  from  1813  to  1815. 
Prominent  among  the  Indian  chiefs  of  this  region  were  Pontiac 
and  Tecumseh;  already  spoken  of  in  connection  with  the  early 
history  of  Ohio.  The  massacre  at  Frenchtown  may  be  reckon- 
ed among  the  bloodiest  scenes  recorded  in  savage  history.  It 
was  in  the  dead  of  winter,  1813.  Word  had  been  sent  to  the 
American  army,  then  stationed  near  Detroit,  that  Frenchtown 
was  in  danger.  General  Winchester  had  been  sent  forward 
with  a  force  of  800  men,  and  had  succeeded  in  driving  the  ene- 
my away.  But  the  storm  was  yet  to  come.  The  enemy  was  re- 
inforced, and  on  the  23d  of  January  the  brave  band  of  patriots 
were  met  by  the  English  Colonel  Proctor,  and  the  savage  chiefs 
Round-Head  and  Split-Log,  with  a  combined  force  of  British 
and  Indians,  fifteen  hundred  strong. 

At  daylight  the  carnage  commenced.  The  patriots  fought 
bravely,  but  being  overpowered  by  superior  numbers,  a  portion 
of  the  right  wing  gave  way,  and  endeavored  to  retreat  across 
the  river.  One  hundred  of  their  comoanions.  soeins  the''' 


tlon,  leaped  out  from  the  breast-works  and  rushed  to  their  aid. 
But  it  was  all  of  no  avail.  The  odds  were  still  too  heavy 
against  them.  Over  a  hundred,  who  reached  the  wood-s  alive, 
were  immediately  surrounded  by  a  host  of  yelling  savages,  who 
butchered  and  scalped  them  without  mercy.  The  deep  snow 
was  dyed  to  a  crimson  hue.  At  length,  General  Winchester  was 
taken  prisoner;  and  seeing  the  hopeless  condition  of  his  brave 
soldiers,  he  agreed  to  surrender  them,  on  condition  that  they 
should  be  protected  from  the  fury  of  the  Indians;  that  private 
property  should  be  respected;  that  the  wounded  should  be  con- 
veyed on  sleds  to  their  destination;  and  that  the  officers  should 
retain  their  side-arms.  Colonel  Proctor  promised  that  these 
terms  should  be  strictly  complied  with.  Still,  Majors  Madison 
and  Graves,  with  their  little  companies  of  frontier  heroes,  man- 
fully held  their  position.  Many  of  their  brothers  lay  dead 
around  them,  and  they  realized  that  their  case  was  desperate. 
But  well  knowing  the  treacherous  disposition  of  the  foe,  they 
felt  unwilling  to  surrender  without  additional  assurance  that 
they  should  not  be  massacred,  and  that  they  should  have  the 
privilege  of  burying  their  dead.  The  British  commander  sol- 
emnly agreed  to  all  this,  and  they  surrendered  themselves  pris- 
oners of  war.  Now  commenced  a  scene  sickening  in  detail  and 
horrible  beyond  all  description.  They  were  delivered  into  the 
hands  of  the  savages,  to  be  marched  away  to  Maiden.  The 
dead  were  at  once  stripped  of  their  clothing,  and  the  wounded 
brained  with  the  tomahawk,  and  their  gory  scalps  shook  in- 
sultingly in  the  faces  of  the  living.  The  side-arms  and  clothes 
were  torn  from  the  officers,  and  the  feeblest  remonstrance  was 
the  signal  for  instant  death.  Butchery,  plunder,  and  murder, 
reigned  throughout  the  blood-stained  camp.  Many  were  car. 
ried  away  to  be  burnt  at  the  stake,  and  inhumanly  tortured 
only  as  savage  ingenuity  can  invent.  The  next  day  a  band  or 
war-painted  savages  returned  to  the  battle-field,  and  raising 
their  wild  war-whoop,  commenced  an  indiscriminate  plunder 
of  the  place.  Breaking  into  the  houses  where  about  sixty 
wounded  Americans  lay,  under  the  promise  of  protection,  they 
brutally  buried  their  knives  and  tomahawks  in  their  bleeding 
bodies,  and  then  set  the  buildings  on  fire.  Several  poor 
wretches  struggled  to  the  windows  and  endeavored  to  escape; 
but  they  were  seized  and  hurled  back  into  the  flames,  to  be 
burned  alive,  while  their  fiendish  foes  sang  their  songs  and  per- 
formed their  wild  war-dances  around  them.  The  ground  along 
the  march  to  Maiden  was  strewn  with  mutilated  corpses;  and 
few,  very  few,  ever  reached  the  garrison  alive.  Such  was  the 
horrors  of  the  Frenchtown  massacre.  And  thus  perished  the 
gallant  defenders  of  the  border;  sending  a  mourning  pang  to 
scores  of  wilderness  homes  in  Ohio  and  Kentucky.  And  for 
this  atrocious  deed.  Colonel  Proctor  was  raised  to  the  rank  of 
brigadier-general  in  the  British  army.  Brighter  days  were, 
however,  m  store  for  the  settlers.  Gradually  they  gained  the 
victory  and  ascendancy  over  their  foes,  till,  on  the  termination 
of  the  war,  the  Indian  troubles  ceased,  and  a  prosperous  more 
dawned  all  over  the  West.  Michigan  was  admitted  into  the 
Union  January  26th,  1837.  Its  present  population  is  about 
1,500,000. 

Its  noble  prairies  are  sometimes  broken  by  stretches  of  scat- 
tering  oaks  and  shrubs,  termed  "oak  openings;"  and  its 
streams  are  fringed  with  timber  and  brushwood,  where  wild 
fowl  is  abundant.  White  Pigeon  Prairie,  near  the  junction  of 
the  White  Pigeon  and  St.  Joseph's  rivers,  is  the  most  beautiful 
prairie  we  have  yet  seen.  Leaving  the  station  at  this  place,  we 
soon  cross  the  State  line,  and  enter  Indiana.  Passing  Middle- 
burg  and  Bristol,  we  arrive  at  Elkhart,  nineteen  miles  farther 
on,  where  we  again  unite  with  the  Air  Line  Railway,  which 
branched  from  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern  Road,  at 
Toledo.  Five  miles  beyond  Elkhart  we  pause  at  Osceola;  after 
which  we  pass  the  stations  of  Mishawaka,  South  Bend,  Warren, 
Rolling  Prairie,  Laporte,  and  several  others,  all  young  and  thriv- 
ing business  towns,  supported  mainly  by  the  surrounding  farm- 
ing  population. 

The  surface  of  Northern  Indiana  is  almost  a  dead  level;  and 
the  surrounding  scenery  presents  but  few  objects  to  attract  the 
attention.  Much  of  the  ground  is  low  and  wet,  and  often 
marshy  bog-meadows  and  sloughs  stretch  away  on  either  hand, 
for  miles.  As  we  gaze  out  from  the  car  window,  over  the  long 
lines  of  swamp  covered  with  cold,  damp  mist  and  morning 
fog,  we  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  fever  and  ague  that  must 
abound  in  this  region,  from  the  poison  miasma  of  these  chill- 
ing vapors,  that  at  sunrise  envelope  the  country  with  a  winding 
sheet  of  white.  As  the  sun  dissipates  the  fog,  the  intervening 
prairies  are  seen  to  good  advantage;  often  extending  away  in 
the  distance  until  the  earth  and  sky  seem  to  mingle,  without  a 
single  blue  hill  or  peak  to  break  the  level  on  the  horizon. 
Rapidly  the  scene  changes,  and  we  find  ourselves  shut  in  by 
long  lines  of  alders  and  willows,  with  a  sea  of  rushes  and  flags 
beyond;  then  another  prairie,  with  its  noble  fields  of  wheat 
and  corn,  and  neat  little  country  villages,  clustered  around  the 
busy  stations,  to  be  followed  by  little  forests  of  pine,  with  an 
occasional  sand  hill,  barren,  or  covered  only  with  stunted  juni- 
per-trees. Anon  we  approach  the  shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  and 
soon  after  the  view  upon  our  right  is  nothing  but  one  vast  ex- 
panse )f  water;  stretching  far  away  to  the  north,  beyond  the 
limits  of  our  vision. 

Indiana  was  first  settled  by  a  French  colony,  at  Vincennes, 
about  the  year  1690.  Here,  for  a  time,  the  little  band  of  whites 
lived  in  a  highly  fertile  region,  surrounded  only  by  the  wilder- 
ness, isolated  from  the  land  of  civilization,  and  friendly  associ- 
ating with  the  rude  red  men  of  the  forest.  The  more  noted 
tribes  of  Indians  were  the  Delawares,  Kickapoos.  Miamies. 


THE  GROiViNG  fVORLL. 


All 


Pottawotamies,  Shavvnees,  ete.  Their  principal  town  was  de- 
stroyed by  General  Wilkinson,  in  1791.  It  contained  120 
houses,  two-thirds  of  which  had  shinj^ded  roofs.  One  of  the 
most  noted  historical  events  in  connection  with  the  history  of 
this  State,  is  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe,  November  7th,  1811; 
when  the  barbarous  work  of  perfidious  savages  received  its 
death  blow,  from  the  avenging  arm  of  the  white  man.  It  was 
the  fi.nishing  stroke;  the  rule  of  the  untutored  Indian  in  the 
West  was  at  an  end.  On  the  11th  of  December,  1810,  it  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  Union,  and  became  one  of  the  great  sisterhood  of 
States;  and,  although  but  sixty  years  have  elapsed,  it  is  already 
reckoned  among  the  foremost  members,  and  contains  nearly 
2,000,000  inhabitants. 

Swinging  to  the  north-west,  our  course  lays  along  the  Lake 
Michigan  shore,  with  unvarying  scenery,  and  ere  long  we  cross 
the  line  and  enter  the  great  State  of  Illinois.  Ascending  along 
the  western  shore  of  the  lake,  with  the  beautiful  waters  danc- 
ing and  sparkling  on  our  right,  we  soon  reach  Englewood,  and 
shortly  begin  to  see  evidences  of  an  approach  to  a  great  city. 
Ere  long  the  tall  spires  and  steeples  appear  in  the  distance,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  we  find  ourselves  moving  rapidly  into  Chica- 
go. The  great  blocks  of  brick  and  stone,  arranged  in  stately 
rows,  and  towering  in  such  vast  proportions,  at  first  strike  the 
mind  with  astonishment.  Larger  and  more  grand  they  appear 
as  we  proceed,  and  beautifully  decorated  steamers  and  dingy 
tug-boats,  dash  swiftly  by  upon  our  right.  Every  moment  we 
catch  instant  glimpses  far  out  along  the  streets  and  avenues  we 
are  passing,  revealing  a  scene  of  activity  and  business  compar- 
able only  to  some  vast  work-yard  of  enterprise  and  human  in- 
dustry. Entering  the  company's  grounds,  we  find  ourselves 
surrounded,  and  as  it  were  swallowed  up,  in  a  mighty  host  of 
railway  paraphernalia.  Acres  of  iron  tracks  glitter  in  the  sun, 
long  lines  of  heavily  loaded  freight  cars  are  thunderinjj  past  us 
on  either  hand,  segtning  to  shake  the  solid  earth  with  their 
weight,  almost  with  the  speed  of  lightning,  causing  us  to  invol- 
untarily dodge  back,  as  the  sharp  signal  whistle  screeches  in 
our  ears,  and  the  glittering  boiler  flashes  in  our  face.  All  that 
we  saw  at  Cleveland  and  Toledo  appears  as  if  duplicated  here, 
though  on  a  more  grand  and  magnificent  scale.  The  freight 
houses,  machine  shops,  round  houses,  etc.,  are  larger,  and  more 
numerous,  and  the  long  ranks  of  cars  form  a  city  of  themselves. 
At  the  great  Union  Depot,  one  of  the  largest  and  finest  struc- 
tures of  the  kind  in,  the  western  world,  the  Lake  Shore  and 
Michigan  Southern  Railway  terminates;  and  at  this  point  the 
"Chicago,  Rock  Island  and  Pacific  Road  commences. 

Stepping  from  the  car  to  the  spacious  platform,  among  a  host 
of  moving  humanity,  we  make  our  way  to  the  waiting  horse 
cars,  and  prepare  to  take  a  flying  visit  to  the  more  important 
parts  of  the  city.  It  is  divided  by  the  Chicago  River  and  its 
two  branches;  which,  together  with  the  ships  and  lake  shore, 
produce  a  water  frontage  of  nearly  forty  miles.  Along  the  river 
shores  are  the  enormous  grain  elevators,  fifteen  in  number, 
with  a  total  capacity  for  storing  nearly  thirteen  million  bushels 
of  grain.  Around  these  immense  structures,  a  busy  scene  is 
presented;  hundreds  of  men  finding  constant  employment. 
Scores  of  steamships  lie  at  the  wharves,  lading  with  corn  and 
wheat  for  the  markets  at  Buffalo  and  the  East,  and  lengthy 
freight  trains  are  continually  arriving  from  the  country,  to 
empty  their  thousands  of  bushels,  or  are  taking  in  a  supply  for 
the  far  eastern  markets.  No  one  who  has  never  visited  any  of 
these  vast  establishments  can  form  an  idea  of  the  amount  of 
grain  shipped  from  this  great  central  reservoir.  Many  of  the 
heavy  trains  we  saw  near  the  depot,  were  booked  for  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  other  cities  of  the  far  Atlantic 
seabord. 

The  river  is  spanned  by  no  less  than  thirty-three  bridges;  and 
underneath,  two  grand  tunnels  have  been  constructed.  The 
first  of  these,  finished  in  1868,  is  over  1,600  feet  long,  with  a 


continuous  line,  tiiey  would  form  a  hog-telegraph  140  miles 
long;  and  if  each  hog  were  made  up  into  sausages,  and  all 
joined  together,  they  would  make  5,800  miles  of  bolognas 
—enough  to  girt  the  continent  from  San  Francisco  to  New 
York,  and  give  besides  a  small  piece  to  grace  the  head  of  every 
beer  barrel  on  the  route.'  " 


No.  10.— yl  Day  in  Chicarjo—Pork  Packing  and  the  Slaucjhter 
Houses  of  the  Metropolis— lis  Rapid  Growth  and  Present 
Appearance— The  Burning  of  Chicago  and  the  Fires  of  the 
Great  North-  West— Across  the  h'tate  of  Illinois—  T/te  Garden 
of  the  World— Farming  in  the  West— Rock  Island. 

The  life  and  accumulated  product  of  the  business  enterprise 
of  the  "Great  West,"  centres  and  pulsates  through  Chicago. 
No  westward  bound  traveller,  desiring  to  witness  the  headquar- 
ters from  whence  the  Eastern  world  receives  its  bread  and  pro- 
visions, should  fail  to  spend  a  day  or  two  among  the  stupen- 
dous elevators,  packing  houses,  stock  and  lumber  yards,  ware- 
rooms,  and  vast  business  edifices  of  the  western  metropolis. 
The  Mississippi  Valley,  ever  famous  as  the  Garden  of  America, 
dispatches  the  stock  and  produce  of  its  laboring  millions  to 
this  great  ventricle,  from  which  they  are  thrown  out  in  a  thou- 
sand directions  to  feed^the  hungry  all  over  the  world.  To 
carry  on  the  mighty  work'  no  less  than  fourteen  railway  arteries 
centre  here;  and  hundreds  of  swift-running  steamers  plow  the 
waves  of  Lake  Michigan  night  and  day. 

Ninety  million  bushels  of  grain,  and  over  seventy-five  million 
dollars  worth  of  hogs  and  cattle,  are  shipped  from  this  place 
yearly.  Its  lumber  yards  are  among  the  largest  on  the  conti- 
nent. The  immense  steam  saw-mills  of  the  pineries  of  north- 
ern and  western  Michigan,  and  the  other  points  more  remote, 
pour  their  united  products  by  cheap  lake  communication  to 
this  grand  centre,  to  be  distributed  wherever  needed,  all  over 
the  treeless  prairies.  Scores  of  men  are  constantly  at  work  in 
the  spacious  yards,  piling  boards  and  lumber.  Over  a  thousand 
million  feet  have  been  received  and  handled  in  these  yards  in 
a  single  season. 

Our  common  Eastern  farmers  generally  think  they  have  done 
a  tolerably  good  day's  work  if  they  succeed  in  killing  and 
dressing  three  or  four  head  of  swine,  or  a  fattened  bullock,  for 
their  yearly  supply  of  meat.  Perhaps  they  would  be  astonished 
to  witness  a  day's  work  of  a  few  men  in  the  wholesale  slaught- 
er and  packing  houses  of  Chicago.  The  work  has  thus  been 
described  by  an  intelligent  writer  for  the  Agricultural  Bureau: 
"  When  all  is  ready  the  hogs  are  driven,  some  twenty  at  once, 
into  a  small  pen  with  a  fine  grated  floor.  A  man  then  enters, 
and,  with  a  long-handled  hammer,  deals  each  hog  a  heavy 
blow  between  the  eyes,  which  instantly  drops  him  on  the  floor. 
After  he  has  lain  a  few  moments,  another  man  enters  the  jien 
with  a  sharp  knife  and  sticks  each  hog,  the  blood  flowing 
through  the  floor,  and  being  conducted  by  spouts  to  large  tanks 
outside  the  building.  While  this  is  being  done  another  lot  is 
let  into  an  adjoining  pen  and  served  in  the  same  manner.  The 
first  lot,  by  this  time  having  bled  sufficiently,  are  slid  down  an 
inclined  plane  directly  into  the  scalding  tub  or  vat,  made  of 
wood,  some  six  feet  wide,  twenty  feet  long,  and  three  feet 
deep,  the  water  in  which  is  heated  by  steam  pipes,  and  kept  at 
a  regular  temperature;  here  they  are  floated  along  and  turned  by 
men  at  the  sides  until  they  reach  the  further  end,  where  they 
are  taken  out  of  the  tub  by  a  simple  contrivance,  operated  by 
one  man,  and  deposited  upon  the  end  of  a  long  inclined  table. 
Two  men  stand  ready  and  take  from  the  back  in  an  instant  all 
the  bristles  that  are  suitable  for  the  brush-maker  and  cobbler, 
depositing  them  in  boxes  or  barrels  for  removal.  Other  pairs 
of  men,  standing  on  opposite  sides  of  the  table,  divest  another 
part  of  the  hog  of  its  coat,  and  so  on  through  some  eight  or  ten 
pairs  of  men,  who  each  have  a  different  part  to  perform  in 
the  hog,  until  it  reaches  the  last  pair,  who  put  in  the 


foot  and  double  carriage  way  and  cost  $400  (K)0  The" second,  gambVefsdck  ald^swing  it  on  a  hook  on  an  overhead  railway 
completed  in  1870,  IS  1,890  feet  long,  and  cost  $549,000.  there  it  receives  a  s"      ^-    •     -    •  .  .  •'. 


The  Union  Stock  Yards,  where  the  vast  herds  of  cattle  are 
kept  for  shipment,  are  probably  the  largest  in  the  world.  They 
embrace  345  acres  of  ground;  on  which  are  about  seven  miles 
of  lanes  and  streets,  over  thirty  miles  of  drainage,  2,300  gate 
and  an  immense  number  of  pens.  The  whole  is  said  to  have 
cost  $1,675,000.  Here  is  room  for  21,000  head  of  cattle,  22,000 
sheep,  75,000  hogs,  and  200  horses.  On  shipping  days,  when 
the  yards  are  well  stocked,  a  scene  is  presented  such  as  is  not 
often  witnessed  in  America.  Here  are  neat  cattle  from  Illinois 
and  Iowa,  Durhams,  Ayrshires,  Devons,  Alderneys,  etc.,  beau- 
tiful Texans,  and  noble  specimens  from  the  plains  of  Nebraska 
iThe  manner  in  which  this  grand  array  of  dumb  brutes  are 
crowded  into  narrow  box  cars  and  hurried  away  to  the  slaught- 
er houses  of  the  East  seems  almost  barbarous. 

Another  great  branch  of  western  industry,  but  little  inferior, 
to  that  of  grain  and  cattle  raising,  is  the  pork  business.  The 


there  it  receives  a  shower  bath  of  clear  cold  water,  washing  it 
clean  from  any  particles  of  dirt  that  may  remain,  giving  it  at 
the  same  time  a  parting  scrape  with  knives.  It  then  passes 
along  to  a  man  who  opens  it  and  removes  the  large  intestines. 
It  then  passes  to  the  second  man,  who  takes  out^he  small  in- 
testines, heart,  lights,  etc.;  the  hog  then  receives  a  thorough 
drench  of  clean  water,  and  passes  to  another  man  who  splits 
the  back-bone  down.  They  are  then  taken  from  the  hooks  and 
borne  to  overhead  road-ways,  and  hung  up  to  cool;  one  man 
being  enough  to  handle  the  largest  hogs  with  ease.  At  this 
point  a  man  loosens  the  leaf  lard  ready  to  be  removed  when 
cooled,  which,  together  with  the  splitting  of  the  back-bone  be- 
fore mentioned,  helps  very  much  to  thoroughly  cool  the  meat. 
The  hogs  are  allowed  to  hang  in  this  cooling-room,  before  be- 
ing cut  up,  two  days,  when  all  animal  heat  is  gone.  Having 
now  got  the  hog  ready  for  cutting  up,  he  is  taken  from  the 
cooling-room,  and  carried  to  the  room  for  this  purpose,  eacli 


jollowing  from_ the  well  known  pen  of  H.  D.  Emery,  of  Chica- 1       i^elng  weighed  as  he  is  brought  up,  and  his  wei-ght  entered 

in  a  book  kept  for  the  purpose.   Having  been  rolled  on  the 


JO.  for  the  National  Agricultural  Bureau,  graphically  describes  | 
the  hog  market  of  the  great  western  metropolis.  "In  the 
height  of  the  hog  season  in  Chicago,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  yards,  it  would  sometimes  seem  as  though  we  had  almost 
got  into  a  'hog  heaven,'  for,  turn  which  way  you  will,  in  the 
cars,  in  the  yards,  in  the  streets,  all  is  hog,  hog;  and  their  cow- 
ardly pointed  heads,  always  turned  earthward,  grunting,  squeal- 
ing, and  all  showing  a  disposition  to  travel  any  way  but  the  di- 
rection wanted.  During  one  single  day  the  past  season  the  as- 
tonishing number  of  122,825  hogs  were  received  in  Chicago,  andl 
some  enterprising  statistician  has  figured  them  up  in  this  wise: 
'Allowing  each  hoar  to  measure  six  feet,  and  all  strunsin  oije 


block,  one  blow  from  an  immense  cleaver  severs  the  head  from 
the  body;  another  blow  severs  the  saddle,  that  is,  the  hind 
parts  containing  the  hams;  another  lays  it  open  at  the  back; 
another  one  for  each  leg;  the  leaf  lard,  having  already  been 
loosened,  is  now  taken  hold  of  with  the  hands,  and  instantly 
stripped  out  of  the  carcass.  The  remainder  of  the  hog  is  then 
cut  up,  according  to  the  kind  of  meat  it  is  most  suitable  for; 
the  whole  cutting-up  process  occupying  but  a  few  seconds  of 
time,  two  smart  men  ha\ing  cut  over  two  thousand  in  less  than 
eight  hours.  The  usual  day's  work,  however,  at  this  establish- 
»"«int  is  from  1.100  to  1200  hpaA." 


478  THE  GRO  JIVING  PVORLD. 


What  is  kno\vu  as  mess  vorJc^  Is  ttie  best  in  the  market;  and 
is  only  made  from  the  sides  of  the  fattest  hogs.  Ordinary 
m-ess  is  made  from  the  sides  of  lighter  animals;  Si,n^ prime  i7iess 
Is  made  from  hogs  weighing  from  100  to  150  pounds,  and  is  gen- 
erally cut  in  four  pound  pieces,  with  the  shoulders  included. 
The  lard  houses,  near  by,  are  often  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in 
length  by  thirty-five  or  forty  feet  in  width,  with  huge  iron 
tanks,  twelve  feet  in  height  by  six  in  diameter,  resembling 
steam  boilers  set  upright,  into  which  the  leaf  lard,  head,  etc., 
are  thrown,  and  then  subjected  to  an  immense  jet  of  steam, 
dissolving  and  separating  the  lard  from  the  mass,  when  it  is 
drawn  olf  pure  and  unadulterated. 

Such  is  a  description  of  one  of  the  numerous  packing  estab- 
iishments  of  Chicago,  which,  during  the  packing  season,  fur- 
nish employment  to  hundreds  of  hands,  and  business  for  heavy 
railway  trains  continually.  Leaving  the  more  immediate  busi- 
ness portion,  with  its  noisy  rattling  and  shoveling  of  grain, 
slamming  of  boards  and  timber,  jar  of  heavy  freight  trains, 
shrieking  of  steam  whistles,  and  bellowing  and  squealing  of 
the  brute  pandemonium,  we  proceed  back  by  noble  avenues  to 
the  more  beautiful  parts  of  the  city.  The  streets,  eighty  feet 
wide  and  six  or  seven  miles  in  length,  are  almost  as  straight  as 
aline  can  be  drawn,  bordered  on  either  side  by  mammoth  brick 
blocks,  salesrooms,  ofiices,  and  costly  edifices,  which  deceive 
the  eye,  and  appear  in  the  level  distance  to  approach  so  near 
each  other  as  to  admit  only  the  passage  of  the  smallest  vehicles. 
As  the  city  is  situated  on  a  level  plain,  rising  only  twenty- 
eight  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  it  cannot  be  seen  to  ad- 
vantage except  we  ascend  some  of  the  numerous  spires,  or  ob- 
servatories. A  balloon  view,  however,  is  the  most  splendid  of 
all.  The  entire  city  then  appears  to  the  gaze,  spread  out  like  a 
vast  map,  in  one  grand  panoramic  view.  The  tall  spires  of  no 
less  than  180  churches  arise  in  beautiful  proportions  in  every 
direction.  Gothic  structures  of  marble  and  freestone,  richly 
decorated  in  crowning  magnificence;  solid  blocks  of  wood, 
brick,  and  stone;  long  ranks  of  brick  machine  shops,  and  iron 
and  steel  manufactories,  with  tall  chimneys,  rendered  black 
and  dingy  by  dust  and  smoke,  are  all  taken  in  at  a  single  glance 
A. way  to  the  west,  over  miles  of  busy  streets,  among  the  pleas- 
antest  scenery  imaginable,  is  seen  the  stately  white  mansions 
Df  the  suburban  farmers,  surrounded  by  groves  of  locust  and 
maple.  Eastward,  the  enormous  freight  houses,  depots,  ele- 
vators, and  immense  railway  property,  with  blackened  slate 
roofs,  domes,  and  towers  arise — with  a  legion  of  cars  and 
a,  host  of  noble  steamers  at  the  wharves.  Six  splendid  parks, 
comprising  nearly  2,000  acres  of  ground,  connected  by  a  grand 
system  of  boulevards  250  feet  in  width,  and  containing  minia- 
ture lakes  and  forests,  artificial  hills,  arbors  and  summer 
tiouses,  pagodas,  rustic  bridges,  groves,  and  zoological  gardens, 
aiake  up  the  interesting  scene.  The  music  of  some  distant 
oand  connected  with  the  grand  open-air  concerts  of  the  park 
floats  in  low,  melodious  melody  to  our  listening  ears;  while  the 
sparkling  waters  or  Lake  Michigan  flash  back  m  our  faces  the 
orilliant  rays  of  the  noonday  sun. 

Such  is  a  panoramic  glimpse  of  the  Chicago  of  to-day.  An- 
other such  scene,  teeming  with  life,  business,  and  beauty,  can- 
aot  be  found  west  of  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  And  yet  it  is  only 
tn  its  infancy.  Less  than  fifty  years  ago  it  contained  but 
twelve  rude  log  houses.  In  1832  the  first  frame  house  was 
built;  and  in  five  years  afterward  it  became  an  incorporated 
;ity.  The  rapid  settlement  of  Illinois  filled  the  garden  prairies 
w  ith  an  enterprising  host  of  eastern  emigrants;  and  as  the  rich 
black  soil  developed  an  ocean  of  luxuriant  grain,  the  great  rail- 
way lines  were  pushed  through  to  the  rising  metropolis,  where 
an  immense  lake  trade  was  already  centering.  Then  came  a 
swarm  of  humanity  from  the  old  world  and  the  new.  A 
mighty  field  of  labor  was  opened  up,  and  a  solid  stream  of  emi- 
gration rolled  onward  to  the  Lake  City  of  the  West.  From 
that  time  onward,  the  sun  of  prosperity  and  progress  continued 
to  shine  brightly  upon  Chicago.  Its  present  population  is 
probably  over  400,000;  and  the  time  may  not  be  far  ahead  when 
it  shall  be  said  to  rival  New  York,  the  great  commercial  me- 
tropolis of  America.  And  it  is  not  yet  forty  years  old!  Such 
rapid  advancement  is  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of  history. 

And  now  what  shall  we  say  about  the  great  fire?  It  has  gone 
down  in  history,  and  the  world  knows  the  result.  Yet,  per- 
haps, a  few  words  may  not  be  unacceptable,  even  here.  The 
great  northwest  was  ablaze  with  fire  in  a  thousand  places.  No 
rain  had  fallen  for  many  weeks;  and  the  ground  was  parched 
and  scorched,  until  it  was  as  dry  as  a  powder-house.  A  spark 
was  suflicient  to  set  the  dried  grass  of  the  prairie  in  instant 
flames.  The  atmosphere  was  filled  with  smoke,  and  the  sky, 
where  it  was  not  completely  darkened,  appeared  of  a  coppery 
hue,  and  the  sun  went  down  as  though  bathed  in  blood. 
Nightly  the  far  horizon  was  lit  up  by  the  lurid  glow  of  fire  in 
almost  evei'y  direction;  and  it  was  not  without  some  apprehen- 
sions that  the  weary  populace  retired  to  rest  on  that  fatal  Sab' 
bath  evening  of  October  8th,1871.  All  at  once  the  loud  and  shrill 
alarm  of  Fire!  Fire  I  rang  out  in  fearful  peals  over  the  doomed 
city.  People  leaped  from  their  beds  and  rushed  into  streets  to 
behold  the  brilliant  glare  of  the  destroyer,  bathing  the  sky  with 
its  fiery  light.  Chicago  was  on  fire.  It  originated  in  a  small  barn, 
in  DeKoven  street,  from  the  accidental  overturning  of  a  kero- 
sene lantern  (as  it  is  supposed),  and  rapidly  spread  to  the  lum^ 
ber  yards  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  fire  department  hur- 
ried to  the  spot,  but  they  arrived  too  late.  A  whole  row  of 
wood  buildings,  in  which  were  stored  quantities  of  oil,  paint, 
varnish,  and  seasoned  lumber,  were  in  flames;  and  the  heat  was 
8o  great  they  could  not  approach  them.  A  heavy  wind 
now  arose,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  whole  district  was  ablaze. 


Now  couiiULUced  a  scene,  terrible  beyond  description.  The 
entire  city  was  lit  up  to  the  glare  of  noonday;  and  a  hundred 
thousand  people  were  running  wildly  through  the  streets.  Be- 
fore morning  the  fire  had  assumed  vast  proportions;  and  re- 
sembled an  immense  sea  of  flames,  hundreds  of  feet  in  height, 
whose  roar  seem  to  jar  the  very  ground.  All  was  now  uproar 
and  confusion.  The  streets  were  filled  and  blockaded  with 
boxes,  goods,  and  furniture,  and  a  perfect  jam  ensued.  Vehi- 
cles crashed  against  each  other,  and  went  down  in  ruins  upon 
the  pavement;  amid  the  curses  of  men,  the  screams  of  women, 
yells  of  terror,  and  howls  of  anguish.  All  day  long  the  awful 
conflagration  continued.  The  wind  raised  almost  to  a  hurri- 
cane, and  the  night  came  again— a  night  of  horror  and  agony, 
such  as  America  had  never  witnessed.  Great  clouds  of  black, 
sufl'ocating  smoke  rolled  through  the  streets,  and  the  constant 
crash  of  falling  buildings  hurled  burning  splinters  and  cinders 
in  every  direction.  Noble,  palace-like  residences  were  reduced 
to  heaps  of  ashes  in  an  hour,  and  human  beings  who  dared 
linger  in  the  hope  of  saving  their  worldly  possessions,  met 
their  death  in  the  embrace  of  the  roaring  element,  and  found  a 
grave  in  the  ashes.  But  we  do  not  wish  to  paint  the  horrors  of 
the  awful  spectacle.  They  would  fill  a  volume;  and  their  re- 
cital would  cause  the  soul  to  shudder.  Many  noble  deeds  were 
done,  and  self-sacrificing  heroism  displayed  in  every  street. 
Other  cities  sent  their  fire  departments  to  the  rescue,  as  fast  as 
steam  power  could  carry  them;  but  it  was  all  of  no  avail.  The 
atmosphere  was  heated  and  they  could  get  no  where  near  thft 
flames,  now  roaring  like  appalling  thunder,  and  surging  aloft 
like  the  glowing  outburst  of  some  mighty  volcano,  reaching  far 
out  and  striking  down  upon  the  splendid  fire-proof  structures, 
causing  them  to  melt  before  their  approach  like  wax  in  the 
summer's  sun.  Giving  up  all  other  hopes,  a  row  of  buildings 
far  in  advance  of  the  fire  were  purposely  blown  up  with  gun- 
powder, the  rubbish  cleared  away,  and  a  storm  of  rain  setting 
in,  the  mighty  conflagration  was  stayed.  Two  thousand  acres 
in  the  heart  of  the  city  had  been  laid  in  ashes,  and  17,450  houses 
destroyed.  1,600,000  bushels  of  grain  had  been  burned  up,  200 
people  killed,  and  about  100,000  rendered  homeless.  The  en- 
tire loss  was  $190,000,000;  and  insurance  companies  were  driven 
into  bankruptcy  in  all  sections  of  the  Union.  A  generous  peo- 
ple, however,  all  over  the  country,  came  to  the  rescue,  and  the 
business  of  rebuilding  was  at  once  commenced;  and  the  only 
difference  the  traveller  now  notices,  is  that  the  city  is  built  on 
a  far  more  grand  and  magnificent  scale  than  it  was  at  first. 
Marble  fronts,  with  glass  and  iron,  have  taken  the  place  of 
wood  and  brick,  and  ponderous  hotels  have  been  erected  cover- 
ing entire  blocks  in  area. 

Bnt  we  have  already  spent  more  time  in  Chicago  than  we  in- 
tended, and  we  barely  have  time  to  catch  a  flying  glimpse  of 
the  new  Custom  House,  and  Post  Office,  now  being  erected  at 
a  cost  of  $3,500,000,  and  the  Court  House  at  $2,000,000,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  Douglass  monument,  the  forty  Artesian  wells, 
some  of  which  are  nearly  a  thousand  feet  deep,  and  throw  up 
over  half  a  million  gallons  daily;  and  the  wonderful  wa/^er- 
works,  by  means  of  which  water  is  brought  from  a  point  in 
Lake  Michigan  two  miles  from  the  shore,  through  tunnels  from 
five  to  seven  feet  in  diameter,  and  forced  into  a  strong  tower  130 
feet  in  height,  by  four  powerful  engines,  to  be  distributed 
all  over  the  city,  at  the  rate  of  72,000,000  gallons  daily.  Pro- 
ceeding to  the  Great  Union  Depot,  we  take  seats  in  the  cars, 
and  ere  long  find  ourselves  rushing  rapidly  through  the  city,  on 
the  line  of  the  Chicago,  Rock  Island  and  Pacific  Railway.  We 
have  now  reached  a  point  958  miles  west  of  New  York  and  357 
from  Cleveland.  By  the  route  we  have  taken,  we  have  travelled 
1,023  miles. 

Leaving  the  outskirts  of  the  city  behind,  we  soon  arrive  at 
Englewood,  seven  miles  distant,  beyond  which  we  quickly  pass 
Washington  Heights,  Blue  Island,  Bremen,  and  Joliet,  where 
the  State  prison  is  located,  and  the  site  of  extensive  stone 
quarries.  As  we  enter  upon  the  noble  prairies  of  Illinois,  the 
scene  opens  grand  and  beautiful  in  the  extr-eme;  and  we  realize 
that  we  have  entered  the  far-famed  garden  the  world.  The 
hills,  and  swamps,  and  marshes,  have  nearly  all  disappeared; 
and  a  broad  rolling  plain,  so  beautiful  in  primitive  nature,  now 
rendered  more  lovely  by  the  works  of  art,  meet  the  vision  in 
every  direction.  The  tortuous  windings  of  the  railroads— ever 
so  prevalent  in  the  East,  constantly  keeping  the  car  tilting  and 
lurching  to  the  right  and  left  like  the  disgraceful  reel  of  a 
drunken  man— are  all  left  behind;  and  we  skim  along  over  the 
pleasant  surface  in  a  straight  line,  like  a  bird  on  the  wing. 
Here  we  may  see  the  farming  community  and  the  scientific 
world  marching  hand  in  hand  in  one  grand  consolidation.  Ma- 
chinery and  science  does  the  work,  while  man  guides  and  di- 
rects. Agriculture,  the  foundation  and  potent  lever  that  un- 
derlies all  science,  and  among  the  highest  of  human  attain- 
ments, is  here  seen  in  all  its  glory.  No  rough  and  rugged  rocks 
and  boulders  meet  the  eye,  and  the  long  straight  furrow  is 
turned,  often  a  mile  or  more  in  length,  over  the  level  field  al- 
most as  true  and  even  as  the  surface  of  a  lake,  without  grating 
against  a  single  stone.  The  Eastern  farmer,  accustomed  to 
labor  and  toil  among  the  New  England  hills  and  the  rugged 
mountains  of  the  Eastern  and  Middle  States,  is  astonished  at 
the  ease  and  beauty  of  agricultural  labors  in  the  West.  The  Il- 
linois farmer,  seated  on  his  sulky-plow,  drives  over  the  field 
with  all  the  ease  and  comfort  of  the  Eastern  gentleman  in  his 
carriage.  In  some  places  steam  has  been  used  for  plowing: 
and  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  it  will  in  the  near  future 
be  used  successfully,  not  only  in  plowing  and  tilling  the  soil, 
but  in  a  hundred  other  branches  of  the  Western  art  of  a^^ricul- 
ture.  The  hoe  is  scarcely  ever  thought  of  being  carried  into 


THE  GROWING  ITORI^U. 


479 


ihe  field  to  stir  the  rich  black  mould  in  the  cultivation  of  com; 
aJI  is  done  with  the  horse  and  cultivator,  and  the  crops  that  are 
raised  are  tremendous.  The  large  dent  corn  is  raised,  and  the 
mammoth  stalks,  twelve  feet  in  height,  are  generally  burnt 
apon  the  ground  after  the  corn  has  been  picked.  Husking  is 
reckoned  amon<?  the  heaviest  jobs  the  farmer  has  to  do:  for,  as 
yet,  no  successful  machinery  has  been  invented  for  tnis  pur- 
pose, and  the  work  has  to  be  done  by  hand.  A  hundred  acres 
of  corn,  yielding  perhaps  10,000  bushels  of  ears,  is  no  small  job 
to  busk;  and  yet  there  are  fields  here  like  this,  furnishing  em- 
ployment to  scores  of  men,  far  into  the  winter.  Corn  is  so 
abundant  that  it  is  often  sold  for  only  a  few  cents  per  bushel, 
and  sometimes  it  has  been  used  for  fuel.  Few  scenes  in  nature 
display  more  abundance  and  beauty  than  the  cultivated  prairies 
of  Illinois.  As  we  dash  rapidly  onward,  through  an  ocean  of 
wheat,  and  corn,  and  luxuriant  meadow,  we  cannot  wonder 
that  the  vast  tide  of  emigration  flowed  so  rapidly  westward,  and 
that  the  State  has  sprung  forward  so  soon  to  enter  the  front 
rank  in  the  American  Union.  A  few  years  since  these  splendid 
prairies  resembled  vast  seas  of  grass,  with  belts  of  timber 
marking  the  streams  and  water  courses,  and  were  the  hunting 
ground  of  the  Indian  and  the  home  of  the  deer  and  prairie 
v/olf.  Now  how  changed.  Noble  country  mansions,with  their 
surrounding  outbuildings  and  orchards,  and  groves  and  parks 
of  timber,  with  intervening  fields  covered  with  ripening  grain, 
and  pastures  with  splendid  herds  of  cattle,  make  up  the  scene. 
Such  is  northern  Illinois,  the  inviting  home  of  the  American 
farmer.  But  during  this  narration  of  prairie  beauty,  we  have 
been  passing  westward  at  a  rapid  rate.  Nearly  a  score  of  busy 
little  stations  have  been  passed  by,  among  which  may  be  named 
Morris,  Seneca,  Ottawa  with  its  8,000  inhabitants,  La  Salle, 
Bureau,  Sheffield,  Annawan,  Atkinson,  Moline,  the  great  water- 
power  of  the  northwest,  and  now  we  approach  the  wide  rolling 
Mississippi,  and  pause  at  Rock  Island  City;  182  miles  from 
Chica^fo,  and,  following  our  route,  1.205  miles  from  New  York. 


iVo.  11.— Formation  of  the  Great  Valley— Over  the  Mississippi- 
Davenport— Iowa  City—Busrj  scenes  on  the  Prairie— Obstacles 
to  farming  in  the  West — Prairie  fires— Des  jMoines— Across  the 
2}lains  of  Iowa—Sunset  scene  on  the  prairie — Advantages  of 
the  Eising  State— Council  Bluffs— Over  tfie  Missouri— First 
glimpse  of  the  Pacific. 

Here  we  are,  where  the  "Father  of  Waters"  rolls  its  im- 
mense tide  along,  silent  and  majestic,  onward  towards  the 
ocean.  And  this  is  the  heart  of  the  Mississippi  Valley — the 
great  agricultural  garden  of  the  world.  From  the  AUeghanies 
of  the  East  to  the  far  liocky  Mountains  of  the  West,  the  rivers 
and  streams  converge  toward  each  other,  all  to  unite  in  the 
great  parent  stream.  All  the  broad  expanse,  rich  in  alluvial 
soil  and  unbroken  by  mountain  ranges,  is  particularly  adapted 
to  the  highest  attainments  of  agriculture.  Such  another  region, 
with  all  the  natural  richness,  beauty  and  advantages,  exists  not 
on  the  face  of  the  terrestrial  globe. 

Undoubtedly,  the  time  was  once  when  it  was  all  one  vast  in- 
land sea,  and  the  waves  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  in  the  angry 
storm  rolled  in  uninterrupted  and  majestic  grandeur,  from  the 
towering  liocky  Mountain  range,  to  break  their  foaming  crests 
upon  the  rugged  summits  of  the  distant  AUeghanies.  And  this 
period  was  probably  much  less  remote  than  many  imagine. 
Certainly  it  was  far  later  than  the  submerged  period  of  the  rest 
of  the  continent,  else  it  would  have  been  timbered,  and  the  rich 
alluvial  deposit,  in  a  measure  at  least,  worn  away. 

What  must  have  been  the  force  and  power  of  that  great  con- 
vulsion that  uphove  the  continent,  and  rending  the  mighty 
barrier,  let  loose  this  world  of  waters.  What  an  awful  scene 
must  have  been  presented,  as  the  Almighty  powers  of  Nature 
contended  and  shook  the  foundations  of  the  solid  earth.  No 
man  beheld  it  to  tell  us,  and  no  history  has  recorded  the  great 
event.  But  the  geologist  beholds  its  evidence  in  riven  hills, 
cleft  rocks  and  broken  ledges  on  every  hand.  The  event  has 
passed  away,  but  its  effects  remain.  Reason  reads  and  imagin- 
ation pictures  the  horrors  of  that  fearful  day. 

The  earth  is  changing  all  the  time.  Change  has  succeeded 
change,  and  from  period  to  period,  through  all  the  dim  and  dis- 
tant past.  Chemical  agents  are  silently  yet  powerfully  at  work; 
agencies  in  its  constitution  that  must  ever  Avork  on,  until  a 
point  is  reached  when  it  must  be  overthrown,  and  a  regener- 
ated world  of  new  beauty  formed  from  the  wreck  and  chaos  by 
the  ever  present  and  all  powerful  elements  of  Nature,  deep- 
seated  within,  and  impregnating  every  part. 

We  are,  doubtless,  approaching  another  mighty  convulsion, 
and  another  change  of  the  world.  All  Nature  proclaims  the 
fact.  It  has  always  been  thus,  and  while  the  world  exists  it  al- 
ways will.  The  very  nature  of  the  elements  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed forbids  its  being  otherwise.  They  cannot  be  tranquil. 
If  they  rest,  all  Nature  dies.  Depend  upon  it.  Nature  will 
bring  order  out  of  chaos,  and  such  changes  are  all  for  the  best. 
When  Nature  ceases  thus  to  work  the  world  itself  will  approach 
its  final  and  everlasting  dissolution. 

When  the  great  valley  that  we  are  now  traversing  was  covered 
with  water,  a  sediment  of  mud  was  formed  on  the  bottom— in 
some  places  to  the  depth  of  eighteen  or  twenty  feet;  and  this 
is  what  has  produced  the  black,  rich  soil  of  the  prairies.  Seeds 
of  plants  and  flowers  floated  like  feathery  balloons  through  the 
air  from  the  distant  land  far  away,  and  alighting  upon  the 
warm,  mellow  soil,  sprung  up  abundantly,  and  covered  the 
broad  prairie  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  vegetation.  The 
seeds  of  forest  trees,  with  no  downy  wings  to  carry  them 


through  the  air,  fell  in  the  streams  and  were  floated  down  by 
the  current  from  far  above,  in  the  timber  regions  of  the 
North,  East  and  West,  and  catching  along  the  banks,  to  root 
and  grow,  to  drop  their  own  seed  upon  the  soil,  to  spread  and 
multiply,  and  cause  timber  belts  to  spring  up  all  along  the 
rivers  and  streams  of  the  newly  formed  world. 

And  thus,  reasoning  from  geology,  was  the  mighty  Missis- 
sippi Valley  formed.  In  time,  no  doubt,  had  flres  been  kept 
from  sweeping  over  the  plains,  it  would  have  been  covered  with 
an  immense  forest.  But  man  came  on  to  claim  the  ground  ere 
the  work  was  accomplished,  and  turned  this  vegetable  paradise 
into  an  Eden  of  Agriculture.  Nature  and  art  joined  hands  in 
unison,  and  the  scenes  we  have  witnessed  is  a  fragment  of  the 
wondrous  results  in  this  development. 

Now  you  ask  if  this  is  not  the  place  for  a  young  man  from 
the  East  to  go  and  settle  down  as  a  farmer.  If  you  have  capital 
in  abundance  it  will  do;  but  if  you  have  nothing  to  begin  with 
don't  think  of  rising  here  any  faster  than  you  can  in  your 
native  land.  You  can  perhaps  make  a  living  here  easier  than 
you  can  in  the  East;  but  the  best  lands  are  already  taken  up, 
and  they  bear  an  enormous  price.  Interest  is  high,  and  you 
must  remember  that  farm  produce  does  not  bring  the  price 
there  that  it  does  here;  and  in  order  to  make  the  same  amount 
of  money  you  must  raise  and  handle  tliree  or  four  times  as 
much.  The  golden  age  for  the  primitive  settler  has  passed  in 
this  State,  and  its  best  lands  are  beyond  his  reach.  But  we  will 
not  stop  here.  Come  on,  my  friend,  we  shall  reach  a  region 
by-and-by  which  the  poorest  laborer  may  obtain,  and  which  is 
destined,  ere  many  years  shall  have  passed  away,  to  rival  and 
eclipse  anything  we  have  yet  seen. 

We  have  seen  Illinois,  and  we  realize  that  it  is  a  noble  State. 
Coal  and  iron  are  found  in  various  localities;  and  the  famous 
lead  mines  of  Galena,  in  the  northwestern  part,  are  among  the 
richest  in  the  known  world.  It  comprises  55,405  square  miles, 
and  a  population  of  about  3,000,000  souls.  The  first  settlement 
was  made  at  Kaskaskia  by  the  French,  in  1720.  A  territorial 
government  was  established  in  1809;  and  on  the  3d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1818,  it  was  admitted  into  the  Union. 

Leaving  the  busy  city  of  Rock  Island,  we  soon  find  ourselves 
whirling  along  over  one  of  the  several  beautiful  bridged  tha*' 
here  span  the  great  river,  reiching  far  across  to  the  island  o* 
Rock  Island,  where  a  United  States  military  post  is  established, 
and  anon,  extending  on  again,  over  the  rolling  flood  of  waters, 
to  the  Iowa  shore.  This  grand  doivble  bridge  is  a  magnificent 
iron  structure,  and  cost  an  immense  amount  of  money.  No 
sooner  do  we  reach  the  shore  than  we  enter  Davenport— one  of 
the  largest  cities  in  Iowa.  One  of  the  most  noted  institutions 
of  the  city  is  Griswold  College,  founded  in  1847,  ten  years  after 
the  first  settlement  of  the  place.  Situated  as  it  is,  in  the  heart 
of  a  noted  agricultural  region,  with  all  the  advantages  of  an  ex- 
tensive railway  intercourse  and  river  navigation,  it  cannot  fail 
in  soon  being  numbered  among  the  larger  commercial  cities  of 
the  West.  The  streets  are  numerous  and  well  laid  out,  and  an 
air  of  business  pervades  the  place.  It  is  354  miles  from  here, 
down  the  river  to  St.  Louis.  The  river  scenery,  covered  with 
rafts,  boats  and  most  all  kinds  of  craft,  and  the  splendid  land- 
scape in  the  near  vicinity,  are  particularly  attractive.  The 
present  population,  largely  made  up  of  Germans,  probably 
numbers  over  20,000. 

The  first  station  west  from  Davenport  is  Walcott,  12  miles 
distant;  after  which  we  pass  Fulton,  and  arrive  at  Walton,  208 
miles  from  Chicago,  where  the  road  branches;  one  line  pro-* 
ceeding  southwesterly  to  Leavenworth  in  Kansas,  and  the  other 
across  the  State  of  Iowa  to  Omaha  in  Nebraska.  Taking  the 
latter  route,  we  soon  pass  Moscow,  Atalissa,  West  Liberty, 
Downey,  and  approach  Iowa  City,  once  the  capital  of  the  State, 
pleasantly  situated  along  the  side  of  a  range  of  bluffs  that  here 
line  the  banks  of  the  Iowa  River.  Its  elegant  streets  are  nicely 
adorned  with  shade  trees,  and  beautiful  parks  and  groves 
abound  in  the  neighborhood.  Less  than  forty  years  ago  these 
broken  bluff's  were  covered  with  the  wild  forest,  through  which 
the  wolf  and  bear  roamed  unmolested-  Now  it  is  a  flourishing 
grain  market,  with  an  industrious  population  of  many  thousand. 
The  old  State  House,  which  has  been  granted  to  the  State 
University,  is  a  Doric  building,  constructed  of  a  peculiar 
streaked  and  spotted  stone  known  as  "bird's-eye  marble." 

Crossing  the  Iowa  river  by  a  splendid  bridge,  we  dash  away, 

f)ast  the  bluffs  and  over  the  rolling  prairie,  past  the  thriving 
ittle  stations  of  Oxford,  Homestead,  Marengo,  Victor,  Brooklin, 
etc.,  almost  unconscious  of  the  rate  of  speed  we  are  going, 
amid  the  unchanging  scenery. 

All  that  has  been  said  of  Illinois  may  be  said  of  Iowa  in 
duplicate.  The  same  level  prairies  and  rich  agricultural  region 
continues,  and  mile  after  mile  the  same  unvarying  scenery 
meets  the  eye.  Broad  expanses  of  prairie,  with  stupendous 
fields  of  wheat  and  corn,  roll  back  in  the  view,  far  away  to  the 
limits  of  the  horizon.  The  farmer  of  160  acres  sits  in  his  door, 
and  takes  in  every  rod  of  his  estate  at  a  single  view.  In  regard 
to  size,  level  land  is  always  deceiving,  and  a  farm  of  the  above 
size  appears  no  larger  than  a  lot  fifty  or  sixty  acres  on  the  hill- 
sides of  Pennsylvania  or  Virginia. 

What  a  panorama  of  human  industry  we  are  rapidly  passing 
through  I  Near  the  stations  or  market  places,  the  roads  are 
lined  with  loads  of  grain,  hay,  and  farm  produce,  and  droves  of 
cattle,  sheep  and  hogs  are  almost  constantly  passing.  Grain  is 
planted,  sown,  cultivated,  cut,  threshed  and  cleaned,  all  by  the 
aid  of  machinery  ;  and  all  summer  long  the  fields  resound  with 
the  clatter  and  hum  of  reapers,  mowers,  seed  drills,  threshers 
and  separaters.  etc.   What  would  a  one-horse  thresher,  such  as 


48o 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


we  often  see  among  the  fanners  of  the  Eastern  hills,  do  amon^' 
the  vast  grain  fields  of  the  West  ?  They  could  scarcely  thresh 
the  grain  raised  by  a  single  one  of  the  larger  class  of  farmers 
in  a  whole  threshing  season.  Here,  four,  six  and  eight  horses 
are  seen  on  a  single  machine,  one  following  another  in  single 
file  around  a  beaten  circle,  the  driver  cracking  his  whip  from 
the  wheel  in  the  centre,  while  the  sheaves  are  bein^  tki;-own 
upon  the  long  cylinder  as  fast  as  they  can  be  handled  r 

Hitherto  we  have  viewed  only  the  bright  phases  of  the  (Vest; 
but  it  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  Western  life  has  no 
shadows.  From  the  herds  of  cattle  constantly  seen  on  the 
great  natural  pastures  and  the  immense  prairie  meadows,  one 
might  think  at  first  that  this  was  an  unexcelled  dairy  region. 
Such,  however,  is  not  the  case.  In  most  places  the  water,  so 
essential  to  good  butter  making,  is  bad;  and  hence  they  can 
never  compete  with  the  famous  dairy  regions  of  the  East, 
among  the  rugged  hills  where  the  grass  grows  sweet  and  nutri- 
tious, and  tlie  living  springs  bubble  up  from  the  rocks  and 
stones  with  water  cold  as  ice  and  clear  as  crystal.  The  beauti- 
ful herds  of  cattle  raised  here  are  generally  placed  on  board  the 
cars  and  forAvarded  to  Chicago  to  fill  the  stock-yards  there, 
ultimately  to  find  their  way  to  the  markets  of  New  York  and 
the  far  East.  Terrible  tornadoes  sometimes  sweep  across  the 
country,  demolishing  houses,  fences,  destroying  the  crops,  and 
dealing  death  and  destruction  in  their  track.  There  are  no  hills 
to  break  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  in  the  winter  the  cold 
stormy  gales  sweep  the  bleak  plains  with  unresisting  fury. 
Another  inconvenience  the  Western  farmer  has  to  put  up  with, 
is  the  lack  of  timber.  Lumber  brings  a  high  price,  and  it  costs 
a  great  deal  to  build.  Timber  fences  in  some  localities  are 
almost  entirely  out  of  the  question.  Ditches,  wire,  and  thorny 
hedges  supply  their  place.  But  in  some  places  no  fences  are 
attempted;  a  whole  neighborhood  clubbing  together,  and  hiring 
two  or  three  hands  by  the  month  to  watch  their  cattle  and  keep 
them  from  their  growing  crops  like  the  shepherds  of  the  old 
world.  The  prairies  are  also  likely  to  take  fire,  when  the  most 
disastrous  consequences  ensue.  Indeed,  the  prairie  fires  of  the 
West  are  the  most  dreaded  visitation  the  settler  has  to  contend 
against.  He  beholds  the  fearful  destroyer  approaching  in  a  sea 
of  flame,  vast  in  extent,  reaching  out  in  an  immense  semi-circu- 
lar line,  and  rolling  in  upon  him  as  if  to  engulf  him  in  the 
devouring  element.  In  the  night  the  scene  is  magnificent  be- 
yond all  description.  The  whole  heavens  seem  illuminated. 
The  livid  flames  flicker  and  glare  as  they  leap  upward  and 
plunge  forward  through  the  dried  grass  and  reeds,  while  show- 
ers of  fiery  sparks  and  cinders  are  whirled  about,  filling  the  air 
in  all  directions.  The  farmer  gazes  upon  the  approaching  mid- 
night scene  with  awe  and  consternation.  Hastily  he  plows  a 
few  furrows  around  his  buildings,  cuts  the  dried  grass  near  by, 
drives  his  cattle  into  the  enclosure,  and  awaits  the  result.  The 
morning  dawns,  and  the  fell  destroyer  is  near.  The  sun  rises, 
and  with  the  heat  of  the  day  it  sweeps  in  upon  him.  Now 
comes  the  crisis  and  the  tug  of  war.  It  reaches  his  waving 
fields  of  ripening  crain,  and  in  great  sheets  of  livid  flame  it 
rushes  over  them  like  a  whirlwind  of  destruction.  The  dark, 
suft'ocating  smoke  rolls  in  a  dense  mass  over  the  little  house- 
hold. The  lurid  flames  flash  and  glare  through  the  sulphurous 
canopy  like  the  red  blaze  from  the  cannon's  mouth.  The  burst- 
ing and  snapping  of  the  burning  reeds  from  the  steam  confined 
within  the  stems,  resembles  the  crash  of  a  regiment  of  mimic 
musketry  ;  while  the  mad  rush,  of  the  whirlwind  of  flame  roars 
like  thunder.  Every  member  of  the  family  is  exerting  every 
energy  to  save  their  home.  They  are  blackened  with  cinders 
and  ashes,  and  the  sweat  streams  down  their  faces  like  rain. 
The  roofs,  stacks  and  yards  are  sprinkled  and  saturated  with 
water  hurriedly  brought  from  a  neighboring  cistern,  spring  or 
well.  Every  one  seems  nerved  to  desperation.  Blazing  cinders 
are  falling  everywhere.  The  roof  catches,  the  yard,  the  stacks. 
Frantically  a  bucket  of  water  is  dashed  upon  the  burning  stack,  i 
upon  the  little  blaze  in  the  yard,  and  a  ladder  being  placed 
against  the  building,  one  of  their  number  mounts  upon  the  roof 
with  the  agility  of  a  squirrel,  the  blazing  shingles  are  quickly 
scattered  far  and  wide,  and  the  rent  in  the  roof  deluged  with 
water.  The  others  upon  the  ground  rush  wildly  this  way  and 
that,  with  spade  and  hoe,  to  combat  with  the  flames  now  con- 
stantly catching  about  them.  The  devouring  element  meets 
the  plowed  furrows,  and  its  headlong  career  is  checked.  A 
moment  it  flickers  and  struggles  in  its  expiring  gasp,  and  then 
it  dwindles  down  and  dies  out  in  smoke.  Around  the  sides  of 
the  enclosnre  the  wall  of  fire  rushes  impetuously  on,  surging 
around  the  further  side,  to  reunite  and  sweep  on  as  before.  A 
blackened  scene  of  desolation,  with  now  and  then  a  curl  of 
thin  blue  smoke,  and  little  whirlwinds  of  ashes  bound  the 
limits  of  vision  from  whence  it  came.  Perhaps  the  farm  build- 
ings have  been  saved;  but  it  is  not  always  the  case.  Sometimes 
in  spite  of  every  effort  the  mad  hurricane  sweeps  with  unresist- 
ing roar  across  the  feeble  barrier,  the  heroic  defenders  are 
obliged  to  flee  for  their  lives  or  are  struck  down  by  the  heat, 
and  everything  is  quickly  dissolved  in  smoke,  flame  and  ashes. 

At  length  we  approach  Des  Moines,  the  capital  of  the  State, 
and  a  flourishing  city  of  a  number  of  thousand  inhabitants,  ilt 
is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  Des  Moines  River,  where  it  re- 
ceives the  Raccoon  branch,  and  is  destined  soon  to  be  an  im- 
portant city  and  shipping  port.  Fifteen  miles  beyond  Des 
Moines  we  pass  Boone  Station,  and  seven  miles  further  De 
Soto,  followed  by  Dexter,  Casey,  Adair,  Anita,  Atlantic,  Avoca, 
etc.  We  are  now  entering  a  region  of  country  somewhat  new  ; 
but  its  beauty  remains  undiminished.  But  the  sun  begins  to 
decline  in  the  West.  Ah  I  who  can  paint  the  beauties  o*  a  sun- 


set scene  on  the  Western  prairie  ?  The  departing  orb  of  day- 
sends  his  slanting  rays  athwart  the  level  sea  of  grass  and  grain, 
shedding  its  effulgent  golden  rays  over  all,  and  bedecking  the 
autumn-tinted  leaves  and  rich  mellow  fruit  of  the  orchard 
•groves  with  brighter  tints  and  rainbow  hues.  The  hazy  tint  of 
the  Indian  Summer  settles  in  a  smoky  garland  around  the  hori- 
zon, and  the  thin  lines  of  cloud  in  the  still  distant  west  are 
gorgeously  painted  in  purple  and  gold.  All  nature  seems 
clothed  in  universal  splendor,  as  though  departing  day  had 
brought  one  last  effort  to  eclipse  all  its  former  glories.  Slowly 
the  golden  orb  sinks  below  the  horizon,  a  dusky  pall  over- 
spreads the  charming  landscape,  the  glorious  scene  fades  from 
sight,  the  bright  stars  of  night  twinkle  in  the  clear  blue  firma- 
ment, the  song  of  evening  birds  ceases,  to  give  place  to  the 
harsh  voice  of  the  katydid^and  the  low  mournful  sound  of  tho 
cricket;  the  busy  works  of  man  are  hushed,  and  all  is  still. 

Gradually  the  scenery  begins  to  change.  The  country  becomes 
more  thinly  inhabited,  and  the  artificial  timber  groves,  old 
orchards  and  noble  country  mansions  are  left  behind.  The 
grand  rolling  prairie  presents  a  more  primitive  picture,  as 
nature  formed  it  without  the  aid  of  man  to  beautify  and  adorn 
it.  Now  and  then  a  swamp  or  timber  belt  breaks  the  dull 
monotony,  but  for  the  most  part  an  uninterrupted  prairie  rolls 
far  away  in  every  direction.  The  country  is,  however,  being 
rapidly  settled  with  enterprising  pioneers,  and  no  doubt  before 
the  present  century  closes  many  of  the  little  country  stations 
that  we  are  now  passing  will  be  flourishing  cities. 

Young  men  of  ambition  and  enterprise  seeking  homes  in  the 
West,  here  is  your  stopping  place.  Here  is  your  field  of  labor. 
Look  at  the  advantages  it  presents,  and  calculate  the  result. 
Lying  directly  between  the  two  greatest  rivers  in  the  Union, 
whose  united  waters  furnish  cheap  transportation  to  St.  Louis, 
New  Orleans  and  the  Gulf ;  surrounded  by  the  flourishing 
cities  of  St.  Louis  on  the  south,  Omaha  on  the  west,  Davenport, 
Milwaukee  and  Chicago  on  the  east  and  northeast ;  on  the  line 
of  the  mightiest  railway  thoroughfare  on  the  globe,  the  great 
American  business  artery  from  ocean  to  ocean,  with  branch 
lines  leading  to  the  greatest  grain  markets  in  the  world — the 
very  heart  of  the  best  agricultural  region  the  eye  of  man  ever 
beheld,  and  with  a  desirable  climate,  it  must  rise  rapidly  to  the 
very  apex  of  the  grand  pyramid  of  confederated  States.  Fate 
has  already  written  upon  the  brow  of  the  young  republic- 
Fame.  Land  that  can  be  had  now  for  four  or  five  dollars  per 
acre,  must  in  ten  or  fifteen  years  bring  forty  or  fifty.  But  peo- 
ple must  not  think  to  live  even  here  without  work.  There  is  no 
room  even  on  these  broad  prairies  for  drones.  It  requires  hard 
labor  to  subdue  the  tough  wild-grass  sod,  but  the  reward  is 
abundant.  Come  "with  hearts  prepared  to  meet  every  obstacle 
with  energy  and  enterprise,  and  the  State  of  Iowa  will  soon 
take  her  proud  position  by  the  side  of  elder  sister,  Illinois. 

For  hours  we  pass  through  this  delightful  region.  At  length,, 
however,  a  low  line  of  bluffs  are  seen  ahead,  and  soon  we  be- 
hold the  mighty  torrent  of  the  Missouri,  as  its  turbid  waters  roll 
on  southward  towards  the  Gulf.  Passing  through  the  enter- 
prising town  of  Council  Bluffs,  we  roll  over  the  long  and  mag- 
nificent bridge,  costing  a  million  of  dollars,  and  en^er  the  City 
of  Omaha,  449  miles  from  Chicago,  and  by  the  route  we  have 
taken  1,517  miles  from  New  York.  Here  terminates  the 
Chicago,  Rock  Island  and  Pacific  Road,  and  here  we  catch  the- 
first  glimpse  of  the  far-famed  Pacific  Railway. 

No.  12.— The  Westward  course  of  Civilizatiori— Nebraska — 
Omaha — The  PaciHc  Bailway — The  Platte  Valley — On  the 
Plains— Lone  Tree— North  Platte— The  home  of  the  BufaJiiy 
—Arrival  at  Sydney. 

"  WESTWARD  THE  COURSE  OP  EMPIRE  TAKES  ITS  WAT." 

The  waves  of  emigration  are  ever  rolling  westward.  From, 
he  fields  of  Palestine  and  Asiatic  Turkey,  where  Nineveh^ 
Babylon  and  Jerusalem  once  stood  in  magnificence  and  glory, 
the  tide  of  emigration  flowed  westward  through  Arabia  into 
Africa,  and  through  the  regions  of  the  present  Turkish  Empire 
into  Europe.  A  nation  in  the  East  falls,  and  a  more  dazzling 
nation  arises  in  the  West.  Persia,  once  reckoned  among  the 
proudest  nations  of  Asia,  went  down  amid  war  and  anarchy, 
while  Greece  arose  from  the  dark  forests  of  Southern  Europe 
until  the  world  stood  amazed  at  its  greatness.  It,  in  turn,  went 
down  by  dissensions  and  strife,  to  give  place  to  its  more  illus- 
trious successor — Rome. 

Greece  and  Rome !  They  were  the  doorways  that  led  from 
the  ancient  to  the  modern  world.  They  rose  in  power  and 
greatness  until  they  had  eclipsed  everything  the  world  had 
'  hitherto  seen.  Among  their  shining  lights  Socrates,  Demos- 
thenes, Cicero  and  Caesar,  figured  conspicuously.  But  they,  too, 
{"ell  in  war  and  blood,  and  the  cradle  of  eloquence  and  stateman- 
ihip  gave  place  to  their  prosperous  successors.  The  tide  of 
Hnigration  swept  westward  over  Europe,  and  the  shores  of  the 
Jaltic  and  the  Atlantic  were  reached.  The  Goths  and  Vandals 
lisappeared  before  the  march  of  civilization  to  give  place  to 
nighty  nations. 

For  a  time  the  broad  expanse  of  the  ocean  retarded  the  west- 
ward march  of  emigration;  but  intelligence  and  education  wa* 
;omingtothe  rescue.  Master  minds  ,vvere  revolving  great  ques. 
ions  in  their  thinking  brains,  and  at  length  in  1492,  Christopher 
Columbus,  daring  wind  and  wave,  ventured  forth  upon  the 
trackless  deep  on  a  voyage  of  discovery.  A  new  world  wa? 
found,  and  genius  and  enterprise  bounded  forward  with  rapiq 
strides.  The  tide  of  emigration  set  westward  from  the  Atlan- 
tic  shores,  leveling  the  forest  and  dispersing  the  hostile  e}».vage* 


ON  THE  MAECBL 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


483 


before  Its  steady  marcli,  climbing  the  rugged  Allcglianles,  de- 
scending into  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  rolling 
onward  over  the  turbid  Missouri  to  the  present  dividing  line 
between  savage  and  civilized  life.  It  has  left  in  its  track  glory 
and  greatness.  It  will  not  stop:  but  with  the  all-potent  powers 
of  education  and  science,  it  will  push  on,  majestically  chmbinf? 
the  lofty  summits  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Sierra 
Nevada  range,  until  it  shall  look  down  upon  the  placid  waters 
of  the  Pacific.  Then  will  our  country,  with  its  hundred  mil- 
lions of  free,  liberty-loving  subjects,  have  attained  a  noble 
position,  high  up  on  the  pinnacle  of  fame,  where  no  nation  on 
earth  has  ever  stood  before. 

Omaha,  the  eastern  terminus  of  the  celebrated  Pacific  Rail- 
way, is  near  the  centre  of  the  Union.  Less  than  twenty-five 
years  ago  its  site  was  an  uninhabited  wild,  and  the  buffalo  and 
deer  came  unmolested  to  drink  of  the  waters  of  the  Missouri. 
What  changes  a  few  years  have  wrought.  It  now  has  a  popula- 
tion of  over  20,000,  while  Council  Bluffs,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  is  already  a  rapidly  rising  city  of  several  thousand 
more.  The  streets  are  all  beautiful  and  well  laid  out,  and  many 
of  the  buildings  and  blocks  are  very  fine.  A  good  limestone 
quarry  is  worked  near  the  city. 

Rising  early,  we  partake  of  a  refreshing  breakfast,  and  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  the  depot,  prepared  for  a  long  ride  across  the 
plains.  The  train  from  the  East  is  not  yet  in,  and  the  westward 
train  will  not  start  until  it  arrives.  The  few  minutes  that  we 
have  left  we  will  devote  to  a  little  stroll  from  the  depot.  The 
view  up  and  down  the  broad  Missouri  is  splendid.  The  bluffs 
across  the  river,  and  the  long  and  magnificent  bridge,  form  a 
prominent  feature  in  the  scene;  while  to  the  west  the  land  rolls 
off  in  gentle  undulations  far  away.  Boats  and  timber-rafts 
move  lazily  down  the  stream,  or  are  moored  at  the  wharfs.  Of 
course  it  does  not  present  such  a  scene  as  Cleveland  or  Chicago, 
for  the  place  is  only  in  its  infancy;  but  its  central  position  on 
the  main  thoroughfare  from  ocean  to  ocean  where  it  crosses 
the  great  river,  affords  for  it  a  rapid  and  easy  communication 
with  the  East,  West,  North  and  South,  and  bespeaks  for  it  an 
early  rank  among  the  prominent  cities  of  the  Union.  The 
company's  round-houses,  machine  shops  and  railway  yards  are 
already  laid  out  on  a  grand  scale,  and  a  business  of  no  mean 
proportion  is  carried  on.  But  the  Iowa  train  Is  arriving,  and 
we  must  be  on  hand.  Ere  we  enter  the  car,  we  catch  one  more 
glimpse  of  the  fair  State  of  Iowa.  It  contains  55,000  square 
miles,  and  a  million  and  a  half  of  inhabitants.  Its  first  settle- 
ment was  made  at  Burlington  in  1833,  by  a  little  band  of  emi- 
grants from  the  Eastern  States.  A  Territorial  Government  was 
established  In  1838,  and  on  the  3d  of  March,  1845,  it  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  Union.  Nebraska  contains  76,000  square  miles, 
with  a  population  of  perhaps  200,000.  It  was  admitted  into  the 
Union  in  1866. 

Having  supplied  ourselves  with  books  and  papers  to  while 
away  the  time  during  a  long  and  monotonous  journey,  we  enter 
the  superb  Pullman  Palace  car,  and  soon  thereafter  we  set 
our  face  to  the  west,  and  leave  the  chief  city  of  Nebraska 
behind. 

The  plan  of  the  Pacific  Railway  was  first  brought  before  the 
public  by  Asa  Whitney,  in  1846.  Four  years  he  agitated  the 
great  project  with  increasing  energy.  He  proposed  to  embark 
in  the  enterprise,  and  build  the  entire  road,  if  Congress  would 
give  him  every  other  section  of  land  for  sixty  miles  in  width, 
thirty  on  each  side  of  the  road,  throughout  its  whole  course. 
This,  by  many,  was  thought  too  exorbitant,  and  they  viewed 
with  alarm  the  question  of  such  wholesale  disposal  of  the 
public  lands.  About  this  time  gold  was  discovered  in  Califor- 
nia, and  the  consequent  rapid  settlement  of  that  State^ogether 
with  the  famous  Western  Explorations  by  Colonel  Fremont, 
called  anew  for  action  in  regard  to  the  contemplated  work.  At 
length.  In  the  spring  of  1853,  $150,000  was  appropriated  by 
Congress  for  the  purpose  of  surveying  different  routes,  and  six 
parties  were  organized  and  set  forth.  The  next  year  three  more 
parties  were  added,  and  $190,000  appropriated  for  the  continu- 
ance  of  tne  work.  The  surveys  were  thoroughly  conducted  in 
a  truly  scientific  manner,  and  the  mass  of  reliable  information 
concerning  the  topography,  climate,  botany,  zoology,  and  natu- 
ral resources  of  the  hitherto  almost  unknown  regions  of  the 
far  West,  as  given  in  the  oflicial  reports,  comprised  thirteen 
ponderous  volumes.  In  the  autumn  of  1863,  the  Union  Pacific 
Railway  Company  was  formed,  and  received  its  charter  from 
Congress.  Active  operations  soon  commenced,  and  the  iron 
track  steadily  penetrated  into  the  wild  Indian  country. 
Mighty  obstacles  were  met  and  overcome  with  unwavering 
perseverance.  It  was  a  herculean  task,  and  month  after  month, 
year  after  year,  an  army  of  laborers  toiled  on.  At  length,  on 
the  10th  of  May,  1869,  the  Union  Pacific  and  the  Central  Pacific 
Railways  united  their  tracks.  The  last  spike  was  drove  and 
the  great  work  was  done.  The  continent  was  spanned  by  the 
Iron  rail,  and  the  mightiest  national  work  ever  erected  on  the 
globe  was  completed.  Much  of  the  way  it  cost  $90,000  per 
mile,  and  the  1,100  miles  of  the  work,  from  Omaha  westward, 
cost  over  $82,000,000. 

Four  miles  from  Omaha  we  pass  Summit  Siding,  and  six 
miles  farther  on  brings  us  to  Gilmore.  Papillion  is  the  next 
station,  after  which  we  run  fourteen  miles  to  Elkhoru,  where 
we  view  the  noble  Platte  River,  rolling  placidly  onward  to  meet 
its  parent  stream.  Here  we  enter  the  great  Pla|te  Valley, 
through  which  our  course  lies  during  the  long  run  off  400  miles. 
Clouds  of  fog  roll  up  in  great  white,  fleecy  masses  from  the 
river  on  our  left,  and  the  dew  upon  the  grass  sparkles  like  fairy 
stars  in  tiie  morning  sunlight.   Gradually  the  long  line  of 


misty  vapor  rises,  and  Is  dissipated,  and  the  unclouded  sun 
shines  down  in  golden  splendor  upon  the  noble  prairie. 

Ascending  the  Platte  V  alley,  we  soon  pass  Fremont,  Ketchum. 
North  Bend,  Schuyler,  Richland,  Columbus  and  Jackson,  ana 
we  are  aware  that  we  have  thus  early  made  a  hundred  miles 
west  from  Omaha.  Houses  and  farms  become  more  and  more 
scattering,  and  we  realize  that  we  are  passing  the  general 
borders  of  civilization.  Dashing  past  Silver  Creek  and  Clark's 
Stations,  we  arrive  at  Lone  Tree,  said  to  have  been  thus  named 
on  account  of  a  single  tree  found  standing  there,  in  the  midst 
of  the  prairie,  isolated  and  alone,  like  a  hoary-headed  sentinel 
of  a  hundred  years.  A  tiny  seed  was  dropped  there  in  that 
spot,  perhaps,  by  some  passing  bird  before  the  birth  of  the 
American  Republic.  Its  roots  spread  rapidly  in  the  warm,  rich 
soil,  and  it  grew  straight,  strong  and  lofty  in  solitude  and  seclu- 
sion, bidding  defiance  to  the  storms  and  tempests  of  a  century. 
Could  it  but  see  and  speak,  what  a  history  it  would  have  to  tell. 
It  has  long  been  the  landmark  for  many  miles  over  the  distant 
plain,  ancThow  many  times  the  elk  and  the  buffalo  have  found 
shelter  beneath  its  branches  from  the  noonday  heat  of  the 
summer  sun.  The  Indian,  too,  has  been  there,  and  perhaps  he 
has  led  his  fair  young  bride  of  the  distant  forest  to  its  cool  and 
refreshing  shade,  there  to  count  their  beads  and  strings  of 
wampum,  and  to  bedeck  their  heads  with  plumes  and  eagle's 
feathers.  Bands  of  Indian  traders  are  sometimes  seen  near 
here,  encamped  or  on  horseback,  but  they  are  all  friendly,  as  a 
general  thing,  and  seek  not  to  molest  the  whites.  They  ap- 
proach tbvi  railroad  with  awe,  and  often  a  curl  of  the  lip  and  an 
angry  scowl  will  reveal  their  crushed  and  smothered  feelings, 
for  they  well  know  that  it  has  destroyed  their  hunting  grounds 
and  doomed  the  race. 

Ten  miles  beyond  Lone  Tree  we  pass  Chapman,  then  Grand 
Island,  Alda,  Wood  River,  Gibbon,  Kearney,  Stevenson,  Elm 
Creek,  and  many  more,  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  mention. 
The  scenery  is  almost  changeless;  far  rolling  prairie,  with  now 
and  then  a  little  swamp  or  wooded  stream,  with  a  neat  trestle 
bridge  across. 

On  the  Plains  1  The  very  words  sound  familiar.  How  many 
times  we  have  heard  the  sentence  pronounced  in  connection 
with  the  overland  route  to  the  Pacific.  Old  hunters  and  trap- 
pers, who  have  spent  their  lives  among  the  Indians  and  buffaloes 
roaming  over  this  extensive  region,  pronounce  the  name  aa 
though  it  bore  a  charm  inexpressiole.  It  calls  up  in  their  minds 
remembrances  and  scenes  of  their  past  lives,  thrilling  and  excit- 
ing. Encounters,  battles,  escapes  and  triumphs.  It  forms  an 
endless  and  inexhaustible  field  for  the  writers  of  fiction  and 
dime  novels,  and  the  imagination  is  stretched  to  the  utmost 
tension  in  the  vivid  description  of  savage  combats,  hair- 
breadth escapes,  impossibilities  and  thrilling  scenes  that  never 
occurred.  The  world  is  full  of  them,  and  the  westward-bound 
traveler  who  has  read  them  looks  over  the  boundless  sea  of 
grass  and  reeds  almost  with  the  expectation  of  seeing  a  band 
of  hideous  savages,  with  plumes,  feathers  and  war  panoply, 
and  to  hear  their  wild  war-whoop,  for  he  feels  that  he  is  pass- 
ing over  romantic  ground.   But  he  probably  looks  in  vain. 

The  vast  prairie  now  rolls  away— far  away,  to  where  the  sky 
and  earth  appear  to  meet  and  mingle  like  the  ocean  itself,  and 
all  seem  swallowed  up  in  the  one  immense  primitive  meadow 
of  Nature.  Looking  ahead,  we  behold  the  iron  track  stretching 
far  away  in  a  straight  line,  the  rails  appearing  to  draw  nearer 
and  nearer  together,  until  they  almost  blena  in  one,  and  are 
lost  to  the  sight  in  the  dim  distance.  The  long  line  of  tele- 
graph poles  dwindle  down  to  mere  stubble,  and  fade  from  the 
view.  The  smoke  of  an  approaching  train  is  seen  far  away 
even  beyond  the  limits  where  the  track  can  be  distinguished. 
At  first  it  appears  stationary.  How  long  the  time  seems  ere  we 
can  discern  its  motion.  And  then  how  slow  it  appears  to 
move.  We  watch  its  great  rolling  cloud  of  steam  as  it  steadily 
approaches,  apparently  in  perfect  silence.  Onward  it  comes, 
and  by-and-by  a  low  murmur  like  the  sighing  of  pine  tree 
branches  in  the  gentle  breeze  is  wafted  to  our  er-rs  from  the 
distance.  Louder  and  more  intense  it  becomes,  deepening  into 
a  hollow  rumble,  jarring  the  ground  and  vibrating  the  air,  and 
then  with  the  roar  of  thunder  the  cyclopean  iron  giant  dashes 
past  ns  almost  with  the  speed  of  lightning.  And  now  we  real- 
ize that  it  has  been  rushing  over  the  plain  at  this  rate  all  the 
time.  We  have  the  same  road  to  traverse.  The  scenery  is  de- 
cidedly dull  and  monotonous.  The  same  wide  extended  plain, 
the  same  apparently  boundless  and  treeless  prairie  boimds  the 
limits  of  vision  as  it  has  for  hours  past,  and  will  for  hours  to 
come.  How  extremely  tedious  must  have  been  the  old-fash- 
ioned mode  of  travel  on  this  long  overland  route.  Processions 
of  long  white  canvas-covered  emigrant  wagons  toiled  slowly 
over  the  beaten  trail,  and  encamped  night  after  night  on  the 
prairie  ocean.  Wolves  howled  aroundlhem  in  the  darkness, 
and  prowling  bands  of  hostile  savages  often  lurked  in  the  near 
vicinity.  Elks  and  buffaloes,  hundreds  in  number,  daily 
crossed  their  paths,  and  slices  cut  from  their  juicy  steak  often 
helped  form  a  meal  that  a  king  might  have  envied. 

At  length  the  sun  settles  in  the  west,  and  sinks  below  the 
horizon.  The  stars  come  out  one  by  one,  until  the  clear  blue 
arch  is  studded  with  the  twinkling  host,  and  still  we  are  dashing 
onward.  An  hour  or  two  more  and  we  arrive  at  North  Platte, 
291  miles  from  Omaha,  and  here  for  the  night  our  journey  ter- 
:  minates.  Early  morning  finds  us  astir  again,  and  after  viewing 
the  round-house  and  repair  shop,  denoting  the  divison  station, 
we  take  the  train  and  resume  our  journey.  Crossing  the  north 
fork  of  the  Platte  by  a  neat  trestle  bridge,  we  dash  onwar^ 
across  the  flowery  plains.  The  following  lines  from  the  poet 
Bryant  accm-ately  describe  the  prairies  of  the  West. 


484 


THE  GkOlVJNG  IVORLD. 


"These  are  tlie  gardens  of  tlie  desert,  these 
The  unshorn  fields,  boundless  and  beautiful. 
For  which  the  speech  of  England  has  no  name — 
The  prairies.    I  behold  them  for  the  first. 
And  my  heart  swells,  while  the  dilated  sight 
Takes  in  the  encircling  vastness.   Lol  they  stretch. 
In  airy  undulations  far  away, 
As  if  the  ocean  in  its  gentlest  swell. 
Stood  still,  with  all  his  rounded  billows  fixed, 
And  motionless  forever." 

But  we  have  beheld  their  beauties  for  more  than  a  thousand 
miles;  we  tire  of  their  continual  sameness,  and  long  for  the 
ever-changing  hill  and  valley  scenery  of  the  East.  As  we  ap- 
proach the  head  of  the  Platte  Valley  the  character  of  the  sur- 
face begins  to  change.  The  rich  Nebraska  meadows,  with  tall 
grasses  ever  waving  in  the  passing  breeze,  are  left  behind,  and 
we  enter  a  great  natural  pasture  region,  the  home  of  the  bufi'alo 
and  prairie-dog.  Alkali,  Roscoe,  Ogalalla,  Brule,  Big  Spring, 
Julesburg,  Chappel,  Long  Pole  and  Colton,  ai"e  one  after  another 

{)assed  and  left  behind.  Stations  only  in  name,  but  which  ere 
ong  are  destined  to  be  thriving  villages  like  those  we  saw  in 
Illinois  and  Iowa.  Neat  residences  and  country  mansions  have 
been  left  far  back,  and  with  the  exception  of  now  and  then  a 
rude  shanty,  where  the  trackmen  reside,  no  sign  of  a  human 
habitation  meets  the  eye.  Occasionally,  far  in  the  distance, 
we  behold  immense  herds  of  the  buffalo  and  antelope  quietly 
feeding  on  the  rich  grasses  of  their  natural  home.  The  puffing 
locomotive  and  the  roar  of  the  train  arouses  them  from  their 
peaceful  pursuits,  and  they  rush  away  over  the  plain  in  a  dark 
moving  mass,  perhaps  nearer  the  track  than  before.  The  scene 
presented  is  grand  and  majestic,  and  the  beholder  gazes  upon 
the  animated  cloud  with  wonder  and  astonishment.  Early  in  the 
afternoon  we  approach  Sydney,  a  bustling  little  division  sta- 
tion, with  a  round-house,  machine  shop,  hotel,  stores,  etc.,  908 
miles  west  of  Chicago,  and  414  from  Omaha.  We  have  now 
traveled  1,931  miles  since  we  set  out  from  New  York,  and  we 
gladly  avail  ourselves  of  the  accomodations  of  the  hotel,  and 
put  up  again  for  the  night,  with  the  hope  of  beholding  the  tower- 
ing peaks  of  the  high  Rockies  ere  the  sun  sets  on  the  morrow. 

No.  13. — The  American  Bison— Bison  hunting— First  view  of 
the  High  Rockies— Cheyenne— Indian  Traders— Savage  Life 
as  it  is— The  Black  Hills— Life  in  the  Mines— Ascent  of  me 
Rocky  Mountains. 

All  "Western  travelers  speak  of  the  buffalo  as  the  pride  of 
animated  life  on  the  prairies,  and  they  have  justly  dubbed  him 
the  "monarch  of  the  plains."  Properly  speaking,  however, 
the  true  buffalo  is  not  an  inhabitant  of  the  Western  World.  It 
is  a  native  of  Africa  and  India.  What  is  popularly  known  as 
the  Western  buffalo,  is  in  reality  the  American  bison.  A  glance 
at  any  natural  history  drawing  will  at  once  show  the  difference 


Scarcely  less  barbarous  is  their  wanton  destruction  by  the 
whites.  Hundreds  have  fallen,  to  rot  and  fester  on  the  plain, 
merely  to  satisfy  the  licentious  passions  of  the  marksman. 
And  this  they  call  sport.  But  few  are  now  beheld  by  the  trav- 
eler on  the  passing  train,  and  the  view  of  large  herds  is  already 
becoming  a  rare  occurrence,  seen  only  at  long  intervals.  The 
iron  rail  has  destroyed  his  native  haunts,  and  soon  the  last  one 
will  have  disappeared.  The  Indian's  richest  hunting  grounds 
will  have  become  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  the  industrious  arts 
of  civilization  will  be  in  full  blast  all  over  these  wide  extended 
plains. 

Leaving  the  thriving  little  village  of  Sidney,  we  again  set  our 
faces  to  the  westward.  A  run  of  nine  miles  brings  us  to 
Brownson,  and  ten  miles  farther  on  is  Potter.  Hundreds  of 
diminutive  mounds,  the  home  of  the  interesting  little  prairie 
dog,  are  seen  all  along  the  line  of  the  railway.  The  same  rich 
rolling  pasture  lands  continue,  and  the  scenery  is  almost 
changeless.  We  settle  ourselves  comfortably  in  our  cushioned 
seats,  and  drowsily  pore  over  the  columns  of  a  book  or  news- 
paper, while  the  beautiful  forenoon  slowly  passes  away.  Occa- 
sionally we  are  roused  from  our  reverie  by  the  quick  excited 
cry  of  "Look!  yonder's  a  buffalo,"  or,  "Indians!  Indians! 
there  comes  the  Indians,"  and  we  leap  to  our  feet  to  view  the 
band  of  red  hunters,  sweeping  along  on  their  prancing  high- 
mettled  ponies,  with  crow's  and  eagle's  feathers  streaming  from 
their  head-dress.  Perhaps  they  are  on  the  chase,  and  a  wild 
and  exciting  scene  is  presented.  But  the  train  pauses  not  for 
us  to  witness  the  sport,  and  they  are  soon  left  far  behind,  and 
rendered  indistinct  by  the  intervening  distance.  Again  we  re- 
sume our  reading,  wondering  how  much  farther  these  pasture 
slopes  and  plains  extend,  and  how  much  longer  we  must 
patiently  wait  before  we  come  to  more  changing  scenery. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  we  reach  Pine  Bluffs. 
Eleven  miles  farther  on  we  come  to  Egbert,  and  twelve  miles 
more  brings  us  to  Hillsdale.  A  few  miles  from  Hillsdale  a 
faint  line  like  a  low  hazy  cloud  appears  on  the  far  horizon. 
It  is  the  first  glimpse  of  the  snow-capped  peaks  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Gradually  they  become  more  prominent  and  their 
dusky  outlines  are  more  plainly  fisible.  The  cloud  appears  to 
rise  higher  and  higher,  and  the  whole  range  seems  to  be 
crowned  with  a  succession  of  peaks  and  rounded  summits.  To 
the  westward  they  appear  blue  and  distinct,  while  away  to  the 
southwest  Long's  Peak,  14,000  feet  in  height,  rises  like  a  tall 
pyramid,  prominent  to  the  view.  Far  beyond  this,  where  the 
cloud-like  range  sweeps  away  in  the  dim  southern  distance, 
and  seems  about  to  melt  away  in  a  thin,  vapory  haze,  the 
Spanish  Peaks  of  Southern  Colorado  appear.  The  other  side 
of  the  car  presents  a  scene  little  different.  The  same  cloud 
appearing  succession  of  broken  peaks  extends  to  the  north- 
west  till  distance  forbids  the  view.  Far  away  to  the  north, 
among  the  farther  limits  of  the  vision,  the  faint  line  of  the 
Black  Hills  looms  iip  like  some  far-off  storm  cloud  on  the  dis- 
tant  horizon.   Passing  Archer,  twelve  miles  beyond  HiTrsdafe, 


between  the  two  animals.  ¥he  dissimilarity  in  their  horns  is).^ye  arrive  at  Cheyenne  eight  miles  farther  on,  the  largest  place 
strikingly  conspicuous.^  ^4^?^^      ^^""^^  we  have  seen  since  we  left  Omaha,  516  miles  distant. 

4.u„  ,  Here  we  form  a  junction  with  the  Denver  Pacific  Line,  and 


midable  Arnee  buffalo  of  India,  are  now  in  the  British  Museum. 
They  are  turned  laterally,  flattened  in  front,  wrinkled  on  the 
concave  surface,  and  each  one  is  six  feet  three  inches  in  length, 
and  eighteen  inches  in  circumference  at  the  base.  The  bison 
has  much  smaller  horns,  more  resembling  those  of  the  ox;  but 

its  long  shaggy  mane  covering  its  head  and  shoulders,  and  its  the  passing  locomotives  and  switch-engines  for  the  moment 
large  size,  give  it  a  fierce  aspect  and  formidable  appearance,  remind  us  of  what  we  saw  in  the  far  East.  Hotels,  dwellings 
The  largest  specimens  have  been  known  to  weigh  over  2,000  and  stores  are  arrayed  along  neat  streets,  and  the  place  has  an 


the  neat  and  extensive  railway  buildings,  including  round- 
houses and  repair-shops,  are  at  once  conspicuous.  In  the  com- 
pany's yard  many  trains  are  constantly  standing  and  being 
made  up  for  transportation  to  the  South,  East  and  West,  and 


pounds,  and  the  skin  when  first  taken  off"  is  so  heavy  that  a 
strong  man  can  scarcely  lift  it.  They  were  once  found  all  over 
the  Mississippi  "Valley,  as  far  east  as  the  Alleghany  range,  and 
tiow  and  then  one  might  have  strayed  as  far  as  the  Hudson; 
but  civilization  has  gradually  forced  them  back,  until  now  they 
are  only  found  in  great  numbers  on  the  far  Western  plains. 
The  movement  of  these  vast  herds  forms  a  truly  grand  and 
exciting  spectacle.  Early  travelers  speak  of  them  as  darken- 
ing the  plain  almost  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  have 
sometimes  estimated  the  congregated  numbers  at  ten  or  twenty 
thousand.  Sometimes  the  largest  and  strongest  animals  engage 
in  desperate  and  deadly  conflicts,  when  their  loud  bellowings 
of  rage  and  anger  as  they  rush  to  the  onset,  roll  forth  like 


air  of  business  activity  une(jualed  in  the  great  wilderness  route. 
Ten  years  ago  its  first  buildings  were  being  erected,  and  in  that 
short  space  of  time  its  population  has  nearly  reached  3,000.  Its 
central  position,  surrounded  by  the  mining  districts  of  Pike's. 
Peak  and  the  Black  Hills,  bespeak  for  it  a  prominent  place 
among  the  cities  of  the  far  West. 

Indian  traders  are  frequently  seen  in  the  streets  of  Cheyenne, 
and  sometimes  they  are  encamped  in  considerable  numbers 
just  outside  of  the  town.  Travelers  often  visit  them  to  witness 
the  manners  and  customs  of  savage  life.  They  are  generally 
friendly  and  partly  civilized,  and  they  come  to  barter  beaver 
and  bison  hides,  etc.,  for  tin  cups,  knives,  hatchets,  old  clothes, 
jewelry,  and  various  trinkets,  especially  valuable  to  the  eye  of 


touttering  thunder,  and  the  plain  almost  trembles  beneath  the  the  untutored  child  of  the  forest.   They  are  now  generally 


Shock  of  battle 

But  the  days  of  the  bison  are  numbered.  Soon  will  the  last 
one  fall  before  the  rifle  of  the  Western  hunter.  The  Indians 
frequently  kill  them  with  the  bow  and  arrow;  indeed,  a  few 
^ears  since  it  was  their  favorite  weapon.  Athletic  riders, 
hiounted  on  fleet  horses,  and  trimmed  in  glittering  beads  and 
wampum,  with  long  plumes  waving  in  the  oreeze,  and  coronets 
of  eagle's  feathers  surmounting  their  brows,  dash  boldly  up  to 
the  prairie  monarch,  and  discharge  their  unerring  shafts  deep 
into  his  side.   So  expert  are  they  in  the  use  of  this  rude  and 

Eirimitive  weapon,  that  their  aim  is  often  as  sure  and  deadly  as 
hat  of  the  most  experienced  marksman  with  the  rifle.  Their 
feathered  shafts  are  often  sank  in  the  huge  beast  to  the  depth 
of  thirty  inches,  and  instances  are  mentioned  by  hunters  where 
they  have  passed  completely  through  his  body,  and  fallen  upon 
the  ground  beyond. 

Another  mode  of  Indian  bison  hunting  near  the  rocky  spurs 
ot  the  mountains,  is  to  surround  the  herd  by  a  large  number  of 
expert  mounted  riders,  and  by  loud  shouts  and  wild  cries  and 
gesticulations,  drive  them  franticly  to  some  bluff,  and  crowd 
them  over  a  ledge  of  rocks  or  high  precipice.  In  this  manner 
hundreds  in  fear  and  frenzy  take  the  flying  leap  and  are  dashed 
to  pieces  on  the  jagged  rocks  below. 


dressed  in  old  clothes  procured  of  the  whites,  and  if  one  hap- 
pens to  get  possession  of  a  discarded  old  fur  hat  with  a  higli 
crown,  he  struts  about  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  first-class 
dandy.  For  a  few  cents  they  will  join  hands  and  go  through 
with  the  Rattlesnake  and  Greenhorn  dances,  and  give  the 
blood-curdling  war-whoop  as  they  go  through  with  the  mimic 
performances  representing  the  savage  mode  of  scalping  their 
enemies  on  the  war-path.  The  women,  vulgarly  denominated 
squaws,  are  commonly  dressed  in  short  frocks,  richly  trimmed 
and  decorated  with  fringes,  beads  and  feathers.  Their  voices 
are  shrill  and  clear,  and  many  of  them  are  beautiful  singers. 
They  often  come  to  the  white  villages  to  sell  willow  baskets, 
moccasins  and  work  pockets,  some  of  wh/ch  are  of  the  most 
splendid  design,  ornamented  with  fringes,  tassels,  shells  and 
bead-work,  beautifully  arranged  in  leaves,  flowers,  clusters,  and 
glittering  stars  and  diamonds.  Thus  the  rude  savage  has  an 
eye  for  the  beautiful  and  a  taste  for  the  finer  arts. 

Far  to  the  north,  beyond  the  sombre  pine-capped  summits  of 
the  Black  Hills,  we  may  find  him  in  all  his  primitive  nature. 
A  tiny  column  of  thin  blue  smoke  curls  up  through  the  sighing 
pine  branches,  from  the  rude  wigwam  of  sticks  and  birchea 
bark  beneath.  It  is  the  home  of  the  Indian  hjontw.  Wittuo 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


485 


are  his  wife  and  family,  perhaps  preparing  lils  noonday  meal 
of  succotash  or  corn  and  beans,  in  the  primeval  looicing  stone 
kettle,  and  in  the  corner  lies  his  couch  of  bison  skins,  and  his 
pipes,  and  feathered  head-gear.  The  hunter  himself  is,  per- 
haps, a  mile  or  more  away,  gliding  stealthily  through  the  forest 
in  search  of  game,  or  down  the  neighboring  stream  in  his  light 
bark  canoe  in  pursuit  of  fish.  Such  is  a  picture  of  life  as  it  is 
in  its  savage  state.  Away  beyond  here,  among  the  still  far  dis- 
tant northern  hills,  they  have  built  their  villages,  and  tliere 
their  chiefs  reside.  There  it  is  they  have  banded  together,  put 
on  the  war  paint,  and  with  rifle,  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife, 
set  forth  upon  the  war-path.  There  it  is  where  they  have 
crimsoned  the  Rosebud  Valley  with  the  blood  of  the  gallant 
Custar  and  his  brave  command.  The  horrors  of  that  dreadiul 
massacre,  which  took  place  last  summer  (1876),  are  too  terrible 
for  recital.  For  a  time,  terror  reigned  around  the  settlements 
of  the  Black  Hills  country.  But  it  was  not  for  long.  Our  brave 
boys  went  forward  to  the  rescue,  and  they  are  now  in  pursuit 
of  the  red-handed  warriors.  Be  assured  Custar's  noble  heroes 
will  not  go  unavenged.  The  day  of  Indian  massacres  is  about 
over.  The  sun  of  their  giory  wanes  in  the  West,  Their  depre- 
dations will  be  met  with  such  marked  resistance  that  they  will 
be  swept  away  like  autumn  leaves  before  the  tempest.  The 
ihost  powerful  tribes  of  the  present  time  are  the  Sioux,  Black- 
feet,  Crows,  Comauches,  Apaches,  etc.  Among  their  most 
noted  chiefs  are  Sitting  Bull,  Spotted  Tail,  etc. 

The  Black  Hills  have  for  some  time  been  famous  as  a  mining 
region.  Hundreds  of  emigrants,  gold  hunters  and  adventurers 
are  hurrying  to  this  new  Western  El  Donido  every  year.  Long 
trains  of  waggons  proceed  thither  from  Cheyenne  every  season. 
The  settlements  around  the  base  of  the  hills  are  for  the  most 
part  composed  of  rude  cabins  and  shanties,  ever  the  character- 
istics of  the  primitive  mining  town.  Prospecting  parties  are 
occasionally  seen  stalking  beneath  the  towering  pines  and 
along  the  rocky  beds  of  little  streams,  in  search  of  a  favorable 
situation  to  commence  operations.  But  little,  however,  is  as  a 
general  thing  made  by  mining.  Of  course  there  are  cases 
now  and  then  when  a  "streak  of  luck,"  as  they  term  it. 
will  make  the  fortunate  miner  independent,  and  he  returns 
with  a  fortune  realized  in  a  few  days,  But  such  instances  are 
rare.   The  common  laborer  most  always  comes  out  the  best. 

True  wealth  comes  slowly— but  honesty,  industry  and  perse 
verance,  with  a  contented  mind,  will  not  fail  to  attain  it  in  the 
end.  On  the  other  hand,  the  gold  seeker  pursues  wealth  some 
M'hat  in  the  manner  of  the  patrons  of  a  lottery.  He  toils  hare' 
in  sunshine  and  storm,  and  bears  up  under  exposure,  privatioi 
and  danger,  until  his  health  and  constitution  are  undermined 
perhaps  to  find  only  disappointment  and  ruin  at  last.  Blackle<2f 
and  sharpers  often  con^egate  in  the  mining  districts,  and  hana 
around  the  saloons  and  tippling  houses  to  practice  their  artful 
trickery  and  fraud  upon  the  miners.  Many  of  the  miners 
themselves  are  coarse,  vulgar,  and  rough  in  manners  and  ap- 
pearance, composed  of  Mexicans,  half-breeds,  and  emigrants 
from  foreign  countries,  always  armed  with  the  revolver  aiul 
bowie-knife,  and  free  fights  and  robbery  are  of  frequent  occur- 
rence. Vice  and  crime  generally  prevail  to  a  considerable 
extent  among  the  reckless  portion  of  the  mining  community, 
and  unsuccessful  gold  hunters  often  spend  their  all  at  the 
gaming-table,  and  theia  seek  to  drown  their  troubles  in  the  fiery 
cup. 

But  we  speak  only  of  the  dark  phase  of  life  in  the  Western 
mines.  We  do  not  mean  to  apply  it  to  the  general  population 
of  the  Black  Hills,  or  any  other  region.  There  are  many  true 
men  there.  Men  with  generous  impulses  and  warm  hearts, 
beating  with  honesty,  morality  and  truth.  These  are  the  men 
that  will  make  the  State.  The  timbered  wealth  is  looked  upon 
by  the  permanent  settlers  as  of  greater  value  than  the  hidden 
treasure.  They  see  the  time  near  at  hand  when  the  vast  treeless 
plains  of  Nebraska  must  be  supplied  with  an  immense  amount 
of  lumber.  Then  will  the  forest  on  the  far  border  be  a  perma- 
nent source  of  untold  wealth  to  its  possessor.  Indians  are 
numerous  around  the  Black  Hills,  and  they  often  prove  annoy- 
ing to  the  settlers  by  stealing  their  horses  and  cattle.  But 
despite  every  obstacle,  good  order  must  soon  prevail.  Steam 
mills  and  manufactories  will  arise,  railroads  will  be  laid,  com^ 
fields  and  orchards  will  bedeck  the  plain,  the  Indians  and  dis 
orderly  whites  will  flee  as  they  ever  must  before  the  march  of 
civilization,  and  the  Black  Hills  country  will  become  one  of  the 
proudest  regions  of  the  West. 

Proceeding  on  our  journey,  we  soon  commence  the  ascent  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  grade  now  becomes  steeper,  and 
the  track  winds  and  curves  continually.  Hazard,  seven  miles 
beyond  Cheyenne,  is  the  first  station.  Rocks  and  rugged  hills 
make  up  the  view.  Before  us  the  high  mountain  barrier  rises  in 
a  succession  of  barren  crags  and  cheerless  granite  peaks.  The 
air  is  cooler,  and  as  we  gaze  away  up  to  the  lofty  summits,  we 
instinctively  draw  our  coats  closer  around  our  shoulders,  won 
dering  how  the  early  engineers  could  have  had  the  courage  to 
lay  a  railway  line  over  this  stupendous  range.  Slowly  we  move 
along,  winding  this  way  and  that,  around  sidling  hills,  across 
deep  ravines  and  mountain  streams,  through  heavy  cuttings 
and  rock  galleries,  now  entering  and  rumbling  through  long 
snow  sheds,  erected  to  prevent  vast  accumulations  of  snow 
from  blocking  up  the  track  or  sliding  upon  the  passing  train, 
and  anon  we  are  out  in  the  sunshine  again,  passing  onward 
and  upward,  higher  and  higher. 

The  ponderous  locomotive  is  doing  its  best  here,  and  yet  how 
slowly  we  are  getting  along.  The  telegraph  poles  set  among 
ledges  and  crags  of  riven  rock,  appear  to  pass  slowly  by  like 


silent  sentinels  on  their  wild  and  lonely  beat.  Eve.y  turn 
nshers  in  a  scene  of  bold  grandeur  and  picturesque  beauty. 
Otto  Station  is  eight  miles  beyond  Hazard.  The  next  station 
is  Granite  Canon,  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  legion,  five  miles 
from  Otto.  Bulford  is  yet  six  miles  farther  on.  Much  of  thia 
long  ascent  from  Cheyenne  is  sliut  in  by  almost  endless  linea 
of  snow  sheds  ;  but  there  are  breaks  once  in  a  while,  and  the 
grand  views  so  suddenly  displayed  are  rendered  all  the  more 
surprising  and  beautiful  after  our  long  imprisoned  ride  tiirough 
miles  of  overarching  roofs  and  timbers.  But  we  are  approach- 
ing  the  summit.  The  chilly  air  like  a  blast  of  winter  howls 
through  the  open  car  window,  causing  us  to  shiver  in  our  seat, 
and  patches  of  snow  on  the  mountain  sides  above  us  proclaim 
a  high  altitude.  A  little  further  on  we  reach  Sherman,  the 
lughest  railway  station  on  the  globe. 


No.  14. — Views  on  the  Rocky  Mountains — Winter  among  tfu 
snow-cap  oed  peaks— I  he  Laramie  Plains — The  Sweetwater 
Valley— The  Western  descent  of  the  mountains— Wild  gorges, 
tunnels,  and  rugged  ledges— Trestle  bridges  and  barren  gravel 
banks— Entrance  '0  Echo  Canon— Magnificmt  Scenery—  Weber 
Canon— Picturesque  Nature— Tne  Wild' Western  Wilderness- 
First  view  of  Great  Salt  Lake— Ogden— End  of  the  Union  Pa- 
cific Railway. 

The  Western  traveler  who  has  rode  for  many  weary  days 
over  the  plains  and  prairies,  gazes  with  relief  upon  the  wild 
and  romantic  scenery  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  railroad, 
of  course,  traverses  one  of  the  lowest  passes,  and  yet,  where  it 
crosses  the  summit,  it  is  over  8,000  feet  above  the  sea  level. 
What  a  change  in  the  climate  has  occurred  in  a  few  hours  1 
Back  on  the  plains,  and  through  the  lengthened  Platte  Valley, 
the  heat  of  the  long  Summer's  day  was  often  oppressive.  The 
sound  of  the  grasshopper  was  continually  heard  among  the 
grass,  and  in  places  the  ground  was  parched  and  dry.  Here, 
amid  the  stillness  and  solitude  of  Nature,  rough  and  rugged 
peaks  rise  to  a  dizzy  height  in  every  direction,  their  bases 
clothed  in  dark  foliage,  which  becomes  stunted  and  dwarfed 
further  up,  and  dwindles  away  to  scattering  bushes  and  thorny 
shrubs,  to  be  succeeded  by  naked  rocks  andTbarren  snow-capped 
peaks. 

In  the  Winter  the  scenery  is  extremely  wild  and  desolate. 
Pendent  icicles  hang  from  the  frowning  ledges,  the  sombre  for- 
est bends  beneath  the  white,  frozen  mantle,  while  hi^h  up 
among  the  crags  and  rocks,  wlicre  the  sun  shines  cold  and 
cheerless  on  the  frozen,  glittering  surface,  the  wind  houls  and 
roars,  and  the  light  snow  is  ever  on  the  march,  like  fleecy 
clouds  of  mist,  being  borne  along  and  swept  restlessly  over  the 
bleak  summits  to  find  rest  only  iu  ponderous  drifts  behind 

f)recipice3  and  walls  of  granite.  The  scenery  is  indeed  cheer- 
ess,  and  the  traveler  involuntarily  shrugs  his  shoulders  and 
hitches  nearer  the  fire.  Often,  late  in  the  Autumn,  the  train 
will  pass  all  day  through  a  rain  storm  ou  the  verdurous  slopes  of 
the  "Buffalo  Country,^'  and,  ascending  to  the  Rocky  Mountain 
summit,  find  themselves  blockaded  by  the  snow. 

Some  of  the  foremost  peaks  that  rise  grand  and  majestic 
where  we  first  enter  the  range,  furnish  the  most  splendid  views 
imaginable.  Those  who  have  the  patience  and  courage  to  make 
the  Ascent,  behold  the  wide  extended  plain  below  spread  out 
like  an  immense  map  at  their  feet.  Here  every  characteristic 
of  the  great  West  is  presented  at  a  single  view.  Such  a  scene 
once  witnessed  becomes  permanently  registered  in  the  mind, 
and  can  never  be  forgotten.  Rivers  and  streams  of  water 
meander  through  the  rolling  prairies,  sparkling  in  the  sunlight 
like  beautiful  silver  ribbons,  fringed  with  belts  of  timber  and 
long  rows  of  bluffs  and  terraces,  reaching  up  to  the  elevated 
plains  above  that  roll  away  like  the  billowy  ocean,  waving 
with  grass  and  flowers,  and  completely  destitute  of  even  a  soli- 
tary tree.  Back  over  the  route  we  have  come,  we  behold  the 
railway  winding  fur  away  through  the  lovely  valleys  and  across 
the  prairies  until  lost  to  the  view.  The  locomotives  and  heavy 
trains  resemble  toy  carts  in  the  distance.  North,  South,  and 
West,  dark,  rounded  summits  and  blue  mountain  peaks  bound 
the  limits  of  vision.  Doubtless  in  future  years,  when  the  rich 
pasture  lands  and  level  plains  below  shall  have  oecome  thickly 
dotted  with  cities  and  villages  teeming  with  activity  and  enter- 
prise, mountain  houses  will  be  erected  on  these  favorable  sites 
that  will  be  resorted  to  in  Summer  as  is  the  famous  house  on 
the  Catskills.  Taking  a  last  survey  we  turn  our  faces  once 
more  to  the  westward,  and  commence  the  descent  to  the 
Laramie  Plains. 

Near  Sherman  the  train  dashes  over  a  deep  gorge  by  a  neat 
trestle  bridge  650  feet  in  length.    As  we  make  the  airy  exit,  we 
catch  an  instant  glimpse  of  the  dark,  rocky  depths,  and  the  lit- 
tie  silvery  stream  far  down,  126  feet  below.  Nine  miles  beyond 
1  Sherman  brings  us  to  Harney.  The  next  station  is  Red  Buttes. 
j  Then  follow  Fort  Sanders,  Laramie,  Howell  and  Wyoming, 
j  Ten  miles  beyond  Wyoming  we  come  to  Cooper's  Lake,  in  the 
midst  of  a  scenery  of  wilderness  and  wild  desolation.  For 
some  time  we  have  been  traversing  the  Territory  of  Wyoming. 
It  formerly  formed  a  part  of  Dakota.    The  census  of  1870 
showed  its  population  to  be  11,518,  mostly  miners.    Only  338 
acres  of  land  was  then  improved  within  the  limits  of  the  Ter- 
ritorj\   The  capital  is  Cheyenne. 
We  now  find  ourselves  upon  the  great  sterile  plateau  of  the 
I  Rocky  Mountains.   The  surface  is  cold,  bleak  and  barren. 
Nine  miles  beyond  Cooper's  Lake  we  passs  Lookout  Station, 
and  eight  miles  farther  on  is  the  solitary  station  of  Miser.  Nine 
*  miles  more  and  we  come  to  Rock  Creek,  lined  in  places  bjr 


486 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


Steep  and  ragged  bluffs,  where  no  verdure  meets  the  eye,  and 
anon  meandering  through  the  narrow  valley  dotted  with  scat- 
tering fringes  of  cottonwood. 

The  Laramie  Plains  embrace  nearly  7,000  square  miles,  mostly 
a  cold  and  cheerless  region,  with  barren,  mossy  tracts  and 
stretches  of  sage  brush  and  stunted  shrubs.  Far  to  the  North- 
east the  Black  Hills  rise  to  view,  like  stern  sentinels  of  the 
clouds.  In  the  far  West  the  dismal  peaks  of  the  Rattlesnake 
Hills  appear,  and  on  the  Southeast  are  the  long  range  of  the 
Medicine  Bow  Mountains.  Away  on  the  Southern  border, 
along  the  base  of  the  mountains,  dark  forests  of  pine  and  fir 
exist,  much  of  which  is  annually  cut  and  floated  down  the 
Little  Laramie  River  for  railroad  ties  and  lumber. 

How  the  fierce  winds  of  Winter  sweep  these  cold  and  bleak 
upland  plains!  The  snow  then  piles  up  along  the  knolls  and 
ridges,  and  often  huge  drifts  extend  across  the  track.  The 
heavy  train  struggles  slowly  yet  bravely  on,  plowing  the  snow 
from  the  track  and  battling  manfully  with  the  freezing  ele- 
ments. Great  clouds  of  white,  fleecy  steam  roll  from  the 
smoke-stack  and  are  left  behind,  as  if  to  mark  the  course  over 
the  region  of  unfertile  desolation.  Perhaps  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing ;  but  the  air  is  filled  with  clouds  of  drifting  snow  or  keen 
particles  of  frost,  and  its  rays  are  cold,  pale  and  feeble.  In  the 
warmest  months  of  Summer,  when  there  is  no  snow  upon  th« 
ground,  the  scenery  in  most  places  is  wild  and  barren  in  the  ex- 
treme. With  the  exception  of  a  few  favored  places,  nothing 
but  sage  brush,  sterile  soil,  dwarfed  plants,  and  now  and  then 
a  few  stunted  shrubs  and  bushes  meet  the  eye. 

From  Rock  Creek  it  is  fifteen  miles  to  Como.  Then  follow 
Medicine  Bow,  Carbon,  Simpson,  Percy,  Dana  and  St.  Mary's. 
But  few  human  habitations  exist  in  this  region,  and  these  are 
mostly  confined  to  the  track  men  along  the  railroad.  Their 
gardens  often  attest  that  even  here  potatoes,  beets,  turnips  and 
other  vegetables  can  with  proper  irrigation  and  attention  be 
made  to  grow.  Many  fine  views  exist  in  the  neighborhood. 
Just  beyond  St.  Mary's  Station  the  Sweetwater  River  emerges 
from  a  succession  of  deep  and  narrow  gorges,  and  enters  a 
pleasant,  winding  valley,  fringed  in  places  by  little  willow 
groves  and  bunches  of  elders,  and  bordered  by  rugged  bluffs, 
altogether  forming  such  a  picture  as  the  artist  delights  to 
paint. 

The  Sweetwater  Valley  is  about  90  miles  in  length,  and  in 
many  places  bold  and  picturesque  scenes  are  strangely  mingled. 
Especially  is  this  observable  at  its  wild  passage  of  the  Granite 
Hills.  A  writer  for  the  National  Agricultural  Department  has 
truthfully  portrayed  the  scenery:  "Near  the  west  end  of  this 
irregular  range,  for  seven  to  eight  miles,  the  river  breaks 
through  it  and  is  closely  walled  in  by  lofty  bluffs,  with  here  and 
there  a  level  plat  of  a  few  hundred  acres  of  fertile  soil.  There 
is  an  open  plain  running  around  the  south  side  of  these  blufts 
several  miles  in  width,  which  probably  might  be  reached  by  a 
ditch  twelve  to  fifteen  feet  in  length.  After  passing  through 
the  gorge  here  the  river  enters  a  broad  and  beautiful  valley,  the 
upper  portion  of  which  is  thickly  covered  with  chenopodiaceous 
shrubs,  the  lower  part  bearing  a  tall,  thick  growth  of  grass. 
From  a  hill  at  this  point,  looking  eastward  down  the  river,  the 
valley  can  be  seen  for  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  while  southeast 
runs  a  higher  valley,  which  is  crossed  and  dotted  with  elevated 
plateaus  and  flat-topped  foot  hills.  The  mountain  which  some 
distance  east  runs  along  the  south  side  a  short  distance  from 
this  point,  terminates  westward,  while  from  the  southeast, 
running  northwest,  comes  another  range  which  forms  the 
southern  boundary  of  the  plain.  At  this  place  the  soil  is  rich 
and  light,  and,  with  irrigation,  would  produce  good  crops. 
In  the  vicinity  of  Hayden's  Peaks  the  granite  hills  on  one  side 
and  the  bluffs  on  the  other  approach  the  margin  of  the  river 
for  a  short  distance,  then  recede  in  a  circular  sweep  and  again 
come  together  a  few  miles  beyond,  forming  a  beautiful  circular 
area  containing  twenty  to  twenty-five  square  miles  of  rich  and 
fertile  bottom  land,  which,  slightly  elevated  above  the  stream, 
can  be  irrigated  withou  difficulty.  Passing  under  the  over- 
hanging cliff  of  yellow  Istone  through  the  gate-like  open- 
ing of  the  little  park  first  "ribed,  we  enter  upon  a  broad  val- 
ley which  continues  without  j.l  terruption  to  the  'Devil's  Gate,' 
about  four  miles  above  Independence  Rock."  But  without 
tiring  the  reader  with  further  digressions,  we  proceed  with  our 
westward  journey. 

Eight  miles  beyond  St.  Mary's  we  pass  Walcott,  and  six  miles 
farther  on  is  Fort  Steele.  We  now  pass  in  rapid  succession 
Greenville,  Rawlins,  Summit,  Separation,  Fillmore,  and  soon 
arrive  at  Creston.  Here  is  another  spot  like  that  we  found  on 
the  Erie  road,  where  a  breath  of  air  decides  the  fate  of  the 
raindrop.  Those  that  fall  a  few  feet  to  the  westward  of  the 
dividing  line  find  their  way  into  the  Pacific.  Those  that  fall 
a  few  feet  to  the  eastward  meander  over  the  Laramie  Plains,  to 
unite  with  the  North  Platte  and  break  through  the  wild  and 
gloomy  pass  of  the  mountains  and  continue  down  the  long 
slope  of  the  Nebraska  plains,  eventually  to  find  their  way  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  and  to  mingle  with  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

We  have  now  traveled  188  miles  since  we  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  Sherman,  and  we  find  the  sun 
sinking  in  the  western  horizon.  Latham,  Wash-a-kie,  and 
Red  Desert  are  passed,  and,  as  we  approach  the  station  at  Table 
Rock,  the  dusky  shades  of  evening  begin  to  hide  the  distant 
features  of  the  landscape.  Stepping  from  the  train  we  pass 
the  night  on  the  upland  plain,  and  with  the  first  dawn  of  morn- 
ing we  secure  passage  on  the  early  passenger  train  for  the 
West.  Little  especially  interesting  appears  to  the  view,  and 
we  pass  rapidly  forward,  reflecting  on  the  tedioueness  of  the 


old  overland  passage  by  means  of  mules  and  horses,  and  on  the 
onely  camp  scenes  night  after  night  in  the  cold  wilderness  of 
he  Laramie  Plains.  Bitter  Creek,  Black  Buttes,  Hallville  and 
'oint  of  Rocks  are  passed  ere  the  sun  has  fairly  risen  above 
le  distant  peaks.  A  run  of  twelve  miles  farther  brings  us  to 
le  station  at  Salt  Wells,  and  after  passing  two  more  stations 
■e  arrive  at  Green  River  and  approach  the  end  of  the  great 
pland  plain.  The  cold,  alkaline  region,  with  its  long  stretches 
f  sage  brush  and  sickly,  frost-bitten  vegetation  are  left  be. 
ind,  and  we  plunge  into  a  mountain  region  abounding  in  wild 
nd  romantic  scenery.  Bryan,  thirteen  miles  westward,  is  the 
irst  station.  Passing  by  Marston,  we  soon  leave  the  Territory 
)i  Wyoming  and  enter  Utah. 

As  we  go  down  the  western  descent  of  the  mountains  the 
scenery  becomes  more  picturesque  and  exciting.  The  road 
;rooks  and  winds  among  the  everlasting  hills,  and  the  car  is 
constantly  tilting  to  the  one  side  or  the  other  as  we  sweep 
iround  the  sharp  curves  and  points  of  jagged  rock  at  their 
jase.  New  and  interesting  views  are  ushered  in  at  every  turn. 
Occasionally,  high  up  on  the  steep  mountain  side,  dark  pine 
.  orests  are  seen,  with  here  and  there  massive  ledges  of  grey 
rock  jotting  out  in  bold  relief,  and  forming  immense  precipices, 
surrounded  by  the  sombre  tree  tops.  In  some  places  the  steep 
hillside  has  been  sliced  down  to  procure  a  level  space  for  the 
track,  and  the  huge  piles  of  blasted  and  riven  rock  attest  the 
vast  amount  of  labor  and  powder  expended  here.  When  the 
road  was  being  built  through  this  wild  section  an  impressive 
scene  might  have  been  witnessed.  The  clink  of  hammers  and 
drills  resounded  along  the  hillside  and  through  the  rocky  cor- 
ridors from  morning  till  night,  and  the  deep  roar  of  the  quak- 
ing blast  relied  forth  in  thunder  tones,  shaking  the  ground  and 
reverberating  among  the  mountains  like  the  sound  of  an  earth- 
quake. Now  and  then  we  observe  sand  banks  and  places 
where  immense  masses  of  earth  have  been  taken  to  fill  in  for  the 
track  across  a  ravine  or  depression,  and  the  old,  rusty  switch, 
long  windrow  of  useless  cobble  stones  and  solitary  shanty 
make  up  the  picture. 

Many  fine  trestle  bridges  are  passed  in  this  vicinity,  where 
the  train  makes  the  airy  dash  across  the  formidable  gulch, 
frowning  with  walls  of  rough,  uneven  rock,  with  here  and 
there  bunches  of  stunted  bushes  clinging  to  the  almost  perpen- 
dicular sides,  while  away  below  an  angry,  foaming  brook 
l)lunges  from  rock  to  rock  in  its  wild  and  gloomy  pathway. 
The  view  is  instantaneous,  and  then  we  are  away  again,  swing- 
ing around  the  giddy  curves  and  along  the  mountain  side,  past 
barren  earth-slides  and  ledges  beyond.  At  length  rocky  oar- 
riers  suddenly  make  their  appearance  directly  before  us,  as  if 
to  effectually  bar  our  farther  progress.  But  the  train  pauses 
not,  nor  turns  to  the  right  or  left.  Instantly  we  find  ourselves 
buried  in  the  depths  of  profound  darkness.  The  hollow  rum- 
ble of  the  train  sounas  fearfully  in  our  ears.  As  we  emerge 
from  the  solid  rock  tunnel  a  flood  of  light  flashes  suddenly  m 
our  faces.  It  seems  as  though  it  were  never  so  light  and  beau- 
tiful before.  We  have  been  but  a  few  moments  in  our  passage 
of  the  rocky  dungeon,  and  the  rumbling  of  the  train  still  rings 
in  our  ears.  All  nature  seems  to  glow  in  the  warm  sunlight, 
and  every  spot  where  vegetation  grows  seems  suffused  with, 
glory.  Anon  we  reach  another  dark  passage,  and  the  same 
scene  is  repeated,  and  so  on  until  v^'e  have  passed  no  less  than 
five  tunnels  ere  the  long  descent  is  accomplished  and  before 
we  reach  the  Valley  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  below.  But  the 
sun  is  again  settling  down  in  the  western  sky,  and  the  long, 
dark  shadows  of  the  mountains  reach  far  o^ut  across  the  narrow 
valley.  Nearly  all  day  long  we  have  ridden  through  ever  chang- 
ing mountain  scenery.  Since  we  entered  Utah  we  have  trav- 
eled nearly  a  hundred  miles,  passing  Granger,  Church  Buttes, 
Carter,  Bridger,  Piedmont,  Aspen,  Millis  and  Evanstown.  An- 
other day  is  added  to  our  western  travels,  and  we  are  190  miles 
from  the  elevated  plain  where  we  set  out  in  the  early  morning. 
The  mountain  tops  are  already  tinged  with  the  golden  rays  of 
the  departing  orb  of  day  as  we  enter  the  little  station  at  Wah- 
satch,  and,  leaving  the  train  to  pursue  its  onward  course,  we 
prepare  to  pass  the  night  comfortably  here,  well  knowing  that 
some  of  the  grandest  scenery  of  the  entire  Pacific  Line  is  but  a 
few  miles  ahead. 

The  dawn  of  morning  finds  ns  astir  and  sauntering  leisurely 
along  the  track.  The  sun  rises  above  the  eastern  hills— above 
the  towering  Rocky  Mountains,  and  patiently  we  wait  and 
listen  to  catch  the  sound  of  an  approaching  train.  Perhaps  it 
is  behind  time.  Still  we  wait  in  expectation.  An  hour  passes 
away  and  we  fancy  we  hear  its  roar  descending  from  the  dis- 
tant hills.  Louder  and  louder,  and  then  the  sharp  shriek  of 
the  steam  whistle  rings  deafening  through  our  ears  as  the  iron 
horse  moves  slowly  and  majestically  up  to  the  little  platform. 
A  vacant  seat  is  soon  supplied  with  an  occupant,  and  we  are 
away  like  the  wind.  Castle  Rock  is  eight  miles  distant,  and 
here  we  enter  the  famous  Echo  Canon.  Everything  M  e  have 
passed  before  is  eclipsed  by  the  wild  grandeur  of  the  scene  at 
once  presented.  The  road  winds  through  the  narrow  valley 
with  many  crooks  and  curves,  while  stupendous  walls  of 
serried  rock  and  extensive  earth  slides  rise  to  an  awful  height 
on  either  side.  The  thunder  of  the  passing  train  rolls  with 
prolonged  roar  through  the  frowning  passage  and  echoes 
sharply  from  rock  to  rock  and  crag  to  crag  until  our  ears  are 
almost  stunned  by  the  mighty  reverberations  of  sound.  Casting 
our  eyes  far  up  the  almost  perpendicular  barren  mountain  side, 
we  behold  black  cavernous  ltdges  rising  rank  above  rank,  un- 
til bleak,  steriJe  and  sjiow-capped,  they  appear  to  pierce  the 
clouds.  High  up  among  the  eternal  walls  of  rock  an  occasional 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


487 


flwarfed  pine  or  stuntea  cedar  nas  taken  root  and  lifts  Its  soli- 
tary branches  far  above  the  scene  of  desolation.  Sometimes 
the  eagle  builds  her  nest  among  the  lofty  and  inaccessible 
crags,  and  often,  as  the  roar  of  the  approaching  train  breaks 
like  distant  thunder  upon  her  listening  ear,  she  darts  from  her 
eyrie  with  piercing  screams  that  echo  loudly  and  strangely 
through  the  winding,  rock-cased  valley.  Fifteen  miles  from 
our  entrance  into  this  wild  gorge  finds  us  winding  into  Weber 
Canon,  where  a  magnificent  scene  of  towering,  rocky  grandeur 
is  displayed,  not  inferior  to  the  wildest  scenery  we  have  yet 
witnessed.  The  sublimity  of  the  view  strikes  the  beholder 
with  awe  and  wonder,  and  makes  an  impression  long  to  be  re- 
membered. 

Devil's  Gate  is  twelve  miles  beyond.  Crossing  the  Weber 
River  by  a  bridge  78  feet  above  the  foaming  torrent,  where  it 
dashes  with  fury  and  impetuosity  through  the  fearful  gorge 
below,  where  the  view  of  frightful  slippery  rocks  causes  us  to 
recoil  almost  with  a  feeling  of  dread  as  we  think  of  the  terri- 
ble consequences  of  an  accident  that  might  happen  here,  we 
enter  upon  a  more  beautiful  country,  and  ere  long  the  spark- 
ling waters  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  appear  in  the  distance. 
Passing  Uintah  we  approach  the  busy  little  station  of  Ogden, 
near  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  move  slowly  up  to  the  depot, 
near  the  round  houses  and  machine  shops,  and  where  trains 
are  in  waiting  and  switch  engines  busy  moving  cars  and  pre- 
paring trains  for  transportation  to  the  East  and  West.  Here 
we  see  the  last  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railway,  having  followed 
through  its  entire  course  of  1,032  miles  from  Omaha,  and  here 
the  Central  Pacific  Line  commences.  Here,  in  the  lovely  Salt 
Lake  Valley,  we  pause  for  the  day,  having  traveled  516  miles 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains  from  Cheyenne,  1,525  miles  from 
Chicago,  and  by  the  route  we  have  followed,  2,549  miles  from 
New  York. 


Wo.  15.— The  Mwmons— Joseph  Smith  and  the  History  of  the 
Mormon  Bible— Organization  of  the  Mormon  Church— Emi- 
gration to  Ohio — Persecution — Removal  to  Missouri— Driven 
from  the  State— Settlement  at  Nauvoo,  Illinois— The  State 
aroused— Death  cf  Smith— Brigham  Young— Further  perse- 
cution— The  long  journeij  through  the  wilderness — The  Home 
of  the  Mormons— Westward— On  the  last  railway  line— The 
Great  American  Desert— Sage-brush  and  sand  hills-'Entrance 
to  the  Humboldt  Valley— Arrival  at  Elko. 
The  Great  Salt  Lake  is  a  clear  and  beautiful  sheet  of  water, 
126  miles  long  and  45  miles  wide,  nestling  quietly  at  the  foot  of 
ranges  of  lofty  mountains,  and  surrounded  by  one  of  the  most 
charming  valleys  earth  affords.   Here  is  the  kingdom  of  Mor- 
mon, and  near  the  southern  shore  of  the  lake  is  their  city  and 
temple.    A  railroad  connects  the  place  with  Ogden,  32  miles 
distant,  and  there  forms  a  junction  with  the  great  Pacific 
lines. 

Perhaps  a  few  words  concerning  this  strange  and  peculiar 
people  at  this  point  will  not  be  unacceptable.  Something  over 
fifty  years  ago,  an  illiterate  young  man  named  Joseph  Smith 
lived  near  Palmyra,  in  the  central  part  of  the  State  of  New 
York.  At  an  early  age  he  exhibited  strange  ideas  and  remark- 
able traits  of  charact~er.  Believing  somewhat  in  the  efficiency 
of  divining  rods,  charms,  and  incantations,  he  became  a  money- 
digger,  and,  in  company  with  others,  explored  mounds  and 
other  diverse  places  in  search  of  hidden  treasure.  It  appears, 
however,  as  might  have  been  expected,  that  their  labors  were 
unsuccessful.  His  field  of  operations  extended  along  the  Sus- 
quehanna River,  and  many  were  his  dupes  who  foolishly  ex- 
pended their  time  and  money  only  to  drink  the  dregs  of  disap- 
pointment and  mortification. 

For  some  time  he  had  a  strong  belief  in  visions,  and  more 
than  once  he  declared  he  had  received  revelations  from  heaven. 
At  length,  while  praying  for  light  and  spiritual  guidance,  as  he 
asserted,  two  angels  appeared  to  him  and  made  the  announce- 
ment that  he  was  God's  chosen  apostle  and  prophet  to  establish 
the  new  religion  and  preach  the  true  gospel  to  an  unbelieving 
World.  A  few  days  elapsed  and  another  angel  appeared,  clothed 
in  glorious  raiment,  and  with  countenance  bright  and  dazzling 
as  the  lightning,  announcing  himself  as  a  special  messenger 
from  the  throne  of  God,  to  reveal  the  spot  where  the  golden 
Mormon  Bible  was  concealed.  It  was  the  evening  of  the  21st 
of  September,  1823.  The  next  morning  he  was  visited  again  by 
the  divine  messenger,  and  commanded  to  go  to  the  hill  of 
Cumorah,  only  about  four  miles  from  Palmyra,  and  unearth  the 
sacred  book  of  the  new  religion. 

Repairing  to  the  spot,  according  to  the  direction  of  the 
an^el,  he  soon  came  to  a  strong,  air-tight  stone  box,  the  corner 
only  of  which  was  visible,  having  been  washed  bare  by  the 
storms  of  a  thousand  years.  Within  he  found  three  short  pil- 
lars, upon  which  lay  the  sacred  oracles  of  the  Most  High,  while 
underneath,  upon  an  ancient  appearing  breast-plate,  was  a  bow 
like  a  pair  of  spectacles,  with  two  beautiful  stones  clear  as 
crystal  set  therein.  These  he  was  to  look  through  in  making 
his  prophesies  and  disclosing  the  hidden  future,  and  were  said 
to  be  identical  with  the  Hebrew  Uriiu  and  Thummim.  The 
youthful  prophet  stood  gazing  upon  the  wonderful  objects  with 
awe  and  mute  amazement.  Suddenly  the  familiar  angel  came, 
and  the  brightest  vision  of  his  life  took  place.  The  windows 
of  celestial  beauty  were  opened,  and  all  the  glories  of  heaven 
Btood  revealed.  A  moment  later  the  Evil  Spirit  passed  slowly 
by,  followed  by  his  long  black  retinue  of  misery  and  wicked- 
ness. And  then,  after  refusing  Smith  the  golden  book  until 
the  "  fullness  of  time  had  arrived,"  the  angel  vanished,  and  t.he 
voung  seer  was  alou 


Four  years  passed  by.  and  at  length,  on  the  morning  of  th3 

1')A  of  September,  1827,  he  received  the  lonR-souKht  treasure. 
Tho  leaves,  or  plates,  had  the  appearance  of  pure  gold,  seven 
by  eight  inches  in  size,  forming  a  volume  about  six  inches 
thick,  held  in  place  by  throe  rings.  Erecting  a  screen  in  an 
Inner  room,  ho  retired  behind  It,  put  on  his  crystal  spoctales, 
and  proceeded  to  translate  its  mysterious  hieroglyphics,  while 
one  of  his  dupes  sat  on  the  other  side,  hid  from  view,  to  write 
as  he  might  dictate,  for  it  had  been  cunningly  declared  that  no 
man  but  the  chosen  prophet  could  ever  behold  the  book  and 
live.  The  written  manuscript,  pretending  to  give  the  ancient 
history  of  the  American  Indians,  claiming  that  they  were  one 
of  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel  and  the  descendants  of  Joseph,  to- 
gether with  many  good  moral  maxims,  was  soon  delivered  to 
the  printer,  and  the  Mormon  Bible  was  thrown  upon  the  world. 

Eloping  with  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  family  of  Har- 
mony, Pennsylvania,  who  became  the  first  Mormon  wife,  he 
settled  near  his  father's  residence,  and  entered  upon  his  re- 
ligious work  with  new  zeal  and  ardor.  On  the  6th  of  April, 
1830,  he  organized  the  first  Mormon  church  at  Manchester,  On- 
tario County,  New  York,  with  30  members.  Persecution  com- 
menced at  the  outset.  Sidney  Ri^don,  Oliver  Cowdrey,  and 
Parley  B.  Pratt  joined  the  faith,  and  being  educated  and  active, 
became  efficient  co-workers  in  the  Mormon  cause.  They  pro- 
ceeded to  Kirtland,  Ohio,  where  they  soon  gathered  over  a 
thousand  converts  around  them.  The  arrival  of  f.mith  with 
his  little  band  of  followers,  was  hailed  with  every  demonstra- 
tion of  joy.  He  no  longer  placed  an  oval  "look  stone "  in  his 
hat  and  buried  his  face  therein  to  read  the  future,  as  had  once 
been  his  custom  when  seeking  for  hidden  treasure  ;  everything 
was  revealed  by  special  revelation.  Hundreds  flocked  around 
them  to  hear  the  strange  doctrine,  many  to  become  converts 
and  remain,  and  many  to  g  uway  and  join  the  army  of  perse- 
cution. 

Opinion  waxed  warm  against  them.  By  special  revelation, 
they  were  ordered  to  migrate  to  the  far  West.  Crossing  the 
Mississippi,  they  penetrated  to  Independence,  Jackson  County, 
Missouri,  300  miles  bey  ind  St.  Louis.  Missionaries  wera  sent 
out  in  every  direction  to  gather  the  saints  to  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  organization  soon  became  strong  in  numbers. 
Persecution  followed,  and  soon  opposition  was  far  stronger 
here  than  it  had  been  in  the  East.  At  length  the  peace  of  the 
State  was  threatened,  when  an  exasperated  and  armed  force 
drove  the  entire  host,  12,000  in  number,  to  the  western  banks  of 
the  Mississippi.  They  could  live  in  peace  no  longer  there,  and 
they  hastily  migrated  to  Illinois.  Settling  at  Nauvoo,  and  call- 
ing in  the  saints  from  all  directions,  they  organized  anew,  and 
commenced  to  build  a  temple.  A  short  period  of  prosperity 
and  peace  now  occurred ;  but  it  was  only  the  lull  before  the 
storm.  Civil  dissensions  and  disputes  arose  among  them,  and 
ere  long  others  besides  the  prophet  declared  that  they  too  had 
received  revelations  from  heaven,  and  among  other  things,  the 
monstrous  authority  for  one  man  to  have  several  wives.  Ru« 
mors  of  immoral  doctrines  and  practices  spread  throughout  the 
State,  and  a  newspaper  was  established  at  Nauvoo  to  expose 
:  their  crimes.  By  the  order  of  Smith  the  printing  press  was 
demolished  and  the  materials  scattered.  Warrants  were  issued 
against  Smith  and  seventeen  other  offenders,  and  officers  sent 
to  arrest  them.  They  were,  however,  overpowered  by  the 
Mormons  and  driven  from  the  city.  The  people  now  resolved 
to  take  the  matter  into  their  own  hands,  and,  collecting  around 
Nauvoo,  they  threatened  to  lay  the  place  in  ashes.  The  Mor- 
mons fortified  the  city,  raised  a  legion  of  armed  defenders,  and 
prepared  to  resist  the  power  of  the  State.  The  flame  of  civil, 
war  seemed  ready  to  burst  forth.  The  peace  of  the  State  was 
menaced.  The  Governor  took  the  field  in  person.  At  length 
the  Smiths  surrendered  themselves  as  prisoners,  and  were  con- 
fined in  Carthage  jail,  charged  with  treason.  On  the  evening 
of  the  27th  of  June,  1844,  an  excited  mob  overpowered  the 
guards,  brolte  into  the  jail,  and  the  prisoners  were  shot. 

Thus  perished  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mormon  founder,  at  the 
age  of  39  years.  That  he  was  an  extraordinary  man,  no  one 
can  doubt.  He  understood  human  nature  almost  to  perfection, 
and  he  seemed  to  possess  the  peculiar  power  of  governing  the 
minds  of  others  and  making  them  conform  to  his  desires.  Hia 
power  for  promoting  good  or  evil  was  therefore  immense.  On 
the  death  of  Smith,  Brigham  Young  took  the  lead  as  prophet, 
priest,  and  king.  By  special  revelation  they  were  now  ordered 
to  the  wilderness  of  the  far  West,  and  forthwith  the  emigrat- 
ing host  set  forth.  A  few  remained  to  finish  and  dedicate  the 
magnificent  temple,  in  order  to  fulfill  a  former  prediction,  and 
then  they  too  abandoned  it  and  set  their  faces  to  the  westward 
to  join  their  journeying  brethren  already  on  the  distant 
plains.  For  many  long  and  weary  months  they  wandered 
through  the  wilderness  and  over  the  Rocky  Mountains  like  the 
Children  of  Israel  in  the  march  to  Canaan,  till  at  last,  tired  and 
footsore,  they  looked  down  from  the  peaks  of  the  Wahs&tch 
upon  the  plains  of  Deseret,  around  the  Great  Salt  Lake.  It 
was  the  afternoon  of  the  20th  of  July,  1847,  and  the  golden 
raj's  of  the  setting  sun  clothed  the  lovely  valley  in  celestial 
glory.  It  was  the  Promised  Land.  Here  the  weary  pilgrims 
established  their  settlement,  in  the  land  of  the  grizzly  bear  and 
perfidious  savage,  far  from  the  abode  of  civilized  man,  declar- 
ing it  to  be  their  everlasting  residence,  where  they  might  rest 
in  peace,  free  from  persecution  and  strife. 

Numbers  from  distant  lands  flocked  thither  to  join  them, 
and  ere  long  the  settlement  rose  rapidly  in  wealth  and  pcpula- 
Lion.  In  1850  a  territorial  government  was  established,  and 
Brigham  Young  was  appointed  Governor.    In  1857  thoy  wer«- 


488 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


accused  of  robbing  overland  emigrant  trains,  and  President 
Buchanan  sent  an  army  against  them  ;  but,  happily,  the  trouble 
iv'as  amicably  settled  without  bloodshed,  and  many  times  since 
das  the  exhausted  traveler  had  occasion  to  rejoice  in  the  kind 
hospitality  of  even  Mormon  civilisation,  in  the  midst  of  the 
far-reaching  wilderness. 

The  city  is  laid  out  on  a  grand  and  extensive  plan,  and  the 
streets  and  squares  are  especially  fine.  The  famous  temple  is 
a  magnificent  structure,  peculiar  in  formation,  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  striking  object  in  the  city,  ranking  among  the  great- 
est works  of  art  in  America.  Stores,  factories,  and  workshops, 
with  tall  chimneys,  where  all  the  wants  of  every  day  life  are 
fabricated,  rise  in  every  direction.  They  rely  not  on  their 
neighbors  for  necessaries  ;  they  are  a  little  world  within  them- 
selves. Civilization  is  gradually  pressing  westward,  and  ere 
long  they  will  probably  be  again  surrounded  by  Gentiles.  Then 
again  will  the  question  of  toleration  be  raised.  Our  nation  is 
free.  All  shades  of  political  and  religious  opinion  are  fully 
allowed.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  organization,  numbering 
over  200,000  members,  with  so  vast  a  power  for  good  or  evil, 
will  peaceably  conform  to  the  laws  of  the  country.  Reason! 
judgment  and  education  may  yet  root  out  their  erroneous  ideas. 
No  persecution  should  ever  be  allowed  simply  on  account  of 
religious  belief,  hut  tlie  barbarous  practice  of  polyqamv  will 
never  he  tolerated. 

Manv  beautiful  valleys  wind  away  in  different  directions 
through  the  Salt  Lake  Basin,  some  of  which  afford  splendid 
Views.  Ogden  Hole,  on  Ogden  Creek,  is  a  beautiful  park  fifteen 
miles  long  by  seven  wide,  suiTounded  on  all  sides  by  the  lofty 
peaks  of  the  Wahsatch  Mountains,  down  which  hundreds  of 
little  brooks  of  crystal  clearness  descend  to  water  the  lovely 

glain.  At  Ogden  we  enter  the  splendid  silver  palace  cars  of  the 
entral  Pacific  Railway,  and  soon  leave  the  station  behind  to 
fly  westward  on  the  last  railroad  line  of  our  journey. 

Bonneville,  ten  miles  distant,  is  the  first  station.  "With  more 
than  the  speed  of  the  race-horse  we  dash  along  the  north  shore 
of  the  lake  past  the  little  stations  of  Corinne,  Blue  Creek,  and 
Promontory,  53  miles  distant,  where,  on  the  10th  of  May,  1869 
the  Union  Pacific  and  Central  Pacific  Railway  Companies 
united  their  tracks,  and  the  greatest  railroad  line  in  the  world 
was  finished.  The  earth's  green  covering  of  grass  and  trees 
soon  begins  to  dwindle  away  to  scattering  tufts  of  verdure  and 
dwaif-ed  shrubs,  and  ere  long  we  enter  the  Great  American 
Desert.  A  barren  scene  of  waste  and  desolation,  with  bunches 
of  sage-brush  and  stunted  weeds,  appear  to  the  view.  The 
landscape  resembles  the  great  sterile  plains  of  Tartary.  Hardly 
any  animal  life  exists  along  our  lonely  pathway,  and  the  only 
sign  of  civilization  is  the  rude  shanty  or  adobe  house  at  lono- 
intervals,  and  the  little  gangs  of  watchful  track  men.  Now  we 
pass  along  the  base  of  barren  mountains  crowned  with  naked 
grey  rocks  or  a  few  straggling  cedars,  and  anon  we  shoot  across 
the  level  alkaline  plains,  destitute  of  timber  and  vegetation, 
and  where  at  times  the  brown  sand  is  drifted  and  hurled  along 
by  the  whirlwind  like  the  snows  of  Winter.  Springs  and 
streams  are  few  and  far  between,  and  the  excessive  drouc^hts  of 
this  region  often  render  their  beds  dry  and  parched  f or°miles. 
It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  long  stretches  of  sage-brush 
destitute  of  leaves  and  as  dry  and  dead  for  the  want  of  rain  as 
though  fire  had  ran  among  them.  Before  the  railroad  was 
built,  good  pure  water  could  not  well  be  carried,  and  the  over- 
land traveler  of  the  slow  wagon  train  often  suffered  from 
thirst,  or  was  compelled  to  drink  the  miserable  water  along  the 
sinks  and  stagnant  sloughs.  Occasionally  bands  of  naked 
savages  are  seen  prowling  over  the  dismal  plain,  thoup-li 
their  native  haunts  are  mostly  a  few  hundred  miles  to  the 
north,  among  the  timbered  regions  of  the  almost  unknown 
wilderness,  where  game  is  abundant.  Away  to  the  south  are 
the  Root  Diggers,  the  most  abject  and  ignorant  of  the  Indian 
race  within  the  bounds  of  our  territories.  In  places  there  are 
said  to  bo  bed.^  of  rock  salt,  and  the  soil  is  so  impregnated  with 
it  that  vegetation  cannot  exist.  Greasewood  and  sage-brush 
are  seen  in  scattering  bunches,  while  the  dark  foliage  of 
bunch-cedar  sometimes  fringes  the  gloomy  mountain's  brow, 
and  long  rows  of  sickly-looking  willows  line  the  margins  of 
the  dried  up  streams. 

As  the  forenoon  passes  away  we  pass  Lake,  Monument, 
Kelton  and  Matlin,  and  as  the  sun  approaches  zenith  we  enter 
Terrace,  124  miles  from  Ogden.  The  next  station  is  Bovine, 
ten  miles  to  th2  westward,  and  thirteen  miles  more  brings  u£ 
to  Lucin„  After  passing  two  or  three  more  unimportant  sta 
tions  we  arrive  at  Toano,  pleasantly  situated  at  the  entrance  to 
the  Humboldt  Valley.  Near  the  head  of  this  valley,  surrounded 
by  delightful  scenery,  we  pass  the  night,  aware  that  we  have 
left  the  dreary  desert  region  behind. 

The  first  morning  passenger  train  finds  us  in  waiting.  A  long 
descending  grade  lies  before  us.  With  the  entrance  to  the 
Humboldt  Valley  the  scenery  changes.  After  viewing  cheerless 
eaud  hills  and  barren  mountains  for  so  many  miles,  we  gaze 
with  delight  upon  the  grass  and  green  verdure  of  the  fertile 
slopes  that  here  reach  far  back  from  the  river.  Pequop  statioi 
is  ten  miles  down  the  valley,  and  two  miles  farther  on  is  Otego 
Beyond  Otego  we  rapidly  pass  Independence,  Moore's,  Cedar 
Wells,  Tulasco,  Deeth,  Halleck  and  Peko.  The  grading  dowi 
the  valley  is  generally  very  light,  and  little  that  is  striking  c; 
imposing  appears  to  the  view.  Stretches  of  willow  and  cot 
tonwood  line  the  streams  in  places  almost  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  while  farther  on  the  rich,  level  river  flat,  clothed  in  ua- 
rure's  garb  of  nutritious  grass,  winds  far  away  without  a  tree  j 
i  n  sight,  reminding  us  for  the  time  of  the  Platte  Valley  and  the 
oiains  of  Nebraska.  1 


Passing  Osino,  a  run  of  nine  miles  brings  us  to  Elko,  one  of 
the  busiest  little  stations  we  have  seen  for  a  long  time.  The 
emigrant  camp,  with  its  little  huddle  of  long  covered  wagons 
and  lines  of  picturesque  mules  and  horses  near  the  outskirts  of 
the  little  town,  proclaim  the  place  of  departure  and  shipping 
point  for  the  White  Pine  mining  region  of  Nevada.  Several 
miners  and  other  workmen  are  seen  lounging  around  the  plat- 
form, and  the  buildings  in  the  near  vicinity  seem  to  promise 
tolerable  accommodation.  Here,  then,  275  miles  to  the  west- 
ward of  Ogden,  we  will  prepare  to  pass  another  night. 


No.  Vq.— Nevada— Down  the  Humboldt  Valley— Silver  mines  and 
salt  fields — Mining  towns  and  miners—  The  wonders  of  Nevada, 
—Pyramid  Lake— Petrified  forced— Ascending  the  Sierra 
Nevadas—Lalce  Tahoe— California — Ch^and  and  imposing 
scenery— Dark  forests  and  ledges— Tne  home  of  the  grizzly 
bear. 

With  the  crossing  of  the  western  line  of  Utah,  the  Territories 
are  left  far  behind,  and  we  enter  the  young  and  rapidly  rising 
State  of  Nevada.  It  was  taken  from  Utah  and  a  territorial 
government  established  March  2d,  1861,  and  was  admitted  into 
the  Union  October  31st,  1864.  It  contains  126,000  square  miles, 
being  larger  than  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  and 
Maryland,  combined.  Its  population  in  1870  was  a  little  over 
42,000.  The  eastern  portion,  which  we  have  been  traversing 
for  some  time,  is  principally  made  up  of  arid  wastes  and  sandy 
valleys,  interspersed  with  mountain  ranges  and  narrow  ravines, 
>vhere  only  sage-brush  and  hard,  dry  weeds  abound. 

The  State  contains  but  few  rivers  of  much  magnitude,  and 
is  therefore  poorly  watered  and  without  the  advantages  of 
steamboat  navigation.  During  the  Autumn  and  Winter 
months  a  considerable  quantity  of  rain  falls,  but  from  April  to 
October,  showers  and  rain-storms  occur  only  at  very  long  inter- 
vals. The  consequence  is,  that  the  ground  becomes  parched 
and  baked  by  the  continual  drought,  like  the  barren  plains  of 
Persia,  and  most  of  the  streams,  after  meandering  along  in 
their  shallow  course  for  many  miles,  dwindle  down  to  mere 
brooks  and  rills,  and  eventually  are  absorbed  and  swallowed 
up.  Still,  good  wells  may  be  found  in  most  localities,  and 
many  beautiful  lakes,  surrounded  by  charming  and  picturesque 
scenery,  abound.  Indeed,  its  entire  lake  surface  has  been 
computed  at  nearly  1,700  square  miles,  or  over  one  million  of 
acres.  Among  the  most  noted  are  Pyramid,  Humboldt, 
Crystal,  and  Lake  Tahoe.  Among  its  numerous  valleys. 
Paradise,  Grass,  Cold  Spring,  Clover,  Smoky,  Crescent,  and 
Thousand  Spring  Valley  may  be  mentioned. 

Nevada  is  emphatically  a  mineral  State.  Gold,  silver,  coal, 
copper,  and  lead,  abound  in  vast  quantities.  In  the  western 
part  of  the  State  there  is  a  ledge  of  silver  ore  running  along' 
the  side  of  a  mountain  for  three  miles,  with  a  width  of  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  feet.  Over  thirty  companies  have  been 
working  upon  it,  and  in  places  it  has  been  mined  to  the  depth 
of  nearly  a  thousand  feet.  The  supply  of  salt  is  well  nigh 
inexhaustible.  In  one  place,  about  fifty  miles  south  of  Miue- 
ville,  an  immense  salt  bed  exists,  no  less  than  sixteen  thousand 
acres  in  extent.  Excavations  of  three  feet  in  depth  are  tilled 
up  in  a  short  time  with  new  deposits  of  almost  unparalleled 
purity.  Mineral  springs  and  new  mines  are  constantly  being 
found,  and  their  full  development  must  reveal  a  mass  of 
mineral  wealth  almost  incalculable. 

As  we  descend  the  Humboldt  Valley  during  the  clear  and 
lovely  morning,  past  the  little  established  stations  of  Moleen, 
Carlin,  Palisade,  Clure,  Be-o-wa-we,  Shoshone,  and  Argenta, 
we  realize  that  we  are  traversing  a  more  beautiful  and  fertile 
region  than  we  have  seen  for  some  time.  Patches  of  rich 
pasturage  are  seen  along  the  level  flats,  and  the  base  of  the 
rugged  mountains  that  occasionally  line  the  valley,  are  some- 
times clothed  in  sombre  belts  of  forest.  The  stations  now 
become  farther  apart,  and,  with  the  exception  of  now  and  then 
a  little  primitive  habitation  of  the  track  men,  with  its  patched 
and  pointed  roof,  and  gangs  of  the  sons  of  Erin,  with  their 
hand-car  by  the  side  of  the  track,  the  country  seems  deserted 
and  destitute  of  humanity. 

Thirteen  miles  beyond  Argenta  we  pass  Battle  Mountain,  and 
nineteen  miles  farther  on  is  Stone  House.  Golconda,  which  is 
the  next  station,  is  twenty-four  miles  distant,  and  by  the  time 
we  reach  that  point,  the  sun  has  mounted  to  the  zenith. 
Eleven  miles  more  brings  us  to  Tule,  and  five  miles  farther  on 
is  Winnemucca.  From  here  down  to  the  Raspberry  Creek 
station  is  twenty-one  miles.  The  swiftest  trains  stop  to  but 
very  few  of  these  unimportant  stations,  and  often,  unless  they 
have  passengers  to  be  let  off,  they  dash  down  the  winding 
valley  for  hours  at  a  time,  like  a  bird  on  the  wing. 

The  grading  continues  light,  and  but  few  important  bridges 
are  passed.  In  the  Spring  the  river  is  often  turbid  and  swollen, 
in  many  places  breaking  over  its  channel  banks  and  spreading 
rilong  the  low  valley  for  miles  ;  but  late  in  the  Summer  it 
dwindles  away  until  it  covers  scarce  a  quarter  of  its  bed,  and 
is  broken  and  rippled  by  the  stones  and  uneven  surface  of  the 
bottom.  In  places  the  track  hugs  the  channel  of  the  river,  and 
we  can  look  down  into  its  clear,  sparkling  water,  almost 
directly  under  us,  and  anon  we  dash  away  across  the  plain  in  a 
straight  line,  cutting  off  the  distance  around  some  great  bend, 
where  its  course,  perhaps  nearly  a  mile  away,  is  plainly  marked 
by  rows  of  willow  and  cottonwood,  sweeping  around  in  _aq 
immense  semi-circle,  and  appearing,  from  the  swiftly-moving 
train,  to  be  swinging  around  backwards,  together  with  the  hills 
and  all  other  stationary  objects,  until  ere  we  are  aware  that  it 
is  so  near,  we  find  ourselves  again  sweeping  along  its  margin- 


THE  GROWING  IVORLD. 


489 


JNow  and  then  we  dasli  over  atieat,  light  tre^ile  bridge,  spanning 
some  narrow  ravine  or  lateral  crock,  and  then  around  a  spur  of 
mountain,  where  a  new  landscape  and  new  scenes  of  beauty 
■are  ushered  in. 

As  we  reflect  on  our  long  journey  across  the  solitary  plains 
and  treeless  wastes  of  Utah  and  the  Great  American  Desert, 
so  far  removed  from  all  source  of  timber,  we  cannot  help 
thinking  of  the  immense  amount  of  labor  and  money  that 
must  have  been  expended  in  the  transportation  of  materials 
for  this  the  greatest  railway  line  in  the  world.  Pine,  for 
bridges,  was  in  some  instances  brought  from  Puget's  Sound, 
.and  in  others  from  points  in  Colorado  and  elsewhere,  two 
hundred  miles  distant  from  the  line,  from  whence  it  was  mostly 
drawn  by  oxen  and  wagons,  costing  the  company,  when 
delivered,  over  $100  per  cord.  Oak  timber,  in  some  places,  cost 
them  over  $200  per  cord.  During  the  construction  of  the 
Kansas  branch,  4,480  trucks  and  wagons,  some  of  them  drawn 
by  as  many  as  eigliteen  mules  or  oxen,  left  Atchison  with 
materials  for  the  railway,  in  a  single  year.  No  less  than  29,720 
oxen  and  over  7,000  mules  were  in  constant  employ  in  the 
transportation  business  of  this  section  alone.  Along  the 
Nebraska  plains  far  heavier  work  than  this  was  carried  on,  and 
half  a  million  tons  of  iron  and  timber  were  carried  forward  in 
one  season.  An  army  of  men  and  animals  daily  traversed  the 
great  plains,  like  the  mighty  caravans  of  the  East.  An 
enterprise  of  so  gigantic  magnitude  would  almost  seem 
sufiicient  to  impoverish  a  nation. 

Continuing  down  the  valley,  we  soon  pass  Mill  City  and 
arrive  at  Humboldt.  Here  we  again  put  up  for  the  night. 
With  the  early  train  westward  we  are  again  in  motion,  and  ere 
the  sun  has  fairly  risen  we  have  passed  the  little  stations  of 
Rye  Patch  and  Oreana,  and  are  rapidly  approaching  Lovelock's. 
Little  mining  villages  of  rude  shanties  are  rapidly  springing  up 
in  many  wild  localities,  sheltered  in  many  cases  by  sterile 
crags  and  ledges.  The  hotel  and  saloon  often  play  the  most 
important  part  in  the  town,  and  here  the  adventurers  and 
rougher  knights  of  the  pick  and  shovel,  representing  humanity 
of  all  shades  of  race  and  character,  from  the  swarthy  Mexican 
half  breed  and  dusky  Indian  to  the  pure  Caucasian  of  every 
nation,  nightly  congregate  to  have  a  social  or  unsocial  time, 
play  games,  drink  whisky,  and  spend  their  money.  Many  true 
men,  however,  who  mind  their  own  business,  retire  to  their 
own  cabin  at  night,  and  have  the  good  luck  to  keep  clear  of  the 
sharpers,  often  gain  wealth  by  delving  in  the  mines  ;  but  in  the 
remote  settlements,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  regular  courts  of 
justice,  the  business,  especially  to  a  beginner,  is  in  general 
very  uncertain  and  hazardous,  and  probably  on  an  average  with 
isuch,  more  is  lost  than  gained. 

Passing  a  few  more  unimportant  stations,  among  which  may 
be  mentioned  Granite  Point,  Brown's,  White  Plains,  Mirage, 
and  Hot  Springs,  the  lofty  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  appear  in 
the  west,  like  a  long  blue  smoky  cloud,  rising  unevenly  above 
the  far  distant  horizon.  Again  we  are  reminded  of  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  Rockies.  Eleven  miles  beyond  Hot  Springs  is 
Desert  Station,  and  nine  miles  farther  on  we  stop  at  Wads- 
worth.  Gradually  the  famous  range  has  appeared  more  blue, 
plain  and  distinct,  as  we  steadily  approach  its  basie,  and  now  it 
rises  directly  before  us  like  a  mighty  barrier,  with  its  long 
wooded  ridges,  steep  hills,  and  lofty  peaks.  But  the  genius  of 
man  was  not  daunted  in  the  work  of  constructing  a  railroad, 
■even  here.  We  observe  the  track  stretching  ahead  across  the 
little  strip  of  level  plain,  and  curving  in  between  two  loftv 
ridges,  and  ere  long  we  find  ourselves  winding  upward  through 
the  narrow  valley  fringed  with  giant  trees  and  sombre  ever- 
greeu  forests.  Fourteen  miles  of  the  upward  march  brings  us 
iQ  Clark's  Station.  What  a  contrast  between  the  beautiful  and 
ever-changing  scenery  we  are  now  passing  through,  and  the 
desolate  sage-brush  regions  we  have  left  behind  ! 

The  grade  soon  becomes  so  heavy  that  the  strong  iron  horse 
carries  its  load  upward  slowly  and  with  difficulty.  Another 
ponderous  locomotive  is  hitched  to  the  train,  and  even  then  we 
ascend  slowly  around  the  abrupt  curves,  while  the  united 
efforts  of  the  two  laboring  engines  make  the  grand  old  forest 
resound  with  their  measured,  sharp  and  heavy  pufling. 

Away  to  the  north,  nestling  among  the  everlasting  hills  of 
4he  eastern  slope  of  these  mountains,  is  Pyramid  Lake.  It  is 
in  one  of  the  moat  wild  and  rocky  spots  on  the  face  of  the  ter- 
restrial globe.  On  every  side  an  immense  wall  of  perpendicular 
rock  rises  to  the  amazing  height  of  3,000  feet.  As  the  traveler 
stands  upon  the  verge  of  this  awful  precipice  and  gazes  far 
down  upon  the  placid  waters  below,  and  surveys  the  surround- 
ing masses  of  towering  vertical  ledges,  his  mind  is  filled  with 
the  sublimity  and  wild  grandeur  ot  the  scene,  and  his  brain 
reels  with  dizziness.  From  the  centre  of  the  unruffled  waters 
below,  a  strange  rock  rises  in  the  form  of  a  huge  pyramidal 
dome  600  feet  into  the  air. 

Nevada  abounds  in  many  natural  curiosities  and  wonders. 
In  one  barren  and  desolate  place,  in  a  region  of  sand  and  sage- 
brush, a  petrified  forest  exists,  some  of  the  trees  of  which  rival 
in  size  the  celebrated  mammoth  trees  of  California.  Many  of 
the  stumps  are  still  standing,  while  the  limbs  and  trunks  lie 
scattered  about  in  every  direction.  Three  men  worked  twelve 
days  cutting  a  section  from  one  of  these  petrified  trees  for  the 
Centennial.  The  block  was  three  feet  high,  eighteen  inches  in 
circumference,  and  was  estimated  to  weigh  about  6,000  pounds. 
What  mighty  changes  has  this  region  undergone  since  these 
giant  trees  of  stone  were  clothed  in  Nature's  green  and  waved 
their  noble  branches  in  the  gentle  western  breeze  I  Pure 
crystalized  pillars  of  rock  salt,  hard  as  marble  and  reseTibling 


Icicles,  is  another  of  the  natural  curiosities  of  this  State,  some- 
times found  in  the  caves  and  gorges  of  the  salt  regions. 

Resunuug  our  journey,  we  soon  find  ourselves  hemmed  in 
on  eitluir  side  by  steep,  craggy  mountain-sides  and  almost 
perpendicular  ledges,  that  shut  in  so  close  upon  us  that  there 
18  barely  room  for  our  jjathway  and  the  foaming  torrent  below. 
In  many  places  they  have  been  blasted  and  sliced  down,  by 
steel  and  powder,  to  obtain  a  place  for  the  solid  road-bed 
beneath  us.  Tall  pines  and  stately  cedars  wave  their  dark, 
sighing  branches  in  the  wind  above  us,  their  roots  entwined 
among  the  loose  rocks  that  line  the  edge  of  the  towering 
precipice,  down  which  the  mountain  streamlet  dashes,  white 
with  snowy  foam.  Now  and  then  we  observe  pilea  of  naked, 
jagged  rock,  rising  in  ponderous  masses  on  either  side  of  the 
narrow  ravine,  in  many  places  appearing  as  though  they  had 
been  rent  assunder  by  some  powerful  convulsion;  and  could 
the  crumbling  fragments  that  my  piled  up  and  scattered  around 
their  base  be  once  more  replaced  and  the  deep  chasm  be 
brought  together,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  riven  rocks 
would  fit  together  exactly.  All  along  the  road  there  is  a  con- 
stant field  of  study  for  the  geologist.  The  action  of  the  water 
is  plainly  displayed  in  the  deep  gullies  with  overhanging  rocks 
and  sighing  pines  above,  and  along  the  heavy  earth  and  rock 
cuttings  the  erosion  of  the  atmosphere  is  continually  softening 
aad  slacking  the  ledges  and  sand  banks,  and  little  lumps  of 
hard  earth  and  stone  are  ever  rolling  down  with  never-ceasing 
rattle,  to  form  a  scattered  ridge  of  debris  at  the  bottom. 

Through  a  region  of  wild  and  picturesque  scenery  we  slowly 
ascend  the  upward  grade,  past  the  stations  of  Vista,  Reno, 
Verdi,  Boca,  Truckee,  and  Strong's  Canon.  The  air  has  be- 
come cool  and  bracing,  and  the  tree-tops,  far  below,  sigh 
mournfully  and  wave  about  in  the  strong  mountain  breeze. 
Eight  miles  farther  on  we  approach  the  Sierra  Nevada 
summit.  The  scenery  from  the  station  is  comprehensive  and 
splendid.  Donning  our  overcoats,  we  ascend  one  of  the  nearest 
peaks  to  gaze  in  admiration  upon  one  of  the  most  gpand  and 
magnificent  landscapes  in  America.  Immense  regions  of  pine 
forest  lie  all  around  below  us,  stretching  away  in  some  places 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  discern  them.  Little  woodland  lakes, 
hemmed  in  by  minor  mountains,  sparkle  and  glitter  in  the  sun- 
light in  a  dozen  different  directions.  Towering  hills  and 
snow-capped  peaks  lean  against  the  blue  horizon  like  faint 
lines  of  clouds,  a  hundred  miles  away.  Enormous  ledges  and 
battlements  of  rock  jut  out  from  the  mountain-side  in  bold 
relief,  often  receding  tier  above  tier,  displaying  their  black» 
cavernous  openings,  surrounded  by  scraggy  cedars  and  swaying 
branches  of  thick  evergreen  tree-tops.  Here,  in  the  most 
dismal  and  secluded  regions,  Avhere  the  snows  of  Winter  bend 
the  forest  beneath  the  weight  of  their  cold  mantle,  the  grizzly 
bear  has  found  a  home.  Here  he  roams  through  the  forest,  a 
king  among  the  beasts  of  the  Western  World,  and  as  yet 
almost  unmolested  by  the  rifle  of  the  hunter. 

Such  is  a  general  panoramic  view  of  some  of  the  wildest 
scenery  of  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  As  we 
passed  the  thriving  little  mountain  station  of  Truckee,  a  few 
miles  back,  we  noticed  a  pleasant  road  winding  away  among 
the  hills  in  the  direction  of  Lake  Tahoe,  on  the  State  line, 
some  distance  away.  Hundreds  of  travelers  visit  this  charming 
resort  every  year.  Situated  high  up,  where  the  cooler  regions 
of  the  atmosphere  modify  the  excessive  Summer  heat,  hemmed 
in  by  steep  mountain-sides  and  lofty  peaks,  and  surrounded 
down  to  the  water's  edge  by  sombre  pine  forests,  reflected 
strikingly  on  the  still  surface  all  around  the  sides,  the  picture 
formed  is  strangely  beautiful.  During  the  warm  months  of 
Summer  a  finely  decorated  little  steamboat,  guided  by  skillful 
hands,  ploughs  the  smooth  surface  twenty  miles  and  back,  to 
the  perfect  satisfaction  of  all  concerned.  So  clear  and  trans- 
parent is  the  water,  that  the  bottom  may  be  seen  at  the  depth 
of  a  hundred  feet.  It  is  said  to  be  the  highest  body  of  water 
navigated  by  a  steamer  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  The  low 
white,  fleecy  clouds  that  flit  across  the.  blue  sky  above,  cast 
their  silent  moving  shadows  athwart  its  glassy  mirror-like 
surface,  while  the  distant  echoes  of  the  steam  whistle  reaches 
the  ear  of  the  passenger,  and  the  air  comes  to  his  nostrils 
laden  with  the  fragrant  perfume  of  flag  blossoms  and  forest 
vegetation. 

Early  in  our  ascent  of  the  mountains  we  crossed  the  State 
line  and  entered  California,  and  much  of  the  wild  and  romantic 
scenery,  with  the  miles  of  snow  sheds  we  have  passed  through, 
has  been  in  this  State.  Here,  on  the  summit  of  the  celebrated 
California  range,  7,042  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  sur- 
rounded by  grand  and  imposing  scenery,  where  the  air  is  cool, 
bracing  and  salubrious,  fresh  from  the  lofty  peaks  crowned 
with  everlasting  snow,  we  pause  to  view  the  beauties  of 
Nature.  At  this  point  we  have  traveled  638  miles  since  we  left 
Ogden,  near  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  3,187  since  we  set  out 
from  New  York.  Only  245  miles  remain.  W"e  have  entered 
the  last  State,  and  our  long  journey  is  drawing  to  a  close. 

ilTo.  IT.— Over  the  Sierra  Nevadas— The  V/esiern  Descent— Tht 
Wmders  of  California— The  Big  Trees— The  Yo  SemiU 
VcUley—The  discovery  of  Gold— Oakland— Last  of  tht 
Pacific  Iiailway—San  Francisco— The  blue  leaves  of  tht 
Pacific—  Conclusion. 

Breaking  over  the  Sierra  Nevada  summit,  we  commence  the 
western  descent  into  California.  For  the  next  forty  or  fiftj 
miles  grand  and  mamificent  views  are  presented  at  ever^ 
step.    Nothing  is  duilor  monotonous,  but  new  surprises  await 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


us  at  every  turn.  Cascade,  six  miles  down,  is  the  first  station, 
and  four  miles  beyond  is  Tamarack,  after  which  we  pass  Cisco, 
Eniicrant  Gap,  Blue  Canon,  Alta,  and  Gold  Run.  More 
picturesque  or  imposing  railway  scenery  does  not  exist  in 
America.  Here  is  much  of  the  heavier  work  of  the  Pacific 
Line.  Now  we  are  passing  over  an  elevated  level  plateau, 
perhaps  only  a  few  yards  across,  and  then  along  the  foot  of 
some  frowning  ledge,  where  massive  lines  of  rock  rise 
perpendicularly  to  a  tremendous  height,  with  ugly  crags 
jutting  out  in  bold  relief,  and  in  some  places  seeming  to 
almost  overhang  the  track.  Far  up  along  the  crest  of  the 
ledge  stunted  pines  and  dark  evergreens  cling  to  the  crevices, 
and  occasionally  a  blasted  tree  leans  outward  over  the 
precipice.  As  we  gaze  upward  towards  the  blue  sky  and  white 
patches  of  cloud  sailing  swiftly  away,  these  leafless  trunks, 
toi^ether  with  the  whole  ponderous  ledge,  seem  moving  over, 
.IS  if  they  must  crash  down  upon  us  and  overwhelm  us  with 
des^truction. 

We  move  forward  no  longer  at  a  slow  pace  behind  two  heavy 
engines  that  throw  cinders  from  their  smoke-stacks  and  cause 
the  mountains  to  quake  by  the  sound  of  their  mighty  efforts, 
but  we  dash  along  with  a  single  steed  again,  with  the  speed  of 
the  wind,  through  deep  earth  cuttings,  over  high  embank- 
ments, across  splendid  bridges  spanning  frightful  ravines, 
around  abrupt  curves,  and  along  the  edge  of  immense 
precipices,  where  the  eye  catches  an  instant  view  far  down 
into  the  tops  of  the  tall  pine  trees  descendingtier  by  tier  to  the 
awful  depths  below,  wiiere  the  foaming  torrent  leaps  from 
rock  to  rock,  surgiu^  forward  with  sullen  roar  until  it  disap- 
pears over  some  dark  abyss,  to  reappear  again  and  glitter  in 
the  sunlight  like  some  cyclopean  eye  a  thousand  feet  below 
us.  Suppose  the  train  should  happen  to  leap  from  the  track  in 
some  of  these  wild  passes!  What  would  be  the  fate  of  its 
passengers  ?  We  involuntarily  shudder  as  we  picture  in  our 
mind  the  ponderous  train  rolling  and  tumbling  down  the 
fearful  descent,  through  the  tops  of  the  trees,  and  smashing 
upon  the  murderous  crags  below.  But  ere  we  have  fairly 
completed  the  picture  we  are  far  away,  speeding  forward  like 
a  race-horse,  the  heavy  train  jarring  the  atmosphere  with  its 
constant  roar,  and  awaking  the  echoes  of  the  mountains  by 
the  shrill  scream  of  the  steam  whistle  as  we  pass  some  upward- 
bound  freight  train  standing  upon  the  switch  and  waiting  for 
us  to  go  by.  Downward  around  the  winding  mountain-side  we 
fly— the  telegraph  poles  at  the  side  of  the  track  seeming  to  flit 
backward  by  the  windows  almost  as  fast  as  they  can  be 
counted — past  Colfax,  Clipper  Gap,  Auburn,  and  Newcastle, 
through  the  long  dark  forest  and  out  again,  down  to  the 
western  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  range,  and  into  the  noblest 
region  of  the  grand  old  State  of  California. 

Now  commences  a  scene  as  beautiful  as  it  is  enchanting.  All 
nature  seems  to  have  donned  a  richer  garb.  Ten  thousand 
flowers  bloom  in  profusion  along  the  roadside,  and  vegetable 
life  seems  to  exist  in  giant  forms.  Noble  orchards  are  passed 
by,  and  in  Spring  patches  of  the  country  are  rendered  white  by 
their  snowy  blossoms,  while  the  atmosphere  is  loaded  with 
their  sweet  perfume.  Herds  of  cattle  and  horses  graze  in  the 
rich  pastures  along  the  hillsides,  and  well  cultivated  flelds  of 
wheat  and  other  grain  line  the  valley.  Neat  school  houses  and 
painted  dwellings  with  pleasant  piazzas  and  balconies,  and 
with  splendid  gardens  in  the  near  surroundings,  are  seen  all 
along  the  road.  The  busy  hum  of  agricultural  labor  resound 
through  the  valley,  and  all  appearances  promise  a  liberal 
harvest. 

Passing  Pine,  Rocklin,  Junction,  Antelope,  and  Arcade,  we 
approach  Sacramento,  the  capital  of  the  State.  Here  we  have 
a  busy  and  thriving  city  of  24,000  inhabitants,  with  many  very 
fine  streets  and  elegant  buildings.  The  State  House  is 
particularly  conspicuous,  and  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
finest  public  buildings  in  the  Union.  The  standing  trains, 
moving  locomotives,  and  constant  hum  arising  from  machine 
shops  and  moving  railway  paraphernalia,  remind  us  of  the 
manufacturing  cities  of  the  East.  Having  stopped  long  enough 
to  procure  dinner  and  take  a  hurried  survey  of  a  few  of  the 
more  prominent  objects  of  the  place,  we  are  soon  sailing  down 
the  valley  again.  Steamers  are  seen  dashing  along  the  river  or 
moored  to  the  wharves  near  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  It  is  the 
head  of  navigation  on  the  Sacramento  River.  A  run  of  five 
miles  brings  us  to  Brighton,  and  the  same  distance  farther  to 
Florin.  Flying  past  the  fine  little  stations  of  Elk  Grove, 
Gait,  and  Lodi,  we  enter  the  enterprising  town  of  Stockton. 
The  scenery  is  rich  and  splendid,  and  the  valleys  and  hillsides 
are  almost  constantly  clothed  in  the  deepest  tints  of  Nature's 
verdure.  Although  nothing  particularly  exciting  appears  to 
our  gaze,  the  lovely  panoramic  views  presented  in  rapid 
succession  as  we  pass  Lathrop,  Bantas,  Ellis,  Midway,  and 
Altamont,  challenge  our  admiration,  and  the  immense 
vegetable  growth  displayed  in  the  gardens,  fields,  and  orchards, 
excites  our  attention,  and  proclaims  the  strength  of  the  soil  of 
the  Pacific  Slope. 

California,  taken  as  a  whole,  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
productive  States  in  the  Union.  It  stretches  along  the  Pacific 
coast  750  miles,  and  contains  188,981  square  miles,  or  nearly 
121,000,000  acres.  It  is  more  extensive  than  all  New  England, 
New  York,  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  and  Maryland 
combined,  and  is  far  larger  than  the  islands  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland.  Its  valleys  are  splendid,  the  climate  is  warm  and 
delightful,  the  atmosphere  pure  and  healthy,  and  the  sky  clear 
and  serene.  Its  vegetable  growth  exceeds  anything  in  the 
known  world.  Peach  trees  have  been  known  to  grow  eight 
and  a  half  inches  in  cu  .^umf erence  in  a  ''''^<*''^.  vear:  and  au 


'  almond  tree  being  cut  down,  shoots  sprung  up,  which  In  three 
years  formed  a  tree  twenty  feet  high  and  two  feet  in  circum- 
/erence.  In  some  of  the  large  orchards  pear  trees  are  growing 
whickproduce  annually  forty  bushels  of  pears. 

The  dense  red-wood  forests  form  an  important  and  valuable 
feature  of  the  State.  The  wood  is  of  a  rich  dark  red  color, 
free  and  easy  splitting,  often  growing  to  the  height  of  275 
feet,  and  18  or  20  feet  in  diameter.  The  best  specimens  pro- 
duce eighteen  or  twenty  saw-logs,  and  an  acre  often  furnishes 
a  million  feet  of  sawed  lumber.  The  sugar  pine,  found 
extensively  along  the  Sierra  Nevada,  often  approaches  the  red- 
wood in  size,  and  supplies  excellent  lumber.  The  topmost 
branches  of  the  noble  Douglass  spruce  wave  in  the  breeze  30C 
feet  above  the  ground,  and  the  tough,  uneven-grained  trunk,  so 
valuable  for  ship  building,  is  sometimes  ten  teet  in  diameter. 
The  ponderous  California  oak  grows  to  the  diameter  of  eight 
or  ten  feet,  with  wide-spreading  branches  which  are  thrown 
out  horizontally  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  forming  an 
immense  top,  often  over  a  hundred  feet  across. 

The  celebrated  California  wheat,  of  which  there  are  millions 
of  bushels  raised  and  exported  annually,  is  known  and  highly 
prized  all  over  the  world.  The  grape  vine,  as  well  as  all  other 
vegetation,  grows  to  a  prodigious  size,  as  the  wondrous 
specimen  exhibited  at  the  Centennial  attested,  and  the  wines 
produced  are  very  fine. 

California  is  particularly  rich  in  wonders  and  natural 
curiosities.  The  famous  "big  trees"  may  justly  be  placed 
among  the  wonders  of  the  modern  world.  The  Calaveras 
grove  was  discovered  in  1850,  and  the  Mariposa  grove  in  1855. 
At  first  the  reports  concerning  them  were  received  with  ridicule 
and  disbelief ;  but  hundreds  of  curiosity-seekers  and  numbers  of 
scientific  men  soon  visited  the  spot,  and  all  doubts  were  set  at 
rest.  The  traveler  stands  among  them  and  gazes  upward  at 
the  straight  ascending  trunks,  more  than  a  hundred  feet  in 
circumference  and  a  hundred  feet  to  the  nearest  branches,  and 
he  is  struck  with  awe  and  astonishment.  In  1854  one  of  these 
giants  of  the  forest  was  cut  down.  The  mere  felling  of  it 
required  the  united  labor  of  many  men  for  six  weeks,  and  cost 
$550.  This  immense  tree  contained  250,000  feet  of  timber,  and 
upon  its  stump,  which  was  afterwards  used  as  a  ball-room, 
thirty-two  persons  danced  with  ease.  The  Horseback  Ride  is 
an  old  hollow  tree,  long  since  down,  through  which  two  horse- 
men may  ride  abreast  for  a  distance  of  seventy-five  feet,  and 
pass  out  through  an  opening  in  the  side.  The  king  of  them 
all  lay  prone  upon  the  ground  when  discovered,  old,  moss- 
covered,  and  partly  decayed.  When  standing  it  must  have 
been  the  majestic  monarch  of  the  woods — 40  feet  in  diameter, 
and  towering  450  feet  in  height.  These  marvellous  trees,  the 
largest  in  the  world,  are  found  only  in  this  State.  They  are 
known  to  the  scientific  world  as  the  sequoia  gigantea.  Th3 
wood  is  light,  soft,  elastic,  straight-grained,  and  resembles  red 
cedar.  What  lumber  they  might  make  I  But  no. machinery  has 
ever  been  invented  capable  of  handling  and.  working  them. 
In  June,  1864,  Congress  ceded  the  Mariposa  grove,  embracing 
2,589  acres,  to  the  State,  as  a  sort  of  public  park,  to  be  held  for 
all  time  as  a  place  of  public  resort  and  recreation.  The  same 
Act  also  secured  to  the  State  for  the  same  purpose,  the  Yo 
Semite  Valley,  embracing  36,111  acres,  yearly  visited  by 
thousands,  and  celebrated  far  and  near  as  one  of  the  most 
wonderful  curiosities  on  the  globe.  It  has  thus  been  described 
through  oflicial  sources  :  "  As  seen  from  the  wild  and  rugged 
summit  of  one  of  the  western  spurs  of  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
eight  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  its  appearance 
is  that  of  a  great  chasm  or  cleft  in  the  mountain  crest,  having 
a  depth  of  four  thousand  feet  in  vertical  descent,  enclosed  be- 
tween perpendicular  walls  of  rock  varying  in  height  from 
three  thousand  to  five  thousand  feet.  Through  the  centre  of 
this  valley  winds  the  Merced  River,  from  sixty  to  seventy  feet 
wide,  entering  the  valley  by  a  descent  of  2,000  feet  in  the  pro- 
gress of  two  miles,  and  forming  two  falls  of  639  and  475  feet 
respectively,  with  intervening  cascades  and  rapids.  Standing 
in  and  over  the  valley  are  stupendous  piles  of  massive  purple- 
tinted  granite,  many  thousand  feet  in  perpendicular  height, 
resembling  the  sculptured  domes,  columns,  spires,  and  arches 
of  some  ancient  architecture,  or  the  ruins  of  temples  and 
cathedrals  of  colossal  dimensions." 

The  view  from  the  centre  of  the  valley  is  one  of  the  most 
erand  and  imposing  on  earth.  Mighty  ledges  rise  perpendicu- 
larly on  either  hand,  until  they  seem  to  pierce  the  very  clouds. 
Many  brooks  and  small  streams  pour  over  the  sides,  forming 
numerous  waterfalls  of  an  enormous  height.  The  smallest  are 
resolved  into  fine  spray  and  mist  long  before  they  reach  the 
bottom,  while  the  larger  ones  form  one  of  the  grandest  sights 
the  eye  of  man  ever  beheld.  The  Yo  Semite  fall  is  the  highest 
waterfall  in  the  world.  It  should  be  seen  at  the  time  of  high 
water,  when  it  is  a  considerable  stream,  plunging  in  one  wild, 
awful  leap,  and  in  an  unbroken  sheet,  down  a  sheer  descent  of 
1,600  feet  upon  a  broken  mass  of  crags  and  rocks,  to  dash 
along  in  a  foaming  rapid,  and  then  with  renewed  force  and 

Eower  take  the  last  flying  leap  of  600  feet  more  to  the  valley 
elow.  Its  roar  resembles  heavy  thunder,  and  the  whole  pon- 
derous ledge  seems  to  tremble  before  this  grand  display  of 
Almighty  power. 

We  might  go  on  and  describe  the  beautiful  scenery  or  the 
North  and  South  domes,  and  the  enormous  honey-bees'  nest, 
high  up  in  the  rocks,  inaccessible  to  the  hand  of  man,  where, 
perhaps,  hundreds  of  swarms  have  congregated  In  one  giant 
community,  and  have  accumulated  tons  of  honey,  but  we 
forbear  cataloguing  the  wonders  of  California — they  would 
fill  a  volume.    But  few  of  them  are  near  the  line  of  the  rail- 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


491 


way,  and  many  are  in  the  southern  part  of  the  State,  a  long 
distance  away.  ^ .  ,  . 

Ei<'-ht  miles  beyond  Altamont  we  pass  Livermore,  and  six 
miles  farther  on  is  Pleasanton.  Then  follow  Niles,  Desoto, 
Hayward's,  Lorenzo,  and  San  Leandro.  This  part  of  the 
country  is  thickly  studded  with  neat  villas,  and  numerous  busy 
hamlets  abound.  Tall  church  spires  are  seen,  and  blackened 
chimneys  rear  their  lofty  summits  above  enterprising  manulac- 
turin<^  establishments  all  along  the  road.  The  fields  and 
hillsides  are  well  supplied  with  cattle  and  laborers,  and  the 
turnpikes  and  highways  teem  with  humanity.  The  State  was 
admitted  into  the  Union  on  the  19th  of  September,  1850. 

The  great  mineral  wealth  of  California  is  well  known  to  the 
reader  All  along  the  western  slope  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
rant^e  gold  is  found  in  abundance,  and  it  has  become 
proverbial  with  many,  when  wishing  to  convey  the  great  value 
of  anything,  to  say,  "The  gold  of  California  cannot  buy  1 1.  ' 
It  was  discovered  in  the  early  part  of  1848,  by  Mr.  James  W. 
Marshal-l,  while  engaged  in  digging  a  sluice  or  race  for  Captain 
Sutter's  mill.  He  informed  his  employer,  and  the  two  mutually 
agreed  to  keep  the  matter  secret  and  together  profit  by  the  rich 
discovery.  But  the  secret  was  too  good  to  be  kept.  It  leaked 
out  and  the  news  spread  like  wildfire.  Thousands  of  greedy 
adventurers  rushed  to  the  new  El  Dorado,  and  excitement  was 
fired  to  its  highest  pitch.  Fortunes  were  made  and  lost  in  a 
single  season.  Men  of  every  clime  and  character  came  crovvd- 
ing  into  the  diggings,  and  life  in  California  became  almost  a 
lott  ery.  But  upon  the  organization  of  the  State,  law  and  order 
arose  triumphant,  and  it  soon  became  one  of  the  most  valuable 
acQuisitions  to  the  American  conlederacy. 

Fassina  the  quiet  little  station  of  Melrose,  we  approach 
Oakland.  A  world  of  railway  machinery  and  high  columns  of 
tsmoke  from  a  score  of  moving  locomotives  hemmed  m  by  long 
brick  buildings  with  lofty  chimneys,  and  standing  cities  of 
passenger  and  freight  cars,  proclaim  the  terminus  of  the 
irailway.  Beyond  lies  the  clear  blue  waters  of  the  Pacific. 
Moving  slowly  forward  through  a  labyrinth  of  iron  tracks,  we 
stop  at  the  pier,  and  stepping  from  the  train,  we  bid  adieu  to 
the  railway,  and  enter  the  ferry-boat  which  stands  in  waiting. 
A  few  minutes  later  we  are  landed  at  the  foot  of  Pacific  street, 
in  San  Francisco.  A  little  farther  on  is  the  great  Palace  hotel, 
the  largest  hotel  building  in  the  world.  It  is  275  by  350  feet  in 
size  nine  stories  in  height,  and  cost  no  less  than  ^,250,000. 
Passing  on  through  the  magnificent  streets,  surrounded  by 
elegant  and  massive  structures,  fully  equal  to,  and  in  some 
cases  exceeding  those  we  saw  in  Chicago  and  New  York,  we 
approach  again  the  Pacific  shore,  where  an  immense  mass  of 
shipping  is  moored,  and  gaze  eagerly  out  over  the  sparkling 
waters  f  ar  away,  until  the  dancing  blue  waves  and  sky  appear 


Mexico. 

IJY  CAPT.  CARNES. 

Near  the  Gulf  is  a  broad  belt  of  lowlands,  called  the 
"  hot  lands,"  which  has  the  climate  of  the  tropics.  The 
sandy  barrens  are  dotted  with  mimosas  and  prickly 
plants,  alternating  with  savannas,  beautified  by  groves 
of  palms  and  luxuriating  in  the  splendors  of  tropical 
vegetation.  The  wide  spreading  forest  trees  have  their 
branches  fringed  and  tasselled  with  creeping  vines 
strung  with  glowing  flowers.  The  undergrowth  of 
prickly  aloes,  festooned  with  roses  and  honeysuckle, 
forms  a  dense,  impassable  thicket,  where  amid  the  rich 
and  honied  scents  a  myriad  of  gorgeous  butterflies  dance 

and  quiver,  and  brilliant  birds  flit  gaily,  making  the 
echoes  resound  with  exquisite  melody. 

Yet,  stay,  dear  enthusiastic  reader,  Paradise  is  not 
opening  to  your  view.  How  opportunely  now  some 
lines  of  Moore's  suggest  themselves  : 

"  Poor  race  of  man,"  said  the  pitying  spirit, 
"  Dearly  ye  pay  for  your  primal  fall; 
Some  flowerets  of  Eden  ye  still  inherit, 
But  the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  them  ail." 

For  the  malaria,  bom  of  the  rank  and  rotting  vegetsr 
tation  and  the  humid  soil,  culminates  in  the  scourge 
known  as  "yellow  fever,"  and  the  country  through  its 
seasons  of  warmth  and  glory  is  unsafe  for  man  to  in- 
habit. 

Passing  this  fatal  belt,  after  twenty  leagues,  the  tra- 
veller finds  himself  rising  into  a  purer  atmosphere. 
Vegetation  changes  every  few  miles.  Each  in  turn, 
vanilla,  indigo  plant,  sugar  cane  and  plantain  disappear, 
until  at  the  height  of  4,000  feet,  the  unchanging  green  of 
the  liquid  amber  indicates  that  the  traveler  has  reached 
the  elevation  where  the  clouds  and  mists  settle  in  their 
passage  from  the  Gulf,  and  maintain  a  perpetual  mois- 
ture. Here  are  the  confines  of  the  temperate  region 
where  the  evergreen  oaks  abound.  The  scenery  now 
becomes  grand  and  exalting.  The  ascending  road 
sweeps  along  the  base  of  mighty  mountains,  snow-clad, 

y^^^^.a  o  bearing  traces  of  former  volcanic  fires.  Huge 

to"  me"et;"and  "blend  in  one.  We°  have  traverse^  our^comitry  ^  abysses  yawn  with  the  darkness  lying  thousands  of  feet 

^  in  their  depth.   A  multitude  of  plants  find  clinging  foot- 

hold on  the  rocky  wall,  while  just  at  the  base  of  these 
gorges  the  laurel  and  fig  tree  flourish.  Upward  still,  by 
fields  of  waning,  yellow  wheat  and  maize,  and  planta- 
tions of  agare,  from  which,  in  the  olden  time,  was  made 
the  favorite  beverage  of  the  Montezumas. 

At  an  elevation  of  8,000  feet,  dark  solemn  forests  of 
pine  band  in  the  last  of  the  three  great  terraces,  and  the 
cold  region  is  entered.  Here,  in  the  valley  of  the  Ana- 
huac,  rests  the  City  of  New  Mexico,  enclosed  by  ridges 
of  basaltic  and  porphyrite  rocks.  On  the  southeastern 
side  rises  the  snow-crowned  cone  of  Orizabo,  whose 
ever-blazing  summit  has  won  for  it  the  name  of  the 
"Mountain  of  the  Star."  Farther  west  rises  Popocate- 
petl and  other  volcanoes  which  form  a  circuit  of  fiery 
sentinels  only  equalled  by  those  that  surround  the  valley 
of  Quito. 

In  this  wonderful  country,  the  traveler,  by  a  few  days 
journey,  can  pass  through  the  climates  peculiar  to  all 
the  zones,  from  equatorial  heat  to  Arctic  cold — can  pass 
through  the  productions  of  the  different  latitudes,  com- 
mencing with  the  majestic  palms  and  ending  with  the 
hardly  noticeable  dwarf  lichens  ;  and  from  the  mountain 
tops  can  call  to  the  plains  below. 


from  shore  to  shore,  and  traveled  3,432  miles.  Here,  then,  we 
leave  the  reader.  Our  task  is  accomplished,  and  our  journey 
done. 


Cashmere  Shawls. 

Ten  thousand  persons  are  employed  in  the  shawl  manu- 
facture in  Cashmere,  The  weavers  are  all  males  ;  most 
of  the  spinners  are  women.  The  weaving  of  a  shawl  of 
ordinary  pattern  occupies  three  weavers  for  three 
months  ;  the  more  elaborate  and  costly  from  twelve  to 
fifteen  months.  The  Cashmere  shawls  are  of  two  kinds 
—one  made  by  weaving  small  pieces  and  sewing  them 
together ;  the  other  by  embroidering  the  pattern  on  a 
plain  woolen  cloth.  The  real  Cashmere  thread  is  called 
pasJmmeer,  and  is  made  from  the  down,  not  the  hair,  of 
the  Thibet  goat,  which  is  reared  in  the  most  mountain- 
ous provinces  of  that  country ;  but  the  wool  or  down  is 
carried  to  Cashmere  for  manufacture,  the  business  being 
under  the  strictest  government  control,  and  to  such  a 
degree  that  no  real  pashumeer  wool  can  be  sold  or  smug- 
gled into  any  other  province  of  India.  Fine  shawls  are 
made  in  Punjaub  and  other  provinces  from  goats'  and 
sheep's  wool,  and  sold  as  genuine  Cashmere,  but  are  an 
inferior  article. 

An  Ancient  Hotel. 

California  holds  the  most  singular  hotel  in  the  world.  It  ii 
situated  between  San  Jose  and  Santa  Cruz.  Imagine  ten  im- 
mense trees  standing  a  few  feet  apart  and  hollow  inside; 
these  are  hotels— neat,  breezy  and  romantic.  The  largest  tree 
is  sixty-five  feet  around,  and  contains  a  sitting-room  and  that 
bureau  of  Bacchus,  wherefrom  is  distributed  the  thing  that 
biteth  and  stingeth.  All  about  this  tree  is  a  garden  of  flow- 
ers and  evergreens.  The  drawing-room  is  a  bower  made  from 
redwood,  evergreens  ana  madona  branches.  For  bed-cham- 
bers  there  are  nine  great  hollow  trees,  whitewashed  or  paper- 
ed, and  having  doors  cut  to  fit  the  shape  of  the  holes.  Litera- 
ture finds  a  place  in  a  leaning  stump,  dubbed  "  the  library.^' 


"For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee, 
Our  God— our  Father's  God. 


A  Half  Dollar  on  its  Travels. 

A  bad  penny  always  returns,  it  is  said,  but  one  instance 
is  recorded  where  a  good  silver  half  dollar  returned 
to  its  possessor  after  a  circulation  of  twenty  years.  A 
man  living  in  Canton,  Ohio,  had  in  his  possession  about 
twenty-five  years  ago  a  silver  half  dollar  with  the  date 
1828,  and  that  being  his  natal  year  he  cut  his  name  on  it 
and  thought  to  retain  it  as  a  relic.  But  a  few  years  after 
he  paid  it  out  by  mistake,  and  for  twenty  years  it  took 
its  course  in  the  general  circulation.    A  few  days  ago  he 


^  ^„  .  sent  his  little  daughter  to  a  neighboring  town  on  an  er- 

If  it  were  not  for  that  same  haunt  of  '  Bacchus,  it  is  certain  |  r^nd,  and  upon  her  return  she  gave  him  some  change, 
that  the  guests  of  this  forest  establishment  -^^ould  feel  like  j  and  with  it  was  the  identical  half  dollar  with  his  name 
nothing  so  much  as  dryads.  I  cut  on  it. 


492 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Retiring  from  the  Farm. 

BY  BESSIE  LEE. 

"  Well,  Mattie,  we  have  tugged  and  toiled  on  this 
place  pretty  steady  for  twenty-five  years.  A  pretty  good 
place  we  have  made  of  it.  But  you  are  getting  tuckered 
out  with  the  hard  work.  What  do  you  say  to  moving 
into  the  village  awhile  and  giving  Nellie  a  chance  at  the 
seminary?  i  hate  to  send  her  to  the  boarding-school, 
and  we  could  get  along  nicely  there  in  that  pretty  little 
cottage  I  had  to  take  for  debt.  You  know  you've  always 
had  such  a  life  in  view,  anduow's  our  chance." 

Mattie  looked  up  in  surprise  from  the  ball  of  carpet 
rags  she  was  winding,  to  hear  farmer  John  make  such  a 
remarkable  proposition,  but  when  she  found  he  was  in 
sober  earnest,  she  entered  warmly  into  the  plan.  To  make 
money  enough  to  leave  the  farm  and  live  in  the  village 
had  for  years  been  her  day  dream.  She  had  hundreds 
of  times  contrasted  her  lot  with  that  of  the  nicely  dress- 
ed, soft-handed  ladies  she  met  in  the  village  stores  and 
at  church  on  Sundays,  and  always  greatly  to  her  own 
disparagement.  She  knew  that  her  husband  could  buy 
out  plenty  of  these  delicate  ladies'  husbands,  it  is  true, 
and  have  a  good  balance  over.  She  knew  that  her  evei  y 
day  table  fare  would  be  luxurious  beside  theirs ;  but 
then  there  was  a  fascination  about  that  air  of  elegant 
leisure  that  pertained  to  them  which  could  not  be  resisted. 

Now  fortune  seemed  to  favor  the  change.  They  might 
retire  from  the  farm  and  go  into  their  own  house  in  the 
town,  and  wash  their  hands  free  from  that  hard  drudgery 
forever  more.  In  her  haste  she  urged  John  to  sell  the 
place  out  and  out ;  but  he,  more  prudent,  determined  to 
rent  it  until  the  1st  of  February,  the  time  for  moving  in 
that  section. 

Never  did  bride  prepare  for  her  "setting  out"  with 
more  zeal  and  interest  than  did  Mattie  in  her  forty-fifth 
year  prepare  for  her  house  in  town.  Nellie,  of  course, 
entered  into  the  scheme  with  like  enthusiasm  as  every 
change  is  "rose-hued"  to  the  eye  of  youth." 

The  preparations  were  at  length  complete,  and  the 
new  life  entered  upon.  The  cottage  was  found  a  very 
different  abode  from  the  wide  roomy  farm-house,  and 
somehow  Mattie  felt  rather  cramped  for  * 'elbow  room," 
though  the  place  was  as  commodious  as  most  houses  of 
the  kind  in  the  village.  For  a  while  the  "settling  down" 
engrossed  so  much  time  and  attention  that  nobody  felt 
greatly  any  want.  But  after  all  was  done  and  Mattie 
settled  down  in  her  rocking-chair,  and  John  tried  to 
'  read  newspaper  for  a  living  "  like  other  "retired"  men, 
the  irksomeness  of  their  position  began  to  dawn  upon 
them.  The  busy  housewife  could  not,  with  all  her  de- 
vices, keep  herself  in  work.  She  made  rag-carpets  for 
a  solace,  and  pieced  bed  quilts  to  add  to  her  already 
stocked  store  room.  But  for  all  these  diversions,  she 
could  not  keep  from  hankering  after  the  dear  old  place. 
She  kept  it  to  herself  as  long  as  she  could,  but  then  she 
spoke  out.  What  was  her  delight  to  find  John  as  uneasy 
as  herself. 

"  I  am  so  glad  we  did  not  sell  the  farm,  Mattie,"  he 
said. 

"  So  am  I,  John.  How  I  wish  it  was  the  1st  of  Feb- 
ruary now." 

Nellie  was  the  only  contented  one  in  the  family,  and 
she  could  not  but  see  with  anxiety  that  mother's  health 
was  evidently  failing. 

"I  feel,"  Mattie  wrote  to  me,  "as  if  1  was  away 
somewhere  visiting  and  getting  ready  to  go  home  a 
most  uncomfortable  feeling  to  carry  with  one  through  a 
whole  year.  Yet,  for  all  that,  I  presume  it  was  this  feel- 
ing that  enabled  them  to  tide  over  the  time  until  mov- 
ing day  came  again.  Surely 

"Love  lorn  swain  in  lady's  bower 
Ne'er  panted  for  the  appointed  hour," 

more  than  did  my  good  farmer  friends  pant  for  the  time 
when  they  should  be  able  to  take  up  their  old  cares  and 
labors  once  more.  "Nothing  to  do"  was  a  weary  song 
to  them.  The  "elegant  leisure"  they  found  an  elegant 
humbug  to  people  of  their  previous  training. 

They  are  back  on  the  old  Ohio  farm,  glad  and  happy 
to  be  there.  Oh  how  delightful  seemed  every  nook  and 
comer.  The  old  milk  room,  the  spacious  closets  and 
cupboards  and  pantries,  the  cellar  fit  for  a  parlor ;  the 
carriage  house,  tool  room,  and  all,  for  John  had  been 
a  thiiity  farmer  and  had  everything  complete  about  him. 
It  took  the  first  two  or  three  months  to  bring  back  tht^ 


house  and  place  to  its  aforesaid  standard  of  neatness. 
After  that  they  settled  down  and  took  solid  comfort. 
They  hired  a  boy  to  do  chores,  and  Mattie  sent  her  milk 
to  the  cheese  factory,  so  they  thought  they  had  only 
about  enough  work  left  "just  for  exercise."  People 
who  have  been  so  hardworking  have  queer  ideas  of  the 
amount  of  exercise  requisite  to  keep  them  comfortable. 
You  and  1  might  think  it  quite  a  dav's  work.  But  they 
are  comfortable,  and  that  is  the  main  point. 

Mattie  paid  me  a  visit  last  summer,  coming  five  hun- 
dred miles  to  make  it,  and  she  told  me  it  was  not  likely 
they  should  ever  leave  the  old  farm  again  while  they 
lived.  One  experiment  in  retiring  from  business  was 
quite  sufficient. 


Some  Indian  Foods. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

Any  inquiry  concerning  the  food  of  the  Aboriglnies  is 
interesting,  as  it  reveals  many  plants  which  might  be 
used  as  food  in  times  of  scarcity,  and  which  are  wholly 
unknown  to  the  commbn  people,  and  very  little  known 
by  men  of  science.  It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  the 
substances  which  we  describe  are  used  by  all  Indians. 
Those  who  receive  annuities  and  those  who  are  confined 
to  reservations,  having  become  partly  agilcultural  find 
other  means  of  subsistence.  But  the  wild,  unsettled 
tribes,  who  travel  over  thousands  of  miles  of  territory, 
and  never  remain  in  the  same  spot  more  than  two  or 
three  days,  are  often  compelled  to  make  use  of  singular 
substances.  Very  few  organic  substances,  not  known 
to  be  poisonous,  are  to  be  found,  which  do  not  enter 
into  their  list  of  foods. 

Clover  enters  very  largely  into  the  list.  It  is  generally 
boiled,  but  sometimes  eaten  *^n  its  raw  state.  Their 
manner  of  boiling  their  food  i  singular,  and  it  jfiay  be 
well  to  describe  it.  First,  a  hoi.  -^w  in  a  rock  is  found, 
large  enough  to  contain  a  sufficient  quantity  of  water, 
then  a  fire  is  built,  and  stones  are  heated  red  hot.  The 
hollow  is  filled  with  water,  and  the  red  hot  stones  are 
dropped  into  it ;  as  fast  as  they  are  cooled  they  are 
taken  out,  and  their  places  filled  with  others.  In  this 
manner  nearly  all  their  vegetable  foods  are  cooked. 

The  root  of  the  yellow  pond  lily  forms  an  important 
item.  It  is  found  in  the  water  four  or  five  feet  deep, 
and  the  Indian  women  dive  for  it,  bringing  it  up  in 
pieces  one  or  two  feet  long.  Musk  rats  store  it  up  in 
large  quantities,  and  the  Indians  contrive  to  steal  their 
supply.  The  seeds  are  also  used  either  ground  and  made 
into  cake,  or  parched  and  eaten  like  pop  corn. 

The  root  of  a  species  of  fern  known  as  the  FLeris  aqui- 
lina,  ha5  a  pungency  which  renders  it  disagreeable  to 
the  taste  when  raw,  is  roasted  and  eaten  in  large  quan- 
tities. When  properly  cooked,  it  has  a  taste  similar  to 
that  of  wheat  dough.  The  root  of  the  cattail  flag  is  a 
favorite  dish,  whether  roasted,  or  boiled,  or  pounded, 
and  made  into  a  cake.  Before  starting  on  a  journey,  the 
Indians  generally  procure  a  quantity  of  this  root  to  chew 
on  the  way,  as  a  preventative  of  thirst. 

The  inner  bark  of  nearly  all  trees  is  eaten,  but  that  of 
the  pine  is  considered  choicest.  That  of  the  birch  is 
next  in  flavor.  It  is  generally  dried,  pounded,  and  made 
into  bread.  When  new  and  fresh,  this  bread  is  not  un- 
pleasant to  the  taste,  but  when  old,  it  has  a  strong  flavor 
resembling  the  wood  of  which  it  is  made.  The  tender 
twigs  of  many  trees  are  often  chopped  and  cooked  in 
oil.  When  cooked  in  bufl'alo  fat,  they  form  a  very 
agreeable  dish,  though  not  very  nutritious. 

The  fruit  of  a  species  of  cactus  known  as  "  Spanish 
bayonet,"  is  highly  esteemed  when  fresh  and  green,  but 
when  ripe  and  dry,  it  is  a  powerful  cathartic.  Some 
soldiers  once  captured  a  large  amount  from  the  Apaches, 
and  being  unacquainted  with  its  properties,  ate  a  con- 
siderable quantity.  The  result  was,  that  for  some  time 
no  calls  were  made  on  the  medicine  chest  for  salts  or 
castor  oil.  ,  ,  ,      .      .    ^  -, 

Of  animals,  no  .part  except  the  skeleton  is  rejected; 
and  as  far  as  my  observations  extend,  there  is  no  living 
thing  which  they  will  refuse.  Snakes,  toads,  bugs, 
lizards,  worms,  and  vermin  of  all  kinds  are  acceptable, 
and  are  eaten  with  a  relish.  But  as  Du  Chaille  says  : 
"  Civilization  is  very  well  in  its  place,  but  it  has  no  busi- 
ness in  an  African  jungle  when  food  is  scarce."  Neither 
has  it  any  business  among  the  American  Indians  under 
the  same  conditions,  so  we  will  drop  the  subject  without 
saying  anything  more  about  their  animal  foods. 


NEST  IN  THE  APPLE  TREE. 


urn 


THE  GROOVING  WORLD. 


495 


TINY  HOUSES  AND  THEIE 
BUILDEBS. 


"  My  little  bird  of  the  air. 
If  thou  dost  know,  then  tell  me  the  sweet  reason 
Thou  comest  away,  duly  in  thy  season, 

To  build  and  pair." 

The  earliest  bird  does  not  come  to  this  latitude  to 
catch  the  worm,  or  if  it  does,  it  must  be  woefully 
disappointed  in  its  calculations  of  a  full  meal,  unless 
the  embryonic  larva  clinging  to  some  bit  of  rough 
bark  is  all  its  dainty  appetite  craves. 

The  early  bird  appears  to  be  nothing  more  than  a 
tuneful  voice,  carrying  about  with  it  a  downy  bunch 
of  feathers.  How  it  received  the  invitation  to  come, 
and  why  it  came,  while  the  fields  are  still  desolate,  is 
a  profound  mystery.  We  wonder  what  could  have 
induced  it  to  quit  the  live  oak  forests  and  orange 
groves  of  Florida,  and  the  sprouting  cotton  and  rice 
of  the  Carolinas,  for  the  inhospitable  bleakness  of  a 
northern  March. 

But  the  thing  is  done  without  fuss,  if  not  without 
feathers.  The  newspapers  do  not  mention  the  blue- 
bird among  their  arrivals;  but  you  get  up  some  fine, 
clear,  sparkling  morning,  with  the  thermometer  still 
pretty  low  down,  and  a  crust  of  ice  perhaps  glazing 
the  pools,  and  there  he  is  in  the  maple  opposite 
your  window,  tuning  his  pipe  and  dressing  his  feath- 
ers with  the  easy  nonchalance  which  distinguishes 
bird  manners.  He  seems  to  have  no  solicitude  as  to 
the  ways  or  means  of  living,  nor  is  he  in  the  least 
downcast  about  the  mistake  which  appears  to  you 
he  has  made  in  his  reckoning.  His  new  apartments 
evidently  suit  him  quite  as  well  as  the  cane-brake 
and  the  magnolia  grove. 

This  little  handful  of  song  and  feathers  is  a  ser- 
mon, a  poem,  and  an  orchestra  tucked  into  the  small- 
est possible  compass.  March  nights  are  often  bitter, 
with  a  spiteful,  rasping  cold,  that  delights  in  irritat- 
ing the  skin  and  raising  a  blister  on  the  temper. 
Where  does  the  early  bird  lodge  on  such  nights  at 
the  beginning  of  the  season?  It  seems  as  though  he 
must  make  his  nest  in  God's  own  hand. 

It  is  inexpressibly  pleasant  to  hear  the  first  chirp- 
ings, peepings  and  twitterings  of  these  wide-awake 
songsters  about  stone  walls  and  stubble  fields,  and 
the  sunniest  spots  in  the  orchard.  Watch  them  as 
they  light  on  the  rails  of  the  fence  and  hop  along, 
their  pink  toes  spread  wide,  stopping  now  and  then 
to  nip  a  little  bit  of  lichen  or  to  dress  and  cleanse  the 
under  part  of  the  wings.  What  independent,  un- 
daunted little  creatures  they  are  ! 

The  first  song  bird,  I  hold,  is  as  miraculous  as 
Jonah's  gourd.  Its  instincts,  mode  of  existence,  its 
very  being,  are  a  mystery.  There  it  sits  at  home  on 
the  limb  of  your  gnarled  apple-tree,  chock  full  of 
adventures  and  experience  of  travel  you  would  give 
your  eyes  to  know,  and  pouring  all  out  in  a  tangled, 
careless  strain  of  music,  from  a  heart  brimming  over 
with  joy.  There  he  sits,  the  John  Baptist  of  spring, 
and  prophesies  to  the  woods  and  fields,  saying,  "  Pre- 
pare ye  the  way  of  the  anemone  and  the  violet,  the 
clover-top  and  the  daisy." 

The  little  fellow  must  shiver  and  moan,  we  fancy, 
in  that  sour  weather  of  which  so  much  that  we  call 
the  spring  is  composed,  when  even  the  grass  blades 
look  as  if  they  longed  to  creep  back  into  the  earth  for 
protection.  But  never  comes  a  cry  or  groan  from  our 
hero.  You  will  hear  him  singing  on  the  skirts  of  a 
snow-squall,  when  his  toes  must  ache  with  the  cold, 
as  if  he  had  found  a  rift  in  the  cloud  where  the  peace 
of  heaven  was  smiling  down  into  his  heart.  With 
no  visible  means  of  support,  with  no  abiding  place, 
who  can  tell  but  he  drinks  of  the  river  of  life  and 
picks  the  berries  of  the  tree  that  grows  on  its  bor- 
ders? 


The  more  his  step-dame,  March,  scolds  the  little 
fellow,  the  more  he  quirks  his  head  and  dresses  his 
feathers,  and  gives  quick,  defiant  glances  with  his 
bright  eyes.  See  him  on  a  plum-tree  bough  picking 
gum  from  the  smooth  purple  limbs,  while  the  wind 
rufiles  his  feathers  with  an  ungentle  hand.  Still  he 
clings  with  his  tenacious  pink  claws,  and  then  takes 
a  short  flight,  warbling  and  twittering  on  the  wing, 
as  if  the  song  would  not  allow  itself  to  be  repressed. 

One  bird  cannot  make  a  summer,  but  he  becomes  a 
hostage  for  flowers,  and  grass,  and  leaves.  A  foun- 
tain of  hope  bubbles  up  in  the  withered  field  when 
the  first  bird-song  is  heard.  Winter  sears  the  imagi- 
nation, and  we  forget  invaribly  how  beautiful  the 
spring-time  is.  It  comes  to  us  each  year  as  a  fresh 
surprise.  When  the  first  bird  sings  about  the  eaves, 
we  have  the  evidence  of  things  unseen.  Somewhere 
enough  wonder-working  power  remains  to  fashion  a 
bird  and  fill  its  heart  with  music,  and  all  things  be- 
come possible  to  God. 

The  little  songster  puts  in  an  early  appearance, 
perhaps  because  he  can  see  farther  and  can  learn  the 
lay  of  the  land  better  before  the  countryside  is  clus- 
tered with  foliage  and  shade.  Then  when  he  has  got 
his  bearings,  he  is  content  to  let  the  grass  grow 
under  his  feet. 

I  remember  a  child's  account  of  the  creation  of  the 
blue-bird,  which,  though  it  does  not  agree  with  the 
received  opinions  of  naturalists,  has  a  certain  signifi- 
cance. She  said,  ' '  After  God  had  got  him  'most 
made  He  cut  of  a  little  piece  of  the  sky  for  his 
jacket."  There  is  a  poetic  touch  in  this  any  one  will 
appreciate  who  has  observed  the  rapid,  impulsive 
flight  of  the  blue-bird  as  he  dips  and  circles  round, 
throwing  a  spray  of  light  from  his  graceful  wing. 
Then,  indeed,  he  does  seem  like  a  bit  of  animated 
sky. 

The  blue-Dird  arrives  first  in  our  latitude,  but  very 
soon  all  the  other  pretty  little  feathered  creatures 
follow,  and  how  delighted  are  we  to  see  them  flitting 
about  so  merrily  in  prepartion  for  a  summer  sojourn 
with  us. 

Gentle  Alice  Gary  says  of  them:  ^ 

"  Have  the  birds  come  back,  my  darling. 
The  birds  from  over  the  sea? 
Are  they  cooing  and  courting  together 
In  bush  and  bower  and  tree? 
The  mad  little  birds,  the  glad  little  birds 
The  birds  from  over  the  sea! 
Oh,  and  I  would  I  could  hear  them  sing, 
Oh,  and  I  would  I  could  see  them  swing 
In  the  top  of  our  garden  tree ! 
The  mad  little  birds,  the  glad  little  birds, 
The  birds  from  over  the  sea ! 

Are  they  building  their  nests,  my  darling. 

In  the  stubble,  brittle  and  brown? 

Are  they  gathering  threads,  and  silken  shreds, 

And  wisps  of  wool  and  down, 

With  their  silver  throats  and  speckled  coats. 

And  eyes  so  bright  and  brown? 

Oh,  and  I  wish  I  could  see  them  make 

And  line  their  uests  for  love's  sweet  sake, 

With  shreds  of  wool  and  down, 

With  their  eyes  so  bright  and  brown  1 

Comparatively  few  people  fully  appreciate  birds,  and  this  ia 
especially  true  in  the  rural  districts,  where  they  are  most  com- 
mon and  less  thought  of.  Yet,  to  watch  and  learn  the  habits 
of  these  little  feathery  beauties,  is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
occupations  at  which  a  few  leisure  hours  can  be  spent.  In  the 
spring  of  the  year,  when  the  leaves  are  bursting  forth  and  the 
grass  beginning  to  show  a  rich  green,  these  little  warblers  are 
seen  making  their  preparations  for  the  summer  house  or  ne.-t 
in  which  they  rear  their  young.  Piece  by  piece  are  the  bits  of 
stick,  moss,  thread  and  leaves  woven  together  until,  by 
patience  and  perseverance,  a  complete  nest  makes  its  appear 
ance.  During  the  progress  of  the  work,  which  sometimeslasts 
weeks,  no  one  is  so  industrious  as  they— but  always  with  a 
song,  merry  and  cheerful.  When  one  rises  early  of  a  spring 
or  summer  morning,  and  in  the  balmy  air  hears  the  caroling  of 
these  beauties,  the  efEect  cannot  but  be  cheering  and  pleasant, 
nor  can  it  fail  to  elevate  one  and  bring  one  nearer  to  the  Giver 
of  all  these  beautiful  things,  who  many  times  confidingly  build 
and  rear  their  young  about  the  habitations  of  men. 


496 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Last  summer,  for  instance,  we  hadn't  any  idea  of  laking" 
summer  boarders,  for  our  house  is  on  a  dusty  street-car  stricken 
street  in  a  crowded  city,  and  we  had  no  allurements  to  offer 
those  who  wished  a  cool,  quiet  retreat  during  the  summer 
months.  But  we  have  a  little  gem  of  a  back-porch,  shaded  by 
a  wild  grape-vine,  whose  seed  some  kindly  wind  brought  and 
planted  for  us;  and  about  four  o'clock  on  summer  afternoons, 
when  the  heat  made  oar  front  rooms  uncomfortable,  we  women 
folks,  with  sewing,  oooks  and  rocking  chairs,  would  repair  to 
this  bovver  which  had  apparently  been  shaded  for  us.  One  of 
the  afternoons,  when  the  heat  made  conversation  lag,  and  we 
were  unusually  quiet,  we  heard  a  low  contented  twitter  from 
among  our  vines;  stealthily  mounting  a  chair  and  peering 
among  the  leaves,  we  discovered  our  summer  hoarders.  On  a 
tiny  nest,  that  rocked  with  every  breeze,  sat  a  little  brown 
wren,  with  a  world  of  solicitude  and  motherliness  beaming 
from  her  bright  eyes.  With  due  apologies  for  intruding  upon 
her  while  engaged  in  domestic  duties,  and  assuring  her  that 
she  should  not  be  disturbed,  we  left  our  perch  aud  proclaimed 
the  glad  tidings  to  the  family.  A  bird's  nest  in  the  grape- 
vines—what a  revelation! 

"A  cradle  lined  with  leaves — 

Light  as  winds  that  stir  the  willows." 

In  about  half  an  hour  another  brown  bird,  whom  we  sup- 
posed to  be  Mr.  Wren,  fluttered  in  among  the  vines,  and  then 
such  a  chattering  as  we  heard.  The  wife  told  him  that  she  had 
had  visitors,  and  asked  if  he  thought  it  safe  to  remain.  He 
answered  that  he  had  been  sitting  on  the  fence  taking  a  good 
look  at  us,  and  if  there  was  auytning  in  physiognomy,  we 
would  not  molest  them  or  make  them  afraid;  aud,  besides, 
moving  was  always  a  trouble;  the  summer  was  passing  rapidly, 
and  there  was  no  time  to  lose  in  the  matter  they  had  on  hand. 
She  told  him  she  would  rely  on  his  judgment,  aud  if  he  would 
take  care  of  the  house  awhile,  she  would  go  and  find  some  sup- 
per; BO  off  she  flew,  and  the  little  man  took  possession. 

From  this  time  our  summer  boarders  were  a  fixed  fact,  and 
none  but  those  who  have  had  such  boarders  can  imagine  the 

Sleasure  and  amusement  a  family  of  eight  "grown  ups"  can 
erive  from  watching  their  modes  of  procedure. 
Instead  of  asking  our  men  folks  the  old  question,  "any 
news?"  we  ran  to  the  gate  to  meet  them  with  the  joyful  an- 
nouncement, "There's  an  egg  in  the  nest,"  as  if  there  was  but 
one  nest  and  one  egg  in  the  world. 

Then  two  eggs,  aud  finally  three  were  proclaimed,  and  our 
tiny  housekeepers  seemed  to  have  enough  to  do.  The  little 
mother-bird  stayed  at  home  almost  altogether,  and  Mr.  Wren 
brought  little  delicacies  to  coax  her  appetite.  He  would  lay  a 
fat  worm  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  sing  with  all  the  fervor 
of  Faust  to  Marguerite,  "  Do  take  a  bite,  dear.  1  know  it  will 
do  you  good.  You  haven't  been  out  for  so  long,  aud  this  is 
such  a  fat  one."  Then  Mrs.  Wren  would  chirp  out  that  she 
wasn't  one  bit  hungry,  but  she'd  try  a  little  to  please  him;  aud 
such  an  outburst  of  rejoicing  on  his  part  as  you  never  heard,  1 
know.  They  became  quite  used  to  us,  aud  even  tolerated  our 
opening  the  vines  to  say  "  good  morning  "  to  them. 

One  morning,  we  noticed  an  unusual  fluttering  in  and  out  of 
the  vines,  and  upon  investigation,  found  three  little  gaping 
mouths,  at  the  ends  of  three  extremely  long  necks,  stretching 
up  out  of  the  little  home.  Such  a  jubilee  as  was  going  on  in 
birddoml  I  really  believe  the  proud,  consequential  father 
brought  all  the  wrens  in  the  neighborhood  to  see  those  little 
prodigies.  Such  hungry  things  as  they  were,  too,  and  so 
greedy  and  selfish  toward  each  other—jostling  and  pushing  for 
the  first  bite.  Their  conduct  entirely  exploded  the  old  belief 
that  "birds  in  their  little  nests  agree,"  for  ours  didn't.  We 
watched  their  growth  from  fuzz  to  feathers.  At  first  mamma 
sat  on  the  nest  and  covered  them  with  her  wings.  But  by  and 
by  they  were  too  large  for  such  coddling,  and  the  unselfish 
mother  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  nest  or  adjoining  twig,  and 
where  she  stayed  at  night  is  an  unsolved  mystery.  Their  appe- 
tites increased  amaziu'^ly,  and  the  father  and  mother  were  con- 
stantly on  the  wing  from  four  o'clock  until  six  to  give  the 
greedy  little  Oliver  Twists  their  supper.  While  the  father  and 
mother  were  out  foraging  one  afternoon,  the  little  ones  grew  so 
livelj  and  frisked  about  so  that  they  spilled  themselves  out  of 
the  nest;  and  such  a  sight  as  the  half  grown  things  were! 
half-running,  half -flying  on  the  grass,  all  heads  and  legs  with  a 
slight  sprinkling  of  feathers.  We  put  them  back  in  the  nest, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  Having  had  a  taste  of  freedom,  they  were 
hungry  for  more,  and  fluttered  out  much  fi.ster  than  we  could 
put  them  in.  When  the  parents  arrived,  actual  astonishment 
was  depicted  on  their  countenances.  They  chirped  to  their 
offspring,  and  suggested  their  return  to  the  nest;  but  no,  they 
wouldn't  be  persuaded,  so  the  parents  consulted  aside,  seemed 
to  agree,  and,  with  alluring  chirps  and  bird-like  beckonings,  led 
the  tottering  steps  and  trembling  wings  of  their  obstinate 
nestlings  to  an  adjoining  vacant  lot,  where  we  lost  sight  of 
them,  and  so  departed  our  summer  boarders.  The  deserted 
nest  IS  among  our  household  treasures,  and  speaks  to  us  of  our 
gentle  visitors,  who  brought  blitheness  and  cheerfulness  with 
them,  taught  faith  and  patience  while  they  were  with  us,  and 
departing,  left  behind  them  a  pleasant  memory. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  Cuvier,  Audubon  and  others  so  earnestly 
made  a  life  study  of  birds  and  their  habits.  Their  coming  and 
going,  pretty  ways,  variety  of  song  and  plumage,  ingenuity  and 
skill  in  building  their  tiny  homes,  and  their  devotion  to  their 
young,  all  combine  in  making  them  an  infatuating  study. 
A  little  incident  related  in  the  Life  of  Audubon  forcibly  illus- 


title  patient,  persistent,  painstaking  manner  in  which  he 
and  other  men  of  science  prosecute  their  investigations.  It 
was  while  he  was  hunting  in  the  forests  of  Louisiana  that  he 
dl!^covered  a  tiny  little  woodbird  hitherto  unknown  to  the 
ornithologist.  It  was  not  so  big  as  a  wren,  and  was  clad  in  a 
coat  of  such  plain  sober  gray  that  none  but  practiced  evos  would 
detect  it  flitting  in  and  out  among  the  similar  colored  "branches 
of  the  peculiar  species  of  trees  it  inhabited.  But,  ho.vevef 
humble  the  bird  might  be,  to  Audubon  it  was  one  of  a  charm- 
ing and  curious  race  of  beings  that  interested  him  above  all 
ether  living  things,  and  to  ascertain  its  history  and  habits  was 
a  matter  of  as  much  importance  as  though  it  were  chief  of  the 
tribe.  He  therefore  bent  every  energy  of  his  intense  and 
eager  nature  to  the  study  of  it. 

One  night  he  came  with  the  exciting  news  that  he  had  found 
a  pair  which  were  evidently  preparing  to  build  a  nest.  Next 
morning  he  was  up  and  off  to  the  woods  at  daybreak,  taking 
along  with  him  a  telescopic  microscope.  Erecting  this  under 
the  tree  that  sheltered  the  almost  invisible  little  creatures  he 
was  anxious  to  observe,  he  made  himself  a  pillow  of  moss,  and 
then  lay  qniotly  down  on  the  ground,  with  his  eye  to  the  in- 
strument, and  remained  there  throughout  the  livelong  hours  until 
nii^htfall,  watching  the  movements  of  the  secret  and  unsus- 
pecting architects  » 

This  course  he  repeated  day  after  day,  for  three  weeks,  with- 
out  respite  or  intermission,  and  then  he  was  able  to  tell,  witk 
minute  and  accurate  detail,  just  what  materials  these  builders 
in  the  heart  of  the  wood  choose  for  their  dwellings,  and  how 
they  put  them  together,  and  the  number  of  days  required  to 
complete  the  progress  of  incubation. 

"Sin^  sweet,  little  bird,  sing  out  to  your  mate 
That  hides  in  the  leafy  grove; 
Sing  clear  and  tell  him  for  him,  for  him  you  wait, 
And  tell  him  of  all  your  love." 


Vegetable  Acids. 

Tannic,  Gallic  and  Citric  Acid. 

Tannic  Acid,  so  much  used  in  the  preparation  of 
writing-ink,  and  in  the  manufacture  of  leather,  is  ob- 
tained from  various  sources,  the  principal  one  being  the 
gall-nut.  The  acid  itself  is  derived  from  taujiin,  a  prin- 
ciple which  is  contained  in  the  bark  and  leaves  of  the 
oak,  pine  and  hemlock.  This  principle,  which  possesses 
strong  binding  properties,  also  occurs  in  the  roots  of 
some  plants,  and  in  tea  and  coffee.  On  this  account  it 
is  very  properly  classed  as  a  vegetable  acid.  To  illus- 
trate the  method  of  obtaining  it,  boil  in  about  one  ounce 
of  water  150  grains  of  powdered  gall-nut  for  several 
hours,  taking  care  to  place  the  water  in  the  vessel,  ac- 
cording as  it  evaporates.  By  this  means,  a  solution  of 
tannic  acid  is  obtained,  which  affords  a  copious  gelatin- 
ous precipitate  on  a  few  drops  of  isinglass  solution  be- 
ing added  to  it. 

Its  use  in  tanning  depends  on  the  fact  that  it  precipi- 
tates the  gelatin  in  the  skins  as  an  insoluble  substance 
which  remains  in  the  hide.  The  latter  operation  is  per- 
formed in  large  covered  vats,  and  toughens  the  skina 
and  renders  them  incapable  of  further  change,  thus 
transforming  them  into  leather. 

Tannic  acid  may  be  obtained  in  a  crystalized  form  b^ 
means  of  the  action  of  ether  on  nut-galls.  The  ether 
and  nut-galls  are  combined  and  allowed  to  evaporate, 
when  crystals  of  the  acid  will  be  afforded. 

Gallic  Acid  is  somewhat  similar  to  tannic  acid  In 
many  respects,  as  it  possesses  besides  other  valuable 
properties  many  of  those  of  the  latter.  It  has  a  similar 
origin  and  is  also  used  in  tanning,  and  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  ink.  It  is  also  much  used  as  a  developer  in 
photographic  processes,  the  acid  for  this  purpose  bein^ 
first  heated,  when  pyro-gallic  acid  is  produced  ;  to  this 
a  solution  of  spirits  of  wine  and  acetic  acid  is  added, 
and  the  whole  used  for  developing  the  picture  on  the 
glass  plate  after  the  latter's  exposure  in  the  camera.  It 
may  be  produced  by  boiling  a  solution  of  crystals  of 
tannic  acid  with  diluted  oil  of  vitriol.  After  boiling,  the 
acid  is  evaporated  and  crystalled  as  in  tannic  acid. 

Citric  Acid  is  produced  chiefly  from  the  lemon, 
although  it  is  also  sometimes  found  in  the  lime  and  to- 
mato. The  manner  of  obtaining  it  from  the  lemon  is  as 
follows :  After  squeezmg  the  lemons  chalk  is  added  to 
the  juice,  thus  affording  citrate  of  lime.  To  the  precipi- 
tate of  the  latter,  dUute  oil  of  'vitriol  is  added,  this  hav- 
ing the  effect  of  decomposing  it.  The  citric  acid  is  ob- 
tained from  this,  after  five  parts  of  water  have  been 
added,  in  the  form  of  large,  transparent  crystals. 

It  possesses  a  sour  but  rather  agreeable  taste,  its  use 
being  confined  chiefly  to  medicine  and  calico  printing,  in 
the  latter  use  of  which  it  is  generally  in  the  form  of 
ma^esium  citrate. 


497 


Dogs  in  Council. 

SAGACITY  OF  ANIMALS  DURING  THE  SIEGE  OF  PARIS. 

It  is  a  curious  question  whether  animals  take  notice  of 
the  events  which  are  passing  around  them,  but  which, 
Aevertheless,  are  apparently  outside  of  the  sphere  of 
<iheir  instinct.  M.  Theophile  Gautier,  the  well-known 
French  journalist  and  writer,  has  raised  this  question  in 
regard  to  the  animals  which  were  in  Paris  during  the 
siege ;  and  he  brings  forward  several  facts,  which  he  says 
fell  under  his  own  observation,  to  prove  that  they  not 
only  took  notice  of  passing  events,  but  regulated  their 
movements  accordingly.  He  observes  that  the  dogs 
took  notice,  from  the  very  first  day,  of  the  abnormal 
condition  of  Paris.  The  unusual  movements  of  the  in- 
habitants, the  almost  universal  change  from  civil  to 
military  costume,  the  exercising  of  the  mobiles  and  the 
national  guards  on  the  public  parades,  the  continual 
sounding  of  the  trumpet  and  beating  of  drums,  kept 
them  constantly  excited  and  uneasy  and  set  them  to  re- 
flecting. Some  of  them,  refugees  from  the  suburbs,  with 
their  masters,  visibly  lost  their  power  of  finding  their 
way  about.  They  hesitated  in  the  choice  of  streets, 
were  uncertain  of  the  traces,  scented  their  path,  and  at 
every  corner  consulted  some  other  dog  that  lived  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  suburban  dogs  were  scared  at  the 
noise  of  passing  vehicles  and  ran  from  them,  while  the 
city  dogs  scarcely  took  the  trouble  to  get  out  of  the 
way  of  the  wheels.  "  Every  morning,"  says  M.  Gautier, 
"  there  assembled  before  our  door  what  appeared  to  be 
a  council  of  dogs,  presided  over  by  a  broad-backed,  ban- 
dy-legged, brown  and  yellow  terrier.  The  other  dogs 
paid  him  great  deference,  and  listened  to  him  attentively, 
it  was  evident  that  he  spoke  to  them,  not  after  the  man- 
ner of  men,  in  an  articulate  language,  but  by  short 
barks,  varied  mutterings,  pursing  of  the  lips,  movements 
of  the  tail,  and  expressive  play  of  the  physiognomy.  | 
Every  now  and  then  a  new  comer  seemed  to  bring  news  ;  i 
and  the  council  commented  on  it,  and  after  a  while  dis- 
persed." This  went  on  during  the  first  month  or  two  of 
the  siege,  when  bread  was  plentiful,  the  stock  of  beef 
was  stni  considerable,  and  the  dearness  of  forage  ren- 
dered horse  meat  abundant.  The  animals  did  not  suffer 
then ;  but  soon  things  began  to  change,  and  their  rations 
diminished  as  those  of  the  men  did. 

The  poor  creatures  could  not  understand  it,  and  gazed 
<it  their  owners  with  wondering  eyes  when  their  meagre 
pittance  was  placed  before  them.  They  seemed  to  ask 
what  they  had  done  to  be  so  punished.  Many  masters 
abandoned  their  dogs,  not  having  the  courage  to  kill 
them  ;  and  these  animals  were  to  be  seen  at  night  wan- 
dering, like  shadows,  near  the  walls,  and  trying  to  in- 
duce kind-looking  persons  to  have  pity  on  them.  M. 
Gautier  says  he  was  continually  followed  by  them,  they 
uttering  faint  cries  all  the  while,  and  sometimes  ventui- 
ing  to  put  their  noses  to  his  hand.  Soon  they  began  to 
perceive  that  people  looked  at  them  in  a  strange  manner, 
and  under  pretence  of  caressing  them,  felt  their  flesh,  as 
a  butcher  would,  to  ascertain  if  they  were  in  good  con- 
dition. The  cats  perceived  this  sooner  than  the  dogs 
did,  and  became  exceedingly  cautious  as  to  whom  they 
allowed  to  touch  them ;  on  the  least  quick  movement 
they  fled  to  the  roof  or  cellar ;  but  at  length  the  dogs 
''smelt  a  rat,"  and  ran  away  when  any  one  called  or 
whistled  to  them.  The  canine  council,  before  men- 
tioned, diminished  daily,  and  there  soon  remained  no  one 
of  its  members  but  the  dreaming  terrier,  who,  however, 
was  only  dreaming  in  appearance  ;  for  in  reality-  he  was 
always  on  the  guard,  scenting  danger  afar  off,  and  show- 
ing his  heels  at  the  approach  of  any  one  at  all  suspicious. 

The  Adoration  of  Women. 

That  adoration  which  a  young  man  gives  to  a  woman 
whom  he  feels  to  be  greater  and  better  than  himself,  is 
hardly  distinguishable  from  a  religious  feeling.  What 
deep  and  worthy  love  is  not  so  ?  whether  of  woman  or 
child,  or  art  or  music  ?  Our  caresses,  our  tender  words, 
our  still  rapture  under  the  influence  of  autumn  sunsets, 
or  pillared  vistas,  or  calm,  majestic  statues,  or  Beethov- 
en symphonies,  all  bring  with  them  the  consciousness 
that  they  are  mere  waves  and  ripples  in  an  unfathom- 
able ocean  of  love  and  beauty ;  our  emotions  in  its 
keenest  moment  passes  from  expression  into  silence ; 
our  love  at  its  highest  flood  rushes  beyond  its  object, 
and  loses  itself  in  the  sense  of  divine 'mystery.   Is  it 


any  weakness,  pray,  to  be  wrought  on  by  exquisite  mu- 
sic ?  to  feel  its  wondrous  harmonies  searching  the  subt^ 
lest  windings  of  your  soul,  the  delicate  fibres  of  life 
where  no  memory  can  penetrate,  and  binding  together 
your  whole  being,  past  and  present,  in  one  unspeakable 
vibration,  melting  you  in  one  moment  with  all  the  ten- 
derness, all  the  love  that  has  been  scattered  through  the 
toilsome  years,  concentrating  in  one  emotion  of  heroic 
courage  or  resignation  all  the  hard-learned  lessons  of 
self-renouncing  sympathy,  blending  your  present  joy 
with  past  sorrow,  and  your  present  sorrow  with  all  your 
past  joy?  If  not,  then  neither  is  it  a  weakness  to  be  so 
wrought  upon  by  the  exquisite  curves  on  a  woman's 
cheek  and  neck  and  arms,  by  the  liquid  depths  of  her 
beseeching  eyes  or  the  sweet  childish  pout  of  her  lips. 
For  the  beauty  of  lovely  woman  is  like  music— what  can 
one  say  more  ?  Beauty  has  an  expression  beyond  and 
far  above  woman's  soul,  that  it  clothes,  as  the  v/ords  of 
genius  have  a  wider  meaning  than  the  thought  that 
prompted  them ;  it  is  more  -than  woman's  love  that 
moves  us  in  a  woman's  eyes — it  seems  to  be  a  far-oil 
mighty  love  that  has  come  near  to  us,  and  made  speech 
for  itself  there  ;  the  rounded  neck,  the  dimpled  arm, 
move  us  by  something  more  than  their  prettiness — by 
their  close  kinship  with  all  we  have  known  of  tender- 
ness and  peace.  The  expression  in  beauty  (it  is  need- 
less to  say  that  there  are  gentlemen  with  whiskers  dyed 
and  undyed  who  see  none  of  it  whatever)  and  for  this 
reason  the  noblest  nature  is  often  the  most  blinded  to 
the  character  of  the  woman's  soul,  that  the  beauty 
clothes.  Whence,  I  fear,  the  tragedy  of  human  life  is 
likely  to  continue  for  a  long  time  to  come,  in  spite  of 
mental  philosophers,  who  are  ready  with  the  best  re- 
ceipts for  avoiding  all  mistakes  of  the  kind. 

  George  Eliot. 

A  "Word  to  Young  Men. 

It  is  an  old  saying,  "That  boys  invariably  wish  to  do 
something  which  they  cannot,"  and  I  am  inclined  to  be- 
lieve, that  the  same  n.ight  be  said  of  girls;  still,  upon 
that  point  I  am  not  posted,  so  will  address  my  remarks 
to  young  men,  allowing  the  young  ladies  "To  wear  the 
jacket,  if  it  fits." 

In  fact,  this  desire  to  do  something  they  cannot,  seems 
to  be  an  inherent,  inborn,  natural  quality.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  boy  that  had  not  rather  work  in  the  field  from 
morning  until  night,  with  spade  and  shovel,  than  to 
bring  water  for  washing,  and  keep  the  hens  out  of  the 
flower  garden  ;  or,  if  asked  to  pick  up  chips,  had  much 
rather  take  an  ax  and  chop  cord  wood  ;  and  if  requested 
to  rake  or  spread  hay,  says,  "that  he  would  like  some- 
thing easy,  like  mowmg  or  pitching  upon  the  load?"  So 
you  will  find  it  if  you  go  through  the  whole  routine  of 
boys'  work. 

But  this  witihing  for  something  beyond,  is  not  confined 
to  boys  only  ;  young  men,  who  have  been  brought  up  on 
the  farm,  and  who  have  but  little  of  any  other  kind  of 
business,  often  think  themselves  fully  prepared  for 
clerks,  merchants,  and  bankers.  Many  a  young  man 
begins  the  study  of  medicine  or  law,  without  a  necessary 
qualification  for  success  in  either.  They  do  not  consider 
how  important  a  question  it  is,  and  start  out  as  uncon- 
cerned as  though  nothing  was  pending. 

Nature  has,  with  a  few  exceptions,  done  something  for 
each  one  of  us,  and  we  find  that  those  who  succeed  best 
in  their  labors,  have  a  natural  faculty  for  them.  Ought 
we  not,  then,  to  find  out,  if  possible,  for  what  we  are 
fitted— to  find  our  place— and  then  fill  it  ? 

Parents  seldom,  if  ever,  try  to  find  for  what  their  chil- 
dren are  adapted,  and  then  advise  them.  They  say  follow 
tins  or  that  business,  choose  this  or  that  profession,  you 
can  make  money  at  it  and  live  without  hard  labor. 

Many  examples  might  be  mentioned,  where  men  have 
commenced  the  study  of  law,  or  medicine,  or  theology, 
and  after  finding  that  they  had  made  a  serious  mistake, 
exchanged  for  something  in  keeping  with  their  talents. 

Young  man,  do  not  decide  such  an  important  point  in 
your  life  without  earnest,  thoughtful  deliberation.  Ask 
yourself  this  question,  "  Have  I  a  taste  for  such  work, 
and  the  necessary  qualifications  ?  N. 

Here  is  a  new  business. — A  lady  advertises  herself  as 
"ornamental  guest,"  to  "attend''  at  grand  dinners  and 
other  parties,  where  her  grace,  wit  and  beauty,  shall  con- 
tribute to  the  entertainment  of  guests.  Of  course,  she 
desires  a  good  compensation  for  such  valuable  services. 


498 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


i^PfllNG-TIME  IN  THE  WOODS. 

BY  MRS.  G.  LINN^US  BANKS. 

Come  out,  sweet  wife,  for  a  stroll  in  the  woods— 

A  stroll  in  the  woods  with  me— 
To  welcome  spring  and  its  bursting  buds, 
As  the  coy  young  blossoms  peep  out  of  their  hoods. 

And  blush  on  the  old  beech-tree. 

We  may  look  at  the  names  I  proudly  cut 

Last  spring  on  its  willing  bole, 
And  rest  once  again  in  the  woodman's  hut, 
Where  my  first  love-gift  on  your  finger  put, 

Held  promise  of  soul  to  soul. 

It  is  sweet,  now  a  plainer  circlet  binds 

Our  names  and  our  lives  in  one. 
To  ramble  again  where  the  wood-path  winds, 
Retracing  the  growth  of  love  in  our  minds, 

Spring  sunshine  lighting  us  on. 

Sweet  to  list  to  the  ringdove's  gentle  coo, 

The  trill  of  the  linnet's  throat. 
To  mark  how  the  fluttering  thrushes  woo, 
And  listening,  softly  our  vows  renew 

With  as  clear  and  true  a  note. 

How  the  verdant  freshness  of  young  spring-time 

Through  our  very  being  thrills, 
Uplifting  the  common  to  the  sublime 
With  the' force  of  a  gifted  minstrel's  rhyme, 

Or  sunset  'mong  Alpine  hills. 

For  here  in  the  woods,  where  the  graceful  ash 

Contends  with  the  gnarled  oak, 
Whether  sun  shall  burn,  or  rain  shall  splash, 
Whether  runnels  shall  dry,  or  rills  shall  dash, 

My  being  to  rapture  woke. 

For  here  1  met  with  a  flowret  as  fair 

As  snow-drop  or  lily-bell. 
With  a  lissom  grace  and  a  modest  air. 
No  bloom  of  the  spring  could  with  her  compare. 

And  now  she  is  mine  own  Nell. 

Let  me  stoop  and  gather  this  primrose  pale 
(It  grows  where  you  dropped  your  glove), 
With  anemones  strong  to  brave  the  gale. 
When  the  blustering  winds  of  March  prevail, 
Fair  emblem  of  wedded  love, 

Spring  promises  ripen  to  autumn  fruit 

In  trees,  in  loves,  and  in  lives  ; 
And  trees,  loves,  and  lives  alike  bear  the  bruit 
Of  storms  that  threaten  both  blossoms  and  fruit, 

Mellowing  that  which  survives. 

But  fairer,  farther,  the  promise  of  spring, 

Sunny,  and  balmy,  and  bright. 
Sends  our  souls,  dear  wife,  on  uprising  wing 
To  the  promise  of  life,  where  angels  sing. 

And  no  wintry  wind  can  blight.  ws^^ 


Laughter. 

Who  can  estimate  the  value  of  a  hearty,  happy  laugH» 
It  is  water  in  the  desert— manna  in  life's  wilderness. 
Some  persons  are  far  more  richly  endowed  than  other<i 
with  this  happy  g-ift,  and  the  method  of  its  manifestation 
in  themselves  and  its  effect  upon  others  are  among  the 
most  wonderful  mysteries  of  our  being.  Go  where  they 
may,  they  are  ever  welcome  ;  for,  provided  always  that 
their  matchless  talent  is  refined  by  good  taste  and  tem- 
pered by  good  feeling,  they  bring  the  summer  with  them 
and  make  everybody  the  brighter  for  their  presence.  It 
is  marvellous  to  think  what  an  atmosphere  of  fun  seems 
to  surround  some  people,  what  an  air  of  festivity  they 
throw  around  the  dullest  things,  and  what  radiance  of 
expression  they  impart  to  the  most  commonplace  emo- 
tions.  Sydney  Smith,  in  this  respect,  was  inimitable. 
His  comic  faculty  was  magnificent ;  he  was  the  life  ol 
every  dinner  party  honored  by  his  presence.  Apropos  ol 
this  subject  he  tells  a  good  story :  "A  joke  goes  a  great 
way  in  the  country.  1  have  known  one  last  pretty  well 
for  seven  years.  I  remember  making  a  joke  after  a 
meeting  of  the  clergy  in  Yorkshire,  where  there  was  a 
Rev.  Mr.  Buckle,  who  never  spoke  when  I  proposed  his 
health.  1  said  that  he  was  a  buckle  without  a  tongue. 
Most  persons  on  hearing  laughed,  but  my  nest  neighbor 
sat  unmoved  and  sunk  in  thought.  At  last,  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  after  we  had  all  done,  he  suddenly  nudged  me, 
exclaiming ;  I  see  now  what  you  meant,  Mr.  Smith ;  you 
meant  a  joke.'  'Yes,'  I  said,  'sir,  1  believe  I  did.'  Upon 
which  he  began  laughing  so  heartily  that  1  thought  he 
would  choke,  and  was  obliged  to  pat  him  on  the  back." 
In  this  case,  the  first  joke  was  excelled  by  the  second. 
Dean  Swift's  wit  was  of  a  different  order,  combining  fun 
with  wisdom.  It  happened  one  day  that  his  cook,  whom 
he  invariably  called  "Sweetheart,"  had  greatly  over- 
roasted the  only  joint  he  had  for  dinner,  "Sweetheart," 
said  the  dean,  in  the  blandest  possible  tones,  "this  leg 
of  mutton  is  overdone.  Take  it  back  into  the  kitchen 
and  do  it  less."  The  cook  replied  that  the  thing  was 
impossible.  "But,"  said  the  dean,  "if  it  had  been  un- 
derdone you  could  have  done  it  more."  The  cook  as- 
sented. "Well,  then,  Sweetheart,"  rejoined  the  master, 
"let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you.  If  you  needs  must  commit 
a  fault,  at  least  take  care  that  it  is  one  that  will  admit 
of  a  remedy."  The  mingled  wit  and  wisdom  of  this  ad- 
monition are  delightful. 


Weight  of  the  Human  Body. 

There  are  but  few  people  but  like  to  be  weighed  occa- 
sionally ;  some  do  it  regularly  at  certain  hours,  before 
and  after  meals,  or  taking  a  bath,  etc.  Yet  there  are 
few  things  so  changeable  as  the  weight  of  the  body ;  in- 
deed it  is  rarely  the  same  for  a  few  minutes  together ; 
and  if  a  man  were  to  sit  on  one  of  the  plates  for  the 
whole  day,  the  other  plate  would  be  constantly  oscilating 
within  certain  limits.  The  state  of  the  weather  and 
time  of  the  year  influence  our  weight.  In  summer  we 
grow  fatter  than  we  are  in  winter;  such  is  the  general 
rule ;  yet  most  people  believe  that  hot  weather  makes 
us  leaner.  It  is  true  we  eat  less  and  perspire  more ; 
these  are  certainly  two  causes  of  loss  ;  but  on  the  other 
hand,  we  expend  less  to  keep  up  the  temperature  of  the 
body,  and,  moreover,  we  drink  more  and  our  beverages 
possess  the  curious  property  of  increasing  our  fat. 
Beer,  and  even  pure  water,  are  great  fattening  agents. 
Cattle  reared  for  slaughter  get  a  great  deal  to  drink, 
which  increases  their  bulk  considerably  ;  the  tissues  are 
gorged  with  liquid,  and  so  the  weight  increases,  but  the 
system  is  weakened.  In  winter,  the  organism  lias  to  be 
provided  with  heat ;  we  eat  more,  but  also  expend  more 
to  keep  up  the  temperature  of  the  body  ;  then  also  we 
drink  less,  so  that,  on  the  whole,  the  loss  is  greater  than 
the  gain,  and  we  grow  lean.  In  short,  we  fatten  when, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  we  burn  more  of  the  food 
we  have  taken,  and  we,  therefore,  in  breathing,  exhalei 
carbonic  acid  in  proportion.  We  begin  to  emit  less  oi 
the  latter  in  April ;  its  amount  diminishes  considerably 
in  July,  August,  and  September,  and  attains  its  minimum 
about  the  autumnal  equinox.  It  then  goes  on  increasing 
from  October,  and  we  begin  to  lose  the  substance  gained 
during  the  summer.  From  December  to  March  we 
remain  nearly  stationary.  To  conclude,  as  we  consume 
less  in  summer  than  in  winter,  all  other  circumstances 
remaining  the  same,  we  are  heavier  in  hot  weather  than 
we  are  in  winter. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


499 


Horses  in  Japan. 

A  Japanese  stable  is  another  illustration  of  things 
turned  upside-down,  or  wrong  part  before.  In  a  foreign 
stable,  in  walking  past  the  stalls,  one  sees  only  the 
flanks  of  the  animals  that  stand  with  heads  fronting  the 
streets.  In  a  Japanese  stable,  as  you  walk  by  the  stalls, 
the  horses  stand  with  their  heads  toward  you,  and  the 
open  end  of  the  stall  and  their  flanks  at  tbe  far  end. 
The  stalls  are  boarded  up  to  the  height  of  the  animal's 
head,  but  the  most  curious  thing  is  the  way  the  horses 
are  tied.  The  Japanese  halters  differ  from  ours.  When 
they  lead  a  horse  they  tie  a  rope  around  the  lower 
jaw,  between  the  incisors  and  grinders.  In  the  stable 
the  bit  is  kept  in  the  mouth,  and  the  horse  is  tied  up  by 
a  rope  from  each  side  of  its  jaw,  as  we  would  secure  a 
horse  to  curry  him.  The  brute  is  thus  kept  all  day  with 
his  head  as  high  as  Job's  war-horse  ;  his  nostrils  on  the 
level  of  his  eye,  as  if  snuffing  the  battle  afar  off.  Such 
a  dramatic  attitude,  long  continued,  must  make  his 
neck  ache,  if  long  use  does  not  inure  him  to  it.  It  was 
a  standing  wonder  to  me  that  the  Japanese  genus  Equus 
had  not  long  since  developed  into  the  Cameleopardus 
girafa,  Japanese  horses  have  been  thus  tied  for  cen- 
turies, but  no  instance  of  such  transformation  has  taken 
place,  nor  is  the  giraffe  found  in  Japan.  According  to 
Japanese  hippology  big  teeth  denote  poor,  small  teeth 
good,  eye  sight.  Rice  straw  as  a  steady  diet  will  pro- 
duce spavin ;  mulberry  leaves  cure  blindness  ;  certain 
spots  on  the  knees  betoken  a  good  "  night  eye,"  or 
power  to  see  well  in  the  dark.  Horses  are  not  curried, 
out  are  combed,  washed  in  warm  water,  and  carefully 
wiped.  It  is  the  custom  to  bind  the  forelock  so  as  to 
stand  erect  in  tufts  like  pompons.  The  art  of  equine 
coiffure  is  professed  by  specialists.  To  make  the  tail 
droop  gracefully,  the  sinew  beneath  the  root  is  cut.  As 
there  are  few  flies  in  Japan  (think  of  it,  O  ye  American 
housekeepers  I)  a  flv-brush  is  not  necessary.  The  same 
diet  on  which  the  "Captain  Jinks,"  of  the  popular  song, 
feeds  his  horse,  is  that  of  the  Japanese  nag.  He  is  fed 
from  a  box  or  bucket  on  corn  and  beans,  as  a  rule.  Hay, 
straw,  grass,  and  mixed  fodder,  composes  his  summer 
diet.  In  the  center  of  the  floor,  beneath  the  body  of  the 
animal,  is  a  clay-lined  pit,  covered  with  a  wooden 
grating.  Not  an  ounce  of  any  description  of  manure  is 
lost  in  Japan.  In  the  Fukul  stables  the  stalls  were  very 
clean.  The  horses  were  black,  white,  or  brown.  Their 
names  were  a  study,  such  as  "  Black  Dragon," 
"Typhoon,"  "Willow  Swamp,"  "Green  Mountain," 
"Devil-Head,"  "Thunder-Cloud,"  "Arrow,"  "Junk- 
titone,"  "Devil's  Eye,"  "Earthquake,"  " Iron-Jawe,"'' 


Varnish. 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUTI'T. 

Varnish  is  a  solution  of  chemical  substances,  con- 
taining resinous  matters  as  their  bases.  These  sub- 
stances are  always  dissolved  in  some  liquid,  which, 
while  capable  of  evaporation  on  exposure  to  air,  is  of  a 
sufficient  consistency  to  enable  the  solution  to  be  spread 
with  ease  on  any  plain  surface. 

The  liquids  which  are  capable  of  being  thus  utilized, 
are  alcohol,  naphtha,  and  oil  of  turpentine.  Of  these, 
the  latter,  being  the  cheapest,  and  for  some  articles  the 
best,  is  most  frequently  used. 

Shellac,  mastic,  sandarach,  and  copal,  are  all  used  for 
varnishes,  one  of  these  being  dissolved  in  one  or  the 
other  of  the  above-mentioned  liquids. 

The  various  kinds  of  work  for  which  varnish  is  used, 
require  their  various  elements,  preparation  and  skill  in 
manufacture,  the  latter  being  an  important  item. 

All  the  substances  used  are  very  combustible,  and  as 
heat  is  a  requisite  which  cannot  be  dispensed  with  in  the 
manufacture  of  varnish,  great  care  is  always  necessary 
in  order  to  prevent  fire. 

For  the  use  of  furniture  makers,  varnish  is  made  by 
dissolving  a  quantity  of  kauri,  (a  soft  copal  gum  pro- 
cured from  New  Zealand)  in  linseed  oil  and  oil  of  tur- 
pentine. To  this  is  generally  added  an  oxide,  for  the 
purpose  of  facilitating  the  rapid  drying  of  the  varnish  on 
exposure  to  air. 

The  solution  thus  foimed  is  boiled  in  large  kettles 
until  the  fusion  of  the  gum  and  spirits  takes  place. 
While  still  warm,  the  varnish  is  put  up  in  cans,  sealed 
air-tight  and  kept  in  a  warm  place.  The  air-tight  clcsing 
of  the  cans  is  done  to  prevent  dust  and  air  from  coming 
in  contact  with  the  varnish  before  being  used.   The  ob- 


ject of  keeping  It  in  a  warm  place  Is  to  improve  it  both 
in  form  and  reality. 

For  making  carriage  varnish,  Zanzibar  gum  copal  is 
used  instead  of  kauri,  although,  in  some  cases,  gum 
procured  from  Benguella  and  Angola,  Africa,  is  used. 
The  former,  however,  makes  the  more  perfect  work,  and 
when  procurable  is  generally  preferred. 

Of  the  utility  of  varnishing  little  need  be  said.  That 
it  acts  as  a  preservative  of  wood-word  seems  to  be  recog- 
nized as  much  as  the  fact  that  it  adds  to  the  beautiful 
appearance  of  the  work.  Within  the  past  thirty  years 
its  manufacture  has  increased  considerably,  and  at 
present  it  bids  fair  to  become  as  important  an  article  of 
commerce  as  it  is  a  useful  one. 


Indian  Runners. 

A  correspondent  in  the  Sioux  country  writes :  "  This 
system  of  Indian  runners  seems  to  be  little  understood. 
If  important  news  is  to  be  carried,  an  Indian  gorges  him- 
self with  meat,  takes  a  short  nap,  mounts  one  of  the 
fleetest  of  their  ponies,  and  rushes  along  like  the  wind 
until  his  horse  requires  feed,  when  he  nods  a  few  times 
while  his  horse  satisfies  its  hunger  from  the  luxurious 
meadows,  when  the  ride  is  renewed.  The  runner  needs 
nothing  for  his  pony,  and  takes  nothing  for  himself  but 
his  arrow  and  blankets,  and  will,  in  the  manner  indi- 
cated, ride  two  or  three  days  and  nights,  passing  over 
from  sixty  to  one  hundred  miles  in  each  twenty-four 
hours.  When  the  nearest  camp  is  reached,  his  story  is 
taken  up  by  other  Indians,  and  in  like  manner  carried  in 
every  direction.  The  speed  with  which  the  news  travels 
depends  upon  its  importance,  but  in  this  way  the  Indians 
often  beat  the  telegraph,  and  their  first  reports,  if  they 
come  direct,  are  usually  to  be  relied  upon.  The  runner 
who  brings  great  news  is  feasted  from  one  tepee  to  an- 
other, and  it  is  not  until  the  story  begins  to  grow  old 
that  he  lets  loose  his  imagination  and  adds  to  the  original 
in  order  to  keep  up  the  interest  in  him  as  the  bearer  of 
great  news.  There  are  always  volunteers,  and  frequently 
two  or  three  will  start  for  the  same  point,  but  the  one 
that  gets  in  last  is  bound  to  tell  the  biggest  story,  if  he 
has  to  deny  the  statements  of  his  rivals  or  cut  his  story 
out  of  whole  cloth  in  order  to  do  so.  Hence  the  con 
flicting  reports. 


No  Success  without  Industry. 

I  really  believe,  young  friends,  that  idleness  is  the 
ground  of  most  vices.  I  am  acquainted  with  certain 
young  men  who  are  running  about  the  streets,  whom  I 
see  stepping  out  of  drinking  saloons.  Some  of  them 
are  sons  of  reputable  parents.  I  remember  last  summer 
meeting  a  young  man — one  of  the  best-dressed  lads  in 
the  city — a  young  man  whom  I  met  in  the  omnibus  fre- 
quently, riding  up  and  down  ;  and  I  had  seen  him  so 
often,  and  always  with  such  a  leisurely  air,  that  I  said 
one  day,  calling  him  by  name,  "  What  are  you  doing?  " 
I  have  not  got  any  particular  business,"  he  said. 

"Well,  haven't  you  anything  to  do  ? " 

"  Nothing  in  particular,"  he  answered. 

It  was  somewhat  impertinent,  but  I  said, — 

"  Well,  I  suppose  now  you  are  out  of  school,  you 
mean  to  get  into  something  pretty  soon  ? " 

"  Well,  1  have  not  anything  just  now  in  view,"  he  re- 
plied. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  poor  fellow  has  not 
anything  in  view,  never  did  have  much  of  anything  in 
view.  Drifting,  drifting,  drifting  !  Down,  down,  down  1 
He  is  not  the  boy  he  was  when  I  conversed  with  him 
last  summer.  There  is  nothing  truer,  though  trite,  than 
the  adage,  "An  idle  brain  is  the  devil's  workshop." 
Unless  there  is  an  aim,  a  plan,  a  purpose  in  a  man,  there 
is  depravity,  and  appetite,  and  lust,  and  passion.  It  is 
idleness  that  fills  our  jails  and  prisons.  It  is  idleness 
that  rolls  up  millions  and  millions  of  dollars  for  spirit- 
uous liquors  every  year. 

Industry,  my  young  friends,  is  the  first  law  of  success. 
Some  one  asked  a  man  who  was  counted  a  great  genius, 
to  define  genius,  and  he  said,  "Genius  is  industry." 
Things  never  come  about  of  themselves.  The  man  who 
writes  a  great  book  never  wrote  it  in  a  day  or  a  week. 
The  man  who  has  reported  a  great  invention  did  not 
combine  wheel  and  piston  in  an  hour  or  a  month  ;  but  it 
was  the  industry  of  inquiry,  the  industry  of  application. 
Industry  is  the  first  law  of  success. 


500 


THE  GROWING  WORLD 


Glycerine. 

J3Y  JAS.    p.  DUFFY. 

Glycerine,  when  pure,  is  a  sweet,  sirupy  liquid,  which 
mixes  with  water  and  with  alcohol,  and  possesses  all  the 
powers  of  a  great  dissolvent. 

In  the  raw  state  (if  a  liquid  can  be  so  termed)  it  exists 
in  fat,  the  latter  being  alv/ays  a  combination  of  glyce- 
rines. Its  name  is  derived  from  a  Greek  word,  meaning 
sweet-tasted,  and  when  pure  it  is  always  colorless.  If 
it  be  heated  in  an  open  place  it  becomes  volatile  ;  and  if 
it  be  distilled,  which  process  decomposes  it,  vapors 
similar  to  those  produced  from  the  smoldering  wick  of 
a  tallow  candle,  will  be  given  off.  Being  used  for  a 
large  number  of  purposes  independent  of  its  use  as  a 
solvent,  it  is  largely  manufactured.  The  processes  used 
are  different,  but  the  following  experiment  will  convey 
an  idea  of  the  source  from  which  it  is  produced. 

Having  placed  fifteen  and  a  half  grains  litharge,  and 
three  ounces  of  water  in  a  deep  porcelain  dish,  thor- 
oughly mixed  the  same,  and  add  fifteen  and  a  half 
grains  of  olive  oil ;  boil  the  Avhole  for  one  hour,  taking 
care  to  keep  up  a  constant  stirring,  and  to  occasionally 
add  water  to  replace  that  lost  by  boiling.  This  process 
gradually  decomposes  the  oil  and  forms  lead  plaster, 
the  color  gradually  changing.  When  the  mass  is  color- 
less, the  liquid  portion  must  be  filtered.  Dilute  the  re- 
maining thick  portion  with  three  ounces  of  water,  boil  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  filter  it  also.  The  water  dissolves 
the  glycerine  amd  thus  enables  it  to  be  filtered.  This 
water  must  then  be  evaporated  by  placing  the  liquid  on 
a  glass  shaped  like  a  watch  crystal,  under  which  hot 
water  ia  kept  at  a  gentle  heat.  When  nearly  all  the 
water  is  evaporated  (which  may  be  known  by  the 
gradual  thickening  of  the  liquid),  slightly  increase  the 
heat  until  the  mixture  ceases  to  steam.  The  operation 
will  then  be  complete,  and  the  glycerine  will  remain  in 
the  condition  above  described,  viz.:  as  a  colorless  liquid 
having  a  sweet  taste,  and  being  incapable  of  volatiliza- 
tion. The  uses  of  glycerine  are  very  numerous.  In  the 
laboratory,  it  is  used  as  a  solvent ;  in  the  doctor's  office, 
for  chapped  hands  and  lips,  and  for  the  purpose  of 
sweetening  medical  preparations ;  the  barber  dilutes  it 
with  water  and  applies  it  to  the  hair,  thus  rendering  the 
latter  more  subject  to  the  comb ;  and  finally,  but  not 
least,  it  is  used  in  making  nitro-glycerine.  For  the  latter 
purpose,  100  parts  nitric  acid  and  200  parts  of  sulphuric 
acid  are  mixed.  30  parts  of  glycerine  are  then  added 
very  slowly  and  stirred  for  ten  seconds  with  a  brass  rod. 
The  whole  is  poured  into  a  vessel  of  6000  parts  water, 
when  the  nitro-glycerine  sinks  to  the  bottom  to  the  ex- 
tent of  double  the  quantity  of  glycerine  employed. 


Anecdote  of  Talleyrand's  Wife. 

Talleyrand's  wife  was  more  remarkable  for  her  beauty 
than  her  intelligence,  though  it  is  probable  that  some  of 
the  stories  told  of  her  excessive  naivete  may  have  been 
invented  for  her  benefit,  and  others  may  have  been  given 
to  her  which  originated  in  other  quarters.  There  are 
skeptics,  for  example — and  M.  Amedee  Pichot  is  one  of 
them — who  doubt  whether  the  Robinson  Crusoe  story, 
which  is  the  best  one  told  of  her,  ought  to  be  given  to 
Madame  De  Talleyrand.  As  a  stray  reader  here  and 
there  may  not  know  this  anecdote,  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
omit  it ;  it  is  this  :  Talleyrand  was  going  to  entertain  at 
dinner  M.  Denon,  a  savant,  who  had  been  to  Egypt  with 
the  army  of  the  First  Consul.  Talleyrand  on  the  day  of 
the  dinner,  informed  his  wife  that  she  would  have  at  her 
right  at  table  a  learned  man  and  a  traveler,  and  that  she 
would  do  well  before  he  arrived  to  glance  at  his  volume, 
which  she  would  find  on  his  library  table.  Madame  de 
Talleyrand  at  dinner,  by  way  of  compliment  to  the  author, 
spoke  of  the  immense  pleasure  which  she  had  found  in 
the  narrative  of  his  adventures. 

"  But  you  must  have  found  it  very  tiresome  being  alone 
on  a  desert  island,"  she  said. 

"Madame,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  M.  Denon. 

"  0,  but  you  must,"  she  said ;  "  and  you  must  have 
been  very  happy  when  your  man  Friday  arrived." 

Madame  de  Talleyrand  had  by  mistake  been  reading 
the  "Adventures  of  Robinson  Crusoe."  M.  de  Talley- 
rand, it  is  said,  remarked  on  one  occasion  when  she  had 
committed  some  such  mistake  :  "A  witty  wife  can  com- 
promise her  husband,  but  a  foolish  wife  can  only  com- 
promise herself." 


Clothing  the  Body. 

One  important  object  to  be  secured  by  clothing  is 
uniformity  of  temperature.  The  average  temperature  of 
persons  in  health  is  99  degrees  F.,  and  this  is  maintained 
by  the  condition  of  the  blood,  unless  some  counteracting 
influence  prevents.  This  uniformity  of  temperature  is 
of  the  utmost  consequence.  Clothing  may  disturb  this 
uniformity  in  various  ways.  Compression  obstructs  the 
flow  of  blood,  which  results  in  an  immediate  lowering  of 
the  temperature.  In  this  way  the  feet  and  hands  are 
made  cold  by  tight  boots  and  gloves.  Too  many  thick- 
nesses of  clothing  at  particular  points  result  in  the  accu- 
mulation of  heat,  and  consequent  congestion.  A  lack 
of  clothing  results  in  the  escape  of  heat,  and  the  forcing 
inwardly  the  surface  blood,  tending  to  produce  con- 
gsstion  of  the  internal  organs.  Thus  one  part  may  be 
over-heated  by  a  superabundance  of  clothing,  while 
another  part  is  suffering  from  cold.  How  often  do  we 
see  children  loaded  with  clothing  about  the  chest  and 
neck,  while  the  legs  and  lower  part  of  the  trunk  are 
barely  covered.  In  some  parts  of  the  body  the  blood 
vessels  are  larger  and  more  numerous  than  in  other 
parts  ;  for  instance,  the  throat,  the  lungs,  the  liver,  the 
kidneys.  Hence,  these  organs  are  liable  to  become  over- 
heated by  clothing,  and  especially  if  other  parts  of  the 
body  are  imperfectly  protected.  The  region  of  the  kid- 
neys is  often  over-dressed  by  the  lapping,  at  this  point, 
of  the  garments  which  clothe  the  trunk  and  lower  ex- 
tremities. Two  or  three  extra  thicknesses  are  thus  ob- 
tained, and  the  tendency  is  to  accumulate  an  excess  of 
blood  in  these  delicate  organs. 

It  is  believed  that  the  muffling  of  the  throat  is  the 
cause  of  more  sore  throats,  coughs  and  croups  than  all 
other  causes  combined,  especially  when  supplemented 
by  thinly  clad  extremities.  As  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
flannel  should  be  constantly  worn  next  the  skin.  This 
prevents  sudden  chilling  of  the  surface,  which  is  very 
important  in  our  variable  climate.  In  cases  where  flannel 
irritates  the  skin,  cotton  flannel  or  silk  may  be  sub^ 
stituted.   Linen  should  never  be  used. 


The  Value  of  Pluck, 

It  is  this  pluck,  this  bull-dog  tenacity  of  purpose  and 
stubbornness  of  perseverance,  that  wins  the  battles  of 
life,  whether  fought  in  the  field,  in  the  mart,  or  in  the 
forum.  "It  is  the  half-a-neck  nearer  that  shows  the 
blood  and  wins  the  race  ;  the  one  march  more  that  wine 
the  campaign ;  five  minutes  more  of  unyielding  courage 
that  wins  the  fight."  History  abounds  with  instances  of 
doubtful  battles  or  unexpected  reverses  transformed  by 
one  man's  stubbornness  into  eleventh-hour  triumphs.  It 
is  opinion,  as  De  Maistre  truly  says  that  wins  battles, 
and  it  is  opinion  that  loses  them.  The  battle  of  Ma- 
rengo went  against  the  French  during  the  first  half  of 
the  day,  and  they  were  expecting  an  order  to  retreat, 
when  Dessaix  consulted  by  Napoleon,  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  said,  "The  battle  is  completely  lost,  but  it  is 
only  two  o'clock,  and  we  shall  have  time  to  gam 
another."  He  then  made  his  famous  cavalry  charge, 
and  won  the  field.  Blucher,  the  famous  Prussian  gen- 
eral, was  by  no  means  a  lucky  leader.  He  was  beaten 
in  nine  battles  out  of  ten ;  but  in  a  marvellously  brief 
time  he  had  rallied  his  routed  army,  and  was  as  form- 
idable as  ever.  He  had  his  disappointments,  but  turned 
them,  as  the  oyster  does  the  sand  which  annoys  it  into  a 
pearl. 

Washington  lost  more  battles  than  he  won,  but  he  or- 
ganized victory  out  of  defeat,  and  triumphed  in  the  end. 
It  was  because  they  appreciated  this  quality  of  pluck, 
that,  when  the  battle  of  Cannae  was  lost,  and  Hannibal 
was  measuring  by  bushels  the  rings  of  Roman  knights 
who  had  perished  in  the  strife,  the  Senate  of  Rome 
voted  thanks  to  the  defeated  general,  Consul  Terrentius 
Varro,  for  not  having  despaired  of  the  republic.  In  the 
vocabulary  of  such  men  there  is  no  such  word  as  "fail. 
ImpossibUities,  so  called,  they  laugh  to  scorn.  "Impos- 
sible 1"  exclaimed  Mirabeau  on  a  certain  occasion,  talk- 
not  to  me  of  that  blockhead  of  a  work !"  "Impossible  !" 
echoed  the  elder  Pitt,  afterwards  Ix>rd  Chatham,  in  re- 
ply to  a  colleague  in  office  who  told  him  that  a  certain 
thing  could  not  be  done  :  "I  trample  upon  impossibili- 
ties !' '  Before  such  men  mountains  dwindle  into  mole- 
hills, and  obstacles  that  seem  unconquerable  are  not 
only  triumphed  over,  but  converted  into  helps  and  in- 
^  struments  of  success,  by  their  overwhelming  will. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


501 


A  Fight  Between  a  Horse  and  a  Tiger. 

BY  LADY  VERNEY. 

A  curious  proof  of  the  courage  and  strength  of  the 
horse  is  found  In  a  book  by  a  Mr.  Knighton,  an  Eng- 
lishman, who  was  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Oude. 
He  tells  the  following  story  of  what  he  himself  once  wit- 
nessed at  Lucknow. 

The  king,  whom  he  calls  "a  sensual,  cruel  savage," 
.kept  many  wild  beasts,  which  he  sometimes  set  to  light 
with  each  other  as  in  the  Roman  games. 

One  day,  Mr.  Knighton  was  driving  from  the  River 
Goomtee  to  one  of  the  palaces  in  a  sort  of  little  open 
gig.  As  they  passed  along  the  streets,  there  was  not  a 
creature  to  be  seen  ;  if  any  one  came  in  sight,  they  were 
nishing  hurriedly  off.  Presently  he  saw  in  the  middle 
of  the  road  a  trampled  bloody  heap.  He  stopped;  it 
was  the  corpse  of  a  woman  terribly  lacerated  and  torn, 
the  face  crushed  by  teeth  into  a  shapeless  mass,  the 
long  matted  hair  clotted  with  blood. 

Such  was  the  capricious  tyranny  of  the  king,  that  Mr. 
Knighton  was  hardly  surprised.  "  It  was  probably  some 
execution,"  he  whispered  to  his  companion. 

On  they  drove— there  was  still  no  signs  of  any  in- 
habitants to  be  seen ;  the  houses  were  everywhere 
closed,  a  sort  of  breathless  terror  seemed  to  reign  in  the 
city.  Presently  they  came  to  the  body  of  a  lad  similarly 
mangled,  lying  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  they  stopped 
once  more.  On  the  top  of  an  adjoining  house  they  saw 
one  of  the  king's  troopers  looking  intently  up  the  street. 

''"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Mr.  Knighton. 
The  man-eater  is  loose,  wallah  I   Look-out,  Sahibs, 
lie  is  quite  wild  to-day." 

I  had  heard  (continues  Mr.  Knighton)  of  a  savage 
ihorse  belonging  to  one  of  the  troop^s,  who  was  called 
Kune wallah,  because  he  had  destroyed  many  men. 

"He  is  coming,  he  is  coming  1"  shouted  the  man  sud- 
denly from  the  housetop,  "  take  care,  take  care  !" 

Far  down  the  road  we  could  see  the  wild  brute,  a 
large  bay  horse,  savagely  shaking  a  child  which  he  had 
seized  in  his  jaws,  and  evidently  coming  our  way. 

In  another  moment,  he  had  seen  the  carriage, 
thrown  the  child  on  the  road,  dead,  no  doubt,  and 
rushed  forward  furiously  to  attack  us.  We  turned,  our 
horse  almost  unmanageable  with  terror,  and  drove  on 
at  a  mad  gallop  towards  a  sort  of  a  yard  which  was 
closed  in  by  strong  gates.  We  could  hear  the  iron- 
hoofs  of  the  man-eater  clattering  over  the  road  in  the 
silent  street,  as  he  pursued  us  at  breakneck  speed. 

We  gained  the  enclosure,  and  drove  within  the  doors, 
which  were  luckily  open.  I  jumped  out  and  threw  back 
the  gate,  which  fortunately  shut  with  a  heavy  iron  bolt 
into  a  socket.  As  it  fell  in,  the  man-eater  came  thunder- 
ing up,  his  head  and  cheeks  covered  with  blood,  his 
laws  steaming  with  the  recent  slaughter  of  his  victims. 
He  stood  looking  savagely  through  the  raUs,  with  cocked 
ears,  distended  nostrils,  and  glaring  eyeballs,  a  ferocious- 
looking  monster.  Our  horse  trembled  from  head  to  foot 
as  if  he  were  shivering  with  cold  ;  the  man-eater  glared 
■at  us  through  the  bars,  walked  round  to  try  and  find  an 
opening,  but  it  was  all  hard  iron  railing.  Satisfied  that 
he  was  baffled,  he  turned  round,  rattled  his  iron  heels 
against  the  bars,  and  with  head  and  tail  erect  and 
cocked  ears  galloped  off  down  the  road.  Later  in  the 
day  we  heard  that  the  trooper  had  contrived  to  let  fall 
a  noose  over  his  head,  he  had  been  upset,  muzzled,  and 
taken  back  to  his  stable. 

I  mentioned  what  I  had  seen  to  the  king  when  I  came 
to  him  shortly  after.  "He  is  as  savage  a  wild  beast  as 
a  tiger,"  said  I. 

The  king  laughed.  "  Then  he  shall  fight  the  tiger 
Burrhea,"  so  called  after  the  name  of  a  village  at  the 
foot  of  the  Himalaya,  from  which  the  animal  had  been 
brought. 

There  was  a  courtyard  in  the  palace  about  sixty  yards 
square,  surrounded  by  thick  bamboo  railings  on  two 
sides.  On  the  third  was  a  gallery,  in  which  the  king  sat 
surrounded  by  male  and  female  slaves  fanning  him  with 
peacock  fans.  The  man-eater  was  lured  on  into  the 
yard  after  a  little  mare  of  whom  he  was  fond  ;  and  the 
tiger,  who  was  without  food  or  drink,  was  let  loose  into 
the  enclosure. 

The  horse  stood  in  an  easy  attitude,  with  one  foot  ad- 
vanced, awaiting  the  attack,  moving  as  Burrhea  moved, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  eyes  of  his  enemy.  Suddenly. 


with  a  light  bound,  Burrhea  was  upon  the  mare,  with 
one  blow  of  his  paw  he  threw  he?  over,  his  teeth  fastened 
in  her  neck,  he  drank  her  blood,  enjoying  his  draught, 
but  his  eyes  fixed  meantime  all  the  while  on  the  man- 
eater,  who,  his  neck  protruded,  cocked  ears,  glaring 
eyeballs,  and  twitching  tail,  watched  his  enemy  intently 
in  an  easy  attitude  of  attention. 

At  length  the  tiger  began  to  move  stealthily  round 
the  courtyard,  like  a  cat,  noiselessly,  the  soft  balls  of  the 
large  paws  put  slowly  down,  the  long  lithe  back  working 
as  he  went. 

In  the  middle  stood  the  horse,  slowly  turning  as  the 
tiger  turned,  the  bead,  ears,  and  neck  bent  forward, 
while  on  stole  the  tiger  ;  not  a  sound  was  heard,  every 
one  was  in  mute  expectation  ;  at  last  the  tiger  bounded 
like  lightning,  intending  to  seize  his  enemy  by  the  head, 
but  the  horse  dived  aside  a  little  and  received  his  an- 
tagonist on  the  haunches ;  the  claws  sank  deep  in  the 
flesh,  while  the  hind  feet  of  the  tiger  made  a  grasp  at  the 
fore  legs  of  the  horse.  Suddenly  the  man-eater  lashed 
out  with  his  iron  heels,  and  in  a  moment  Burrhea  was 
sprawling  on  his  back  ;  he  was  up  again,  however,  im- 
mediately, and  stealing  round  once  more,  as  if  nothing 
were  the  matter.  Noiselessly  round  and  round  he  went, 
his  broad  head  always  turned  to  his  wary  foe,  while  the 
horse,  though  his  haunches  were  bleeding  and  lacerated, 
with  an  indignant  snort  resumed  his  former  position,  his 
head  and  neck  still  lowered  and  protruding,  one  foot 
still  out  to  admit  of  that  rapid  drive  and  thrust  by  which 
he  turned  his  enemy's  flank.  This  monotonous  circling 
went  on  for  eight  or  ten  minutes,  or  even  more,  the  man- 
eater  ever  facing  him,  and  snorting  angrily  from  time  to 
time.  Once  the  tiger  paused  by  tbe  dead  mare  as  if  to 
eat  it,  then  suddenly,  without  the  smallest  growl  or  pre- 
paration, he  sprang  again,  as  if  lifted  by  galvanism  in 
the  course  of  his  monotonous  gyration.  Kunewallah 
was,  however,  not  taken  by  surprise;  his  head  ducked 
again,  and  again  he  received  the  tiger  on  his  haunches. 
We  could  seethe  broad  round  head  for  an  instant  near 
the  tail  of  the  horse,  while  his  hind  claws  reached  to 
the  breast ;  his  body  was  quivering  uneasily,  with  the 
belly  nearly  on  the  horse's  back  ;  it  was  only,  however, 
for  an  instant.  Again  the  ferocious  beast  lashed  out  with 
his  hind  legs,  almost  as  if  he  would  throw  himself  on 
his  side,  and  his  iron  heels  came  against  the  tiger's 
jaws,  and  he  fell  sprawling  on  his  back.  He  soon  rose 
again,  but  now  only  to  try  to  escape  ;  his  jaw  was  broken, 
and  with  his  tail  between  his  legs  he  cried  loudly  with 
pain,  like  a  whipped  spaniel.  The  man-eater  watched 
him  narrowly,  thinking  it  might  be  only  a  ruse.  Now 
the  king  ordered  the  door  of  the  cage  to  be  opened,  and 
Burrhea  rushed  into  his  shelter,  evidently  having  had 
quite  enough. 

Proudly  then  the  man-eater  snorted  and  pawed;  he 
scampered  up  to  the  mare,  spumed  her  with  his  foot, 
then,  with  his  head  aloft  and  tail  arched,  he  trotted 
round,  trying  to  get  at  the  attendant  servants  ;  his  blood 
was  up,  and,  tiger  or  man,  it  was  evident  that  he  did  not 
mind  any  of  them. 

"  Let  another  be  set  at  him,"  cried  the  king.  "  I  will 
have  my  revenge  for  Burrhea." 

The  keeper  of  the  tigers  was  summoned,  and  came  in 
salaaming  in  fear.  "  May  it  please  your  majesty's  great- 
ness, the  tigers  were  fed  two  hours  ago." 

"  And  why  were  they  fed  two  hours  ago,  you  scoun- 
drel ?"  shouted  the  king, 

"  May  it  please  the  royal  greatness  of  your  majesty,  it 
was  the  usual  time,"  said  the  poor  man,  salaaming 
again,  and  trembling  in  every  limb. 

"  You  shall  go  to  the  man-eater  yourself,  if  the  tiger 
won't  attack  him,"  cried  the  king,  furiously. 

The  court  was  oppressively  hot;  tne  king  sat,  fanned 
by  the  great  peacock's  taUs,  and  surrounded  by  his  female 
slaves  watching.  The  second  tiger's  cage  was  brought 
up  ;  he  came  leisurely  out,  and  only  when  poked  by 
spears,  and  then  quietly  surveyed  his  antagonist.  He 
was  larger  than  Burrhea,  but  not  so  high-bred,  or  so  beau- 
tifully streaked,  neither  was  he  so  light  and  graceful  in 
his  motions.  He  squatted  himself  down  on  the  dead 
mare,  and  tore  it  leisurely  in  pieces  with  a  strength  of 
claw  and  limb  and  jaw,  very  unpleasant,  one  would 
I  think  to  watch,  for  the  man-eater,  who  remained  on  the 
i  defensive  upon  the  other  side  of  the  court. 

"  Remove  the  carcase,  you  fools  !"  shouted  the  king, 
angry  at  the  delay. 

I    This  could  only  be  done  by  driving  away  the  tiget 


502 


THE  GROWING  J-VORLD^ 


VTith  red-hot  bars.  A  uoose  was  tlien  flung  over  the 
dead  mare,  which  was  at  len2:th  drawn  out.  The  tiger, 
much  annoyed,  stretched  himself  at  full  length,  and  lay 
growling  in  the  middle  of  the  court,  where  he  could 
not  be  reached.  At  last  they  contrived  to  strike 
him  with  a  spear  of  immense  length,  and  began  to  shake 
the  bamboo  rails ;  but  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
assail  the  horse,  who  went  on  as  before,  facing  the  tiger 
as  he  turned.  He  showed  his  glittering  teeth  at  the 
men,  but  refused  to  move  in  the  direction  of  Kune- 
wallah. 

We  began  to  fear  for  the  poor  keeper  of  the  wild 
beasts,  but  the  king  had  now  forgotten  his  threat,  and 
shouted  that  the  man-eater  was  a  brave  fellow,  ard  he 
would  see  what  he  could  do  with  three  buffaloes.  There 
is  no  animal  so  fierce  when  thoroughly  roused  ;  he  will 
put  a  good-sized  elephant  to  flight,  goring  him  terribly 
with  those  tremendous  weapons,  his  horns. 

Wlien  the  beasts  came  in,  the  man-eater  seemed  much 
disconcerted  at  the  sight  of  the  uncouth  monsters,  and 
he  retreated  snorting  almost  with  fear  ;  but  as  they  re- 
mained in  the  comer  where  they  came  in,  huddled 
together  and  never  dreaming  of  an  attack,  he  took 
courage,  pawed  the  ground,  sniffed  at  them  with  dis- 
tended nostrils,  and  came  slowly  nearer  and  nearer, 
step  by  step. 

Still  they  paid  no  heed  to  him,  but  crowded  stupidly 
on  each  other.  At  last  the  horse's  head  almost  touched 
the  side  of  one  of  the  buffaloes,  he  sniffed  and  smelled 
at  the  hide,  and,  at  last,  seeing  that  the  unwields'  brute 
took  no  notice  whatever  of  him,  he  wheeled  round,  and 
lashed  up  furiously  against  the  ribs  of  the  meditating 
buffalo,  who  seemed  stunned  by  so  sudden  and  unlooked- 
for  an  attack,  and  then  they  all  three  shook  their  heads, 
but  prudently  abstained  from  any  reply. 

The  king  laughed  outrageously.  The  man-eater  de- 
serves his  life,"  said  he  ;  'Oet  him  escape." 

The  beast  was  then  adroitly  muzzled,  and  led  forth 
to  his  stables  a  victor. 

By  my  father's  head,  he  is  a  brave  fellow  !  he  shall 
have  a  cage  to  live  in,  and  be  taken  care  of  for  his  life." 

He  had  an  iron  cage  made  for  him,  twice  as  big  as 
many  London  drawing-rooms,  where  he  snapped  his 
teeth  and  lashed  out  with  his  legs  at  admiring  visitors : 
''and  when  I  left  Lucknow,"  says  Mr.  Knighton,  "the 
man-eater  was  still  one  of  its  siarhts." 

The  Country  Store. 

Just  the  place  among  the  hills  for  the  old-time  country  store 
that,  like  Noah's  Ark,  contains  a  little  of  all  sorts.  You  look 
for  it  at  some  lazy  four-corners,  within  hearing  of  an  anvil's 
ring,  and  the  grind  of  a  mill  where  the  creek  plays  in  the 
wheel  like  a  caged  squirrel.  And  you  find  it,  the  variety  store 
of  a  hundred  years  ago,  where  needles  and  crowbars,  goose- 
yokes  and  finger  rings,  liquorice-stick  and  leather,  are  to  be 
had  for  cash  or  "dicker."  In  the  corner  yonder  stands  the 
spindle-legged  desk,  behind  a  breastwork  of  barrels,  and  a 
bastion  of  codfish  criss-crossed,  a  big  blotter  spread  open  upon 
the  lid,  goose-quill  pens,  a  sand-box  and  a  pewter  ink-stand 
within  reach. 

Here  is  the  wooden  bench  beside  the  stove,  covered  with 
Jack-knife  sculpture,  awkward  H's  like  a  pair  of  leaning  bar- 
posts  with  one  bar,  and  B's  like  ox-yokes.  It  is  here  that 
in  rainy  days  and  winter  nights  the  whittlers,  smokers,  spit- 
ters  and  talkers  gather  in,  and  lay  their  blue  and  white  mit- 
tens beneath  the  stove  to  dry ;  perhaps  a  village  doctor  with 
his  saddle  bags  and  pink  and  senna-nimbus ;  perhaps  a  country 
lawyer  who  practises  at  the  country  bar  in  court  time,  and  the 
tavern  bar  the  year  around,  with  his  dogmatic  way  and  his 
tobacco  atmosphere.  Here  Unions  are  saved.  States  con- 
structed, stories  told,  and  pig-tail  gnawed.  Here  "fore- 
handed"  farmers  talk  pig  and  potatoes,  and  buxom  country 
girls  smell  of  peppermint,  and  warm  their  rosy  fingers  that 
match  their  ripe  cheeks  for  color.  Here  clouds  of  smoke  from 
clay  pipes  float  up  among  the  bed  cords,  and  brooms,  and  tin 
lanterns,  and  cow  hide  boots  suspended  overhead.  And  the 
Btove,  with  its  red  mouth  close  to  the  hearth,  roars  and  red- 
dens in  the  howling  nights,  and  the  black  nail-heads  in  the 
floor  are  worn  silver  bright  by  stamping  and  uneasy  feet.  A 
boy,  tipped  with  red  as  to  fingers,  nose,  ears  and  toes,  stands 
before  a  short  row  of  pickled  glass  jars,  in  brimless  hats  of 
covers,  wherein  lean  a  few  streaked  sticks  of  childish  happi- 
ness at  a  penny  apiece,  and  gazes  with  watering  mouth  that 
keeps  him  swallowing  in  blissful  expectancy. 


The  Genius  of  Work. 

Alexander  Hamilton  once  said  to  a  friend,  ''Men  give  m© 
credit  for  genius.  All  the  genius  I  have  lies  just  in  this. 
When  I  have  a  subject  in  hand  I  study  it  profoundly;  day  and 
night  it  is  before  me ;  1  explore  it  in  all  its  bearings  ;  my  mind 
becomes  pervaded  with  it.  What  men  call  genius  is  only  the 
fruit  of  labor  and  thought." 

It  is  the  capacity  to  labor  after  all  that  will  give  you  success 
in  life  rather  than  particularly  bright  parts  to  start  with. 
This  ability  to  work  is  a  quality  capable  of  indefinite  improve- 
ment. The  more  we  work  the  more  we  can  work.  Whatever 
your  calling,  you  will  never  meet  with  much  success  unless 
you  give  your  best  thoughts  to  it.  Turn  over  the  matter  in 
your  mind  wherever  you  are,  and  decide  on  the  best  steps  and 
processes  of  labor,  and  then  deliberately  and  calmly  take  up 
the  work  in  detail.  Rushing  and  blustering  over  anything  is  ft 
sign  of  weakness  rather  than  power.  There  is  little  dispatch 
in  such  labor.  True  genius  is  always  composed,  and  apparently 
at  leisure.  The  busiest  men  in  the  nation  are  those  who  have 
time  to  attend  to  every  new  project  that  comes  up  which 
rightly  demands  their  attention. 

Have  you  really  learned  to  work,  boys  ?  To  think  with  all 
your  might  over  your  business,  and  then  put  forth  your  best 
strokes?  If  not,  do  not  flatter  yourself  that  your  "genius" 
will  help  you  to  make  your  way  in  the  world.  It  is  not  of  the 
right  cut.  It  has  not  the  ring  of  the  true  metal.  The  flattery 
of  foolish  friends  has  been  the  ruin  of  many  a  bright  boy,  who 
if  he  had  been  taught  to  do  faithful,  steady  work  with  brain 
or  hand,  might  have  written  his  name  high  in  the  world's 
records. 

True  Economy  of  Life. 

The  true  economy  of  human  life  looks  at  ends  rather  than 
incidents,  and  adjusts  expenditures  to  a  moral  scale  of  values. 
De  Quincey  pictures  a  woman  sailing  over  the  water,  awaken- 
ing out  of  sleep  to  find  her  necklace  untied  and  one  end  hang- 
ing over  the  stream,  while  pearl  after  pearl  drops  from  the 
string  beyond  her  reach;  while  she  clutches  at  one  just  fall- 
ing, another  di-ops  beyond  recovery.  Our  days  drop  one  after 
another  by  our  carelessness,  like  pearls  from  a  string,  as  we 
sail  the  sea  of  life.  Prudence  requires  a  wise  husbanding  of 
time  to  see  that  none  of  these  golden  coins  are  spent  for 
nothing.  The  waste  of  time  is  a  more  serious  loss  than  the 
extravagances  against  which  there  is  such  loud  acclaim. 

There  are  thousands  who  do  nothing  but  lounge  and  carouse 
from  morning  till  midnight— drones  in  the  human  hive,  who 
consume  and  waste  the  honey  that  honest  workers  wear  them- 
selves out  in  making,  and  insult  the  day  by  their  dissipation 
and  debauch.  There  are  ten  thousand  idle,  frivolous  creatures, 
who  do  nothing  but  waste  and  wear  what  honest  hands  ac- 
cumulate, and  entice  others  to  live  as  worthless  lives  as  they 
do.  Were  every  man  and  woman  honest  toilers,  all  would 
have  an  abundance  of  everything,  and  half  of  every  day  for 
recreation  and  culture.  The  expenditure  of  a  few  dollars  in 
matters  of  taste  is  a  small  matter  in  comparison  with  the 
wasting  of  months  and  years  by  thousands  who  have  every 
advantage  society  can  offer,  and  exact  every  privilege  it  affords 
as  a  right. 

A  Beautiful  Idea. 

It  cannot  be  that  this  earth  is  man's  only  abiding  place ;  it 
cannot  be  that  our  life  is  a  bubble,  cast  up  by  the  ocean  of 
eternity  to  float  for  a  moment  on  its  waves,  then  sink  into- 
nothingness.  Else  why  is  it  that  the  glorious  aspirations 
which  leap  like  angels  from  the  temple  of  our  hearts  are  for- 
ever wandering  about  unsatisfied?  Why  is  it  that  the  rain- 
bow and  the  cloud  come  over  us  with  a  beauty  that  is  not  of 
earth,  and  then  pass  off  and  leave  us  to  muse  upon  their  faded 
loveliness  ?  Why  is  it  that  the  stars  which  hold  their  festivals 
around  the  midnight  throne  are  set  so  far  above  the  grasp  of 
our  limited  faculties,  forever  mocking  us  with  their  unap- 
proachable glory  ?  And  finally,  why  is  it  that  the  bright  forms 
of  human  beauty  are  presented  to  our  view  but  for  a  moment 
and  then  taken  from  us,  leaving  the  thousand  streams  of  our 
affections  to  flow  back  in  Alpine  torrents  upon  our  hearts? 
We  are  born  for  a  higher  destiny  than  that  of  death ;  there  is  a 
realm  where  the  rainbow  never  fades— where  the  stars  will  be 
spread  out  before  us  like  the  islets  that  slumber  on  the  ocean, 
iiud  where  the  beautiful  beings  that  here  pass  before  us  like 
shadows,  will  stay  in  our  presence  forever. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


A  mWL  BY  THE  "  SEA-SIDE  SANDS." 

BY  JENNETTE  GIBSON. 

"  Nor  far  nor  near  prcw  shrub  nor  tree. 
The  bare  hills  stood  up  bleak  behind. 
And  in  between  the  marsh  weeds  gray, 
Some  tawny  colored  sea- weed  lay, 
Opening  a  pathway  to  the  sea, 
The  which  [  took  to  please  my  mind." 


surface  of  the  globe,  there  were  no  air-ljreatliing  ani- 
mals, and  fishes  where  the  lords  of  creation  ;  it  has, 
therefore  been  very  properly  called  the  "reign  of 
fishes."  All  animals  whose  remains  have  been  pre 
served  were,  without  exception,  aquatic,  breathing 
by  gills;  the  climate  must  have  been  uniform;  the 
dry  land  had  not  appeared  alwve  the  waters,  and  all 
creation  was  silent  as  in  mid-ocean. 


Down  on  the  shining,  yellow  sands,  X  lieard  the 
breaking  waves  and  watched  the  foaming  surf.  It  was 
comparatively  calm,  but,  O  Sea,  I  thought,  'tis  well 
'twas  said:  "Hitherto  thou  slialt  come,  but  no  fur- 
ther ;  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed  !" 
Other  ways  our  globe,  as  it  once  was,  would  be  only 
one  awful  tumbling,  salt,  green  sea  ! 

During  the  period  when  the  sea  covered  the  whole 


"  Opening  a  pathway  to  the  sea, 
The  which  I  took  to  please  my  mind." 

**  While  yet  the  waters  covered  the  face  of  the  earth 
and  the  heavy  vapors  concealed  the  sun,  God  spoke, 
and  the  clouds  parted  ;  the  god  of  day  with  un- 
veiled face,  lighted  the  world  ;  the  great  mountains 
lifted  their  heads  toward  heaven  ;  and  the  waters  ran 
to  their  places.  The  mighty  ocean  to  its  own  bounds. 
The  brooks  and  ponds  found  green  pastures  to  flow 
throuffhj  and  sweet  meadows  to  nestle  iu  ;"  anj 


504 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


•'Lo,  the  great  sun,  and  Nature  everywhere 
Is  all  alive,  and  sweet  as  she  can  be; 
A  thousand  happy  sounds  are  in  the  air, 
A  thousand  by  the  rivers  and  the  sea." 

Old  ocean  arouses  sometimes,  and  in  dreadful  fury 
besieges  its  lost  possessions  ;  as  if  desperately  deter- 
mined to  dash  through  continents,  that  it  may  grandly 
flow  once  more  unimpeded  around,  and  over  this  great 
rolling  sphere  ;  'twould  sweep  him  who  lias  dared  iu 
floating  ships  to  brave  its  watery  wastes,  in  angry  maj- 
esty from  the  earth  he  inhabits. 

How  it  lashes,  beats  and  breaks  in  pieces  his  handi- 
work, and  far  down  in  coral  caves,  or  amid  the  waving 
sea-weed  hides  his  bones  ;  or  as  if  loath  to  give  them 
rest,  even  in  its  spacious  bosom,  drags  them  hither  and 
thither. 

Ah,  well  did  I  remember  when  years  ago  a  gallant 
bark  came  dashing  in  among  the  black  heads  just  dis- 
appearing beneath  the  flood-tide  ;  and  the  spectre  death 
stood  grim  and  pale  on  the  jagged  rocks,  swinging- 
his  merciless  sycthe  to  and  fro,  amidst  the  thunder  of 
breaking  waves,  until  every  doomed  soul  from  the 
stranded  wreck  was  dragged  away  by  the  cruel  sea,  to 

'*  sink  into  the  depths  with  bubbling  groan, 
W^ithout  a  knell,  uuamed,  uncoffiiied  and  unknown," 

while  deep  triumphant  voices  shouted  a  requiem  over 
them. 

'Tis  a  great  wide  sea  of  physical  beauty  and  power, 
filled  with  God's  riches— beautiful  things  both  animate 
and  inanimate  abound  within  this  boundless  realm.  It 
first  nurtures  great  monsters,  and  then  with  pitiless  fury 
dashes  them  dead  upon  it  sshores,  as  it  did  the  great  cut- 
tle fish  recently  on  the  shores  of  Newfoundland.  Its 
resources  are  never  exhausted,  its  fountains  never  dried 
ap  ;  its  ebbing  and  flooding  tidal  waters  wash  every  shore. 

Whnt  a  wonderful,  incomprehensible  portion  of  the 
earth's  surface  the  ocean  is  ;  how  humble  should  feel  the 
human  mind  in  contemplating  its  grandeur !  Sitting  on  the 
sands  I  feel  what  I  am — an  atom  amid  the  universe,  and 
involuntarily  my  mind  rises  with  yearning  awe  toward 
Him  ''whositeth  upon  the  throne,"  controlling  these 
mighty  waters  ;  providing  sustenance  and  a  hiding  place 
within  their  depths  for  all  the  marine  creatures  he  has 
made.  While  caring  so  lovingly  for  these,  He  also  clothes 
the  land  with  lavish  hand  and  cares  for  the  wants  of 
every  living  thing  thereon;  even  to  the  little  nod  dins- 
flower  struggling  to  live  in  the  barren  crevice  of  a  rock; 
He  waters  it  from  the  gates  of  heaven  ;  warms  it  with 
his  great  sun  and  smiles  upon  it,  because  it  tries  to 
grow,  thrive  and  blossom,  as  he  would  have  it,  in  gentle 
beauty,  notwithstanding  its  uncongenial  surroundings. 
Thus  we  know  His  love  is  infinite,  encompassing 
all  his  works.  The  restless,  seeking,  unsatisfied  human 
soul,  so  like  the  ever-tossing  sea,  becomes  calm,  when 
within  the  only  haven  of  rest,  amid  the  mystery  of 
nature,  it  finds  and  clings  to  a  never  failing  and  never 
driftine  anchor,  "the  love  of  God." 

His  iove  is  manifest  in  every  particle  of  the  universe. 
"  How  do  you  suppose  all  the  rills  and  rivers,  lakes 
and  ponds,  came  to  find  these  delightful  homes  ?  God 
sent  many  angels  to  guide  them  !  One  angel  showed 
the  proud  river  his  path  ;  it  did  not  need  to  be  cleared 
for  him,  for  his  strength  was  great,  and  his  feet 
rushed  on  ward  with  ceaseless  haste  towards  the  sea. 
All  were  not  so  brave  as  the  fearless  river,  and  the 
angels  who  led  the  brooks  went  before,  making  the 
way  easy  for  the  tender  feet  and  soft  hands  ;  pushing 
aside  a  rock  here,  and  sharp  briers  there,  on  which 
the  white  arms  and  lovely  hair  would  be  bruised  and 
torn.  Then  the  little  streams  gave  their  thanks  by 
skipping  over  the  pebbles  with  a  joyous  babbling, 
and  in  cool  shady  places,  murmuring  a  gentle  song  of 
content,  so  pleasant  to  hear  that  the  angels  felt  repaid 
for  rll  trouble  and  danger. 

Eut  the  angels  who  made  the  basins  for  the  ponds 
and  lakes,  then  with  helpful,  watchful  hands,  brought 
the  waters  down  from  the  lieights,  where  the  north 
wind  had  tossed  and  perplexed  them,  and  the  huge, 
hard  rocks  had  frowned  upon  them — what  was  theii 
reward  ?    Ah,  was  it  not  enouarh       see  the  bright 


faces  turned  to  the  sky,  reflecting  every  motion  cf 
Nature ;  each  cloud  that  lazily  floated  through  the 
azure,  each  star  that  '  blossomed  in  the  infinite  mea- 
dows of  heaven  ? ' 

Sometimes  the  way  would  lead  round 
a  beautiful  knoll,  covered  with  fragrant 
pines,  and  lo,  an  island!  Then  how  the 
I  lake  would  guard  the  beautiful  spot !  Gently  would 
I  the  water  creep  up  to  it,  laving  the  feet  of  the  stately 
i;rees,  throwing  back  to  them  the  image  of  their  own 
dark  beauty,  sliding  back  in  haste  only  to  come  again  ; 
crooning  a  soft  accompaniment  to  the  soothing  song, 
heard  way  up  in  the  topmast  branches  of  the  tall 
pines." 

Only  think  of  the  broad  rivers,  beautiful  streams,  and 
even  the  bubbling  brooks  that  have  for  their  final  destin- 
^ition  the  fathomless  sea;  and  these,  with  all  the  dif- 
ferent bays,  gulfs,  seas  and  oceans,  all  combine  to  form 
one  great  system  of  water,  which  covers  three  quarters 
of  our  entire  globe,  and  is  kept  of  nearly  uniform  com- 
position, chiefly  by  means  of  great  currents  which  circulate 
through  them.  Some  of  the  currents  are  of  vast  extent,  spread- 
in<r  over  a  large  portion  of  the  oceans  to  which  they  belong, 
and  without  variation  they  move  incessantly  in  the  great 
system  of  the  circulation  of  waters. 

Some  are  submarine,  moving  in  one  direction,  while  the 
waters  at  the  surface  move  iu  another.  They  are  set  in  motion 
by  difl'erences  of  temperature,  by  planetary  attraction,  rotation 
of  the  earth,  the  trade  winds,  etc. 

Prominent  among  the  important  objects  they  serve,  beside 
that  already  named  of  equalizing  the  sea  water  itself,  is  the 
eftect  they  have  upon  the  climates  of  the  globe ;  the  waters 
warmed  by  the  tropical  heats  carrying  and  diftusing  their 
elevated  temperature  into  colder  regions,  and  those  form  the 
arctic  seas,  spreading  Avith  the  icebergs  which  they  float  along, 
a  portion  of  the  excessive  cold  of  those  inhospitable  climates 
over  the  temperate  latitudes. 

The  ocean  is  the  chief  source  cf  the  vapors  that  are  wafted 
over  the  earth  and  fall  in  ram,  feeding  the  rivers,  which  in 
turn  yield  back  to  the  occean  their  waters. 

The  saltness  of  the  ocean  is  owing  to  the  presence  of 
chloride  of  sodium  (common  salt),  which,  with  small  quantities 
of  sulphate  of  magnesia,  sulphate  and  carbonate  of  lime, 
iodine,  and  bromide  of  magnesium,  form  about  one-thirty- 
sixth  of  the  aqueous  solution. 

From  the  strata  beneath  the  sea  there  no  doubt  emanate 
mineral  springs,  such  as  appear  upon  the  land,  and  some  of 
them  even  furnish  supplies  to  vessels. 

The  color  of  the  sea  is  by  no  means  uniform,  and  the  reason 
of  the  changes  of  its  hue  is  unexplained.  In  the  tropics  xt  is 
at  one  time  an  indigo-blue,  then  a  deep  green,  and  again  a 
slate  gray.  The  clouds  appear  to  have  no  influence  iu  pro- 
ducing tliese  changes.  Upon  some  consts  a  reddish  or  purplish 
hue  is  apparent,  and  elsewhere  the  water  appears  black,  or 
white,  or  beautifully  transparent. 

In  the  fiords  on  the  coast  of  Norway  the  crystal  clearness  of 
the  water  is  wonderful ;  at  the  c  pth  of  twenty  or  twenty-five 
fathomssmall  objects  may  be  discerned  upon  the  sandy  bottom, 
apparently  magnified  by  the  water  itself. 

The  Red  Sea  is  often  referred  to  in  the  Old  Testament,  under 
its  Hebrew  name  of  Yaw,  Soof^  the  sea  of  weeds.  It  is  believed 
that  the  abundance  of  red  coral  found  in  this  sea  suggested 
the  name ;  and  Dr.  Buist  and  others  assert  that  it  comes  from 
the  multitudes  of  animalcule  that  in  the  Spring  cover 
large  portions  of  its  surface  in  patches  sometimes  several 
miles  square. 

The  most  interesting  historical  incident  connected  with  the 
Red  Sea  is  the  passage  of  the  Israelites  across  its  bed  in  their 
escape  from  Egypt,  as  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament;  and 
much  controversy  has  grown  out  of  the  question  as  to  the 
point  where  this  passage  was  made,  some  contending  that  it 
was  eighteen  miles  south  of  Suez,  where  the  sea  is  twelve 
miles  wide,  and  others  that  it  was  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
this  town,  where  the  sea  is  now  fordable  at  low  tide,  and  its 
breadth  is  only  about  3,500  feet. 

Here,  the  waters  being  kept  down  by  the  strong  east  or 
nortii-east  wind,  as  dcscril^ed  by  Moses,  the  passage  of  the 
immense  hosts  may  have  been  completed  on  the  ebb-tide,  and 
the  returning  flood,  which  still  comes  in  with  considerable 
rapidity,  must  have  overwhelmed  the  armies  that  pursued 
them. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Mediterranean  is  the  frequent 
occurrence  of  remarkable  electrical  phenomena,  knoAvn  as 
St.  Elmo's  fire,  being  balls  of  fire  playing  in  mid  air  around  the 
masts  of  ships,  and  called  by  the  ancients  Castor  and  Pollux. 

The  shores  of  this  sea  (which  is  the  largest  in  the  world) 
have  for  thousands  of  years  been  the  principal  seats  of  civili- 
zation. 

The  sea  bearing  the  beautiful  name  of  Galilee,  is  situated 
in  Palestine,  ninety  miles  north  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  traversed 
by  the  River  Jordan.  It  lies  amid  a  circle  of  hills  620  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean  ;  occupies  the  bottom  of 
a  great  basin  of  volcanic  origin,  and  of  an  oval  form,  and  is 
about  thirteen  miles  long  and  six  wide.  Much  of  the  public 
life  of  Christ  was  spent  on  its  shores.   Populous  cities  and 


THE  GROWING  WORLD.  505 


■flllages  then  flourished  around  it,  as  Magflala,  Capernaum, 
Ohoraiiin,  the  tno  Bethsaidas,  Gamala  and  Hippos;  and  mul- 
titudes followed  him  us  ho  taught  along  its  beach  or  on  the 
bordering  heights.  After  his  crucifixion  it  was  here  that  he 
appeared  to  his  disciples  when  discouraged  by  a  long  night  of 
sausuccessful  throwing  and  drawing  of  nets. 

"  There  were  seven  fishers,  with  nets  in  their  hands. 
And  they  walked  and  talked  by  the  sea-side  sands :  ' 

Yet  sweet  as  the  sweet  dew-fall 
The  words  they  spake,  though  they  spake  so  low, 
Across  the  long,  dim  centuries  flow. 

And  we  know  them,  one  and  all  - 

Aye  1  know  them  and  love  them  all. 

Seven  sad  men  in  the  days  of  old. 
And  one  was  gentle,  and  one  was  bold, 

And  they  walked  with  downward  eyes; 
The  bold  was  Peter,  the  gentle  was  John, 
And  they  all  were  sad,  for  the  Lord  was  gone. 
And  they  knew  not  if  he  would  rise- 
Knew  not  if  the  dead  would  rise. 

The  live  long  night,  till  the  moon  went  out 
In  the  drowning  waters  they  beat  about ; 

Beat  slow  through  the  fog  their  way  ; 
And  the  sails  drooped  down  with  wringing  wet. 
And  no  man  drew  but  an  empty  net. 

And  now  'twas  the  break  of  the  day — 

The  great,  glad  break  of  the  day. 

'  Cast  in  your  nets  on  the  other  side  I' 
<'Twas  Jesus  speaking  across  the  tide) ; 

And  they  cast  and  were  dragging  hard; 
But  that  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved 
•Cried  straightway  out  for  his  heart  was  moved: 

•  It  is  our  risen  Lord — 

Our  Master  and  our  Lord  V 

"Then  Simon,  girding  his  fisher's  coat. 
Went  over  the  nets  and  out  of  the  boat — 

Aye !  first  of  them  all  was  he ; 
Hepentiug  sore  the  denial  past, 
He  feared  no  longer  his  heart  to  cast, 

Like  an  anchor  into  the  sea — 

Down  deep  in  the  hungry  sea. 

"  And  the  others,  through  the  mists  so  dim. 
In  a  little  ship  came  after  him, 

Dragging  their  nets  through  the  tide  • 
And  when  they  had  gotten  close  to  the  land, 
They  saw  a  fire  of  coals  on  the  sand  ; 

And,  with  arms  of  love  so  wide, 

Jesus,  the  crucified ! 

"  'Tis  long,  and  long,  and  long  ago. 
Since  the  rosy  lights  began  to  flow 

O'er  the  hills  of  Galilee; 
And  with  eager  eyes  and  lifted  hands. 
The  seven  fishers  saw  on  the  sands. 

The  fire  of  coals  by  the  sea — 

On  the  wet,  wild  lands  by  the  sea. 

'Tis  long  ago,  yet  faith  in  our  souls 
Is  kindled  just  by  that  fire  of  coals. 

That  streamed  o'er  the  mists  of  the  sea ; 
Where  Peter,  girding  his  fisher's  coat, 
Went  over  the  nets  and  out  of  the  boat, 

To  answer,  'Lov'st  thou  me?' 

Thrice  over,  'Lov'st  thou  me?'  " 

The  borders  of  the  sea  of  Galilee  are  now  desolate,  and  the 
llsheries  neglected  ;  but  the  glory  of  its  associations  will  never 
desert  its  shores. 

We  have  said  but  little  of  the  inmates  of  the  deep,  which 
represent  innumerable  variety,  displaying  as  much,  and 
perhaps  more  variety  and  elegance  of  form  and  beauty  of 
coloration  than  the  birds.  There  is  not  a  color  of  the  rainbow, 
nor  hue  of  a  precious  stone,  which  may  not  be  seen  in  the 
bands,  spots,  and  scales  of  fishes. 

Their  beauty,  therefore,  as  well  as  their  utility  as  food, 
«arly  drew  attention  to  these  inhabitants  of  the  waters. 
Many  tribes  of  men,  both  savage  and  civilized,  obtain  their 
principal  nourishment  from  the  sea.  The  countless  numbers 
of  cod.  mackerel,  herring,  and  other  migrating  fishes,  give  em- 
ployment to  thousands  of  men,  and  prove  important  items  of 
national  wealth.  On  the  one  hand,  the  poorest  person  may 
satisfy  his  hunger  in  the  cheapest  manner  with  fish,  and  on 
the  other,  the  wealthy  epicure  may  tempt  his  palate  by  the 
most  expensive  luxuries  from  the  sea.  The  aristocratic  salmon 
and  turbot  swim  side  by  side  with  the  plebian  tribes. 

The  ocean,  then,  has  great  interest  for  us.  Not  only 
national  and  historical,  but  ten  thousand  personal  interests 
gather  for  us  over  its  waters.  We  think  of  the  myriads  of  cur 
fishing-boals  which  brave  every  day  the  '"subtle,  fitful,  im- 
placable smiting  of  the  black  waves"  ;  of  the  light-houses 
standing  like  angels  on  the  perilous  rocks,  till 

"Each  with  a  beacon  star  upon  his  head. 
And  with  a  wild  sea  light  about  his  feet," 

headland  after  headland  flames  its  warning  along  our  miles  on 
miles  of  coast. 


"  We  think  of  peaceful  merchant  vessels  diBscminating,  aa 
widely  as  its  waters,  the  riches  of  every  land  ;  of  those  ueai 
and  dear  to  us  who  are  now  furrowing  its  waves ;  of  the 
treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  and  precious  stones,  embedded 
forever  in  its  depths;  of  those  far  richer  treasures,  the  loved 
ones,  who  lie  buried  there;  of  little  sailor-lads  whom  on  wild 
nights  of  ruin  its  waves  have  swept  pitilessly  from  the  shat- 
tered wreck;  of  brave  hearts,  each  in  his  hammock-shroud, 
dropped  into  that  wandering  grave  ;  and,  doubtless,  when,  oh, 
to  ua 

"  The  fools  of  habit,  sweeter  seems 
To  lie  beneath  the  churchyard  sod  ;" 
yet  all  such  sorrows  and  doubts  are  quenched,  when  we  C(;m- 
fort  ourselves  with  the  promine  that  "The  sea  shall  give  up 
the  dead  that  are  in  it."  And  since  the  sea  in  its  rolJing  in- 
finitude, in  its  enormous  might,  in  its  periloushighway  for  the 
nations,  is,  as  it  has  been  ever  felt  to  be,  a  fit  emblem  of  time 
and  life,  I  think  that  we  may,  for  a  few  moments,  meditate 
with  profit  on  the  thought  of  "Life  as  a  voyage;"  and  I  trust 
that  when  we  have  done  so,  we  shall  be  induced,  with  deep 
humility,  to  lift  up,  each  in  our  hearts,  the  touching  prayer  of 
the  Breton  mariner:  "Save  us,  O  God,  Thine  ocean  is  so 
large,  and  our  little  boat  so  small  1" 

Many  of  us  may  have  been  driven  far  astray  by  storm  and 
tempest,  by  the  winds  of  passion  by  the  currents  of  tempt- 
ation, yet  there  is  One  voice  still  that  can  rebuke  the  wind  and 
the  sea,  and  One  who  can  still  lay  His  sovereign  hand  on  the 
misdirected  helm. 

"And,  O  blithe  breeze,  and  O  great  seas, 

ThoHgh  ne'er  the  present  parting  o'er. 
On  your  wide  plain  we  meet  again. 

Oh,  lead  us  to  yon  heavenly  shore. 
"  One  port,  methinks,  alike  we  seek. 

One  purpose  hold  where'er  we  fare ; 
O  bounding  breeze,  O  rushing  seas, 

At  last,  at  last  unite  us  there  1" 


The  Important  Functions  of  the  Skin, 

Looking  at  the  complicated  mechanism  of  our  bodies 
from  a  popular  standpoint,  we  should  say,  perhaps,  that 
the  brain  is  the  most  important  part  of  us  ;  but  that 
would  be  a  mistake  ;  not  only  the  brain,  but  the  stomach 
and  kidneys  are  less  necessary  to  life  than  our  skin.  Re- 
flect upon  this  matter  for  a  moment ;  you  can  go  with- 
out food  for  several  days  and  not  suffer  serious  injury ; 
your  liver  may  cease  to  act  for  a  week,  and  you  can  at- 
tend to  your  business  as  usual ;  the  brain  may  be  para- 
lyzed for  months,  and  life  goes  on  ;  but  if  the  functions 
of  the  skin  are  suspended  for  two  hours,  death  follows. 
Take  a  dog  or  cat,  and  dip  the  animal  into  melted 
paraffine  or  tallow,  so  that  the  skin  excretion  or  se- 
cretions are  suspended,  and  the  animal  will  die  almost 
as  quickly  as  if  ten  grains  of  strychnine  had  been  ad 
ministered.  The  skio  is  a  most  important  auxiliary  to 
the  lungs  in  the  process  of  asration  of  the  blood,  and  so 
intimate  the  connection,  or  so  similar  and  important  are 
its  functions,  that  when  death  ensues  from  skin  obstntc- 
tions,  all  the  conditions  resemble  those  occasioned  by 
cutting  oif  air  from  the  lungs.  More  deaths  from  con- 
sumption are  caused  primarily  by  skin  obstructions  than 
from  any  original  weakness  or  disease  in  the  lungs.  The 
lungs  are  the  first  of  the  important  organs  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  derangements  of  the  skin,  and  they  often 
become  congested  or  disorganized  through  secondary 
causes. 


A  Little  Treasure. 

A  crowd  of  people  were  standing  around  the  Corliss 
engine  in  Machinery  Hall,  at  the  Centennial,  watching 
and  admiring  it,  when  a  man  stepped  from  among  them 
and  took  from  his  pocket  a  tin-box,  and  opening  it  took 
out  what  appeared  to  be  an  exceedingly  diminutive 
alcohol  lamp,  and  placing  it  on  the  corner  of  the  plat- 
form lighted  it.  Then  it  began  to  buzz  something  as  a 
humming-bird  might,  if  only  small  enough,  and  upon 
close  examination  it  was  found  to  be  a  perfect  steam- 
engine  in  full  motion,  having  for  its  foundation  a 
twenty-shilling  gold  piece.  It  was  composed  of  gold, 
steel,  and  platinum,  the  fly-wheel  being  three-fourths  of 
an  inch  in  diameter  and  the  stroke  one-twenty-fourth  of 
an  inch,  and  its  full  weight  seven  grains.  A  magnifying 
glass  had  to  be  used  to  see  it  distinctly. 


All  are  familiar  with  Newton,  whose  little  dog  Diamond 
upset  a  lamp  and  burned  up  the  labor  of  years  of  patient 
study.  His  only  reproach  was, Ah,  Dianiond,  Diamond, 
you  know  not  what  a  mischief  you  have  done  your 
master." 


5o6 


THE  GROUPING  IVORLD. 


GOLDEN  SUNSHINE. 

BY  JULIA  GODDARD. 

Glinting  through  the  bending  rushes,  quivering  came  the 
golden  light 

O'er  the  flower-bespangled  meadows,  broidered  in  with  colors 
briglit*, 

All  among  the  silver  daisies,  all  among  the  corn-3owers  blue, 
All  among  the  scarlet  poppies  till  they  blazed  to  flaming  hue; 
Then  it  glittered  on  the  river  where  the  yellow  iris  reigns. 
Marked  the  shining  slippery  pebbles  with  a  thousand  golden 
stains; 

Gilded  earth  with  glorious  beauty  through  its  wonder-painting 
rays. 

And  afar  in  purple  distance  shimmered  in  a  golden  haze; 
Bright  it  fell  on  wild-tossed  tresses,  soft  crept  into  childish 
eyes 

On  the  beauteous  world  a-gazing  with  a  look  of  glad  surprise. 
Children  in  the  meadows  playing,  weaving  garlands  fresh  and 
fair, 

With  the  golden  sunshine  round  them,  ah!  what  should  they 
know  of  care? 

All  around  them  life  and  beauty,  earth  below  and  skies  above. 
And  their  simple  hearts  still  roving  in  a  realm  of  joy  and  love. 
Little  reck  they  of  a  future,  little  ponder  on  a  past; 
Life  is  all  a  present  glory  that  for  aye  and  aye  will  last. 
Every  bird  a  story  telling  as  it  sings  upon  the  bough 
Of  the  sweet  delights  of  summer  in  the  never-ending  Now; 
Every  bee  a  secret  humming  of  the  honey  stored  away 
In  the  depths  of  summer  blossoms,  for  the  feasting  of  To-day; 
Butterflies  a  wild  chase  leading  through  the  tangled  briar  and 
brake, 

Flutter  on  their  fairy  pinions  for  the  happy  Present's  sake. 
Royal  Childhood!  in  its  kingdom  all  the  wealth  of  earth  is 
grasped; 

Simple  souls  with  sceptred  fingers  o'er  earth's  treasures  tightly 
clasped; 

Every  flower  for  them  is  springing,  every  bird  for  them  doth 
sing: 

E'en  the  rainbow  for  their  pleasure  o'er  the  earth  a  bridge  doth 
fling. 

Kings  and  queens,  they  reign  supremely  in  a  myriad-monarched 
land, 

Never  fearing  that  their  claims  will  meet  with  doubt  or  rebel 
hand. 

With  firm  trust  and  faith  they  wander,  all  the  world  their  own 
believe; 

Who  shall  of  the  sweet  delusion  care  their  hearts  to  undeceive? 
Yet,  perchance,  what  hearts  can  treasure  that  is  theirs  by 
truest  right; 

He  owns  most  who  can  most  largely  gather  of  earth's  beauty 
bright. 

Not  the  owner  of  the  acres,  but  the  soul  that  rapturous  turns, 
Thanking  God  for  all  the  glory  that  it  round  about  discerns, 
H.uh  the  better  truer  title  to  the  lordly  stretch  of  land, 
Holding  it  through  mightier  tenure,  freehold  gift  from  God's 
own  Hand. 

Not  the  holder  of  the  castle,  not  the  wearer  of  the  crown, 
Is  the  owner  of  the  kingship  on  which  Heaven  smileth  down. 


He  who  walks  the  earth,  and  gathers  golden  sunshine  to  his 
,  breast. 

Through  the  gifts  that  God  nas  given  holds  the  royal  heirship 
best, 

Ah!  the  golden,  golden  sunshine  of  the  golden  summer  days. 
Let  it  tune  all  hearts  and  voices  to  more  perfect  note  of  praise. 

Potting  Plants. 

A  plant  should  not  be  potted  when  it  is  very  dry,  noi 
when  soaked  with  wet.  In  the  former  case,  it  is  very 
likely  to  remain  dry,  as  the  water  will  pass  through  the 
fresh  soil  without  penetrating  into  the  old  ball  of  earth. 
When  the  roots  are  thickly  interwoven,  they  should  be 
carefully  disengaged,  that  they  may  be  spread  out  into 
the  fresh  soil ;  but  in  shifting  young,  healthy  growing 
plants,  the  roots  which  may  be  reaching  the  side  of  the 
pot,  should  not  be  disturbed,  as  it  is  important  to  pre- 
serve the  smaller  fibres,  upon  whose  action  the  health  of 
the  plant  chiefly  depends. 

The  Throne  of  the  Grand  Mogul. 

Constantine  entered  Rome  in  a  chariot  of  gold  adorned  with 
precious  stones,  which  sent  forth  rays  of  light,  and  in  his 
time  the  royal  crown  was  first  set  about  with  precious  stones. 
But  how  insignificant  is  all  this  seeming  magnificence  when 
compared  with  the  barbaric  splendor  of  Hyder  Ali,  Tippa 
Saib,  Tamerlane,  Nadir  Shah,  Aurungebe,  and  the  last  ruler  of 
.the  Mohammedan  dynasty,  which  for  seven  hundred  years 
held  the  reins  of  power  In  India,  the  wonderful  Shah  Jehan. 
Truly  the  descriptions  of  the  power  and  glory  of  this  Great 
Mogul  seem  like  the  romance  of  "Arabian  Nights."  and  when 
compared  to  the  even  wonderful  tale  of  Lalla  Rookh,  whose 
"Valley  of  Cashmere"  was  the  scene  of  all  his  splendor, 
proves  that  "fact  is  stranger  than  fiction." 

An  imperial  haii  which  was  only  an  accessory  to  the  great 
palace  at  Delhi,  was  constructed  of  white  marble  worked  inta 
the  most  delicate  forms,  its  whole  white  surf  ace,  pi'.lars,  walls, 
arches,  roof,  and  even  pavements  were  inlaid  with  the  richest 
and  most  exquisite  designs  in  arabesque,  the  fruits  and  flowers 
being  represented  by  gems  so  delicately  cut  that  they  looked 
like  "  embroidery  on  white  satin,"  so  exquisitely  was  the 
mosaic  executed  in  precious  stones— thirty-five  specimens  of 
carnelian  being  employed  in  a  single  leaf  of  carnation,  and 
some  flowers  contained  no  less  than  three  hundred  difi"erent 
stones.  The  walls  and  columns  were  inlaid  with  inscriptions 
from  the  Koran.  The  whole  had  the  appearance  of  a  rich  work 
of  the  loom.  In  the  centre  of  this  hall  stood  the  wonderful 
peacock  throne,  the  chef  d'ceuvre,  representing  one  hundred 
and  Hfty  millions  of  dollars. 

This  wondrous  work  of  art  was  ascended  by  steps  of  silver, 
at  the  summit  of  which  rose  a  massive  seat  of  pure  gold,  with 
a  canopy  of  the  same  metal  inlaid  with  jewels.  The  principal 
feature  of  the  design  was  a  peacock  with  his  tail  spread,  the 
natural  colors  being  represented  by  pure  gems.  A  vine  was 
introduced  into  the  design,  the  leaves  of  which  were  of  precious 
stones,  whose  rays  were  reflected  from  mirrors  set  in  pearls. 
Here,  in  all  his  glory,  sat  the  Grand  Mogul,  the  crown  on  his 
head  in  proportionate  magnificence,  and  composed  of  diamonds 
and  gems  arranged  with  exquisite  art,  and  estimated  at  a  cost 
of  eleven  millions  of  dollars  1  And  one  thing  more,  the 
Koh-i-noor  on  his  brow,  and  you  have  the  Grand  Mogul  in  all 
his  glory,  as  he  sat  on  his  peacock  throne,  surrounded  by 
Mohammedan  princes,  by  turbaned  and  jeweled  rajahs,  amid 
splendor  which  only  the  gorgeous  East  could  produce. 


A  Wonder. 

Considering  that  we  are  daily  surrounded  by  dangers  of 
every  conceivable  sort,  it  is  a  miracle  that  we  walk  in  our 
particular  paths  so  far,  before  we  fall  on  death.  We  are  hedged 
about,  we  tbink,  by  accident  and  circumstance;  now  we  creep, 
and  now  we  run,  and  in  all  things  are  thwarted  or  assisted. 
Our  particular  lives,  seem  as  piers  of  solid  rock,  thrown  for- 
ward into  the  tide  of  circumstance.  What  risks  we  run  I 
famine,  and  fire,  and  pestilence,  and  the  thousand  forms  of  a 
cruel  fate,  and  yet  every  man  lives,  till  he — dies.  We  wonder 
superfluously,  when  we  hear  of  a  somnambulist  walking  a 
plank  securely.  We  have  walked  a  plank  all  our  lives,  up  to 
the  stnng-piece  where  we  now  are.  Gulfs  are  bridged  in  a 
twinkling,  as  if  some  baggage  train  carried  pontoons  for  our 
convenience,  and  from  the  heights  we  scan  the  tempting  but 
unexplored  ocean  of  futurity. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


Sunday  in  Saxony. 

BY  A.  F.  PIGOTT. 

I  rarely  admire  German  Sundays,  because  I  have  a 
great  dislike  to  the  vociferous  character  of  the  Teutons, 
which  i9  brought  into  special  prominence  on  the  day 
which  with  us  is  a  day  of  quietness  and  repose.  Yet  in 
Germany  the  Sunday  service  is  not  without  interest.  It 
is  over  by  midday,  and  the  transition  is  rapid  from  wor- 
ship to  pleasure,  from  solemnity  to  lightheartedness  ; 
still  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  existence  of  strong 
religious  feelings.  The  Germans  are  naturally  a  devout 
people,  and  in  Saxony,  perhaps,  more  than  in  any  other 
part  of  Protestant  Germany,  the  spirit  of  devotion  is 
deep  and  earnest.  Here  the  impress  of  Luther's  spirit 
still  remains,  and  the  influence  of  the  famous  pietists  of 
Halle — Spencer,  Arndt  and  Francke. 

I  arrived  late  one  Saturday  evening  at  a  Saxon  village, 
and  found  my  way  to  the  only  hotel  in  the  place.  It 
was  called  the  "Kitter  Von  Hutten,"  and  the  landlord 
saluted  me  with  the  usual  German  friendliness  which  is 
always  manifested  to  guests,  especially  if  they  come 
from  England.  I  ordered  some  refreshment  as  the  first 
part  of  the  business.  This  was  soon  provided,  and  while 
I  regaled  myself  the  landlord  and  landlady  kept  me 
company,  talking  their  best. 

"You  live  a  quiet  life  here,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  landlady,  "ours  is  a  quiet  vil- 
lage, and  the  fear  of  God  is  in  this  place." 

It  was  unusual  to  hear  such  words  in  an  inn^  and  I 
naturally  wished  to  know  something  more  about  the 
village. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  Ritter  von  Hutten  ?"  asked 
the  landlord. 

" Ritter  von  Hutten  !"  I  repeated,  "do  you  mean  Ul- 
rieh  Von  Hutten  ?" 

"  The  same  family,"  said  the  landlord,  "  but  not  the 
same  knight.  Ulrich  was  famous  as  the  protector  of  the 
Reformers;  but  I  speak  of  a  later  Hutten,  who  lived 
two  hundred  years  ago.  This  village  was  his  property, 
and  he  had  a  devout  wife  who  has  left  many  traces  and 
memorials  of  her  piety.  In  her  day,  Philip  Spener  often 
came  from  Halle  to  preach  in  our  old  church.  Two 
hundred  years  are  gone  since  that  time,  but  the  tradition 
of  his  preaching  remains,  and  the  influence  of  the  devout 
people  of  that  age  is  not  yet  effaced.  Goodness  lives 
long,"  the  landlord  continued.  "Men  think  but  little 
of  the  influence  they  exert  either  for  good  or  evil  by 
their  words  or  their  deeds." 

This  discourse  surprised  me,  but  I  was  pleased  to  hear 
it.   Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  music  outside. 

"  The  evening  carols,"  said  the  landlady,  and  rising  up, 
she  went  to  the  door.  The  window  was  opened,  and  a 
company  of  sweet  singers  chanted  a  hymn,  of  which  the 
burden  was,  that  God's  presence  makes  all  troubles 
light,  and  turns  even  sorrow  into  joy,  for  they  who  have 
a  good  hope  for  the  future  live  in  that  hope,  and  joy- 
fully overcome  the  sorrows  of  life. 

The  song  ended,  the  window  was  again  closed,  and 
conversation  resumed.  "  The  singers,"  said  the  land- 
lady, "come  every  Saturday  evening.  It  is  an  old  cus- 
tom since  the  days  of  Spener  and  Knight  Hutten.  When 
the  singers  have  sung  their  carol,  the  people  begin  to 
think  of  the  services  of  the  next  day,  and  calm  their 
minds  for  devotion." 

Sunday  dawned.  I  was  down  stairs  by  half-past  eight, 
intending  to  be  ready  for  the  church  service  by  eleven 
o'clock.  But,  lo,  at  this  early  hour  the  people  were 
hastening  to  the  church  from  all  parts  of  the  village.  I 
joined  the  company,  and  was  soon  seated  in  the  sacred 
building.  At  least  fifteen  hundred  persons  were  pre- 
sent, i  wish  I  could  give  any  idea  of  the  singing.  This 
always  strikes  me  as  the  great  power  in  German 
churches.  The  words  of  the  hymns  have  a  fire  in  them 
which  is  found  in  but  few  English  hymns.  They  speak 
much  of  Christ  and  of  the  redemption  on  the  cross,  and 
they  suppose  in  the  persons  who  sing  them  an  inward 
consciousness  or  experience  of  the  reality  of  what  is 
sung. 

The  pastor  was  a  venerable  old  man,  with  alarg_  fore- 
head and  a  stately  presence.  His  face  was  wrinkled,  but 
his  clear,  bright  eye  spoke  of  high  intelligence,  whilo  a 
placid  smile  occasionally  relieved  what  seemed  a  stiff- 
ness of  expression,  brought  on  evidently  by  deep  thought. 
Awe  and  reverence  were  impressed  on  his  countenance. 
He  onened  the  Bible — Luther's  renowned  version,  the  J 


greatest  gift  that  Luther  bestowed  on  his  countrymen— 
and  he  read  as  his  text :  "  Now  we  see  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  then  face  to  face."  "All  life,"  he  said, 
"  was  God's  life,  and  in  time  eternity  was  begun.  The 
difference  between  this  life  and  the  next  was,  that  now 
we  see  the  face  of  God  faintly,  then  we  shall  see  it  in 
fulness  of  vision.  Now  there  are  but  glimmerings  of 
light  to  guide  us  onward,  buj  then  the  brightness  of  His 
glory  shall  overshadow  us.  We  shall  enter  into  it  and 
realize  the  unity  of  our  being  with  Him  in  whom  we  live 
and  move.  We  see  through  a  glass  darkly  ;  we  feel 
after  God  if  haply  we  may  find  Him.  Some  do  find  Him 
and  he  shews  them  His  covenant,  and  that  vision  of 
God  is  their  everlasting  comfort.  Ihey  know  Him  now, 
but  their  knowledge  is  only  partial,  because  there  is  a 
veil  of  flesh  between  them  and  pure  spirit ;  but  then 
they  shall  know  even  as  they  are  known." 

The  old  man  became  eloquent  when  he  drew  near  the 
close  of  his  sermon.  He  had  spoken  of  the  sinner  as 
alienated  from  God  by  the  darkness  that  is  in  him.  He 
had  spoken  of  the  joy  which  the  believer  has  on  earth  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  divine  glory,  and  he  went  on  to 
speak  of  the  rapture  of  seeing  God  in  Christ,  and  being 
with  him  for  ever.  On  the  thought  of  God  in  Christ  he 
spoke  for  some  time,  intimating  that  though  we  should 
have  visions  of  Christ  as  He  is,  yet  our  highest  satisfac- 
tion would  be  with  Christ,  in  whom  are  all  the  perfec- 
tions of  Deity  under  the  form  of  humanity.  In  St.  John's 
vision  it  is  the  Lamb  who  is  to  be  the  guide  of  the 
saints,  and  the  Light  of  the  glorious  Temple,  which  had 
no  need  of  the  light  of  the  sun.  It  is  recorded  of  Plato, 
that  when  he  beheld  the  beauty  of  creation,  the  heavenly 
lights,  the  flowers  of  the  field,  he  concluded  by  the  light 
of  reason  that  God  must  be  an  everlasting  and  glorious 
Being,  the  ideal  in  which  all  beauty  was  centered.  We 
know  from  God's  word  that  when  he  shall  appear  we 
shall  be  like  Him  ;  when  we  are  fully  renewed  after  His 
image  we  shall  truly  grow  into  His  likeness,  and  His 
glory  and  beauty  shall  be  reflected  in  us. 

The  sermon  was  followed  by  another  hymn,  which 
spoke  of  the  newness  of  life  which  the  Christian  enjoys, 
and  which  is  to  him  the  beginning  of  that  joy  which  ie 
to  be  complete  when  he  beholds  the  face  of  God.  The 
great  congregation  united  to  sing  it  with  one  heart,  and 
the  sound  of  so  many  voices  was  like  the  rolling  of  the 
sea  when  it  makes  music  in  the  storm.  But  peace 
rested  on  every  countenance,  and  when  they  left  the 
church  it  was  a  repetition  of  the  happy  sight  described 
by  Coleridge,  where  go  together— 

"  Old  men  and  wives,  and  loving  friends, 
And  youths  and  maidens  gay." 

I  returned  to  the  Ritter  von  Hutten,  It  was  now  to- 
wards noon,  and  I  was  greatly  elevated  by  the  service 
which  I  had  attended.  The  landlord  and  landlady  had 
both  been  in  church,  and  looked  as  happy  as  if  they  had 
been  on  a  visit  to  the  new  Jerusalem.  There  was  joy  in 
the  evening,  approaching  to  hilarity,  and  much  as  it  was 
opposed  to  the  state  of  mind  to  which  I  had  been  accus- 
tomed on  the  day  of  M'orship,  I  tried  to  explain  to  my- 
self that  perhaps  its  reason  and  justification  are  to  be 
found  in  the  character  of  the  people,  who  have,  evi- 
dently, more  lively  temperaments  than  are  commonly 
found  in  England. 

Next  day  I  had  an  interesting  conversation  with  the 
pastor,  to  whom  I  mentioned  a  remark  which  we  often 
hear  in  England,  that  the  religious  life  of  Germany  is  to 
be  found  among  the  Catholics,  and  that  it  has  departed 
from  the  Protestant  communities.  The  old  man  ad- 
mitted that  there  had  been  much  rash  and  even  irreli- 
gious speculation  among  the  German  Protestants ;  yet, 
he  added,  concerning  the  Evangelical  Church,  that  many 
of  its  members  were  devoted  saints,  and  that  he  was 
satisfied  "  The  Lord  was  in  the  midst  of  her,  and  there- 
fore she  should  not  be  moved." 


Wild  Bill. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

In  the  year  1809,  while  some  persons  were  hunting  in 
tbe  JMississippi  Swamp,  they  came  upon  the  prints  of  the 
bare  foot  oi  a  young  person.  They  followed  them  and 
soon  discovered  a  naked  boy  walking  on  the  shore  of 
one  of  the  lakes  that  abound  in  that  region.  His  object 
was  to  catch  frogs,  which  he  immediately  devoured  raw. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  his  discoverers  he  plunged  into  the 


5o8 


THE  GROIVING  WORLD. 


lake,  and  diving  and  svrimming  witli  the  ease  of  an  am- 
phibious animal,  escaped  them. 

This  occurrence  naturally  excited  so  much  interest 
among  the  settlers,  that  they  collected  in  a  body  to  en- 
deavor to  capture  him.  After  hunting  for  him  for  some 
days,  they  at  length  discovered  him  under  a  persimmon 
tree  eating  the  fruit.  He  fled  as  before,  but  the  hunters 
put  dogs  on  his  track,  which  soon  tired  him  out.  When 
brought  to  bay,  he  turned  and  fought  with  a  remarkable 
degree  of  courage  and  ferocity.  But,  compelled  to  yield 
to  numbers,  he  was  at  last  caught  and  bound. 

He  was  then  not  far  from  nine  years  of  age,  naked  and 
perfectly  speechless.  His  form  was  slender  and  well- 
proportioned,  and  capable  of  extreme  agility.  In  two 
years  after  his  capture  he  was  able  to  converse  quite 
readily.  It  was  more  diificult  to  overcome  his  appetite 
for  raw  flesh  than  to  teach  him  to  speak.  In  fact,  this 
appetite  was  never  fully  overcome.  He  developed  a 
strong  liking  for  alcoholic  liquors,  and  became  intoxi- 
cated whenever  there  was  an  opportunity.  In  some  re- 
.spects  he  became  tame,  but  in  the  fierceness  of  his  temper 
he  was  always  a  wild  animal.  When  playing  with  other 
children,  the  moment  his  passions  were  aroused,  his  first 
impulse  was  to  strike  them  with  whatever  instrument 
was  nearest  at  hand. 

They  attempted  to  put  him  to  work,  but  he  showed 
a  savage  disrelish  for  labor.  He  was  sure  to  run  away  ; 
l^enerally  going  to  the  livery  stable,  where  his  chief  de- 
light was  to  mount  the  horses  whenever  he  could  get  a 
chance.  Riding  was  his  passion,  and  he  would  mount 
every  horse  in  the  stable  merely  for  the  pleasure  of 
riding  it  to  water. 

He  became  quarrelsome,  addicted  to  drunkenness,  and 
a  notorious  liar.  In  fact,  so  great  was  his  propensity 
for  lying,  that  his  statement  of  his  earliest  recollections 
has  not  been  considered  of  sufficient  importance  to  be 
preserved. 


Swedes  Groing  Home. 

Twenty-seven  Swedes,  on  their  way  to  cross  the  water 
to  go  back  home,  attracted  considerable  attention  at  the 
Allentown,  Pa.,  depot  recently.  One  of  their  number, 
intone  Heine,  was  their  representative  man.  He  was  a 
tall,  well-built  person,  standing  six  feet  four  inches  high. 
He  could  speak  tolerable  English,  as  he  had  been  in 
America  four  years,  employed  on  public  works.  He 
said  : 

We  are  going  home  because  work  is  too  scarce  to 
stay  in  America.  Over  two  hundred  are  going  this 
month ;  last  month  many  more  left.  Most  of  us  have 
been  here  three  years.  We  have  saved  enough  money 
in  that  time  to  make  us  feel  easy  in  our  old  homes.  We 
would  have  stayed,  but  times  are  too  bad  for  us.  All 
the  railroad  work  in  Jersey  is  finished,  and  we  left  the 
work  on  the  South  Mountain  road  because  we  don't  like 
to  wait  so  long  for  wages  and  run  the  chances  of  not 
getting  it.  The  South  Mountain  line  is  to  run  from  the 
coal  regions  to  New  York  and  Boston.  They  are  work- 
ing on  sections  between  Allentown  and  Harrisburg," 

He  was  asked  something  about  railroad  labor  in 
America  as  far  as  he  knew. 

"  Well,  you  see  my  four  years'  experience  in  America 
has  taught  me  much.  In  the  old  country  I  was  fifteen 
years  on  public  works.  Here  in  this  land  you  are  all  fast 
and  in  a  hurry.  Five  years  ago  the  Irishmen  did  most 
of  the  work.  Now  the  Swedes,  Italians  and  Poles  do  it, 
or  have  been  doing  it  the  past  five  years.  Contractors 
say  they  like  Swedes  for  three  reasons :  First,  they 
don't  get  drunk ;  second,  they  are  saving ;  third,  they 
work  hard  and  good.  After  pay  day  a  Swede  or  a  Pole 
won't  spend  half  his  money  f  orVum,  get  drunk,  and  stay 
away  three  or  four  days  to  sober  up.  Instead  of  that, 
the  Poles,  Swedes  and  Italians  do  a  far  different  thing. 
On  a  large  public  work  they  are  divided  into  gangs,  say 
twenty  of  'em  will  be  in  a  shanty.  There  they  live,  just 
like  a  mess  in  the  army  or  on  board  ship.  They  do  their 
own  buying  and  cooking,  sleep  together,  and  make  their 
own  beds  and  do  their  own  washing.  Instead  of  it 
costing  'em  twenty  dollars  a  month  to  board  in  a  shanty 
the  same  as  other  men,  they  get  through  with  about  a 
dollar  and  a  half  a  week,  or  six  dollars  a  month.  They 
keep  about  half  a  dollar  back  for  tobacco,  and  then  they 
hold  a  meeting.  All  the  money  that  they  can  spare  they 
turn  into  the  treasurer,  who  sends  it  to  their  agent  in 
New  York,  and  he  sends  it  to  Sweden.    No  drinkinsr 


whiskey,  you  see,  nor  staying  away  from  work.  In  this 
way  the  Swede,  Pole  and  Italian  save  nearly  every  cent 
they  earn  that  they  do  not  spend  for  their  living.  Cloth- 
ing does  not  bother  them ;  they  did  not  come  to  America 
to  put  on  airs.  They  were  on  business.  They  worked 
hard  and  got  as  high  as  $1.75  per  day.  Men  generally 
average  twenty-two  working  days,  not  counting  Sundays 
and  rainy  days.  They  average  about  forty  dollars  a 
month,  of  which  they  save  about  thirty  in  good  times, 
but  many  of  'em  only  work  about  half  the  year.  In 
four  years  in  this  country  they  can  save  enough  to  ke^p 
them  comfortable  in  the  old  country  for  many  years. 
Times  are  getting  hard,  and  we  are  told  that  they  ain't 

foing  to  get  any  better,  and  that's  why  we  are  going 
ome.  There's  nothing  in  public  works  in  the  East  here 
any  more,  except  a  railroad  near  Syracuse.  AH  the 
work  going  on  is  out  West,  but  it  is  not  enough  to  keep 
us  going.  All  of  us  that  ain't  going  back  home  are  going 
out  West." 

The  man  was  asked  how  Swedes  live  on  a  doUar  and  a 
half  a  week. 

!  "Well,  you  see.  Irishmen  want  beef  and  potatoes, 
bread  and  butter,  every  day.  We  are  satisfied  with 
bread  and  coffee  in  the  morning,  and  soup  at  dinner. 
We  make  a  boUer  full  of  soup  out  of  vegetables,  enough 
to  feed  twenty  men,  at  a  cost  of  about  one  dollar,  and 
what  is  left  we  eat  for  supper.  We  eat  very  little  meat, 
no  butter,  some  molasses,  rice  and  beans,  and  eggs  for 
Sunday.  It  costs  each  man  about  twenty  cents  a  day. 
In  the  old  country  the  way  we  live  it  hardly  costs  one 
cent  a  day. 

The  man  then  told  one  of  his  party  to  open  his  pack. 
Each  one  of  them  carried  a  knapsack  made  of  bagging. 
"  There,  you  can  see  a  Swede's  baggage,  woollen  shirt, 
blue  pants,  extra  pair  of  boots,  tin  cup,  tin  plate,  knife, 
fork,  spoon,  thread,  needles,  and  a  comb  in  his  pocket. 
The  Italians  don't  carry  everything  they  have  in  a  pack. 
They  carry  something  down  the  backs  of  their  necks,  a 
dagger.  And  they  use  it  freely  in  a  fight.  They  put  up 
their  arm,  and  in  a  moment  whirl  it  out,  and  use  it  be- 
fore the  stranger  knows  what  he  is  about.  If  a  Swede 
dies  in  this  country  we  bury  him,  and  his  money  in  the 
old  country  goes  to  his  people.  Most  of  us  have  wives 
and  children  at  home.  Those  that  are  going  to  stay 
here  have  their  wives  in  this  country," 

"Why  don't  you  go  West  and  commence  farming  ?" 
was  asked.  "Don't  want  to  farm.  Can  do  that  at 
home.  Rather  be  at  home.  Takes  too  much  money  in 
this  country.  Goes  too  fast.  Eall  people  here.  People 
steal  and  rob  and  murder.  We  get  bad  here,  too,  if  we 
stay." 

Further  information  was  gained  to  the  effect  chat  the 
Swedish,  Polish  and  Italian  laborers  are  not  arriving  in 
this  country  to  any  extent  worth  speaking  of. 


Potato  Culture 

We  are  accustomed  to  read  with  surprise  how  the  poor  of 
France  fought  against  the  introduction  of  the  potato  into  that 
kingdom  as  an  article  of  food  for  the  laboring  claeses.  Fields 
of  it  were  destroyed  by  the  mob,  and  a  prejudice  was  raised 
against,  it  as  bitter  as  it  seems  to  us  unreasonable. 

The  miserable  character  of  the  kind  raised  lilay  have  been 
the  cause  of  this  hatred.  They  were  not  "Early  Rose"  or 
"Peach  Blows  "  by  any  means.  One  writer  speaks  of  them 
as  "  despised  by  the  rich  and  only  used  by  the  meaner  sorts  of 
people."  Their  taste,  he  says,  *'  was  much  like  the  artichoke, 
though  not  nearly  so  good  or  wholesome."  They  were  roasted 
and  sliced,  and  eaten  with  a  sauce  of  wine  and  sugar.  I  don't 
know  who  could  like  them  under  such  circumstances. 

Since  the  day  when  Louis  XV.  wore  a  sprig  of  the  beautiful 
blue  potato  blossom  as  an  ornament  for  his  court  dress,  it  has 
steadily  grown  in  favor  and  flavor  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 

There  is  scarcely  another  article  of  food  that  can  thrive  so 
well  in  all  latitudes,  from  the  North  of  Europe  to  Bengal ;  and 
since  it  has  been  so  extensively  cultivated  there  has  been  far 
less  of  gaunt-visaged  famine  in  many  of  these  over-crowded 
countries. 

After  the  potato-bug  "  cycle  "  is  over  with  us,  we  may  hope 
to  take  a  fresh  start  again  in  the  culture  of  this  most  excellent 
article  of  food.  Such  things  seem  to  have  their  day  as  much 
as  the  locust,  and  farmers  must  do  the  best  they  can  and  bide 
their  time  i^i  patience. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD,  509 


The  Region  of  Pure  Spirits. 

Many  persons  have  the  impression  that  previous  to 
the  advent  of  missionaries  among  the  North-American 
Indians,  they  had  no  idea  of  the  existence  of  a  future 
state  of  reward  or  punishment,  according  to  behavior 
on  earth.  This  supposition  is  erroneous  ;  there  was  not 
a  tribe  but  had  a  clear  idea  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave. 

The  Indians  of  the  Five  Nations  believed  that  there 
was  a  place  called  in  their  language  "Eskanane,"  which 
means  "The  Region  of  Pure  Spirits,"  where  the  in- 
habitants were  always  happy  and  never  had  a  wish  that 
was  not  gratified.  They  believed  that  there  were  only 
three  classes  of  people  who  were  unable  to  enter  this 
place,  viz.,  suicides,  cowards,  and  those  who  disobeyed 
their  chiefs.  According  to  the  tradition  there  is  a  gloomy, 
fathomless  gulf  surrounding  the  delightful  Eskanane, 
over  which  the  good  and  brave  spirits  pass  under  the 
care  of  a  skilful  guide.  When  a  cowardly  spirit  arrives 
at  the  gulf  the  guide  refuses  his  assistance.  He  at- 
tempts to  cross  on  a  pole,  but  is  precipitated  into  the 
gulf  below. 

In  this  gulf  resides  a  number  of  large  dogs,  or,  as 
some  say,  dragons,  all  infected  with  the  itch,  which 
makes  them  restless  and  spiteful.  They  communicate 
the  loathsome  disease  to  the  guilty  inhabitants  of  this 
miserable  region,  and  they  suffer  perpetual  torments 
from  it.  They  roam  from  side  to  side  of  the  narrow 
gulf,  sometimes  approaching  so  near  the  happy  Eska- 
nane that  they  can  hear  the  songs  sung  by  the  brave 
spirits  who  have  crossed  the  gulf  in  safety.  They  can 
even  recognize  the  voices  of  their  friends,  which  only 
increases  their  sufferings,  for  they  can  discover  no  means 
by  which  they  can  communicate  with  them.  Some  say 
that  according  to  tradition  no  light  ever  enters  their  dis- 
mal abode ;  others  that  the  unfortunate  inhabitants  are 
deprived  of  their  sight  when  they  fall  from  the  pole. 

The  entrance  into  Eskanane  corresponds  so  nearly 
with  the  Mohammedan  idea  of  the  entrance  into  heaven 
that,  at  first  thought,  one  might  be  justified  in  ascribing 
them  to  the  same,  or,  at  least,  a  similar  origin.  The 
Mohammedans  believe  that  in  order  to  reach  heaven  the 
spirit  must  cross  a  wide,  deep  abyss  on  a  bridge  no  wider 
than  a  single  hair.  Below  this  bridge  are  dark,  tempes- 
tuous clouds  rolling  and  tumbling  like  ocean  waves  in  a 
heavy  sea.  From  under  these  clouds  come  the  noise  of 
the  poor  sinners  who  have  fallen  from  the  bridge,  and 
who  now  suffer  the  agonies  of  hell.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing all  this,  the  good  spirits  cross  the  slender,  swaying 
bridge  with  the  speed  of  a  race  horse- 


Life  ;  an  Allegory. 

BY  PROF.  WOODWORTH 

When  we  first  set  out  on  our  journey  through  life,  we 
have  the  choice  of  two  roads  before  us  ;  the  one  leading 
down  hill,  the  other  ascending.  The  first,  by  its  allur- 
ing prospect,  has  many  volunteers  thronging  the  way, 
because  it  is  easier  to  go  down  hill  than  up.  The  prin- 
cipal towns  and  cities  on  this  journey,  where  these  travel- 
lers pass  through,  are  Indolence,  Folly,  Intemperance, 
and  Prodigality;  when  they  have  passed  these  first 
stages  they  lead  directly  to  Contempt,  Poverty,  Wretch- 
edness, and  lastly  to  Repentance.  Some  travellers,  in- 
stead of  arriving  at  Repentance  and  returning  then  to 
Amendment,  (which  is  out  of  the  road  by  which  they 
came,)  are  so  intoxicated  that  they  leave  those  places  on 
the  right,  and  rush  headlong  into  deep  despair  ;  and  so 
straight  on  to  inevitable  ruin. 

There  are  two  companions  oftentimes  to  be  met  with 
in  every  stage  of  this  journey,  called  Prudence  and 
Recollection,  who,  if  the  traveller  would  be  wise  enough 
to  listen  to  their  admonitions,  would  bring  him  by  a 
very  short  road  (which  none  are  able  to  recover  without 
them)  to  the  city  of  Repentance,  and  so  on  to  Amend- 
ment ;  and  keep  him  company  till  they  have  conducted 
him  in  safety  back  to  the  place  from  which  he  set  out, 
and  prevaQ  on  him  to  try  the  other  road,  which  I  am 
now  going  to  treat  of.  The  number  of  travellers  fre- 
quenting this  road  is  not  so  numerous ;  being  more 
difficult  to  go  up  hUl  than  down.  To  accomplish  this 
the  exertion  of  every  nerve  is  required  to  arrive  at  the 
different  stages,  which  are  Sobriety,  Temperance,  Indus- 
try and  Frugality  ;  and  these  lead  to  several  others  pro- 
gressively, each  of  which  appears  more  commodious  and 


inviting  the  farther  one  advances  ;  finding  better  accom- 
modation at  every  stage ;  till,  at  length,  the  traveller 
reaches  the  summit  of  this  mountainous  road,  where  he 
meets  with  a  fine  plain,  abounding  with  delights  of  va- 
rious kinds,  and  in  which  are  situated  the  cities  of  Riches 
and  Honor.  If  he  be  a  worthy  man,  he  will  let  the  in- 
dustrious poor  partake  of  his  blessings,  that  he  may 
have  one  of  the  most  desirable  mansions  in  each  of  these 
little  cities,  named  Respect  and  Content.  Though  there 
are  comparatively  few  to  be  found  traveling  this  road,  all 
do  not  attain  the  end  of  this  journey,  as  it  must  be  per- 
formed during  the  season  called  Human  Life.  And  as 
no  adventurers  that  I  have  ever  heard  of  had  two  of 
these  seasons  allowed  them  to  perform  it  in,  many  find 
themselves  obliged  to  take  up  their  respective  abode 
in  different  places,  being  disabled  to  reach  any  higher 
by  reason  of  the  load  which  they  have  taken  upqp  them, 
and  various  other  causes  too  tedious  to  mention. 

Here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  discouraged  travel- 
ler seldom  meets  with  a  real  friend  to  assist  him  in  this 
road.  In  case  any  inquiries  are  made  after  such  a  char- 
acter, they  are  told  there  is  none  in  company  who  have 
had  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance ;  but  they  wUl  tell 
you  that  they  heard  their  grandfather  mention  he  had 
often  seen  him,  but  soon  after  left  this  country,  and  gave 
out  before  his  departure  that,  disgusted  to  find  his  high- 
est favor  rewarded  with  the  blackest  ingratitude,  he  was 
determined  to  leave  ;  and  since  his  retreat,  a  being 
known  by  the  name  of  Self-interest  has  been  substituted 
in  his  place,  who  bears  the  likeness  of  Friendship,  and 
has  deceived  many  honest,  well-meaning  persons,  but 
as  he  never  sticks  to  the  unfortunate,  everybody  knows 
him  to  be  an  impostor. 

It  is  further  to  be  remarked  that  we  often  see  too 
many  going  too  near  the  side,  thinking  to  find  a  shorter 
way  up  the  hill,  but  they  generally  slide  down  lower 
than  they  were  when  they  first  started,  and  often  involve 
others  in  their  disaster ;  for,  finding  themselves  going, 
they  catch  at  anything,  and  by  this  totally  overset  many 
a  fellow-traveller,  who  have  found,  to  their  great  mortifi- 
cation, they  could  not  get  up  again.  Several  of  those 
who  at  first  looked  down  with  triumph  at  those  who  are 
sweating  and  toiling  below,  many  times  are  outstripped, 
and  the  hindermost  of  aU  comfort  themselves  with  the 
hopes  that  they  shall  reach  the  top,  which  sometimes  is 
the  case ;  for  when  any  one  finds  he  can  make  greater 
haste  than  his  neighbor,  he  pushes  ahead  and  passes  the 
next,  etc.  And,  letting  go  the  simile,  to  speak  plainly, 
nothing  puts  an  end  to  this  ambition  but  death.  You 
see  two  roads  are  set  before  you.  I  hope  you  will  make 
a^^se  choice. 


Tiswein. 

BY  B.  C.  MORSBEE. 

It  is  generally  supposed,  and  until  quite  recently  I 
shared  in  the  common  belief,  that  the  invention  of  alco- 
holic liquor  was  wholly  due  to  the  genius  of  civilization. 
But,  a  few  wrecks  since,  while  conversing  with  a  VV  estern 
gentleman  on  this  subject,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  him 
say  that  the  Indians,  and  especially  the  Apaches,  formerly 
manufactured  large  quantities  of  a  liquor,  which  they 
call  Tiswein,"  and  of  which  a  small  quantity  is  sulh- 
cient  to  produce  intoxication. 

This  liquor  is  generally  made  from  com,  and  the  pro- 
cess is  quite  simple.  The  com  is  first  soaked  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  after  which  it  is  placed  in  a  shallow  pit  and 
covered  with  blankets  or  skins.  The  blankets  are  re- 
moved several  times  a  day  and  warm  water  thrown  upon 
the  com,  after  which  they  are  carefully  replaced.  During 
the  night  the  family  sleep  upon  them  in  order  to  hasten 
the  germination. 

In  about  five  days  it  is  ready  for  the  next  operation.  It 
is  taken  out,  dried  and  pulverized.  Enough  sugar  to 
sweeten  it  is  added,  and  it  is  boiled  four  or  five  hours. 
After  this  operation  has  been  performed,  it  is  left  a  lew 
days  to  settle  and  ferment.  A  thick  scum  rises  to  the 
top.  This  is  taken  off,  and  when  the  liquor  is  agam 
clear,  it  is  ready  for  use.  This  liquor,  they  think,  is 
superior  to  the  adulterated  stuff  which  they  obtain  of  the 
dealers,  but  they  seldom  make  it  on  account  of  the  labor, 
although  fifty  years  ago,  before  rum  could  be  procured 
so  cheaply,  neady  all  the  grain  which  they  raised  was 
consumed  in  its  manufacture.  The  sediment  at  the 
bottom,  after  the  liquor  is  all  gone,  is  made  into  a  cake, 
which  is  eaten  with  a  hearty  relish. 


THE  GROOVING  JVORLD. 


Experiences. 

Man's  life  is  experience.  We  are  made  up  by  what  we  imbibe 
through  the  various  senses — hearing,  seeing,  feeling,  etc. 
Without  these,  man  would  remain  as  a  child.  A  man  is  what 
he  is,  according  to  his  advantage.  The  untutored  Indian  is  a 
hunter,  a  wanior,  and  nothing  else.  He  has  no  means  to  be- 
come anything  more.  Nature  around  him  inspires  his  imag- 
ination ;  and  his  language,  which  is  limited,  (and  from  the 
same,  necessarily,  of  a  lack  of  materials,)  shows  this.  A  na- 
tion with  more  advantages  shows  more  acquirements;  not 
each  member  of  it,  for  the  advantages  pass  more  or  less  un- 
heeded by  some,  and  hence  there  is  less  improvement.  Pre- 
cisely as  we  get,  and  do  with  what  we  get,  so  we  are ;  this  in 
the  physical,  as  well  as  moral  and  mental  phases  of  life.  The 
man  who  complains  of  his  ill  success  among  an  enlightened 
people,  is  only,  unwittingly,  finding  fault  with  himself. 

It  is  in  us  to  do ;  that  in  nature  has  furnished  the  elements, 
we  have  but  to  take  advantage  of  the  circumstances.  By  ex- 
ercising the  faculties  they  become  strengthened.  If  know- 
ledge, then,  is  gained^and  the  matured  faculties  are  applied  in 
the  use  of  this  knowledge — which  is  so  much  material  to  be 
worked  with— there  will  be  an  effect,  and  that  corresponding 
with  the  amount  of  cultivation  and  employment— precisely. 
This  is  experience,  this  is  life — what  we  make  it.  But  there 
must  be  a  relish  to  inspire,  else  life  becomes  a  tedious  round ; 
little  comparatively  will  be  accomplished  ;  there  is  not  the  ex- 
citement, which  is  the  stimulus  requisite  to  high  success, 
and  in  such  a  case  the  career  is  pleasurable. 


Integrity  in  Business. 

A  handsome  young  lad  of  our  acquaintance  had  been  em 
ployed  for  some  time  in  a  drug  store,  and  his  pleasing  address 
and  smiling  face  won  many  friends.  He  had  lately  left  Tor 
another  situation,  and  it  was  with  deep  regret  that  we  learned 
last  week  he  had  been  arrested  as  a  thief.  His  trunk  was 
crowded  with  handsome  toilet  articles  he  had  purloined  from 
time  to  time,  in  euch  profusion  it  would  seem  hardly  possible 
he  could  ever  use  a  tithe  of  them— handsome  cigar  cases,  bot- 
tles of  perfumery,  kid  gloves,  silk  handkerchiefs  by  the  score, 
and  all  the  elegant  trities  that  came  within  his  reach,  that 
would  oy  any  means  come  useful  in  a  young  gentleman's  out- 
fit. His  old  employer  was  sent  for,  and  identified  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  worth  of  his  own  property,  and  others  came 
in  for  the  rest. 

Poor,  disgraced  Alfred.  How  one's  heart  aches  for  the  boy, 
whose  fond,  widowed  mother  was  counting  so  happily  on  his 
rising  to  honor  and  usefulness  in  the  world.  Now,  all  hei 
hopes  and  his  fair  prospects  are  forever  blighted.  It  is  a  rare 
thing  for  a  youth  of  his  age  to  recover  his  lost  standing,  when 
it  aas  been  so  undermined.  And  for  what  a  paltry  considera- 
tion has  he  brought  on  this  ruin?  Only  for  a  few  coveted 
luxuries,  as  yet  beyond  his  means. 

Alfred's  fir^-t  wrong  step  was  mixing  with  young  associates 
which  he  knew  were  not  of  the  right  stamp— fast  young 
men  who  spent  their  leisure  at  the  billiard  tables.  They 
dressed  in  a  flashy  style,  and  he  speedily  learned  to  imitate 
them.  He  began  his  thefts  by  handing  out  a  cigar  from  his 
employers'  stock  to  one  crony  and  another,  as  they  lounged  on 
the  counters  of  the  drug-store,  when  the  proprietor  was  ab- 
sent. They  soon  learned  where  to  go  for  supplies,  and  the 
cigars  began  to  disappear  very  fast.  Soon  after  the  young 
man  cuanged  his  situation,  and  not  long  after,  the  hour  of 
detection  came. 

The  strictest  integrity,  in  the  most  trifling  matters,  is  the 
only  sure  foundation  for  a  man  or  boy  to  stand  upon  in  his 
business  relations.  We  need  more  of  the  spirit  of  that 
stauncn  old  government  oflicer,  who,  when  his  nephew  took  a 
half  a  sheet  of  paper  from  his  desk,  commanded  him  sternly, 
*'  Put  that  back,  young  man.  That  paper  belongs  to  the  Gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States." 

It  is  quite  safe  to  say  the  old  man's  mantle  has  not  fallen 
apon  all  the  Government  oflicers  of  our  land.  Hugh  Miller 
speaks  of  the  mason  of  whom  he  learned  hio  trade,  as  "a 
paan  who  put  his  conscience  into  every  stone  he  laid."  That 
is  what  you  need  m  all  your  dealings  with  others.  Put  yotir 
conscience  in  your  work,  and  you  can  stand  up  fairly  and  look 
every  man  in  the  eye.  The  fortune  yon  build  may  grow 
slowly,  one  stone  at  a  time,  but  it  will  ba  a  structure  that  will 
stand  like  the  hills. 


Personal  Appearance. 

In  personal  appearance  and  habits,  much  of  our  success  in 
life  depends.  There  have  been  many  instances  where  the  soul 
shining  through  a  maimed  and  deformed  body,  has  conquered 
the  adverse  circumstances.  This  is  far  easier  to  do  than  to 
overcome  an  offensive  or  disagreeable  trick  of  behavior— so- 
ciety will  accord  its  pity  and  sympathy  to  natural  defects, 
but  for  acquired  ones  it  only  reserves  its  disgust. 

Every  reader  will  call  to  mind  some  person  toward  whom  he 
or  she  has  felt  a  repugnance  almost  unendurable,  merely  from 
an  offensive  habit  such  an  one  has  formed— sometimes  a  mere 
turn  of  the  lip,  a  cast  of  the  eye,  or  a  peculiar  inflection  of 
the  voice.  Often  a  practice  has  been  formed  of  clearing  the 
throat,  or  spitting  profusely  about,  or  picking  the  ears  or  some 
other  vulgar  habit.  These  things  will  create  a  distaste  for 
such  persons  in  a  fastidious  mind ;  and,  deny  it  if  we  may,  oi 
call  it  -'squeamish"  or  "silly,"  we  are  all  of  us  more  or  less 
fastidious. 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  person  to  make  himself  agreeable  to 
others.  Most  of  these  peculiarities  of  manner  which  create 
aversion  are  spontaneous  in  their  origin,  but  become  so  habit- 
ual that  we  are  unconscious  of  them.  Many  of  them  are 
formed  in  childhood — habits  not  easily  removed  in  after  years. 
While  we  cannot  like  everybody,  or  be  loved  by  everybody  in 
return,  still  we  can  take  especial  care  that  we  do  not  make 
ourselves  personally  offensive  by  habits  and  ways  that  shock 
the  delicate  fastidiousness  of  those  around  us. 

Revisiting  the  Earth. 

To  revisit  this  earth,  some  ages  after  their  departure  from  it. 
Is  a  common  wish  among  men.  We  frequently  hear  men  say 
that  they  would  give  so  many  months  or  years  of  their  lives  in 
exchange  for  a  less  number  on  the  globe  one  or  two  or  three 
centuries  from  now.  Merely  to  see  the  world  from  some  re- 
mote sphere,  like  the  distant  spectator  of  a  play  which  passes 
in  dumb  show,  would  not  suflSce.  They  would  like  to  be  of 
the  world  again,  and  enter  into  its  feelings,  passions,  hopes ; 
to  feel  the  sweep  of  its  current,  and  so  to  comprehend  what  it 
has  become. 

I  suppose  that  we  all,  who  are  thoroughly  interested  in  this 
world,  have  this  desire.  There  are  some  select  souls,  who  sit 
apart  in  calm  endurance,  waiting  to  be  translated  out  of  a 
world  they  are  almost  tired  of  patronizing,  to  whom  the  whole 
thing  seems  doubtless  like  a  cheap  performance.  They  sit  on 
the  fence  of  Criticism,  and  cannot  for  the  life  of  them  see 
what  the  vulgar  crowd  make  such  a  toil  and  sweat  about.  The 
prizes  are  the  same,  dreary,  old,  fading  bay-wreaths.  As  for 
the  soldiers  marching  past,  their  uniforms  are  torn,  their  hats 
are  shocking,  their  shoes  are  dusty,  they  do  not  appear  (to  a 
man  sitting  on  the  fence)  to  march  with  any  kind  of  spirit, 
their  flags  are  old  and  tattered,  the  drums  they  beat  are  barba- 
rous ;  and,  besides,  it  is  not  probable  that  they  are  going  any- 
where,— they  will  merely  come  round  again,  the  same  people, 
like  the  marching  chorus  in  the  ''Beggar's  Opera."  Such 
critics,  of  course,  would  not  care  to  see  the  vulgar  show  over 
again:  it  is  enough  for  them  to  put  on  record  their  protest 
against  it  in  the  weekly  Judgment  Day^  which  they  edit,  and, 
by-and-by,  withdraw  out  of  their  private  boxes,  with  pity  for 
a  world  in  the  creation  of  which  they  were  not  consulted. 

The  desire  to  revisit  this  earth  is,  I  think,  based  upon  a 
belief,  well  nigh  universal,  that  the  world  is  to  make  some 
progress,  and  that  it  will  be  more  interesting  in  the  future  than 
it  is  now.  I  believe  that  the  human  mind,  whenever  it  is  de- 
veloped enough  to  comprehend  its  own  action,  rests,  and  has 
always  rested,  in  this  expectation.  I  do  not  know  any  period 
of  time  in  which  the  civilized  mind  has  not  had  expectations 
of  something  better  for  the  race  in  the  future.  This  expecta- 
tion is  sometimes  stronger  than  it  is  in  others ;  and,  again, 
there  are  always  those  who  say  that  the  golden  age  is  behind 
them.  It  is  always  behind  or  before  us;  the  poor  present 
alone  has  no  friends ;  the  present,  in  the  minds  of  many,  is 
only  the  car  that  is  carrying  us  away  from  an  age  of  virtue  and 
of  happiness ;  or  that  is,  perhaps,  bearing  us  on  to  a  time  o 
ease  and  comfort  and  security. 


A  Courageous  Man.— Applaud  the  man  who,  in  these 
days  of  display  and  idle  show,  desires  to  live  within  his 
means.  There  is  something  fresh  and  invigorating  in 
such  an  example,  and  we  should  uphold  and  honor  such 
a  man  with  all  the  energy  in  our  power. 


THE  GROWING  WORLD, 


The  Value  of  a  Cent. 

It  is  an  old  saying  that,  "A  pin  a  day  is  a  groat  a  year by 
^hich  common  expression,  some  wise  man  has  intended  to 
teach  thoughtless  people  the  value  of  small  savings.  We  shall 
endeavor  to  show  the  value  of  a  somewhat  higher  article, 
though  a  much  despised  one — we  mean  a  cent. 

Cents,  like  minutes,  are  often  thrown  away,  because  people 
do  not  know  what  to  do  with  them.  Those  who  are  not  econ- 
omists of  time,  (and  all  the  great  men  on  record  have  been 
so,)  take  care  of  the  minutes,  for  they  know  that  a  few  min- 
utes well  applied,  each  day,  will  make  hours  in  the  course  of 
a  week,  and  days  in  the  course  of  a  year ;  and  in  the  course  of 
along  life  will  make  enough  of  time,  if  well  employed,  in 
which  a  man,  by  perseverance,  may  have  accomplished  some 
work  useful  to  his  fellow-creatures,  and  honorable  to  himself. 

Large  fortunes,  when  gained  honestly,  are  rarely  acquired  in 
any  other  way  than  by  small  savings  at  first,  and  savings  can 
only  be  made  by  habits  of  industry  and  temperance.  A  saving 
man,  therefore,  while  he  is  adding  to  his  general  stock  of 
wealth,  is  setting  an  example  of  those  virtues  on  which  the 
very  existence  and  happiness  of  society  depends.  There  are 
saving  people  who  are  misers,  and  have  no  one  good  quality 
for  which  we  can  like  them.  These  are  not  the  kind  of  peorle 
of  whom  we  are  speaking ;  but,  we  may  remark,  that  a  miser, 
though  a  disagreeable  fellow  while  alive,  is  a  very  useful  per- 
son when  dead.  He  has  been  compared  to  a  tree  which  while 
it  is  growing,  can  be  applied  to  no  use,  but  at  last  furnishes 
timber  for  houses  and  domestic  utensils.  But  a  miser  is  in. 
finitely  more  useful  than  a  spendthrift— a  mere  consumer  and 
waster — who,  after  he  has  spent  all  his  own  money,  tries  to 
spend  that  of  other  people. 

Suppose  a  young  man  just  beginning  to  work  for  himself, 
could  save  but  five  cents  a  day— and  we  believe  there  are  few 
that  cannot  do  it.  Who  could  not  save  this  amount  daily  from 
his  expenditures,  without  lessening  his  comforts?  Yet  this, 
with  the  accumulating  interest,  in  the  course  of  ten  years,  will 
amount  to  the  sum  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  dollars,  sixty- 
four  cents ;  in  twenty  years,  to  six  hundred  and  sixty-three 
dollars,  fifty-eight  cents;  in  thirty  years,  to  one  thousand  three 
hundred  and  ninety-six  dollars,  sixty-seven  cents;  in  forty 
years,  to  two  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty-five  dollars, 
forty-two  cents;  and  in  fifty  years,  to  five  thousand  three 
hundred  and  fifty-four  dollars,  thirteen  cents. 

It  will  appear,  from  this  mode  of  calculation,  that  the 
amount  doubles  in  about  ten  years.  Let  the  process  be  con- 
tinued two  hundred  years,  and  the  trifling  sum  of  five  cents 
each  day  will  produce  a  total  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions 
of  dollars;  equal,  perhaps,  to  all  the  banking  capital  in  the 
United  States. 

Eating  Fruit. 

We  hardly  know  how  to  account  for  the  popular  impression 
that  still  prevails  in  many  rural  districts  that  the  free  use  of 
fruit  is  unfriendly  to  health.  Is  has  much  to  do  with  the 
scarcity  of  fruit  gardens  and  orchards  in  the  country  Asa 
matter  of  fact,  cities  and  villages  are  better  supplied  with 
fruit  the  year  around  than  the  surrounding  country.  There  are 
hundreds  of  farmers,  even  in  the  oldest  part  of  the  land,  where 
there  is  no  orchard,  and  the  only  fruit  is  gathered  from  a  few 
seedling  apple  trees  grown  in  the  fence  corners.  The  wants  of 
cities  are  supplied  not  so  much  from  the  proper  farming  dis- 
tricts as  from  a  few  men  in  their  suburbs,  who  make  a  business 
of  growing  fruit  for  market.  The  farmers  who  raise  a  good 
variety  of  small  fruit  for  the  supply  of  their  own  families  are 
still  the  exception.  The  villager,  with  his  quarter  or  half- 
acre  lost,  will  have  his  patch  of  strawberries,  his  row  of  cur- 
rants and  raspberries,  his  grape  vines  and  pear  trees,  and  talk 
intelligently  of  the  varieties  of  these  fruits.  His  table  is  well 
supplied  with  these  luxuries  for  at  least  half  of  the  year.  But 
there  is  a  lamentable  dearth  of  good  fruit  upon  the  farm  from 
the  want  of  conviction  that  it  pays.  It  does  pay  in  personal 
comfort  and  health,  if  in  nothing  else.  The  medical  faculty 
will  bear  testimony  to  the  good  influence  of  ripe  fruits  upon 
the  animal  economy.  They  regulate  the  system  better  than 
anything  else,  and  forestall  many  of  the  diseases  to  which  we 
are  liable  in  the  summer  and  fall.  A  quaint  old  gentleman  of 
our  acquaintance  often  remarks  that  apples  are  the  only  pills 
he  takes.  He  takes  these  every  day  in  the  year  when  they  can 
be  found  in  the  market,  and  fiUs  up  the  intervals  between  the 


old  and  new  crops  with  other  fruits.  He  has  hardly  seen  a 
sick  day  in  forty  years,  and  pays  no  doctor's  bill.  We  want 
more  good  fruit,  especially  upon  our  farms,  and  the  habit  of 
eating  fruit  at  our  meals.  This  is  just  one  of  the  matters  iu 
which  farmers'  wives  can  exert  an  influence.  Many  a  good 
man  would  set  out  fruit  trees  and  bushes  if  he  were  only  re- 
minded of  it  at  the  right  time.  One  right  time  will  be  nest 
autumn— at  least,  in  all  but  the  very  coldest  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. A  few  dollars  invested  then  will  bring  abundant  returns 
in  from  one  to  five  years.  It  is  more  intimately  connected 
with  good  morals  than  our  philosophers  think.  With  good 
digestion  it  is  quite  easy  to  fulfill  the  law  of  love. 


Flocking  to  the  City. 

A  correspondent  of  a  city  paper  tells  about  the  great  desire 
on  the  part  of  young  men  to  leave  the  country  and  flock  to  the 
city.  The  city  is  full  of  palaces,  he  says,  but  all  these  do  not 
contain  millionaires.  Indeed,  many  a  one  among  them  is  the 
witness  of  penuniary  struggles  which  would  amaze  the  farmer, 
and  from  which  he  may  be  thankful  he  is  spared.  Closet 
skeletons  do  not  all  congregate  among  what  are  called  the 
poor ;  they  hold  high  revel  in  the  proud  avenues  of  the  fair 
city  as  well  as  in  its  meaner  streets. 

The  great  cities,  it  must  be  confessed,  oflfer,  as  a  rule,  great 
advantages ;  but  they  demand,  too,  great  capital.  A  young 
man  going  into  them  first  should  choose  a  time  when  business 
Is  alive,  not  dead ;  when  there  is  a  demand  for  more,  instead  of 
thousands  clamoring  for  the  one  chance.  Then,  to  succeed, 
and  avoid  shipwreck  in  great  financial  and  commercial  centers, 
he  must  be  possessed  of  unusual  energy  and  judgment  and 
patience;  must  have  an  unswerving  sense  of  probity  and  an 
unshrinking  devotion  to  the  fulfillment  of  all  contracts  and 
obligations.  Those  two  opposite  qualities,  boldness  and  cau- 
tion—qualities  which  all  men  do  not  possess— are  also  indis- 
pensable, in  the  long  run,  to  city  success.  Boldness  enough 
to  undertake  operations  sufficiently  vast  to  meet  the  large  cosf 
of  a  great  business— caution  enough  to  administer  this  busi- 
ness so  as  to  keep  in  check  the  temptations  to  enter  into 
doubtful  transactions,  or  to  contract  with  those  unworthy  the 
fullest  confidence  and  trust. 

But  if  young  men  leave  their  country  homes  without  those 
high  aspirations  which  are  to  consummate  in  the  great  mer- 
chant's or  the  great  editor's  career,  and  ask  simply  to  find  an 
obscure  place,  jogging  along  evenly  with  the  noisy  crowd,  I 
should  say  "Befter  stay  at  home;  there  are  many  rough 
jolts  even  in  what  is  called  jogging  along  in  a  big  city.  There 
stands  more  than  one  scholar  here,  measuring  goods  behind 
the  counter  of  a  retail  store ;  and  more  than  one  New  York  car 
conductor  built  for  himself  a  higher  place  in  his  castie  than  he 
has  found.  Better  remain  at  home  and  fit  yourself  into  a  hon- 
orable and  useful  place  tbere,  rather  than  rush  impulsively  to 
the  great  city,  to  find  numberless  others,  equally  worthy, 
lamenting  their  fallen  lot,  or  standing  altogether  idle." 

Worth  Knowing. 

Keep  salt  in  a  dry  place. 
Keep  yeast  in  wood  or  glass. 
Keep  fresh  lard  in  tin  vessels. 
Keep  preserves  and  jellies  in  glass. 
Keep  meal  and  flour  in  a  cool,  diy  place. 
Keep  vinegar  in  wood,  glass,  or  stoneware. 
Sugar  is  an  admirable  ingredient  in  curing  meat  or 
fish. 

Crusts  and  pieces  of  bread  should  be  kept  in  an  earthen 
jar,  closely  covered,  in  a  dry,  cool  place. 

Lard  for  pastry  should  be  used  as  hard  as  it  can  he 
cut  with  a  knife.  It  should  be  cut  through  the  flour, 
not  rubbed. 

5^°°  A  person  is  not  worth  anything  that  has  not  had  trou- 
bles. You  cannot  subdue  selfishness  without  a  struggle.  You 
cannot  restrain  pride  without  a  conflict.  You  cannot  expect 
to  go  through  life  without  bearing  burdens.  But  you  are 
going  to  have  help  under  circumstances  that  will  redeem  you 
from  these  things.  You  are  going  to  experience  more  victo- 
ries than  defeats.  Y'our  sufi"ering  will  be  only  here  and  there— 
little  spots  in  a  whole  field  of  peace  and  joy. 


^"There  is  nothing  that  lightens  one's  burden  so  quickly 
and  so  much  as  to  help  other  people  carry  theirs. 


512 


THE  GROWING  WORLD. 


ADOWN  THE  YEARS. 

BY  G,  W. 

Where  leafy  trees  deep  shadows  throw, 

And  shelter  from  the  noon-day  sun, 
A  veteran  of  the  long  ago 
Sits  musing,  as  the  minutes  flow, 
On  battles  lost  and  victories  won 
Long  years  ago. 

He  looks  far  back  adown  the  years, 

In  fancy  sees  the  days  of  yore. 
And  murmurs  from  the  long-past  hears— 
The  din  of  strife,  the  cries,  the  cheers— 
Ah!  how  old  times  return  once  more, 
After  long  years! 

But  now  for  him  life  means  but  rest; 

And  though  he  still  looks  back  on  strife 
With  something  of  a  lingering  zest. 
Yet  like  a  barque  on  ocean's  breast 

Safe  anchored,  so  he  feels  that  life 
Indeed  is  rest. 

And  as  the  lengthening  shadows  fall, 

Telling  that  eventide  is  nigh— 
That  mystic  time  when  thoughts  enthrall — 
He  muses  on  the  end  of  all. 

And  trustful  waits  his  summoning  cry — 
The  trumpet  call. 

For  each  of  us  the  time  must  be 
When  xoe  look  back  adown  the  years. 

And  all  our  old  time  conflicts  see. 

Past  happiness  and  misery. 
The  record  of  our  hopes  and  fears — 
Such  time  must  be. 

How  happy  then  if,  as  we  look, 

A  dreamy  sense  of  quiet  rest 
Steals  over  us,  and  as  a  brook 
That  babbles  on  through  quiet  nook. 

Life  ripples  with  unruffled  breast 
Where'er  we  look. 

And  when  the  shadows  gather  round 

That  guard  the  valley  all  must  tread, 
How  well  if  we  the  gate  have  found. 
And  trustful  hear  the  trumpet  sound. 
And  know  that  though  the  way  we  dread. 
We're  homeward  bound. 


A  Florida  orange  tree  has  been  known  to  bear  five 
thousand  oranges  in  one  season. 


The  head  of  the  rattlesnake  has  been  known  to 
inflict  a  fatal  wound  after  being  severed  from  the  body. 


Colorado. 

Lying  along  the  Great  Cordille,  or  snowy  range,  which, 
divides  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  from  those  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  directly  west  of  Denver  City,  extending 
from  near  the  base  of  Long's  Peak,  in  a  southerly  direc- 
tion for  over  two  hundred  miles  in  Colorado,  is  one  of 
the  richest  mineral  belts  in  the  world. 

From  five  to  fifteen  miles  wide,  this  vast  extent  is 
literally  gridironed  with  gold,  silver,  copper  and  lead* 
beai-ing  lodes.  Many  of  them,  of  course,  are  too  poor 
to  pay  at  present  for  working  ;  but  the  pyrites  from 
which  the  gold  is  extracted  is  very  rich  in  copper. 
West  of  Denver  City  are  the  rich  mines  of  silver.  Many 
of  the  lodes  are  very  wide  and  can  be  traced  on  the  sur- 
face for  long  distances.  There  is  a  good  supply  of 
water,  and  timber  trees  are  plenty.  In  addition  to  all 
this  richness  of  the  western  country,  there  are  long 
stretches  of  bituminous  coal  in  veins  from  five  to  fifteen 
feet  thick,  so  that  it  often  seems  as  if  the  ancient  writers 
foretold  concerning  our  glorious  country. —  "A  land 
lowing  with  milk  and  honey,"  and  every  other  good 
thing  besides  ;  for  here  also  are  ^' the  cattle  on  a  thou- 
sand hills,"  and  the  "rivers  of  oil,"  and  is  it  not  the 
"  Land  of  Promise  "  to  every  homeless  wanderer  in 
other  countries  ? 


"  Vegetable  Oils." 

BY  JAS.  P.  DUTFY. 

Vegetable  oils  are  of  many  varieties,  derived  from 
various  sources,  and  are  used  to  a  large  extent  for 
numerous  purposes.  Their  principal  sources  are  cer- 
tain fruits  and  seeds,  among  which,  the  most  used  for 
this  purpose  are  peach-stone  kernels,  peanuts  and 
almonds ;  also,  hemp,  flax,  sun-flower,  and  cotton 
seeds.  The  cereals  are  also  productive  of  these  oils, 
as  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  experiment : 

Construct  what  is  known  as  a  water-bath,  by  the  fol- 
lowing directions:  Obtain  an  oil-can,  and  insert 
through  a  well-fltting  cork  the  stem  of  a  glass  funnel 
in  it.  Then  half  fill  the  can  with  water,  and  place  a 
small  earthenware  dish  in  the  mouth  of  the  funnel,  so 
that  it  may  contain  the  substance  to  be  evaporated  or 
dried,  which  is  done  by  the  steam  from  the  water  in  the 
oil-can  (while  the  latter  is  being  heated)  impinging 
upon  it.  This  contrivance  is  greatly  used  for  evapor- 
ating or  drying  chemicals  at  a  moderate  temperature, 
which  can  be  permanently  kept  below  a  certain  known 
limit.   It  is  commonly  known  as  the  "  water-bath." 

Having  dried  three  or  four  teaspoonsful  of  corn-meal 
for  two  hours  by  means  of  the  above  arrangement,  place 
it  in  a  small  bottle,  and  pour  upon  it  six  or  eight  tea- 
spoonsful  of  ether.  Cork  the  bottle,  and  for  some  time, 
(about  a  half-hoar)  shake  it.  Then,  after  having  ex- 
tinguished all  fires  or  lights  near  the  mixture,  filter  it 
into  a  clean  dish  and  place  it  in  the  open  air.  In  a  short 
time  the  spontaneous  evaporation  of  the  ether  will  take 
place,  and  a  yellowish  oil,  possessing  the  general  prop- 
erties of  vegetable  oils  will  remain. 

The  various  vegetable  oils  are  divided  into  two  classes, 
known  a,s  fixed  and  volatile  or  essential ;  the  former  being 
distinguished  from  the  latter  by  many  qualities,  the 
principal  of  which  are  that  they  give  a  permanent  greasy 
stain  on  paper,  and  cannot  be  distilled  unchanged.  The 
essential  oils,  even  at  ordinary  temperature,  evaporate 
very  readily,  and  this  property  furnishes  a  conclusive 
test  incase  of  their  adulteration  with  inferior  oils.  Ab 
example  of  this  may  be  seen  in  the  case  of  otto  of  roses. 
This  volatile  oil  is  sometimes  adulterated  with  sper- 
maceti.  If  a  drop  of  the  suspected  article  be  placed  on 
a  sheet  of  blotting  paper,  it  will,  if  pure,  evaporate  by 
the  aid  of  a  gentle  heat  in  a  few  moments,  without 
leaving  any  trace  of  its  presence  on  the  paper.  If  sper- 
maceti be  present,  it  will  leave  an  unctuous  mark  on  th© 
paper. 

The  other  different  properties,  etc.,  of  the  fixed  oilft 
will  form  the  subject  of  another  article. 


In  A.geria,  the  people  in  a  certain  section  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  providing  themselves  with  writing  fluid.  A 
stream  comes  down  from  an  iron  region,  and  joins 
another  which  flows  through  a  swamp.  There  ia  an 
acid  in  the  swamp-land  which,  when  its  waters  mix  with 
the  iron  makes  a  river  of  excellent  ink.  What  a  land 
for  scribblers  that  would  be  i 


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